by Karen Kirst
Jane waved a cheery goodbye as the two maids, pressed into this new venture by John, began inquiring about their positions. Hannah gave a distracted wave in return and turned her full attention to the matter of organizing and directing the greatest challenge she had yet faced. Purpose filled her soul and gave quickness to her movements. She never gave much weight to anything Becky said, but perhaps her elder sister had been right. Perhaps this was her new calling.
Once they had moved everything, she would set Lucinda and Amelia to work cataloging the items in the new workroom, assigning each bolt of fabric and each basket of notions a place so that items could be found quickly when needed. She followed the last of the footmen into the room and gasped. Never had she worked in such a pleasant place. Arched windows reached from the floor to the ceiling, flooding it with light. She would not have to squint as she stitched, that much was certain.
Large, long oaken tables crisscrossed the room, giving her ample space to lay out fabric and cut patterns. Comfortable chairs beckoned her to sit and work. Shelves lined the walls, filled with all the fancy goods Reed had sent down from London. Lucinda and Amelia bustled about, organizing everything as she had requested.
It was, in brief, as different from the dusty, neglected shop in Tansley as night was from day. She clasped her hands over her heart and forced herself to stay calm when all she wanted to do was dance around the room, clapping her hands with glee.
“Do you like it?” A familiar voice spoke up behind her.
She turned, smiling, to Reed. “I love it.”
Reed stared at her for a disconcerting moment, as though he’d finally noticed something different about her. She put a hand up, defensively touching her braided coils of hair. She must look a sight, after all the traveling she had done and now moving everything into her workroom.
“That’s good.” He still regarded her as one might gaze upon a strange insect.
She nodded and turned away. Some of the gloss had dissolved from her day. It wasn’t nice, after all, to be regarded so closely. She had to be polite, of course, because he was the agent of this transformative change in her life. But she didn’t have to like it.
Behind her, Reed cleared his throat. “Well, I am glad to hear it. I ordered extra fabric and notions so that you could sew some new gowns for yourself, too.”
Hannah whirled around. “Why?” She would have her hands full with making clothing for Jane—there would be no time to make her own. Her dresses looked nice enough, didn’t they? She glanced down at her skirt. It had been mended, but she’d done a good job of it. Only a practiced eye could see the darning.
“My dresses are good enough,” she rejoined shortly. Reminders of her own poverty and precarious situation in society were intolerable at the moment. “I do thank you, though,” she added. She must continue to be polite, no matter what happened.
“Yes, they are,” he agreed. Then he came around to stand before her. “You are quite well dressed at all times, Sid. However, I am bribing you with copious amounts of fabric for two reasons.”
The sharp edge of her temper began to dull. She didn’t mind teasing nearly as much when it wasn’t so personal. “Give me your reasons.”
“First of all, I want to have your help with my puppy training business.” He clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace, looking for all the world like a young man pretending at being an old, entrenched master. She resisted the urge to laugh, for he was being serious. “You have a vast amount of common sense, which I need, and an absolute inability to couch the truth in pretty nonsense. Therefore, I would consider you an invaluable assistant as I begin this endeavor.”
Hannah hesitated. On the one hand, it was difficult not to feel a trifle insulted, for who liked being told that she was too blunt for words? On the other hand, it was the truth. She was known throughout her family as being one who would never dissemble. She sighed. “Very well, I shall help you in any way I can.”
“The second reason is simple. My sister likes you very much, and you have played no small role in convincing her to listen to me and take advantage of a London Season.” He paused in his pacing and faced her squarely. “You’ll need a new wardrobe if you are to accompany us to London. Will you?”
*
John’s heart skipped a beat as he waited for her response. Somehow, this meant a great deal to him. He’d come up with the idea just a few days ago, and now he didn’t know how he hadn’t thought of it before. Bringing Sid to London was a fantastic idea. She would help curb Jane, and she was a fine dancer herself. With a new wardrobe, who knew? She could certainly pass for a gentlewoman. Her straightforward demeanor would be the stuff of legend at many fine gatherings.
“I don’t know what to say.” Sid, who had an uncanny directness in her gaze, turned her eyes toward the floor. “I hadn’t thought about that at all. I assumed once I got the dresses done, I would return to Tansley.”
“That was the original agreement, of course.” He stepped aside as two of the footmen walked by, moving a large bolt of fabric from one end of the room to the other. “But I don’t know why I didn’t extend the plan further when we first discussed it. You are a natural fit for London, Sid. Moreover, you will keep my sister and me from killing each other.” He said the last with a hint of laughter in his voice, for she looked so utterly serious and yet he knew that he could only lighten the mood so much before he annoyed her.
“Have you discussed this with Jane? She may not want a duenna,” Sid replied, her eyes still fixed on the floor.
“What nonsense. Jane will think it’s a capital idea, and you well know that,” John said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Why was Sid acting so oddly? “Just say you will go and let’s have an end of this. I want to celebrate your return.”
“I suppose.” Sid sighed and turned to look at the buzz of activity in the work room. “I’ll be so busy sewing, I am not sure I can finish Jane’s dresses and do mine. But I will try to make one or two so I can be presentable.”
“Excellent.” He rubbed his hands together. “Now, tell me, what do you prefer for supper? Our man has caught fish from the lake, and we also have chicken. Mrs. H awaits your decision. After all, we must kill the fatted calf for your return.”
“I thought you weren’t particularly religious,” Sid countered, finally turning and giving him one of her looks. “How, then, do you know that Bible story?”
“My dear Sid, I am the original prodigal son. Have I not returned to Grant Park after years of gallivanting around? Besides which, I am on nodding terms with the Lord. I just don’t particularly care for Him much.” He offered her his elbow. “Shall we go to the kitchens and see Mrs. H? I promised I would bring you as soon as I could tear you from the workroom.”
“Yes, of course.” Sid accepted his arm and he led her out of the room. Pleasure suffused him. Sid was home, and all would be well. She would help him with Jane, with the puppies and with everything. He could rely on her clear-eyed counsel on every particular.
He was becoming as dependent on her as a friend.
“Why are we celebrating my return?” Sid asked as he escorted her down the hall. “You knew I would come back in a week. Why the need to make merry? You know I must start work without delay. I was hoping to begin cutting out one of Jane’s walking dresses this evening.”
He laughed. Trust Sid to be ready to delve in, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows. “We missed you, Sid. Is that not cause enough for celebration?”
“I missed Grant Park.” She spoke with a strange catch in her voice. “Things back in Tansley were not as welcoming as I remembered. Funny, when you said ‘welcome home,’ I could not agree with you more. This has become home to me.”
This was the most she had ever said to him since she came to live there, and her words filled him with fierce joy. “Good. I am glad to hear it. I am happy, too, that you will be coming with us to London.” A tiny voice in the back of his mind wondered, How long can we keep her after London? That was t
he problem. After Jane’s successful debut, there might not be a logical reason for Sid to live at Grant Park. He must mull the problem over at length. Surely there was a solution.
“Yes. I am, too. I don’t know what will happen to me or to my shop afterward,” she replied, echoing his concern, “and so I don’t see much use for celebrating. But if you insist—”
“I do insist.” He pushed open the doors that led to the kitchens. “I know all too well what can happen if we never take the time to have fun. Thus, I take every opportunity. While you work for me, you will, too.”
Several times, he had tried to voice his life’s philosophy, but this time he seemed to say it best. That he spoke it so well to Sid seemed strangely apt.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
John popped his head through the door that adjoined his study to her workroom. “Sid, come quickly. I need you.”
Sid glanced up from the worktable, fixing him with one of her blue-eyed, annoyed stares. “In a moment, sir. I must finish pinning the tucks on this bodice, or a half hour’s work will be for naught.”
He laughed, pushing the door open. He strolled into the workroom, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Upon my word, I would never ask you to botch an honest thirty minutes of labor.”
Sid made an exasperated murmur and bent closer to her work.
“The thing is, I am looking for the breeding book Davis was speaking of,” he continued. “You know, the one that traces the pedigrees of all the creatures here at Grant Park?”
“I believe you mentioned it last night at dinner,” she muttered, folding a piece of lavender fabric between her fingers. “What do you need?”
“The truth is, I find it horrifying to spend more than a few moments alone in the library,” he responded, forcing his tone to sound easy and light. “So, of course, I require a companion.”
Sid shrugged, squinting at her handiwork. “Why on earth would a library terrify you?”
“Memories of the past, I suppose.” Her blunt nature kept him from beating about the bush, for it had the habit of forcing the truth from him. “Lots of family history in there.”
His direct answer got her attention, for she straightened and put her work aside. “You have no reason to fear anything in there. You are doing excellent work as master. The puppies are all fine and healthy, your sister is going to make a spectacular London debut and your home and servants want for nothing.”
Her praise filled him with pride, but there was still a feeling of unease within his soul. “Thank you. I don’t think, however, that my ancestors would be quite so full of commendation as you are. I really don’t feel up to facing their portraits, staring down at me with disapproval, while I am in the library. Surely you need a respite from your labors, Sid.” He offered her his elbow, silently pleading with her to accept. Her bracingly no-nonsense manner would banish any troubling memories of the past.
She nodded, taking his elbow. “Very well.” It wasn’t a flowery or flirtatious response, but he expected no less from Sid.
He led her down the hallway to the library. Pausing before the doors, he summoned every last ounce of his strength. He had been able to be in this room for short periods of time, while he searched for the book. The hunt always left him gloomy and uneasy. The only way he could finish was to have Sid there. The book must be on the far right shelf, for that was the only place he had not looked.
“Is it locked?” Sid lifted an eyebrow in query.
“No.” He pushed through the massive oaken doors, allowing her to pass before him. He waited, on the threshold, for her reaction. Would she feel the same weight of unmet expectations as he did?
“This is a beautiful room,” she said, turning her head up to gaze at the portraits. “So all of these people are your family members?”
“Yes. Some more nearly related than others.” He sighed.
“You are so fortunate to have portraits to remind yourself of your relatives,” she went on, studying each picture in turn. “I don’t have anything for my family. What I wouldn’t give for one of my father and mother. I was so young when they passed, and I am afraid I cannot recall what they looked like.”
He had never considered that particular dilemma. “I’m sorry,” he managed.
“Well, I console myself by scratching out little drawings of my sisters and their children,” she replied, turning toward him with a smile. “Just for my own amusement, of course. So, where is this book we are seeking?”
“Just a moment.” Had he heard aright? “You draw portraits, as well? Is there no end to your accomplishments?”
A pretty flush of color washed over her cheeks. “I would hardly call it an accomplished skill, but I do enjoy it.”
“I want to see this,” he demanded. “The next time I go to the barn, I want you to come along and sketch the puppies.”
“Yes, sir.” She bobbed a small curtsy, and he couldn’t stifle the sudden laughter that her impertinent gesture caused.
“Sid, call me sir once more and…well, I suppose I can’t think of any other nicknames for you,” he admitted. “I am not ordering you as your employer, but asking you as a friend. You have prodigious talent in all things I have seen so far. I look forward to seeing more of your work.”
“Thank you.” She turned away quickly.
A silence grew between them until she pointed at the picture of Mother. “Who is that? She was lovely.”
“Her name was Henrietta Reed, née Ashworth,” he replied quietly. “My mother.”
She turned, placing a hand on his arm. “You are so fortunate to have something to remember her by. Jane says you were very young when she passed away.”
With anyone else, that kind of statement could seem rude or invasive, but Sid was likely searching for common ground. “I was eleven years old. I still remember her well. I certainly don’t need a portrait to remind me of her.” As soon as he spoke, he wished he’d waited until he’d formed a more jovial response. There was no need to snap at Sid.
“Ah, that’s good.” If she was affronted, she kept her counsel. “I envy you, I must admit.”
He stared at her for a moment. How could his situation provoke any kind of jealousy? “How so?”
“You got eleven years with your mother, and I don’t even remember mine,” she said. She looked down at her hand, which still rested on his arm, and dropped it as if it were on fire. “I would give anything to have something tangible of them. Alas, I don’t suppose I ever will. That’s why I sketch what I can of my own family, to keep me company as I grow older.”
He really didn’t know what to say. Never had he regarded the time he spent with his mother as a blessing, for the aching memory of her death overshadowed any happiness he remembered. He started to say something inane, to pass the moment, but could not. He just stood, regarding his mother beside Sid. His mother was famed throughout the county for her beauty, of course—beauty that she passed on to Jane. What the artist managed to capture was the generous spirit that pervaded her every movement. Funny that such an ethereal characteristic could be rendered in paint.
They stood so for a moment longer, as a slow warmth suffused him.
“It’s—it’s hard for me to look at Mother, much,” he admitted finally. “I am responsible for her death.” There, it was out. Now she knew, and Hannah Siddons was incapable of telling a lie, even a white lie that could soften the truth. If she despised him, then he was indeed as miserable a creature as he felt all these years.
“You?” She turned, her skirts fluttering around her ankles. “How on earth could a boy be responsible for the death of anyone?”
“I was sick, and I made her sick.” He closed his eyes at the memory. “Mother never gave a thought to herself, for she was always busy with caring for the other tenants and people on our estate. She worked from dawn until well after dark. Never had any time for fun.” The words were carried away from him, like a leaf caught in a swiftly moving stream. “I watched her, day after day, working. She worked so much,
Sid. I caught a fever and she got it after nursing me back to health. She was so exhausted, she couldn’t fight it off.” He stared down at the carpet. “She died within days.”
“I’m so sorry,” Sid said. She clasped her hand around his and some of her unwavering kindness suffused him. “You know, though, that you had nothing to do with her death.”
“But I—” he began.
“You were a child, and you were sick. Your mother cared for you, as any good mother would. Why, would you blame Molly if suddenly she came down with an illness and passed it to Madge?”
She was still holding his hand. He never wanted to let go.
“No, of course not.” He couldn’t release her and yet he couldn’t meet her gaze.
“Well, then, why not offer yourself a bit of the pardon you would give an animal?”
When she said those words, they sounded true. He breathed in deeply. Her compassion was acting as a salve on the raw wound that had tormented him for years.
“Your mother wouldn’t want you to feel that way. No mother would.” She tightened her hold on his hand. “The Lord wouldn’t want you to blame yourself, either. If this is the reason for your schism with Him, then you should know that there should be no alienation, no isolation. He loves all and forgives all. If this is burdening your soul, you should turn to Him in prayer and be healed.”
Hannah Siddons would never lie. She was one person, perhaps the only person, who could be absolutely honest at all times. She believed in a God who forgave. No, that would never do. He must not dissemble. She believed in God, not a god, and she remained steadfast in her feeling that no matter what John had done, he would be forgiven. A curious calm stole over him, as though she had made him take a healing draught. “What you say must be true. It’s just so hard to believe it, Sid. Rather like when you get a pebble in your shoe. You’ll walk around for days feeling the tenderness in the sole of your foot, even when the rock is gone.”
“I can understand that. It may take some time, but you’ll restore your spiritual health.” She gave him a tender smile and let go his hand. “Now, as to the real purpose for our visit. Where is that book?”
