by Robyn Carr
Because Lilly felt she was on her own to care for her mother and manage the house, she was less inclined than ever to feel sorry for her sister. Even considering all that Patricia had been through at the hands of Dale Montaine, Lilly had lost all sympathy. That had been just another example of Patricia doing as she pleased without a thought of anyone but herself, yet Patricia thrust her burdens on them all when she had proved foolish. Now, in the aftermath of her devastating ordeal, John Giddings had taken the task of cheering her, spoiling her, and acting as her protector. He brought Patricia flowers, wrote her notes, held out her chair, opened her doors. But Patricia did not rally, even while Emily was ill. She only felt sorrier for herself and complained of how unjustly she had been treated.
Within a week of being put to bed, Emily began to improve. At first she slept nearly through the days and nights, waking just long enough to take a few bites of bland food. Another week saw her able to sit up, protest all the fuss that was being made over her, and eat heartier meals. Her color was coming back, but she was still too thin and weak to walk far without Lilly’s help.
By the third week in bed, Emily was feeling strong enough to complain about being confined. But Lilly had a scare like never before in her life, and she would not allow Emily out of bed. She had spoken to the doctor and Sophia about this, and she had a schedule planned for her mother’s recovery that would begin with sitting in a chair in her bedroom for a week, meals in the dining room the next week, short walks outside after that, and, when she was absolutely certain Emily would be all right, she would allow her to do a few light chores. It would be the end of September, another five weeks, before Emily could help around the house.
Lilly hid the fact that she was tired. Nor would she complain about Patricia, no matter how angry she became. She stopped to wash her face and smooth out her hair before entering Emily’s room with a tray of food. And she concealed household problems as best she could.
The first problem was the absence of boarders. Lilly had decided they could take no new boarders before Emily was fully recovered.
Another problem arose. Although Lilly visited the same brownstones that her mother had frequented, she did not sell her jams or baked goods. When she delivered the sewing to Emily’s customers, she was given very little more to do. Everyone, it seemed, preferred to wait for Mrs. Armstrong’s recovery. Lilly’s mending and baking was not lacking, but she did get an idea how difficult it really was to build up business.
She jealously counted the money that Mr. Padgett left and saw its limits. She had told her mother that he left his payment and an address so he could be contacted, but Emily had only looked away in discomfort. Lilly didn’t mention there was more money than was due; she was afraid Emily’s pride would forbid her to keep it. But, because even that generous sum was destined to run out, she had to release Sophia to seek other employment. That was the hardest news to keep from Emily. “There just wasn’t so very much for Sophia to do, Mama, with no boarders other than John.”
“But Lilly, we may not be fortunate enough to have Sophia come back to us after she finds other work; she’s so skilled, so--”
“Don’t worry, Mama. She’d rather be here than anywhere. And I don’t want boarders before you’re well.”
“Oh, Lilly, I’m well enough. You’ve got to stop pampering me so much.”
But Lilly thought it was high time someone pamper Emily. She was sorry she hadn’t thought of it much sooner. Had Emily not been so exhausted and worried, she might not have become so ill.
“Mama, don’t you want to read the note that Mr. Padgett left?”
“No. You did tell me everything it said, didn’t you?”
“But I think he would want to know you’ve been sick, Mama. He was so fond of you.”
“Never mind that, Lilly. He’s gone about his business, and we don’t want to bother him.”
“But, Mama, he--Oh, Mama, did he just leave? Did you quarrel? Did you send him away?”
Emily reached for Lilly’s hand. “No, Lilly, we did not quarrel. It was time for Mr. Padgett to go.”
“Mama, I believe he loved you…”
“What you saw, Lilly, was an unmarried man who wants a family of his own. I already have a family, one I’m very proud of. And this house to manage. There is no room in my life for more.
I’m content. And Mr. Padgett must look elsewhere for his companionship, for a family.”
Lilly had heard Emily say many times that she had all she wanted, but this time she knew it wasn’t true. This time she had seen for herself how radiant Emily looked when she felt loved. But all she said was, “I’ll take care of you, Mama. I’ll always be near.”
During the last week of August Emily was getting up during the day and had even ventured downstairs twice. She was still far from her former strength. The evening meal was so different than it had been in the past. Lilly preferred to have her meal with Emily and left the dining room to Patricia and John. She began to hope that John would marry Patricia and take her away, but she wondered who would clean his house, mend his clothes, or cook his meals.
The first week in September brought dreary skies and occasional rain. Lilly was down to the last ten-dollar note. Emily was steadily improving, but even an hour or two on the porch left her exhausted. Lilly did nearly every chore--all the cooking, shopping, cleaning, washing, mending, and frequent trips to her mother’s customers to request sewing jobs or offer the sale of foodstuffs. Patricia read or wrote in her journal or simply stared off into space. Lilly could barely conceal her anger.
After a very full morning of baking and cleaning, Lilly went into the parlor to check on her sister. She had given Patricia a light chore; she was to hem a skirt, a job that would pay fourteen cents. Lilly had been very specific about small stitches, about pressing the hem flat with a hot iron, about how carefully the job must be done so that more sewing jobs would be given to them. But when she went to the parlor, she found that Patricia was writing in her journal and the skirt lay untouched beside her.
“What are you doing?” she demanded of her sister. “You haven’t even begun! I promised to return the skirt, finished, this afternoon!”
“I was meaning to…but, well, if you must know, I was feeling troubled again, and John says the best way out of a dreary mood is to write about it. I’ll do it in a little while, Lilly.”
“Do it now! Put that silly book away. It won’t do you any good to work out your troubles if you starve to death because there’s no money.”
“Oh, Lilly, don’t fuss about it. I’m not very good at it anyway.”
“You’re not good at anything! All you’re good at is accepting flowers and compliments. You don’t try! You don’t care that everyone must do your chores while you sit and worry about your troubles! You bring them all on yourself!”
“How can you say that to me, Lilly! How cruel of you! You know perfectly well that it wasn’t my fault!”
“I know that if you’d gone to the fair with your family, or if you’d been too busy with chores to flirt, you wouldn’t have these troubles!”
“Are you saying that…that…I--”
“I’m saying that you’re lazy! And selfish! And you’ve hardly lifted a finger to help me since Mama’s been sick! You don’t care about anyone but yourself, and you never have!”
Patricia stared at Lilly. Her mouth was open in shock, and her eyes grew round before they filled with tears. She gasped back a sob and then burst into tears. “Lilly! You’re so mean!” Clutching her precious journal book, Patricia fled from the room to hide in one of the empty bedrooms and pursue her problems in pen, in private. It had been a long time since Lilly felt curious enough to want to read those private pages.
Lilly stood in the parlor, seething. How had their mother endured Patricia these many years? How long would the entire household be left without any assistance from her because of her troubles? It was so plain to Lilly: despite warnings, lectures, and more careful explanations than a moron usua
lly required, Patricia still dangled her virtue before a man just horrid enough to take it. And she played the wronged woman very well, while making no effort to change herself.
She lifted the skirt. She had promised it for today, and there was no way she could prepare an evening meal and get that done, too. Tears smarted in her eyes. She would stay up late again. She could apologize to Patricia and plead with her to fix the supper, but Patricia would only make it terrible and the most important meal of the day would not be enjoyable for Emily.
Lilly felt the tears run down her cheeks and wiped at them impatiently; it took so much to make her cry. She had never been this tired or so lonely. Anything for relief; she missed Mr. Padgett’s stories, Annie’s bright Irish tunes, even Mrs. Fairchild’s testy complaints. Their house was quiet and dreary. The unseasonal September heat was muggy and unbearable. She went to stand on the porch, praying for a rain shower or even one brief, consoling breeze. She knew she must collect herself, not give into this self-pity. She’d never finish her chores if she couldn’t--
Her eyes widened at the sight of a coach. Had Mr. Padgett come back? Surely Dale Montaine would not--The coach stopped in front of their house and she stared. Mrs. Wilcox from across the street leaned out her front window to watch. The driver jumped down to open the door and help someone out. Lilly couldn’t help but tilt her head and frown as a woman approached. There was no question the woman was rich. She wore a bright yellow frock that had a low décolletage, despite the fact that she was much older than Emily. Her hair was a rich, thick auburn, and her hat was flamboyant, a large yellow feather bobbing over its wide brim as she walked. And she used a white cane with a gold handle and gold tip, although she was rather spritely and didn’t seem to rely too heavily on the help. She smiled as she approached Lilly, looking up to the porch. Then she stopped walking. “Patricia?” she asked.
“Lillian Armstrong, ma’am,” she replied in confusion.
“Lilly!” the woman exclaimed, then gave a short and pleased laugh.
“Ma’am?” Lilly questioned.
“Well goodness, girl. I came as quickly as I could after your letter! Aren’t you going to greet me properly? Will it be a kiss on the cheek, or--”
“Grandmother?” Lilly asked quietly. “Grandmother!” she shrieked, bolting down the steps to embrace her. She nearly knocked her over in her excitement, but she found that her grandmother withstood her enthusiasm very well. She was tall, strong like Lilly. The first thing she noticed and delighted in was her grandmother’s formidable frame; here was a woman of substance and sturdiness.
“I hope this means you’re pleased by my surprise visit,” Amanda said.
“Pleased? Oh!” Tears came to Lilly’s eyes and began to spill over. “Oh, Mama is going to be…Oh, Mama is sick. She has been sick, but I’m taking good care of her.”
“Well, take me to her, girl. Come now, if she’s ill--”
“She’s getting better every day, Grandmother, but before you see her, I should tell you all that’s happened. So much has happened since my letter--more has happened since I wrote you than in my whole life!”
“Then, Lilly, tell me. Tell me quick so I can go to my daughter.”
Amanda went back to the coach that waited in front of the boardinghouse. She had left Bertie sitting there for well over an hour. She opened the door and spoke to her servant. “Well, Beatrice, our girl is sick and needs our attention. Their household is in a dither. They’ve had nothing but problems. No,” she said when Bertie made a move as if she would get out of the coach, “I want you to take the coach back to the city, collect a few things to see us through the week, and tell Fletcher to get about the business of finding us larger accommodations. We’ll stay here and get things under control before moving everyone to a better place.”
“Here, mum? Here?”
“Don’t grouse. We’ve had worse. As Lilly tells it, Emily is quite proud of this and won’t give it up easily.”
“How bad is she?”
“I haven’t seen her just yet, but my granddaughter has been telling me about the events that led to this present disaster. Lord above, Bertie! When I tell you all that’s gone on, you’ll think you’ve revisited the past! Bring something stout--you’ll be wanting a tipple later. Get on with you.”
By the worry in Bertie’s eyes, Amanda knew it took discipline for the servant to go off to fetch their belongings. Bertie had helped tend Emily when she was a child and had been nearly as disappointed as Amanda when they all lost track of each other.
Amanda returned to the house where Lilly waited. “I think it would be nice if you brought us tea,” she told her. “We’ll need a little time alone, I think.”
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Lilly said with relief.
“I’ve brought you a desk, Lilly. You did say you wanted to go into business?”
“Yes, but--Well, I don’t have the first idea what business.”
“Go about the business of tea, for now. I hope you have decent tea.” She patted Lilly’s cheek. Then she began to master the stairs. She was afraid, but had never let fear stop her before. She opened the door to Emily’s room and looked in. Emily slept. Amanda took the liberty of studying her while she couldn’t look back. Tears collected, and her chest heaved with emotion. How she had changed! Her golden hair had darkened, and she was so frail. Her hands, folded over the quilt, were rough and hard used; her cheeks were sunken.
Amanda wanted to embrace her and hold her to her breast. My child, my love. My daughter, grown old!
She sat gently on the bed and pulled the hat pin out of her wide-brimmed, feather-studded hat, removing it and laying it aside. She touched Emily’s hand to rouse her. Her eyes opened, and she gazed sleepily, trying to acclimate herself, and then stared in surprise.
“Mother?” she questioned. “Mother?” She tried to sit up.
“I’m here, dear. Don’t excite yourself now.”
Emily reached out a hand to touch Amanda’s cheek, then her hair, her shoulder. “Mother, it’s you! How in the world--”
Amanda helped Emily to sit up, and they embraced. Emily clasped her tightly and cried. Long, tired, grateful sobs. Amanda felt relief flood through her. All through the years, through the guarded letters, she had feared the reunion. Their parting had been so angry; they had made such unforgivable pronouncements to each other. “You’ll pay in the worst possible ways for this foolishness!” “I’ll believe you never loved Father if you marry again!” On and on those angry battles repeated themselves in Amanda’s memory. There were times she thought she would never reconcile with her daughter, yet now she held her in her arms. The joy of being received melted away the fear.
“There now, Emily. I’m here…and I’m not leaving you again no matter how stubborn you are.”
“Never again, Mother. I have never stopped regretting those angry days, those awful, punishing things we--”
“Hush. We have years to discuss our many regrets. I understand you have a speck of trouble.” Emily pulled herself out of her mother’s embrace. “Lilly told me. She was very thorough.”
“About Patricia? The boarders?”
Amanda nodded and touched Emily’s cheek. “And the cowboy,” she added.
Emily smiled in spite of herself. “A speck of trouble? Oh, Mother, all my life I’ve tried to face things the way you do. As if they’re mere inconveniences, little nuisances to be tidied.”
“Now I’m here to face it with you, darling. I know there are greater concerns, but what of this Mr. Padgett? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“Lilly couldn’t have told you everything, Mother. She barely knows the half of it. But now you’re here, and I will tell you. Everything. As I’ve wanted to do for years and years.”
Amanda spent the afternoon in Emily’s bedroom, sipping tea and listening with amazement at all her daughter had managed in eighteen years, and all she had been through in a few short months. It was four in the afternoon before she heard the sound of the hired
trap bringing Bertie back to the boardinghouse. She put her teacup aside and rose to look out the window.
“Well, here she is, the mean old thing. She’ll help us put this house in order again. She’s been saying the same thing for years, and she’s right--the woman in this family carry on a legacy of stubbornness, contrariness, and perfectly miserable luck with men.”
Emily smiled. “Also strength, Mother. We are strong, all of us, you can’t deny that.”
“But has it ever occurred to you, dear, that if we weren’t those other things, we wouldn’t require so much strength?”
Chapter Ten
Lilly stood reading the bills outside the theater. She wore all new clothes: a silk blouse with thirty-five tiny buttons that went up to her throat, a deep green velvet skirt, a dark, fully lined cloak, and slip-on leather shoes with brass buckles. She wore a hat and four-button gloves, and carried a drawstring handbag. For the very first time in her life, she wasn’t just reading the bills because she couldn’t afford the price of a ticket. Now she could afford several.
“Lilly? Is it you?”
She turned excitedly. “Andrew! Oh, Andrew, it’s been months!”
“Look at you! You’ve grown up five years in just weeks! Let me see you!” She turned for him, her smile wide and confident. “Good Lord,” he said, nodding appreciatively. “You’re a whole new person!”
Her eyes danced, and she knew it. She had pleased him. “For the past two weeks I’ve been to the library, the square, up and down these streets from morning to afternoon, looking for you! I don’t even know your last name, Andrew!” And now, she thought with great pleasure, I’m not afraid to know.
