by Lisa Prysock
“Where is my niece? We’ll be late to the Good Friday service,” Aunt Millie complained as she paced in the foyer.
“I believe I saw her on the veranda with Polly,” Lottie answered as she tied the ribbons of her bonnet beneath her chin. She stood before the oval mirror in the foyer with Dixie and Lena, the three of them trying to put their hats on. “I do think this is the nicest bonnet I’ve ever had. I’m so glad we went to New York. They have a much nicer selection of hats than they do here in Louisville.”
“Well, I’m not so sure I can agree with you, Charlotte. My family has lived in Louisville for nearly a hundred years… and my mother has the finest hats and bonnets of any woman in New York!” Dixie rose to defend her native city with her hands on her hips.
“Girls! ‘Tis Good Friday!” Miss Tilson reminded them as she slid her light wrap around her shoulders to ward off the morning chill. “Hush or I’ll have you to stay behind and do lessons in the class room!”
“Yes ma’am,” the girls chorused.
Craymoore opened the foyer doors and the students filed out of the front doors first, followed by Aunt Millie and Miss Tilson next, and finally, most of the staff of Grace Hill. There would be no school today in honor of Good Friday. All wore their Sunday best and milled about nervously. Geneva found herself anxious to get on with the most formal part of the day unscathed by clamor, vulgarity, harshness, raucous conversation, criticism, or incident. They spilled onto the veranda, ready to walk together to the chapel boasting a serene view of the Ohio River. The view seemed to calm anyone approaching the chapel on Sunday mornings, but today was different. Today was Good Friday. It was especially sobering to consider the Lord’s suffering.
“There you are, Geneva!” Aunt Millie smiled as she stepped onto the veranda. “Good morning, Polly. Happy Good Friday ladies!”
“Good morning, ma’am,” Polly replied from one of the veranda chairs as she reached down and tucked her brown ankle boots she had just removed a little further behind her skirt.
“Good morning, Aunt Millie! ‘Tis a beautiful Good Friday morning, is it not?” Geneva asked, holding her bare toes out before her and stretching them.
“Geneva, where are your shoes?” Millicent Bradford looked positively shocked to see her niece’s bare feet and ankles on display. To heighten matters, Miss Rosemont’s toes and ankles were stretched out before her just as Ridge arrived on horseback. He dismounted from his glorious chestnut horse, Thunder, and stepped onto the veranda to join them for the service. Although he did not attend Sunday services with them, he attended the most important holy day services. Geneva assumed Aunt Millie invited him for the sake of bringing up his daughter properly in the Christian faith, but something inside her wished he would attend all services with them in spite of how he infuriated her.
Ridge tipped his hat in greeting and paused at the sight before him. He could see it was a most unusual moment and couldn’t help but unsuccessfully hide half a grin. Staring at Miss Rosemont’s lovely feet and ankles, he managed a greeting. “Good morning to all!”
Aunt Millie’s mouth still hung open, but it closed again as she turned to greet Ridge. “Uh, good morning to you, Ridge Morgan!” Clearly distracted, she immediately turned back to her niece’s situation. Her mouth dropped open a little further this time as Polly also began stretching her bare toes.
“’Tis a Welsh custom, Aunt Millie!” Geneva explained, trying hard not to laugh at the surprise on her aunt’s face.
“Lord, do have mercy upon us this day!” Millie whispered as she closed her eyes. Opening them, she continued, “A Welsh custom, you say?”
“Yes! It is a custom in Wales to walk to the Good Friday worship service barefoot in order not to disturb the earth, Christ’s burial ground prior to the resurrection,” Geneva explained as she stretched her toes again.
“But the Lord was buried in a cave, with a stone before the grave,” Dorothea pointed out, stepping forward to have a closer look at Miss Rosemont’s toes.
“Caves are still part of the earth, Dorothea,” Miss Rosemont reminded her student.
“I do believe Miss Rosemont is correct!” Ridge grinned.
“Why, yes, I do believe she is,” Aunt Millie admitted. “Does my little brother, James Alexander, your father, Vicar James Alexander Rosemont… does he actually observe this custom?”
“Yes, the Vicar, your little brother… he does indeed walk barefoot to the church on Good Friday, Aunt Millie!” Geneva said as she stood up and let her plum colored skirt and white petticoats fall to the ground. The crinoline cage of her hoop skirt hid her bare feet and ankles from view.
“I’d like to go to the service bare foot too!” Dorothea declared as she plopped down on one of the chairs to remove her shoes and stockings.
“Yes, I would too!” Joy agreed with a wide smile. She plopped down in the empty chair next to Dorothea and began removing her shoes as well.
“I think I shall also walk bare foot to honor Christ in this way!” Belle-Raine declared as she kicked off her shoes and began pulling off a stocking.
Before long, all of the girls began removing their shoes. Long stockings were tugged off. Some sat directly on the veranda in a pile of skirts and tugged at their stockings and shoes until not a single girl remained anything other than barefoot.
“Well, this seems an act of adoration and worship from the heart!” Miss Tilson smiled. “I do believe I will go barefoot, too!” Henry Scott’s wife readily agreed with Miss Tilson and the two began removing their shoes.
“I don’t think I should be the only one in shoes!” Aunt Millie said as she surveyed the situation and then slipped off her shoes, followed by a number of the female staff. “But you mustn’t try to put your shoes on in the church girls. You must leave your shoes and stockings here on the veranda until we return. It would be a great distraction to Reverend Granby’s message! Do I make myself understood?”
“Yes, Mrs. Bradford!” the girls chorused as they stretched their toes and jumped up, gathering to walk to the chapel together.
“I would say a distraction is the right word!” Ridge chuckled as he nodded at Joseph Kemp who scratched his head and grinned. Bird-dog, Craymoore, Henry, Hank, Jack, Jimmy, and three stable hands (Abner, Caleb, and Timothy) chuckled along with them, but none of the men dared to remove their boots. It was too Welsh a custom for them to participate, but they were intrigued and jovial.
The rest of the female staff shrugged helplessly and decided to join in the custom. Finally, they were able to commence the walk to the chapel, remembering the suffering of Christ in His death on the cross for their sins. They walked gently, as to avoid stepping on rocks, remembering they were to be careful not to disturb the earth in honor of what Yeshua had done for them through His death. The walk was a solemn and reverential one.
Reverend Granby greeted them at the door to the chapel. The girls seemed more buoyant than ever seated on the pews inside the cool stone building which had witnessed generations of Grace Hill observers. They swirled their ankles and stretched their toes all through the service beneath their long dresses.
The stone floor felt cool beneath their feet when they rose to join in the singing of two hymns. Reverend Granby didn’t seem to mind if anyone wore shoes or not. He was always happy to see their faces and likely unaware if any among the ladies were barefoot. The service continued in the usual manner as he delivered a sermon about the suffering Christ endured at the cross. Reverend Granby did however appear to have a funny look on his face as he shook their hands when they filed out of the chapel. Perhaps he had spied a few toes when they lifted their skirts to navigate their way down the front steps of the chapel. He looked on wonderingly at the slower progress of the girls. He had also observed when Janie, who had gone on ahead toward the manor stepped on a sharp rock; jumped a few feet over on the path; nearly toppled Gertie in the process; and yelled, “Ouch!”
“Pasg Hapus[19]!” Geneva greeted Aunt Millie a few mornings later with a Welsh
Easter greeting in the foyer. Grace Hill staff would serve breakfast after the service.
“Happy Easter to you, dear!” Her aunt gave her a warm hug. They both looked barely awake, yet eager to greet the day. “No bare feet today?”
“Not today!” Geneva laughed as the students spilled out onto the veranda at dawn with them.
The sunrise service celebrating the resurrection of Jesus outside the chapel overlooking the Ohio River was a glorious moment of renewal for all who belonged to Grace Hill Easter Sunday morning. It was the custom to celebrate Easter on a hill at sunrise in Wales and Geneva had shared this with her aunt. Millie Bradford had announced at Good Friday’s dinner Geneva and Polly would like the fact they were already situated on a hill when she heard about the Welsh Easter tradition of attending a sunrise service on a hill. True to Millie’s words, Geneva felt the joy and presence of the living Savior burning brightly in her heart as they watched the glorious sunrise standing high upon the embankment lawn of the manor.
The sun danced on the waters of the Ohio River as Reverend Granby spoke, reminding her of another part of Welsh tradition to carry a bowl of water up a hill to catch the rays dancing on the reflection of the water at sunrise. From where they stood outside the chapel, she had a perfect view of the dancing sun. She couldn’t put the tradition into words but instead, she tucked the moment deep within her heart. Mesmerized by the glory of the Holy Spirit revealing such joy to her through creation, it was like watching Yeshua dance with joy on the waters!
Her heart left the service filled with renewed purpose and a more abiding sense of peace and joy than she had ever experienced. She felt everything in her life was moving along according to God’s plan and that He would never forsake her. For the first time in her life in many years, she didn’t feel as though she was amiss or different. Coming to America had been good for her. Finally, she felt her peculiar differences were a complement and enhancement to what the Lord planned for her life. She was safe in the presence and embrace of the Lord. There was a knowing in her mind and spirit she was finally where she belonged; doing precisely what she had been born to do; shining in the unique way she had been destined to shine for her Savior. She wanted to continue to capture the light of Yeshua in her heart and share it with everyone else. Her heart flooded with perfect peace, wholeness, restoration, and joy in His presence on the hill by the lovely chapel.
They would celebrate the day with food and festivities on the front lawn before the veranda later in the afternoon. After breakfast and a long nap, everyone gathered outside, although it had made Geneva a little nervous to know Ridge was napping in the Gold Room located directly across from her own. It was growing harder each day to continue to deny the attraction between them.
“So, your father’s family is from Virginia, and your mother’s family is from Lexington?” Geneva clarified as she and Belle-Raine observed Ridge tossing a ball to Pendleton who dutifully chased, retrieved, and returned it to him with no lack of zeal. The picnic was a great lift to the morale of all those at Grace Hill. The staff joined in the festivities, though a few would also serve and clean up in exchange for a day off on Monday.
Jen sat up straight in a billowing pile of her dress, a coral concoction with an off the shoulder overlay of matching lace. She held a coordinating parasol to help keep the sun out of her eyes. Her hat featured a sprig of peach, pink, and yellow flowers with a spray of ribbon streamers dropping down over her black curls. Coral netting covered the hat and draped over half of her face creating a most alluring look. Pink, yellow, and peach flowers with more ribbon lifted the tiered drapes of fabric on the overlay of her gown. It was one of the final dresses Miss Nina Craig had sent over to the manor upon completion of their spring and summer order.
“Yes,” Belle-Raine nodded as she adjusted the brim of her straw hat to keep the sun out of her eyes. Two blue ribbons streamed down from a bow on the back of Belle’s hat. Belle wore a coordinating blue and white plaid dress with white ruffled trim on the overlay of the skirt. More of the white ruffled trim enhanced her dress at the hem and wrists. “You’ll see my father isn’t always able to be this attentive. Why, he disappeared after the death of my mother for nearly my first ten years of life, except here and there. If it hadn’t been for your aunt and Delia, I don’t know what would have become of me or Sarah Rose Hall.” Belle kept her voice low. Those in attendance were far enough away or otherwise engaged so no one could hear their conversation.
“Do you suppose your father was engulfed in grief at the time?” Geneva asked gently.
“Well, I’ve come to understand my father had a grief so deep he simply couldn’t function properly after he lost my mother to the influenza. I believe he drowned his sorrow in something I shouldn’t even mention.”
“He must have loved your mother deeply. Amelia… wasn’t that her name?” Geneva tugged one of her white gloves on more snugly at her wrist.
“Yes,” Belle-Raine nodded, shading her eyes from the sun with a white gloved hand. For the young age of thirteen, she conducted herself in a far more mature manner than most of the other students. Her black hair looked strikingly similar to Geneva’s hair.
“It must be very hard growing up without your mother,” Jen commented.
“It is, but I think Mrs. Bradford, Miss Tilson, and Delia have become like mothers to me,” Belle-Raine replied. “I never knew my mother, but they have been there for me ever since I can remember. Papa brought me from Sarah Rose Hall when I was just three years old. I didn’t like the fact he left me at Grace Hill at first, but ‘tis my home. I love it here now! I couldn’t even imagine not living here.”
“How did you manage to forgive him for not being able to be there for you?” Geneva inquired. She could barely imagine what it might be like to be in Belle-Raine’s shoes.
“Well, I didn’t forgive him at first… and not for a very long time. I really had to work at it. I kept reading the verse about how we must forgive those who trespass against us so our heavenly Father will forgive us of our trespasses. It helped when Papa did finally snap out of his bout with depression and grief. He came to my side and promised he’d do his best to make it up to me. He has been a much better father since then, but he does have to go away from time to time on business. I do so hate when he has to leave. It’s hard when he has to be gone for so long, but there are investments to be managed he says. Plus, he spends so much time managing Sarah Rose Hall. We’ve got so many share croppers and staff there. I visit on weekends from time to time, and it is only a short ride away... but it isn’t the same as being here at Grace Hill. It’s just as grand, but the staff changes more often… and Abigail is there sometimes. I’m not very fond of her, truth be told.”
“I see…” Geneva replied, raising an eyebrow. “Do you still get angry with him when he has to leave on business?”
“Well, not nearly as much as I used to,” she admitted. “I suppose I do get a little angry because we’ve lost so much time together. Seeing the other students here who don’t have any parents at all has helped me to mend a great deal. I’ve learned there is always someone who may have endured a harder road in life than me.”
“Do you ever see your mother’s family in Lexington?”
“They invited us to Christmas once or twice. They send me birthday cards and gifts every year. Papa said I am old enough to spend a few weeks with them each year now, so perhaps later this year I will visit them. They are the Pritchard family. Mama was Miss Amelia Anne Pritchard before she became a Morgan. There is a portrait of her in the Gallery at Sarah Rose Hall.”
Geneva felt sorrow about the way Belle-Raine referred to her family home. It seemed to her Sarah Rose Hall was just a place rather than a home, even though it was the neighboring plantation to the Bradford land; close enough for Belle-Raine to visit whenever she pleased. Geneva was thankful Grace Hill felt like home somewhere deep within Belle-Raine’s heart. At least Belle felt she belonged somewhere. It was no wonder Ridge visited Grace Hill Manor & M
ission so often. Betsy Lewis leaned down to offer them each another piece of fried chicken.
“No thank you, Betsy,” Geneva replied. “I’m saving room for a piece of apple pie.”
“The same here, Betsy, but thank you!” Belle-Raine responded as she held onto the back of her hat to look up at the servant holding out a tray of delicious breaded chicken Delia had prepared for the meal.
“All right ladies,” Betsy nodded. “Maybe your aunt would like to try another piece.” Betsy carried the tray over to Aunt Millie’s spot about ten yards away. Millie had fallen asleep reading a book in a shaded area beneath the branches of a sturdy oak.
“Shall we try our hand at archery, lawn croquet, or sketching?” Geneva asked as she looked over at Bird-Dog as he shot an arrow at a target, hitting the mark expertly.
“Hmm, a difficult decision…” Belle-Raine glanced at Lottie, Lena, Gertie, and Joy playing croquet with Polly and Pearl. She looked over at Janie and Dorothea sketching on easels with Miss Tilson and Miss Julia. Dixie, Lindy, and Patricia had joined Bird-Dog, Jack, and Hank at archery. She jumped up eagerly spotting two extra targets. “Let’s try archery first, then croquet, and then sketching!” She turned and helped Geneva up from the blanket.
