Pattern for Romance: Quilts of Love Series

by Carla J Gade

  “I am glad it has helped.” They approached the millinery shop, and Joshua held open the door. “After you, milady.”

  “Why, thank you, kind sir.” She nodded, then lowered her gaze as she stepped inside to the jingle of small bells hanging over the doorway.

  With no one immediately present to inquire of, Joshua and Honour wandered around the store looking over shelves and displays in search of the bag.

  Mrs. Carter, the shopkeeper, stepped behind a counter. “Is there something I may help you with?”

  Honour faced the older woman, Joshua standing near. “Good afternoon. My name is Honour Metcalf and—”

  “I know who you are,” the cantankerous proprietress said.

  “I came in search of a workbag,” Honour continued.

  “How much do you plan to spend?”

  “Why, there it is!” Honour pointed to the bag sitting on the shelving behind the counter.

  “There what is, Miss?” Mrs. Carter glanced over her shelves.

  “My workbag. I misplaced it during the storm the other day and thought I might never find it. I have been searching all over.” Honour extended her arm. “May I see it, please?”

  The store owner planted her fists on her hips, “It is not for sale.”

  “I surely hope not. As I said, it belongs to me.” Honour kept her tone in perfect poise, though she tapped the toe of her shoe against the planked floor.

  “You may look at it and if you have the coin. Mayhap I shall consider selling it to you.” The contrary woman placed the satchel on the counter.

  Honour picked it up and held it snuggly against her middle. “I told you this is the very bag that I have been looking for. It is already mine.”

  Mrs. Carter narrowed her eyes. “You refuse to pay for it, eh?”

  “I do, but mayhap—”

  The storekeeper came out from behind the counter and hollered, “Thief!”

  5

  Joshua stepped in front of Mrs. Carter, blocking her from the door. He stayed his hand over the woman’s arm, untouching. “Miss Metcalf is no thief.”

  The irate shopkeeper jerked away from Joshua as if he’d attempted to accost her. “Move away, or the sheriff will hear my testimony that you’ve acted as her accomplice.”

  In disbelief, Joshua stared into the woman’s possum-like eyes, and tried to appeal to her sensibilities, assuming she had some. “I am nothing of the sort, Mrs. Carter. Please be reasonable and return Miss Metcalf’s property to her.”

  “Do not speak to me in a harsh manner, Mr. Sutton, or I shall refrain from making purchases from your father’s business,” she snapped.

  Joshua’s eyes darted at Miss Metcalf, who remained by the counter, her face tense with concern. Mrs. Carter looked back at Miss Metcalf, glaring.

  “Mrs. Carter,” Honour pleaded. “I have a young sister I must get from Mrs. Hollister’s dame school. I came to see if, perchance, you had my satchel. I see that you do and would like to have it back, please.”

  The woman’s face contorted. “Without paying. That is an act of thievery. We will see what the sheriff has to say about that.” Mrs. Carter crossed her arms over her rotund bodice.

  The door opened and Joshua stepped back, astonished. Reverend Cooper entered the millinery shop to the surprise of all. Joshua met his gaze in earnest, hoping the minister could read his silent plea for intervention.

  “Reverend Cooper,” Mrs. Carter said. She donned a smile, and her inflection changed instantly. “Is there something I may help you with today?”

  “I happened by when I someone call out. Mayhap I can be of assistance.” The reverend’s rich voice held an air of authority. His eyebrows curved in varying degrees as he beheld each of them in turn.

  Mrs. Carter’s eyes flitted toward the thick black tome tucked beneath Reverend Cooper’s arm. “Why . . . Why, yes. This woman is trying to steal my merchandise.”

  Reverend Cooper looked about the shop seeing no other, save Mrs. Carter’s assistant who remained timidly in the corner. “You are referring to Miss Metcalf?”

  “It is whom she claims to be. I know her as Mrs. Wadsworth’s new quilter. I also know quilters earn precious little, especially from the frugal Margaret Wadsworth. Each time this one patronizes my store she carefully counts each and every coin she removes from her purse.”

  “There is no crime in that,” Joshua said.

  “Hmmph.” Mrs. Carter dismissed Joshua’s comment and looked down her long nose at Honour. “She attempted to take something valuable from my store without paying for it. Can you not see she is nothing more than a common criminal?”

  All eyes turned toward Honour. “I find nothing wrong with Miss Metcalf’s appearance,” Reverend Cooper said. “It is not by the outward appearance one should be judged.”

  “I beg to differ, Reverend Cooper. How a woman dresses is evidence of her true nature. God’s Word says so, does it not? Women are to dress circumspectly, without being showy.”

  “Mrs. Carter.” Reverend Cooper chided, and pursed his lips.

  The proprietor’s ire rose. “She wears the attire of a fine lady. Do you not agree, Mr. Sutton? You know about such things.” Mrs. Carter glanced at Reverend Cooper meeting his disapproving gaze. “As a tailor, I mean.”

  Joshua regarded Honour’s gown. It had not escaped his notice, despite Miss Metcalf’s vocation, she was well-attired in the latest fashions. He refrained from replying, for he knew not what Mrs. Carter was insinuating.

  “Finery, for sure. The fabric, trimmings, her accoutrements. Why, the purse she is claiming is of the highest style.” Sarcasm dripped from Mrs. Carter’s tongue. “Miss Metcalf could never afford to own such fashions with her meager earnings as a quilter. She must have attained them by alternative means—by deception—just as she attempted to acquire this!” The woman waved the satchel in front of all.

  The parson scratched his wig. “So then, you have seen her with this satchel before when she made purchases in your shop. Did it look like this?”

  Mrs. Carter closed her eyes and huffed. “I cannot be expected to recall each of my customer’s purses.”

  “Though you amply stated you had taken notice of hers.” Reverend Cooper looked at Joshua, lifting his overlong eyebrows. “Mr. Sutton, do you recognize this bag as belonging to Miss Metcalf?”

  “No, sir.” Joshua frowned. “I have never seen it until now.”

  “How do you know this bag belongs to her?” the reverend asked.

  “She told me she had lost her workbag during the hailstorm. Thus the reason we came into Carter’s Millinery today. I have been assisting Miss Metcalf in locating it and we have searched most everywhere else along this street. It meets her description of it precisely.”

  “Yes, and I saw you looking for it myself.” The reverend acknowledged Joshua, then turned toward the accuser. “How did you come by this bag, Mrs. Carter?”

  “I do not recall, it must have come in on a shipment from England long ago.”

  Revered Cooper rubbed his chin. “So, you are neglecting the Non-Importation Agreement? Have you other items you are selling from England? The Chronicle may be interested in this bit of news.” The parson looked at Joshua. “Do you not agree, Mr. Sutton?”

  “Mr. Mein is eager to print such things,” Joshua said.

  “Hmmph. It may have come in a shipment from one of the other colonies, I cannot recall. I have done nothing wrong here. I merely asked this woman to pay for the merchandise before leaving the store.”

  “What was your intent, Miss Metcalf?” Reverend Cooper asked.

  “I was not inclined to leave with any of Mrs. Carter’s merchandise today. I only wish to claim my personal property.”

  “May I remind you, miss, that possession is nine points of the law,” said the shrew.

  “Let us see, then. Mrs. Carter, if Miss Metcalf can prove this item belongs to her can we rely on your good sensibilities to return it to her without cost?”

  Mrs. Carter looked at t
he ceiling and huffed. “Why, if she can prove it.”

  “Miss Metcalf. Does that sound fair to you?” the reverend asked.

  “Aye, Reverend Cooper.” Honour’s large brown eyes drifted toward the door. She crossed her arms across her stomacher, and her foot set to tapping in quick successions. Her pretty jacquard shoe peeked out from beneath her petticoat.

  Revered Cooper held out his hand. “Mrs. Carter, may I?”

  The ill-favored jade reluctantly handed Reverend Cooper the bag.

  Joshua took in a deep breath, dragging his fingers through his hair. How the sweet smell of the millinery contrasted to Mrs. Carter’s demeanor.

  Honour’s tone remained pleasant, despite her frustration. “The bag was specially made for my mother in England and used for her quilting.”

  “Oh . . . so she was a quilter as well,” snapped Mrs. Carter.

  “Aye, madam. She quilted at her leisure along with her tambour work. She was quite adept at it, and her handiwork was admired by many,” Honour retorted.

  Mrs. Carter turned her nose. Was Honour from a family of means?

  “You will find the bag has several compartments. The one on the top is where I keep my coin. There should be three shillings inside, no more.”

  Reverend Cooper passed the bag to Joshua. “Would you please look inside the top compartment, Mr. Sutton?”

  “Yes, sir.” Joshua lifted the cover.

  “What do you find there?”

  “It is empty.”

  Honour gasped. “Someone must have . . . Perhaps they fell . . . Please check the side pockets. On the left, I keep my pins, and on the right, you’ll find my needles. The lower drawer on the front hosts my thimbles.” Honour’s face lit up. “You shall find my silver thimble with my initials engraved on it there.”

  Reverend Cooper nodded at Joshua. “Mr. Sutton?”

  Joshua opened each of the small compartments. “The drawers are empty.”

  “Empty? Oh, no.” Honour shook her head and frowned. “Please look inside. You shall find all manner of sewing supplies.”

  Joshua opened the front flap of the satin bag. “I am afraid it is empty as well.”

  Honour pouted. “Empty or not the bag is still mine. Please, can we not settle this matter? I must fetch my sister from school.” Honour set her foot to tapping.

  Reverend Cooper looked at her sympathetically. “Is there some source of evidence you can provide?”

  “Other than sending for Mrs. Wadsworth and Maisey, as they both have seen me use this bag daily.” Honour rubbed her temple, and sighed.

  Was she still suffering from her head malady? This inquisition mustn’t be helping.

  Honour’s face lit up. “I have been remiss! You shall find my mother’s initials, EM, stitched onto the lower enclosure. I am so used to its presence that I barely give it heed.”

  Joshua turned the bag over, and precisely where Honour had indicated, he discovered the carefully stitched letters EM.

  Honour clasped her hands with glee. “Elizabeth Metcalf. My mother.” Honour’s eyes misted and she entreated Mrs. Carter with a silent plea.

  “Apparently, Mrs. Carter, you were mistaken,” Reverend Cooper said. “We shall thank you for returning the workbag to Miss Metcalf.”

  Joshua handed the embroidered satchel to Honour, and smiled. What an ordeal. He hoped she would begin to feel well now.

  He cocked his head. “Do not fret, Mrs. Carter, we shall not report it was returned missing its valuable contents.” Joshua glanced and nodded, signaling Honour to agree to this resolution.

  Mrs. Carter’s mouth parted, then she clamped it shut without a word.

  “As I attempted to state earlier, Mrs. Carter, I would have been happy to reward you for finding my bag, yet my coin is now gone. Please accept my appreciation instead.”

  How Honour could be so gracious after all of this rigmarole astounded him.

  The thud of footsteps coming up the steps announced Sheriff Porter’s arrival. “Good day, all.” The sheriff’s gaze shifted from one person to the other. “Mrs. Carter, is there a problem?”

  “No, Sheriff, I believe we have settled the issue.” Mrs. Carter pursed her lips.

  The Sheriff planted his fist on his broad hip. “You are certain?”

  “Indeed.” Mrs. Carter crossed her arms and looked away.

  “Though it is resolved, please inform me of the nature of the problem so I can be assured no one has taken the law into his . . . or her . . . own hands,” the sheriff said.

  “You see, Sheriff Porter, I mistakenly thought this young woman had intended to leave my store without paying for an item.”

  He shifted his gaze to Honour. “Is that so?”

  “Why, yes . . . I mean, no,” the harried shopkeeper said.

  “Reverend Cooper? What say you?” Sheriff Porter inquired.

  “Apparently, Mrs. Carter mistakenly had an item on her shelf which is the personal property of Miss Metcalf. But we have sorted it out and now Miss Metcalf has her rightful possession.” Reverend Cooper tilted his chin, and issued a satisfied nod.

  “Mrs. Carter was kind enough to return my misplaced workbag,” Miss Metcalf offered.

  Sheriff Porter squinted at Honour. “You are new in Boston, miss?”

  “Aye. I arrived in the spring. I work for Mrs. Wadsworth.”

  “As a seamstress?”

  “A quilter.”

  The sheriff eyed Honour’s workbag. “It is a fine bag. Something my wife would envy.”

  “Thank you, sir. It was a gift.” Honour smiled meekly.

  The sheriff eyed her with suspicion. “Very well. If you are satisfied with the outcome.”

  “Aye, Sheriff Porter. And thank you, Reverend Cooper for intervening,” Honour said.

  Sheriff Porter walked toward the door. As he placed his hand on the door handle, he stopped and turned back. “How is it you came to be involved in this matter, Mr. Sutton?”

  “I am a friend of Miss Metcalf’s and we were searching for the satchel together, sir,” Joshua said.

  “Do be careful, Mr. Sutton. If this woman continues to be suspect, it could be harmful to your reputation, such as it is,” the sheriff said.

  The muscle in Joshua’s jaw twitched. “I assure you there is nothing suspect about her.”

  “And I assure you that there is nothing suspect about him,” Reverend Cooper defended.

  “That remains to be seen.” The sheriff shot a glance at Miss Metcalf. “How long have you been acquainted with her, Mr. Sutton?”

  “Only recently, sir.”

  “I see. You are ready to vouch for her character?”

  “She has given me no reason to mistrust her,” Joshua said. Or had she?

  “Honour, you found it!” Temperance clasped the embroidered satchel in her small hands as it hung from a long satin cord over Honour’s shoulder.

  “Aye!” Honour glanced at Mr. Sutton.

  Temperance released the bag and hugged Honour around her waist. “Where was it?”

  Honour ran her fingers through the light ginger curls hanging from the back of Tempe’s straw hat. “We found it in a shop in town. Thus, I was late in coming.”

  “I wondered what had kept you. Mistress Hollister was growing upset that you were late. I told her not to worry, that you always keep your promises and I knew you would be along soon.”

  As they walked from the Hollister’s house, where Tempe attended the dame school, she squinted up at Joshua with a lopsided grin.

  “Do you remember Mr. Sutton from the other day at Mrs. Wadsworth’s? He helped me find my workbag today.” Honour offered Joshua a shy smile.

  “Hello, Mr. Sutton. Are you a knight? Mistress Hollister read us a story about the crusades today and said knights are noble and shiverous helpers.”

  Joshua pretended to shiver and gave a hearty laugh.

  “Chivalrous, Tempe. It means gentlemanly,” Honour said.

  Temperance looked up at their winsome escort. “Ar
e you a gentleman, Mr. Sutton? My father was a gentleman.”

  “Some people say that I am.” Joshua stepped between the two ladies and offered his elbows, smiling at one and then the other.

  Honour tilted her chin. “Why, thank you, sir.”

  “Thank you, kind gentleman,” Tempe said in a grown-up lady’s voice.

  “What else did you learn in school today, Tempe?” Honour asked, peeking around Joshua at her sister.

  “We practiced in our hornbooks and primer. The eighth commandment is, ‘thou-shalt-not-steal,’” Temperance recited.

  “Truly?” Honour bit her lower lip to contain the odd humor she found in it. She gave her sister a little smile. “How is your needlework coming along, pumpkin?”

  Tempe’s mouth formed into a wide circle. “I forgot to show you! May we go back?”

  “You may show me tomorrow. We must get back to Mrs. Wadsworth’s shop, we are already tardy.”

  “You mean Sutton’s Clothiers.” Tempe looked up at Joshua again.

  “Aye. Mr. Sutton was kind enough to offer to walk us there.”

  “’Tis no inconvenience as I am going back there myself, and I am glad to have the company of two of the prettiest ladies in town.”

  Temperance projected her lower lip. “Are you going to court my sister?”

  “Temperance Metcalf!” Honour placed her hand against her cheek, glancing into the sky.

  “Hmm. I have not contemplated it until now. But it is a rather charming idea.” Joshua bent low to Temperance’s ear and said overloud. “Perhaps I will consider it.”

  Honour buried her face in her hands and dared peek out from under them. She tripped over a raised cobblestone, and Joshua reached out to steady her balance. “Steady now. Are you all right?”

  “Mortified, is all,” she said.

  “I was not aware you find me so repulsive.” Joshua gave her an exaggerated frown, pressing his hand against his heart. “You wound me, Miss Metcalf.”

  Honour offered a weak smile. “Forgive me, sir. I meant no offense.”

  “None taken.” Joshua gave her a conciliatory grin, and she tried not to concentrate on his dimples as he did so.