The Love Comes Softly Collection

Home > Other > The Love Comes Softly Collection > Page 143
The Love Comes Softly Collection Page 143

by Janette Oke


  “And her poppy-seed rolls,” suggested Belinda.

  Mrs. Stafford-Smyth smiled, looking pleased that she had coaxed Belinda into sharing the planning.

  “What about dessert?” asked the older woman.

  “Oh my,” said Belinda with a sigh. “I shouldn’t even think about dessert. I’m sure I’ve put on some pounds the last few weeks.”

  “And well you needed to,” Mrs. Stafford-Smyth stated firmly. “You spoke of fattening me up. I declayah, you must have lost about as much weight during my sickness as I did.”

  Belinda was sure it hadn’t been all that much. She wanted to protest but let the matter drop.

  “Cheesecake would be nice,” Mrs. Stafford-Smyth mused aloud.

  “Or fresh strawberry shortcake,” responded Belinda.

  “Does Thomas still have strawberries?”

  “He says he has a second crop,” answered Belinda. “He is really proud of them.”

  “Fresh strawberry shortcake it will be, then. I nevah tire of strawberries, and we might as well enjoy them as long as they last,” reasoned Mrs. Stafford-Smyth. “Ring for Cook, deah,” she said to Belinda’s nod. “I’d like to get this settled now.”

  Cook arrived with a fresh apron neatly covering her plump form. Seeming to be a bit anxious, as she often was when being summoned to the sitting room, her face soon relaxed as her employer began to talk of dinner plans.

  “And Miss Belinda would like some of your tasty poppy-seed rolls,” Mrs. Stafford-Smyth went on, bringing a smile to Cook’s face. “And for dessert, I understand Thomas has another crop of strawberries. We’ll have your strawberry shortcake. With cream. Everyone loves that.”

  Cook openly beamed in spite of herself. She loved compliments on her cuisine—especially when the recognition came from her revered employer.

  “We will serve dinnah promptly at seven,” went on Mrs. Stafford-Smyth.

  Belinda smiled at the “promptly.” She knew that Mrs. Celia Prescott would be invited and, as Pierre had remarked so long ago, “Aunt Celia’s never on time.”

  But on the night of the first dinner party in ages at Marshall Manor, Celia Prescott was almost on time. She breathlessly fluttered in and greeted her hostess. “Virgie, deah, I am so glad you are up and about again! I was worried to death about you. You had that dreadful old flu for such a long, long time, I feahed you’d nevah recovah!”

  “I’m fine now,” Mrs. Stafford-Smyth assured her calmly. “I’ve had good care.” And she cast an appreciative glance toward Belinda.

  “I have long since admired your foresight in having your own personal nurse,” commented Mrs. Prescott with a hint of envy. “I don’t know how you’d evah manage without her.”

  “Nor I,” agreed Mrs. Stafford-Smyth with feeling.

  Belinda flushed uneasily, which seemed to please Mrs. Allenby, one of the other guests. Belinda still could not warm to the woman. She seemed to take great pleasure in the discomfort of others. Thankfully, all the guests were now present, and they were able to move to the dining room, where Windsor and Sarah were waiting to serve.

  Chatting and laughing together, the evening passed sociably enough. Mrs. Celia Prescott humorously shared her adventures of the summer, to Mr. Walsh’s great merriment. Mrs. Allenby gave an occasional imperious sniff as her contribution to the evening, while Mrs. Whitley smiled benignly on all. Her husband made up for her silence by firmly expressing himself on every subject. All in all, it was a lively evening, and Belinda concluded that it was good for Mrs. Stafford-Smyth to have someone besides her to talk to.

  But when the evening ended, Belinda felt a strange emptiness. That nagging loneliness gnawed again within her.

  You just feel some sort of letdown after all the planning and anticipation are done, she reproached herself. Aunt Virgie likely feels it, too.

  Belinda quickly slipped out of her crimson party gown and into a cream-colored robe. She would help Mrs. Stafford-Smyth prepare for bed.

  If she feels as I do, she murmured to herself, she’ll need some company for a bit.

  But Mrs. Stafford-Smyth was not feeling at all let down. She was still excited about the party as she welcomed Belinda into her room. “Didn’t everything go just fine?” she enthused, and Belinda nodded quietly in response. Aunt Virgie had slipped from her violet gown and into a soft pink robe. Sitting at the vanity, her gray hair loosened from its pins, she was brushing her hair as she talked to Belinda’s reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed and her voice filled with excitement. Belinda took the brush from her and gently stroked the wispy tresses.

  “Celia had a wonderful idea,” Aunt Virgie began at once. “Just as she was leaving she drew me aside and suggested I spend some time with her and her sister in New Yawk.”

  Belinda stopped her brushing in surprise at the sudden turn of events.

  “What do you think of that?” asked the older woman, turning to face Belinda, who could already see what Mrs. Stafford-Smyth thought of it.

  “Why, it . . . it sounds wonderful,” Belinda answered.

  “Yes,” mused the older woman. “Yes, I think I’d like that. I haven’t been to New Yawk for yeahs. Haven’t been anywheah for such a long time. I think I’d like that just fine.”

  “It would be good for you,” responded Belinda, feeling a strange turning in the pit of her stomach. What am I to do in the meantime? she wondered silently. Stay in this big house all by myself?

  “I could do some shopping, take in a few plays, heah the orchestra again. Yes, I think I’ll accept the invitation.”

  “And when will you go?” Belinda inquired.

  “Next week. There isn’t much time to prepa-ah, but any shopping that needs doing can be done in New Yawk. It would be exciting to look for a new gown someplace besides LeSoud’s.”

  “How long will—?”

  “Six weeks,” Mrs. Stafford-Smyth explained. “Six weeks. That should be just right. Long enough that one won’t need to rush to get everything done, but not so long as to weah out one’s welcome.”

  Belinda nodded. “You know Aunt Celia’s sister well?” asked Belinda.

  “Oh my, yes. We were deah, deah friends until she moved to New Yawk. The three of us were always togethah. She’s different than Celia—more subdued, more dignified. A real lady in every sense of the word. Lost her husband five yeahs ago. Nevah has recovahed, Celia says. She loves to have company. Celia goes at least once a yeah, but this yeah she has asked for me, too.”

  “That’s nice,” smiled Belinda. “The trip will be good for you.” She kissed the older woman on the cheek and went to her own room.

  But Belinda did not fall asleep very quickly. Her thoughts kept going round and round. What would she do all day while her employer was in New York? At times she had felt lonely and at loose ends even with Aunt Virgie at home. She wasn’t worried now about the older woman’s health. Mrs. Stafford-Smyth seemed to be perfectly well again. But Belinda did feel a sense of panic and loss at the thought of being on her own.

  Suddenly Belinda sat straight up in bed, a smile spreading over her face in the darkness. Of course, she said to herself. Of course. Why didn’t I think of it immediately? I’ve been aching to go home. This is the perfect opportunity! I won’t need to worry about Aunt Virgie while I’m gone.

  Belinda should have lain down and gone directly to sleep then, but she didn’t. On and on raced her mind, thinking of home, trying to envision how each person might have changed, thinking of the fun of surprising her friends, cherishing the thought of spending time with her beloved family. It was almost morning before her mind would let her slip off into much-needed sleep.

  I’m going home. Home. It’s been such a long, long time.

  During the next few days the whole house was in a tizzy. Mrs. Stafford-Smyth had announced her intentions to her household staff, and everyone was busy with preparations for her departure.

  Belinda was perhaps the busiest of all. There was the choosing of Mrs. Stafford-Smyth’
s wardrobe and the packing, the last-minute shopping for small items, the dusting of hat feathers, and the changing of ribbons. Through it all Belinda flitted back and forth with a smile on her face. Soon she, too, would be off on her own journey. “Oh, Ma, I can hardly wait!” she whispered joyfully to herself as she worked.

  Windsor entered the sitting room with some garments over his arm. “Madam’s cleaning has arrived,” he informed Belinda in answer to her unasked question. “I shall take it to her at once.”

  “I’m going up. I’ll take it if you wish,” Belinda offered.

  Windsor had become accustomed to Belinda lending a hand now and then. But she knew he still had rigid ideas of proper positions and activities for the staff. Belinda was the nurse-companion of his lady. She should not be running errands. But after a pause, he must have decided this was all right and passed the garments to Belinda without argument.

  “Thank you, miss,” he said stiffly, and Belinda was certain he had concluded it wasn’t worth the argument with her. She started off with the clothing, a bit of a smile on her lips.

  “Your garments from the cleaners have been returned,” she said as she entered the room.

  “Oh, good!” exclaimed the woman. “I was beginning to feah that they wouldn’t come back in time since they were to have been here yesterday.”

  “Well, they’re here now. Should I hang them in the closet or pack them?” Belinda asked.

  “I’ve left room in that trunk for them,” responded Mrs. Stafford-Smyth, pointing, and Belinda felt her eyebrows rise as she moved toward the chest.

  My, she thought to herself, whatever will she do with all these clothes? And her planning to do more shopping, as well! I expect to be gone the same length of time, and I’m using one suitcase and a hatbox. Belinda smiled again.

  “Do you have you-ah packing done?” Mrs. Stafford-Smyth asked.

  Belinda was surprised at the question but shook her head. “It won’t take me long,” she assured her.

  Mrs. Stafford-Smyth looked a bit alarmed. “Don’t short you-ahself on time,” she said anxiously. “The train leaves at ten.”

  “My train doesn’t leave until four,” Belinda responded. She had already made the arrangements and purchased her ticket, but at her answer Mrs. Stafford-Smyth stopped midstride, her head quickly coming around to stare at Belinda.

  “Whatevah do you mean?” she asked sharply.

  Belinda began to flush. It was true she hadn’t asked her employer’s permission. She had meant to talk to her about it, but they had just been so busy there had never seemed to be time. Surely the woman hadn’t expected her to stay and care for the house. There was Windsor and Potter and the maids. Mrs. Stafford-Smyth had never before left anyone else to oversee the staff when she had traveled. Belinda had just assumed she would not be needed. But she had been wrong to assume. She should have asked permission before getting her ticket. After all, she was in the employ—

  “What do you mean?” Mrs. Stafford-Smyth asked again.

  “Oh, Aunt Virgie,” began Belinda apologetically. “I’m sorry. I just wasn’t thinking. I guess I’ve been in such a dither. I should have asked you. I didn’t realize you expected me to stay on here and—”

  “Stay on heah? Well, of course not. I expect you to accompany me—to New Yawk.”

  “Accompany you?” echoed Belinda dumbly.

  Mrs. Stafford-Smyth looked shaken. “Of course.”

  “But . . . but you didn’t say . . . say anything about me going with you,” Belinda reminded the older woman.

  “I didn’t?” Mrs. Stafford-Smyth looked bewildered. “Maybe I didn’t. I guess . . . I guess I didn’t think that it . . . that anything else would be considered. I just expected you to know. Careless of me. Dreadfully careless.”

  Belinda felt her heart pounding.

  “Well, no mattah,” went on the woman. “There is still time for you to get ready. I’ll call Ella to help you pack,” and Mrs. Stafford-Smyth moved toward the bell.

  “But . . .” stammered Belinda. “But I’ve . . . I’ve made other plans.”

  Mrs. Stafford-Smyth stopped with her hand on the buzzer. “You . . . you . . . What plans?” she asked simply.

  “I’ve . . . I’ve purchased a ticket . . . a train ticket for home,” Belinda managed.

  Mrs. Stafford-Smyth lowered herself into a nearby chair. “I see,” she said slowly.

  Belinda rushed to her and knelt beside her. “I really didn’t know you expected me to go with you. I thought . . . I thought it was just you and Aunt Celia. I didn’t know there was room for more guests than that. So I decided it was a good time for me to . . . to go home for a visit. I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

  Mrs. Stafford-Smyth was pale. Her hand trembled as she reached out to smooth back Belinda’s wayward curls.

  “You’ll . . . you won’t stay home, will you?” she asked shakily.

  “Oh no,” promised Belinda quickly. “I just plan to be gone for as long as you’ll be away.”

  Mrs. Stafford-Smyth took a deep breath. “My goodness, child,” she said with a nervous laugh. “You nigh scared the breath out of me.”

  “You didn’t think . . . ?” began Belinda, but she realized that it was exactly what Mrs. Stafford-Smyth had thought. Seeing the color gradually return to the older woman’s face, Belinda realized just how much it meant to her to have Belinda’s company here in the big, lonely house.

  And with that realization Belinda knew she could never, never just walk out and leave the woman all alone. The thought sent a chill through her body. She loved Mrs. Stafford-Smyth dearly. The older woman was like the grandmother she had never had the chance to know. But to stay with her indefinitely at the expense of never being with the family she loved was a terrible commitment. Belinda didn’t know if she could bear it, if she could really be that unselfish.

  “You poor child,” Mrs. Stafford-Smyth was crooning softly, her hands again smoothing back Belinda’s hair. “How thoughtless I’ve been. Heah I’ve sat day after day, not even realizing how lonesome you must be foah those you love. And how lonesome they must be for you! Of course you should go home. I should have thought of it myself. It’s a perfect opportunity for you. I’m glad you had sense enough to think of it, even if I didn’t.”

  Her hand stopped, resting on Belinda’s head. A shadow passed over her face as she looked into Belinda’s blue eyes. “And I will not hold you to that promise,” she said gently, though her eyes begged Belinda to return. “You know I love you. You know I want you heah, but I will not ask you for such a promise.”

  “I’ll be back, Aunt Virgie,” Belinda said in a whisper, and she leaned forward to kiss the older woman on the cheek.

  Four

  Homeward Bound

  The whole Marshall Manor household was in a turmoil of activity the next morning. Breakfast in the north parlor was a hurried affair, nervous maids fluttering nearby while Mrs. Stafford-Smyth went down a long, long list of last-minute instructions with Potter and Windsor. Windsor nodded glumly from time to time. It was clear he thought Madam again was giving in to her penchant for foolish gadding about. He did not sanction such travel, and Remember what happened last time, his frown seemed to say.

  Belinda was up and down the stairs a dozen times, running for this, tucking in that, securing this, dusting off that. At long last the carriage with Mrs. Celia Prescott pulled up at the front of the house and Mrs. Stafford-Smyth, bag, and baggage were loaded in for the station.

  “My land, girl,” exclaimed Mrs. Prescott to Belinda, “where are your hat and gloves?”

  “Belinda is not accompanying us,” replied Mrs. Stafford-Smyth.

  “She’s not? Well, whatever will you do—?”

  “I will manage just fine,” Mrs. Stafford-Smyth put in archly. “I haven’t totally forgotten how to cayah for myself.”

  “But I thought . . . I just assumed that—”

  “Belinda is going to take a trip home to see her family while I a
m gone,” continued Mrs. Stafford-Smyth.

  “You’d . . . you’d let her? She might not be back,” argued Mrs. Prescott, and Belinda couldn’t help but smile at the genuine warning in the woman’s voice. There had been a time when Mrs. Prescott had assumed Belinda to be unnecessary and ill-equipped to care for the well-being of her dear friend, Virginia Stafford-Smyth.

  Mrs. Stafford-Smyth drew Belinda to her and kissed her on the forehead. “That is her decision,” she said softly. “She knows how much I would miss her.”

  Unable to say anything, Belinda felt the tears forming in her eyes.

  “Good-bye, my deah,” said the older woman. “I shall miss you. Tell your mama for me what a blessed woman she is to have such a daughtah.”

  Belinda swallowed.

  “Now, you have a good time, you heah? Do all those things you’ve been missing.” She kissed Belinda again. “Bye now.”

  Belinda managed a good-bye and waved as the carriage pulled out into the street and passed out of sight.

  She turned and slowly made her way into the big house. She hadn’t even started her own packing yet. Still, she would not need to take much with her. There were many things hanging in her closet at the farm. She was sure they were more appropriate for farm life anyway, and she would make do with them.

  She was met at the door by Windsor. “Would you like me to summon Ella for you, miss?” he asked Belinda.

  Belinda was a bit surprised at his concern.

  “I think I can manage fine, thank you,” she responded.

  “But I know you’ve been much too busy to take care of your own packing,” he continued. “As you have seen, Madam always needs so much done before one of her trips—”

  “I don’t intend to take very much with me,” Belinda assured him. She couldn’t help but smile at his carefully worded reference to Madam’s choice of travel “necessities.” “I left some clothing at home in my closet,” she explained. “I can use it while I’m there.”

  Windsor looked surprised, and then Belinda remembered that it had been almost three years since she had been home. A respectable young lady would certainly not return to fashions of three years past. Belinda smiled again.

 

‹ Prev