Refining Emma

by Delia Parr

  Emma looked down at the dog, who had plopped down to the floor again. “No more excitement. No more commotion. We have a very quiet, very peaceful few hours facing us,” she murmured, and she knew exactly how she wanted to spend those hours.

  With a joyful heart, she went directly to her bedroom to get her writing box and the letters she had received recently from her three sons. She also grabbed a needle and thread and a scrap of fabric. Once she had the fabric added to her keepsakes, she wanted to reread the boys’ letters and pen a reply to each of them so they would hear from her before making their final plans to come home in April for her birthday.

  Within twenty minutes, Ditty had left for town and Emma was sitting in a rocking chair enjoying a cozy fire in the kitchen. Butter was curled up at her feet. Her sewing notions rested on top of her sons’ letters lying on her lap. Her keepsakes were still in her pocket.

  Using tiny stitches, she hemmed the dark brown piece of fabric and set it down. She tugged the collection of keepsakes from her pocket and smiled as she stitched the hemmed fabric to the back. She had taken the brown fabric from the split skirt she had worn the day she had gone riding with Zachary Breckenwith to Gray’s Tavern.

  Whether the fabric would be more a reminder of the panther they had rescued or her first outing with the man who wanted to court her still remained to be seen. Satisfied with her handiwork, however, she stored her keepsakes back in her pocket, but thoughts of Zachary Breckenwith were not quite as easy to tuck away.

  If he had outridden the storm, he would have spent the past several weeks in New York City and should be returning to Candlewood soon. But he could just as easily have been caught by the storm and only now en route to his original destination. She let out a sigh. The timing of Zachary’s return to Candlewood was as unpredictable as the arrival of the legal owner of Hill House, although she was quite certain she would be happier to see the former than the latter.

  Before she had an opportunity to reread a single one of her sons’ letters, she tensed with the odd feeling she was not alone.

  She looked up, saw Orralynne standing in the doorway, and immediately knew that the peace she had coveted had ended. The only question in Emma’s mind was what kind of excitement or commotion Orralynne’s arrival might announce.

  29

  EMMA COCKED HER HEAD. “Orralynne?”

  “I waited as long as I could. Have all the others gone?” the woman asked but remained standing in the doorway with her shoulders drooped. Exhaustion dulled her gaze and bleached out the little color she once had in her pale features, and her gown hung loosely on her frame.

  “It’s just me and Butter left, at least for a spell. I expect Ditty and Mr. Lewis back for dinner,” she replied, setting aside her letters and leaving her seat in front of the fire. She approached the woman, both curious and anxious to know why Orralynne needed to speak to her alone. “Would you like me to fix something for you to eat? Or some tea, perhaps?”

  “No. Nothing. I can’t stay that long. I have to get back before Lester wakes up again,” she insisted while gazing over her shoulder for a moment. When she looked at Emma again, her gaze was steady and determined. “I need to know if it’s true,” she whispered, as if she might be afraid her brother could hear her.

  Emma lifted a brow.

  Orralynne tilted up her chin. “You’ve been to town since the explosion and fires. Although you have a reputation as a woman who does not engage in gossip, you can’t avoid hearing it. My brother tells me he’s filed a number of lawsuits against . . . against a number of people because of the fire that damaged our cottage. I want to know if that’s true.”

  “In a manner of speaking,” Emma admitted, disappointed that Orralynne was apparently as self-concerned and greedy as her brother.

  “I’ve lived with my brother long enough to know that lawsuits are either filed or they’re not. Which is it?” Orralynne argued, though the hush to her voice softened her words from a demand to more of a plea.

  Emma hesitated for a moment. Since Lester Burke had obviously discussed his plans with his sister, she felt no need to keep her conversation with him about the lawsuits private. She did, however, decide to edit some of what Zachary Breckenwith had told her, if only to avoid involving him. “The last time I spoke with your brother, he admitted meeting with his lawyer here at Hill House to discuss the lawsuits.”

  “They met here?”

  “Apparently in my office.”

  Orralynne narrowed her gaze. “Before my brother’s mishap,” she murmured.

  “Yes. When I was in town, just before the snowstorm, I heard that his lawsuits hadn’t actually been filed at that point. The court has been rather inundated with many other issues since the tragedy.”

  Orralynne shook her head and frowned. “The court is always clogged. Lester never let that stop him before.”

  Emma was fairly confident that she had convinced the man not to file a lawsuit against her. She bridled at the notion he would proceed against the others, as well as his sister’s apparent support of that action, pitting neighbor against neighbor.

  “You should know that the likelihood of collecting a settlement of any kind from the owner of the match factory is unlikely. He’s already left town. Penniless,” she stated.

  Emma could not find it in her heart to love either of these two mean-spirited people, but she did want to follow Reverend Glenn’s advice and treat them as she would any other guest. She walked over to the larder, took out a crock of butter, a jar of jam, and a hunk of bread left from breakfast and set them on the table.

  “That’s only one of the lawsuits,” Orralynne countered, cocking her head as if straining to listen for her brother. “There are several others.”

  Emma arranged the bread on a plate, took a knife from the drawer in the cupboard, sliced the bread into bite-size chunks, and started buttering them. “The lawsuit against the town will be just as useless as the first one. Your brother might recover something from the Andersons, the Morgans, and the Hoffners, but they can ill afford to lose any of the little they have.”

  Orralynne huffed and her cheeks flushed deep rose. “I’m not a party to any of those lawsuits. I’m not involved at all,” she protested.

  Emma shrugged, wondering if naming the three families who had each taken in the Burkes for a single night had pricked Orralynne’s conscience. “You’ll certainly benefit from anything your brother recovers in a settlement,” she countered. While she added a dollop of mulberry jam to each buttered chunk of bread, she wondered why Orralynne was staying so long to talk after insisting she did not have time for a cup of tea.

  “Judith told me she knows all of the families quite well. She says they’re good people,” Orralynne murmured.

  Emma paused and looked over at Orralynne. “You discussed them with Judith? I didn’t think you left your brother long enough to—”

  “She usually stopped by my room late each night to see how I was faring. She wasn’t comfortable sleeping, so we’d chat awhile. She . . . she understood how hard it was for me because she was very close to her sister and helped to care for her when she was very, very ill.”

  Emma dropped her gaze. She had been so happy to have the Burkes isolated and out of the way, she had never made the effort to stay up until late at night to speak to Orralynne herself. Embarrassed that one of her guests had done what Emma had not thought to do, even a bit ashamed of herself, she carried the plate of jellied bread to Orralynne and handed it to her. “Here. Take this with you. In case you want a snack before dinner.”

  Orralynne looked from Emma to the plate and back to Emma again. “You don’t need to be nice to me or my brother. He told me he’s decided not to file a lawsuit against you because of his mishap.”

  Emma extended the plate farther. “I try to be attentive and kind to all of my guests. I’m sorry I haven’t seemed to have done that for both of you.”

  “We’re used to having people treat us . . . differently. I . . . I need to go
. I’ve stayed away from my brother for too long,” she whispered and promptly left.

  Feeling quite unsettled and a little perplexed by Orralynne’s visit, Emma returned to the rocking chair. Instead of giving her attention to her sons’ letters, she folded her hands on her lap and bowed her head.

  She used her feet to set the chair into motion. Rocking back. Praying. Rocking forward. Praying. Simply praying.

  Emma tossed and turned all night. When she was not dreaming of the owner of Hill House arriving and oddly demanding that she leave wearing only the clothes on her back and those old skates of hers on her feet, she was wide awake, staring at the ceiling and listening to every creak and night sound that echoed in the very empty boardinghouse.

  She was just drifting off to sleep again when she heard someone rapping at her door. Concerned that Ditty might have been having a fitful sleep, since Liesel was staying with her family, Emma slipped out of bed. Shivering in the cold and dark, she grabbed the dressing robe she had left at the foot of her bed and put it on as she stumbled across the short distance to the door and opened it.

  No Ditty.

  The rapping came again. “Emma!”

  She turned, realized someone was rapping at the door at the top of the staircase that led from her bedroom down to her office. Now fully awake, she heard soft groaning sounds over the pounding of her heart as soon as she opened the door.

  With light behind her coming from the office below where Lester Burke had his sickroom, Orralynne’s features were shadowed, but her voice was low and desperate. “We need Dr. Jeffers to come. Please send for Dr. Jeffers.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “My brother. He’s burning with fever. He’s delirious. He’s . . . We need Dr. Jeffers.”

  “I’ll fetch him,” Emma promised, although she was not quite sure how she was going to manage that feat. The doctor lived all the way on the other side of town. Traveling by day over snow-packed walkways was difficult. Attempting to get to the doctor’s home in the middle of the night would be almost impossible. According to Ditty, who had gone back into town after dinner to meet Liesel to go sledding again, the afternoon sun had melted the top layer of snow, which Emma was certain had frozen into a solid sheet of ice.

  “Please hurry. I don’t want my brother to die. He can’t die. He has to—”

  “I’m sure the doctor will be able to help your brother,” Emma said reassuringly, although she suspected the poor woman was overreacting simply because she had been exhausted meeting her brother’s demands for the past few weeks. “Go back downstairs and sit with your brother. I’ll wake Ditty and have her bring you some fresh water and cloths. Keep him as comfortable as you can until I get back.”

  Emma was dressed and fully armed to begin her mission of mercy half an hour later.

  Once again the storage boxes in the garret had proven to be invaluable. Wearing one of the fur coats she had used on the patio to line the chairs made better sense instead of her cape, which might tangle up and cause her to fall. She wore several layers of men’s work shirts and a pair of men’s trousers beneath her riding skirt. Heavy boots on her feet and a woolen cap on her head completed her transformation from genteel woman to middle-aged urchin.

  She cared little about what anyone might say about her apparel or her decision to leave for Dr. Jeffers’ house now instead of waiting for full daylight. She had given serious thought to using the road that eventually led from the side of the house into town, but that route would take twice as long. The one sure way to get to town quickly was to use the brick lane that led down the hill in front of the house, although she was admittedly anxious about the sled she held in one hand and the skates she held in the other.

  Ditty had the good sense to simply offer Emma some last words of advice. “There’s a good bit of moonlight to guide you. Remember to put the skates under you when you lie down on the sled. You’ll never feel them with all you’re wearing.”

  “I will.”

  “Once you start down the hill, stay on one side or the other. There’ll be less ice there. Lean hard on the opposite side of the sled to keep yourself to the side. Once you get near the bottom, steer closer and closer to the snowbank. You’ll stop in time to avoid any traffic on Main Street.”

  Emma cringed. “I’m not worried about riders or wagons on Main Street. It’s not even dawn. I’m worried about slamming into a snowbank at full speed and breaking my neck.”

  “I told you I’d go,” Ditty reminded her.

  “So you can break your neck? Despite your talent, I doubt you’ve had any experience sledding in the middle of the night. Thank you, but I’d rather not have to explain to your mother and father how you broke your neck.”

  Ditty sighed. “All right. Now, once you’re at the bottom of the hill, all you have to do is strap on the skates. You’ll be at Dr. Jeffers’ house in no time, as long as you don’t skate in the middle of Main Street. Too many ruts,” she explained.

  “I’ll do my best,” Emma murmured. Going sledding was daunting enough. Skating down Main Street, day or night, was paramount to inviting a disaster only her good intentions and a lot of prayers might avoid. “I know you’re not overjoyed to be left here alone with the Burkes, but—”

  “I’ll be fine. Mr. Burke is too sick to be rude to me, and Miss Burke isn’t so terribly nasty anymore,” Ditty said softly. She helped Emma carry the wooden sled through the house to the front door. “You can still change your mind and let me go.”

  “Not really,” Emma gritted and opened the door.

  In all truth, by the time Emma arrived at Dr. Jeffers’ home, she was rather proud of herself. She had sled down the hill to Main Street almost without incident, save for her rather pitiful landing at the end when she flew in one direction, clutching the skates, and her sled went in another. Other than sliding on her tummy for a few feet until she landed face-first in a snowbank, she survived relatively unscathed.

  After retrieving the sled and storing it on top of a snowbank at the base of a tree, she strapped on her skates and only fell once when she hit a rut in the roadway and ended up facedown on the ice again.

  She was relieved to find the doctor at home and willing to venture out to treat one of the more miserable of his patients. She was doubly thankful he had a carriage and insisted on taking her back to Hill House with him by way of the road that led to the side of Hill House, thereby avoiding that steep, icy hill in the front.

  They left the horse and carriage at the edge of her property and trudged through the snow to reach the side porch and outer door to her office. “Mr. Burke is right through that door. His sister should be with him. I’ll walk around front and go in that way. I’ll be waiting in the kitchen with Ditty if you need anything,” she prompted.

  He nodded and knocked on the door. “Dr. Jeffers here,” he announced and let himself inside.

  When dawn broke, Emma sent Ditty to bed. The poor young woman had run herself ragged, twice carrying hot water and cloths back and forth from the kitchen to the sickroom. She had even gone outside once to get a bucket of ice the doctor had requested.

  Once Emma set a third pot of water to boil and set out more clean cloths just in case the doctor needed them, she picked up the teapot, then set it down again. She had had three cups of tea already. Exhausted and anxious to know if the doctor would be able to help Lester Burke through this crisis, she was tempted to sit down and rock by the fire. She rejected that idea, too. She was too tired and would probably fall asleep—like Butter, who was asleep by the fire despite all the commotion.

  She stood next to the kitchen table and arched her back. Overtired, she could barely focus properly. Her muscles were starting to ache a bit now that she had warmed up from her late-night sledding and skating, and the skin on her face felt a bit taut, probably from being exposed to the cold for so long.

  “I’ll walk and pray,” she whispered, hoping to stay awake and do something useful. She scarcely completed a simple walk around the table wh
en Dr. Jeffers entered the kitchen.

  Though he was a young man, some fifteen years Emma’s junior, he had thinning black hair that scarcely covered his head. Concern for his patients had etched permanent creases in his forehead but also softened his dark eyes. “Mr. Burke is resting more comfortably now,” he offered, walked closer to her to study her, and frowned. “Did you say you fell once or twice tonight?”

  “I fell once. Slid once,” she admitted.

  “Hmm.” He grabbed a clean cloth from the counter, went to the back door, and disappeared outside for a moment. When he returned, he handed her a cloth filled with a handful of snow. “Your one eye is swelling a bit. I suspect you’ll be sporting a good bruise in no time. Have a seat at the table. This should help.”

  She sat down, pressed the cold compress to her eye, and winced, more at the thought of explaining what happened to Mother Garrett than from pain. “I thought I was just too tired to focus properly.”

  “You should have sent for me days ago to tend to Mr. Burke.”

  Emma swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry. He was quite insistent otherwise.”

  He let out a sigh. “I’m afraid Mr. Burke has no greater enemy than himself.” He paused and glanced at the teapot still sitting in the middle of the table. “Would there, by chance, be any tea left?”

  “Of course. Forgive me. Have a seat. I’ll get a mug from the cupboard for you,” she gushed, but he urged her back into her seat.

  “You sit still and keep that eye covered,” he insisted and got the mug himself. He set it down on the table and poured tea into the mug before taking a seat across from her.

  “I have honey or sugar and cream—”

  “No, thank you.” He took a sip and let out a sigh. “I’ve talked with Miss Burke. She understands what to do now.”

  “Is Mr. Burke’s condition worsening, as his sister fears?”