by Carla J Gade
Joshua Sutton, Sutton’s Clothiers
Sign of the Scissors, Boston
Honour rose from the bench, smiling at Joshua. “I can hardly believe what I see. You did this for me?”
He stood, taking her hands in his as he faced her. “I did. For us.”
Honour glanced down, shyly, feeling her face warm. She took a step away and spun around with joy. “I am so relieved our reputations have been restored. It means so much to have Mrs. Wadsworth trust me. That you also trust me.”
“Do you trust me, Honour? Please tell me you do.”
With everything she had inside her, she trusted this worthy man. “Aye, Joshua, I do.”
He slanted his jaw, giving her a coy grin. “Enough to grant me permission to court you? In fact, I’ve proof you already did.”
“Upon my honor, I did not.”
Joshua took a small slip of paper from his waistcoat and handed it to her. “I found this inside the needle case you gave to me on my birthday.”
“Did you?” Honour opened the paper, eyeing it curiously and read the little rhyme.
Inside this fish, an answer find.
Have your wish, love is blind.
“You think I wrote this?” Honour looked at him chagrined.
Joshua narrowed his eyes. “Didn’t you?”
“I positively did not.” Honour clamped down on her lip, the heat returning to her face. “It is entirely possible I could have written you such verse. But it did not come from my pen.”
“Then who wrote it?”
Honour tapped her finger against her chin. “I have a suspicion a certain strawberry-blonde imp I know may have done the deed.” The pair turned, surveying the yard where Temperance was tossing flower petals into the fountain.
“I had hoped to gain an answer from you that day as to whether you would allow me to court you, and when I read ‘Have your wish’, I believed it to mean you were giving your approval.” Joshua lifted his shoulders and the corner of his mouth curved.
“I confess, Joshua, I had no intent to court you then. I thought I had seen you with Emily, and was quite distressed over it.” Honour winced.
“It said ‘love is blind’ so after I’d talked to Emily, I believed it true . . . that you loved me, as I love you. I have been keeping this near my heart for all of this time.”
“Have you?” Honour smiled up at him. “Even when I felt you did not love me at all, you loved me still? Even when you refused my request, and then again when you honored my request?”
“Even then. Even now.”
Honour released a slow breath, summoning renewed courage from within. “That be true, Joshua, I have a matter I must trust you with now—it involves a quilting party and the husband of one Emily Leach.”
22
Honour surveyed the beautiful white linen whole-cloth quilt, pulled taut within a wooden frame put together for the quilting party. Joshua and Andrew had come in the afternoon to set it up in Widow Lankton’s ladies’ parlor, the servants having already pushed the furniture against the walls. The eight-foot square filled the center of the space as it rested on a large table, the corners supported by ladder-back chairs.
Lovely ladies in their pretty gowns gathered around it, adding delicate stitches to join the layers of the quilt and complete its border. Joining Honour were Widow Lankton, Emily, Mrs. Wadsworth, Maisey, Mrs. Cooper—the reverend’s wife, Mrs. Sutton, Deborah, Anne, and the three girls—Sarah, Abigail, and Temperance.
Tempe was so excited about the party and the opportunity to lend her own stitches to the project she nearly bubbled over like a boiling kettle of water on the hearth. She had not recognized the bed quilt as the one that Mum and Honour had worked on aboard ship. Mayhap because it had remained carefully folded in their laps much of the time as they worked on it. When Widow Lankton had commented on how Tempe’s indigo quilt had similar qualities to Emily’s quilt, Honour had thought her secret exposed. The reason she suggested, of the motifs being common in England, had apparently appeased the group of women—and Tempe—until the pearls dropping from its hem had distracted them all. Perhaps it was a risk for Honour to have her precocious sister there for the quilting, yet the risk of not having Tempe safely by her side may be greater.
The feathered serpentine pattern embellishing the border framed the center motifs splendidly. Having quilted from dawn, it was nearly time to break for the midday meal.
As she looked up from her stitching, Widow Lankton smiled around the circle of women whose hands remained busy at their task. “We have made great progress on the border this morning. Many hands make light work. Thank you all, again, for coming to help complete Emily’s bridal quilt.”
Emily smiled demurely. “I appreciate all of your help. ’Tis humbling.”
“Every bride deserves a quilt,” said Deborah.
Mrs. Cooper smiled. “I do agree. The reverend and I still have our bridal quilt upon our own bedstead.” She lowered her gaze, blushing.
“Perhaps someday I shall have a bridal quilt of my own. ’Tis what I hope.” Maisey collected her sewing items as she spoke.
Maisey’s future was yet to be determined. Honour only hoped their plan would work.
Mrs. Sutton made her way around the quilt, admiring the handiwork of the ladies. She paused behind Anne, resting her hands upon her shoulders. “We shall have to gather again to make your new babe a quilted coverlet.”
Honour smiled at Anne. What joy to look forward to the birth of a new child.
“That sounds wonderful,” Anne said.
“Mayhap Sarah, Abby, and I can make it,” Temperance chimed in. “It shall be so small surely we could do it.” Sarah and Abby beamed at the prospect.
“That is quite ambitious of you, Temperance,” Mrs. Wadsworth said. “Though you must realize a small quilt is no small task. It takes many years of practice. Isn’t that so, Honour?”
“’Tis true, though you have a natural ability and are doing superb work. Mum would be proud of your skill.” Honour kissed Tempe on the forehead, who sat at her side, yet it occurred to her she should have refrained from stirring her sister’s memories this day. The Lord had told her to trust Him, and this day required exactly that. Honour tapped her shoe on the floor. She was trusting God for the outcome of the day, but she anxiously awaited Joshua’s arrival later on, when the true event would get underway.
Mrs. Hall entered and announced the midday meal. “I have prepared a luncheon for you in the keeping room. ’Tis a light repast with Liberty tea, as you will be feasting heartily later.”
Mrs. Wadsworth signaled Honour to remain for a moment. “Honour, dear. I must apologize once again for suspecting you of stealing my pearls.” She placed her hand over the strand of pearls at her neck.
“There is no need,” Honour said. “It was a logical assumption.”
Mrs. Wadsworth’s mouth drew into a grim line, her brow creasing beneath her white pleated cap. “Mayhap. Yet it did not last long, I assure you. It was evident by the stitch work that you did not weave the string of pearls into the hem of that quilt. Your stitches are too fine.” Mrs. Wadsworth lowered her voice, leaning closer. “’Twas also evident the pearls were meant to be discovered. No person with intent to steal would be so careless. The true malefactor meant to incriminate you.”
Honour and Mrs. Wadsworth shared concerned glances, for they both knew the identity of the culprit. “Let us have some refreshment,” Honour said. “The others wait.”
In the afternoon, the ladies resumed their quilting. Honour marveled at the progress being made as the quilt neared its completion. The needlework would help keep her thoughts occupied until the men arrived. She smiled, thinking of Joshua and how much he meant to her—how much she loved him.
“Penny for your thought?” Widow Lankton asked, her eyes crinkling.
The girls giggled. Tempe covered her mouth, her eyes wide. The girls giggled again.
“Temperance Metcalf. Do not be impolite,” Honour said beneath
her breath.
“Oh, dear, I am low on thread,” Deborah said.
Widow Lankton turned to her maidservant, who remained in waiting to assist the quilters. “Bring that spool over to Deborah please, would you?”
“I haven’t mentioned what fine linen this quilt is made of,” Mrs. Sutton said. “An English weave. It is rare to find such a textile in these times.”
“Here in the colonies we have come to rely on homespun, especially with Mr. Molineux’s spinning schools,” Mrs. Cooper said.
Deborah and Anne glanced at Mrs. Sutton.
“Has it been hard on your husband’s business?” Mrs. Cooper asked Mrs. Sutton.
“’Tis short-term punishment for long-term gain,” Mrs. Sutton said, pulling her silk thread through the fabric.
Mrs. Wadsworth glanced around the table. “Do any of you recall the spinning bee of 1753 on Boston Common?”
“I do believe my ears are still humming from the sound of all those spinning wheels,” Widow Lankton said.
“How many were there?” Maisey asked.
“Three hundred spinsters all dressed in homespun,” Mrs. Wadsworth said. “A loom was set up on a stage for demonstration.”
“What was the occasion?” Honour asked as she knotted her thread.
“The Society for Promoting Industry among the Poor was celebrating their fourth anniversary. The women demonstrated their skill and the art of using the spinning wheels. Women from every social class joined together for the event, and music played all day.”
Mrs. Cooper snipped the end of her thread. “The great crowd of spectators later attended a special sermon for the occasion, and a contribution was taken up for the society.”
“It was a grand spinning bee,” Mrs. Sutton said, addressing Abigail and Sarah. “Your mothers attended that day, sitting behind their own wheels. They were not much older than you.”
“Will you teach us how to spin, Grandmother?” Abby asked.
“Perhaps I might. My wheel is presently in storage, but I cannot think of a better time to again put it to use.”
“I dare say, we have shown great industry here today with our own quilting endeavor,” Mrs. Wadsworth said, beholding the completed quilt. “Honour, you have created a lovely quilt and it has been a joy for each one of us to contribute to it.”
“It is kind of you to say. I owe the skill to my mother, the talent to the Lord, and my gratitude to you all for your assistance.” Honour appreciated this quilt now more than ever, from the beautiful material she had taken for granted, to the loving hands helping complete it. It did not escape her notice how quiet and forlorn Emily had been. Honour hoped her heart would soon mend, though she feared it first must fully break. Honour prayed that Emily would find comfort in God’s love, as she herself had found.
Mrs. Sutton folded her hands in her lap. “What a delightful day this has been.”
“The Lord hath provided,” Widow Lankton said.
“The Lord is pleased to see His children joyful. He wishes also that we delight in Him,” Mrs. Cooper said, “just as Psalm thirty-seven proclaims, in verses three through seven.” As she recited the passage, the others joined in.
Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed. Delight thyself also in the Lord: and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart. Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass. And he shall bring forth thy righteousness as the light, and thy judgment as the noonday. Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for him: fret not thyself because of him who prospereth in his way, because of the man who bringeth wicked devices to pass.
The longcase clock in the corner chimed four o’clock. Honour sucked in a tiny breath, glancing toward the door. The hour of reckoning had come.
“Ladies, ladies, we have come to celebrate your handiwork,” Joshua’s father announced as the horde of men gathered at the parlor doorway. Jarius, Anne and Deborah’s husbands, and Joshua had traveled to the Lankton mansion in their carriage. Reverend Cooper had followed in his Boston chaise. Edmund Leach apparently had not yet arrived.
“Do come in, gentlemen,” Widow Lankton instructed.
“We shall be glad to, but first we would like you to greet our special guest.” Father turned to the side, extending his arm toward the entrance. “Captain.” The men parted, and Mrs. Wadsworth’s husband stepped forward.
Mrs. Wadsworth’s hands flew into the air, as she rushed toward her husband. Captain and Mrs. Wadsworth embraced, and he peeked up. “Excuse me while I give my wife a proper greeting.” He planted a kiss on her mouth, unabashedly. He looked up and chuckled. “I won’t get fined for that, I hope.”
“I care not,” Mrs. Wadsworth cupped her hands around his white beard.
“Sorry, Margaret, I hadn’t the chance yet to see to my ablutions. I was eager to see you.” Captain Wadsworth addressed Father. “Jairus told me I could find you here.”
Honour looked on at the joyous scene, her eyes misting. As she glanced around at the other ladies, she did not think one of them had a dry eye.
After the men filtered into the room, Mrs. Hall stood in the doorway.
“Yes, Mrs. Hall,” Widow Lankton said.
“The feast shall be ready in the dining room, momentarily, and the musicians shall arrive within the hour,” Mrs. Hall said.
Joshua huddled the girls together. “The three of you shall follow Mrs. Hall. The adults shall join you shortly. She has a special meal prepared for you in the kitchen. I hear that Mrs. Wadsworth brought her fashion babies for you to play with later.”
Mrs. Hall acknowledged the girls and ushered them from the room.
Widow Lankton faced the gentlemen, clasping her hands with enthusiasm. “We shall retire to the dining room in a moment. But first, gentlemen, be sure to admire the exquisite bridal quilt you see before you. The ladies have worked diligently on it this day to complete the work Honour had previously quilted.”
“It is a fine quilt,” Father said as Mrs. Sutton joined him. “Exquisite, indeed.”
Honour donned a demure smile. “Thank you, sir.”
“Many of the patterns were designed by Honour herself,” Mrs. Sutton said.
Joshua gazed at Honour, so proud of her accomplishment. So taken in by her loveliness and courage. He ambled up to Honour where she stood by the quilt frame. He looked down at the large white quilt laden with raised feathered motifs of pomegranates and serpentine swirls. “You have done an extraordinary work here, Honour.”
She glanced up at him, her dark brown eyes radiant, trusting, despite what soon would transpire. He pointed to the central design at the top, a feathered heart, and he sensed the mutual devotion passing between them.
Widow Lankton clapped lightly to garner everyone’s attention. “Let us adjourn to—”
Edmund Leach stumbled over the threshold, into the room. “Ah, I hope I am not tardy for this grand affair.”
Joshua squeezed Honour’s hand gently before moving toward the incorrigible lout.
Emily walked toward her intoxicated husband, who leaned against the door frame. “Edmund, please. What is the meaning of this?”
Sheriff Porter stomped into the room. “That is what I would like to know.”
Joshua glanced at the opposite door, where Andrew discreetly waited in the dark hallway.
“You are under arrest, Edmund Leach,” the sheriff said.
Leach leaned closer the Sheriff and growled. “On what charges? Can a man not partake of a little spirits at a private party?” Leach pulled Emily over to him. “I am here to share a celebration with my bride.”
Joshua heaved a deep breath. “This is no bride of yours. Your wife resides in England.”
Honour came beside Emily and drew her away from Edmund, the poor woman quivering.
Leach glared at Joshua. “Upon my word!”
“Your word is no good here,” Jarius shouted.
Leach pointed at Honour. “There is your criminal! Sh
e stole Mrs. Wadsworth’s pearl necklace.”
Sheriff Porter shoved Leach’s arm down.
Mrs. Wadsworth came forward, the captain at her side. “She stole nothing. The stitching in the quilt was not Honour’s.”
“Her then!” Leach pointed at Maisey, who huddled against the wall.
Mrs. Wadsworth waggled her finger. “No one stole anything, Mr. Leach. There is no law against sewing pearls into a quilt. Furthermore, I brought the quilt into this home myself. One cannot steal from one’s self.”
Captain Wadsworth scowled at Leach. “You blackmailed Maisey by threatening to burn down my wife’s mantua shop.” He turned back to Maisey, his weathered face softening. “Isn’t that true, girl?”
“It is.” Maisey narrowed her eyes. “Your threats are no good here, Edmund Leach.”
Sheriff Porter pushed him against the wall. “Edmund Leach, you are hereby charged with bigamy, piracy, and murder.”
Leach snarled at Honour, “They should have killed you and your spoiled sister!” At once, he lunged for her. “You—”
Honour screeched.
Joshua leaped in front of her, and grabbed Leach by his ruffled cravat.
“Restrain that filth!” Sheriff Porter pulled out his pistol.
Joshua’s brothers-in-law jumped at him, but Leach ran past the guests like a wild animal toward the door at the end of the room.
Andrew bounded forward, plowing into Leach, as chairs and sewing baskets toppled to the floor.
The sheriff pulled his trigger. The report of his gun echoed through the room, amidst the cries of the women.
Andrew and Leach fell to the floor with a thud. Leach lay crumpled on top of Andrew, blood seeping from his back.
Joshua sprang forth, pulling Leach’s body off his brother. No!
“Andrew,” Father cried out from behind Joshua.
Joshua kneeled over his brother, trying to rouse him. At last, Andrew opened his eyes.
