by Stacy Henrie
“Did I sound all right?” She looked up at him, her expression expectant and concerned.
He smiled reassuringly at her. “It was perfect.”
And he meant more than just her first prayer out loud. In the wake of Ada’s tentative faith, the smell of Minnie’s prepared dinner scenting the air, his daughter held snugly in his arms, and his dear wife at his side, Ned knew what a perfect moment could be.
• • •
While the first six months of Rosemary’s life had seemed to move slowly at times, Ada could hardly believe half a year had come and gone or how much the baby had grown. It was as if they’d always been a family of three instead of only two since the previous summer.
Ada stood at the window, watching the rain pelt against the glass on an especially gray day in January. According to the clock, it was only four in the afternoon, but it would be full dark before Ned returned from work. She shivered in the cooler air of the parlor, feeling more than ready for winter to end.
Turning from the soggy view, she went into the bedroom to check on Rosemary. The baby napped in the cradle beneath the larger blanket Minnie had recently sewn for her. Rosemary’s pink lips moved in a suckling motion as she slept, coaxing a brief smile from Ada.
She retraced her steps back into the parlor. With dinner baking inside the range and Rosemary asleep, Ada had a rare moment to herself. But how to spend it? At home, there would have been teas or dinner parties or even a chilly horse ride across the estate, with a suitable companion of course, to occupy her time.
A lump of homesickness clogged her throat as she thought of Stonefield Hall. Nearly two years had passed since she’d left—and not a single reply from her parents. Ada had written them again at Christmas, but the cold silence on their end stretched on. She was grateful for her regular correspondence with her grandmother, though it didn’t fully fill the void with her parents.
Why don’t they write back instead of returning my letters? she asked herself yet again. Why can’t they be happy for me, for us?
Anger, raw and biting, rose inside her, pushing back at the chill she felt. She’d tried to understand her parents’ disappointment. But how would they know that Ned was a good husband and that Ada had a daughter of her own if they never opened her letters? She wasn’t sure her grandmother would say anything. Their accusations about Ada abandoning them and their way of life felt sharply ironic to her now. Who was really abandoning whom?
She marched to the nearby bookshelf, tugged a volume from it, and sat in Ned’s armchair to read. The swirl of emotion within her—frustration, grief, and longing—couldn’t be so easily ignored. She shut the book after a few moments, unable to concentrate.
Since having a child herself, she’d missed her own mother even more. Of course, her experience with raising a child had and would continue to be vastly different from Victoria Thorne’s. Ada had no nursemaid, nanny, or governess to help. And while she was grateful for Minnie’s friendship and sage counsel, there were still questions she longed to ask her mother, questions Ada had penned in her letters—only to have them returned unopened and unanswered.
Would her parents ever change their minds?
The painful uncertainty resurrected the earlier lump in her throat along with an ache in her chest. She loved Ned and Rosemary. But this winter—caring for a growing baby along with her other responsibilities during the long, bleak days of cold weather—had left her feeling far more despondent than she’d ever felt.
“What do I do?” she murmured aloud, disrupting the stillness in the room. It was almost like a prayer, something she hadn’t tried since the day of Rosemary’s birth.
While her parents’ continual rejection hurt deeply, she still longed to be free of the resentment and anger. Perhaps it was time to stop writing them. Would she be able to move through her grief if she was no longer confronted with their silent dismissal over and over again?
A flicker of peace accompanied her thoughts and had Ada squaring her shoulders in new resolve. She wouldn’t send any more letters for now, possibly for good. Instead she would concentrate completely on her marriage and family—and maybe even on the miniature seed of faith she’d sensed here and there inside her heart too.
But was there something she could do to help these winter days pass more quickly? Her gaze shifted from the window to the trunk they still used as a table in the parlor. Her resources and funds might be limited, and yet, that didn’t mean she couldn’t think of new ways to add more color or laughter or conversation to her life.
An idea began to form and it brought a smile to her mouth for longer than a moment or two. Moving to the trunk, Ada lifted the lid and pulled out the lace shawl she kept there. It would make an ideal tablecloth.
She spread the cloth over the trunk, then went to the kitchen to put on the kettle. It was her usual time of day for tea, but this afternoon would be different. From the cupboard, she withdrew three teacups and saucers instead of one and set them on a tray. She also placed a few biscuits she had on hand onto a plate. Next she pulled out her stationery and penned an official-looking invitation. She could hear the sounds of Rosemary stirring as she finished.
After feeding the baby, Ada bundled Rosemary. She carried her outside, shivering as the cold damp engulfed them, and knocked on Minnie’s door. Janey answered with a smile. “Hello, Mrs. Henley.”
“Hello, Janey.” Ada slipped inside as the girl shut the door behind her. She presented the invitation to Minnie’s daughter. “You and your mother and William are cordially invited to my ladies’ teatime.”
Minnie approached, wiping her hands on her apron. “What’s this?” she asked, taking the invitation from her daughter, her green eyes sparkling as she looked from the paper to Ada.
“I’ve decided to host a ladies’ teatime twice a month.”
Her friend’s curiosity dimpled into a smile. “And who’s invited?”
“You and Janey and William, of course.” Ada shifted a gurgling Rosemary in her arms. “And me and Rosie.”
“What will we do at something so fancy as ladies’ teatime?” Minnie dropped a mock curtsy that made both Ada and Janey laugh.
Still, she felt a twinge of embarrassment. It wasn’t as if she and Minnie didn’t regularly visit with each other or take tea together. But she was hoping to do something out of the ordinary, something special to look forward to during the long winter hours.
“I thought it would be fun to do teatime as I would back at home.” By now, Minnie knew all about Ada’s life at Stonefield Hall. “I was even thinking I could teach Janey how to pour and converse for hours on all sorts of boring topics.” She grinned at Minnie’s daughter, who giggled again.
“I think it sounds lovely,” Minnie said. “Especially on a dreary day as this one’s been.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Ada said with relief. “So you’ll come?”
Minnie shot her an arched look. “Why wouldn’t we? We’ll be over as soon as William wakes.” She started to turn away as she added, “I’ll bring me shortbread too. If that’s proper at a ladies’ tea.”
“Oh, it’s more than proper,” Ada called back. “It’s a requirement.”
Her friend’s laughter lingered merrily in her ears as she and Rosemary exited the flat. Anticipation for their special teatime and gratitude for Minnie’s willingness to join in infused her with light and cheer and helped chase away some of the wintry dimness both within and without.
Chapter 7
April 1912
“There, there, pet,” Ada soothed as she scooped up Rosemary from off the floor, where the baby had toppled over in her attempts at walking and was now crying.
Smoothing back her daughter’s dark curls, she handed Rosemary a spoon to play with. Her efforts at making bread were getting much closer to matching Minnie’s loaves of perfection, but it was never an easy task with a nine-month-old underfoot.
“No wonder Mother employed an entourage of servants just for me.”
Of course
, Ada’s mother hadn’t been using her time alone to make bread, scrub nappies, or figure out how to stretch her pennies. But Ada wouldn’t have it any other way. She was fulfilling her dream of building a loving, vibrant home—far different than the aloof, often lonely one she’d known back in Yorkshire.
The last few months she’d even begun secretly repeating Ned’s oft-used phrase of gratitude from his mealtime prayers—Thank thee, Lord, for our bounteous blessings. Wouldn’t he be surprised to know that? She wasn’t quite ready to tell him yet, afraid her seedling of faith was still too fragile, especially in comparison with his greater, stronger faith.
Setting her daughter back down on the floor, Ada kneaded the dough. Rosemary had stopped fussing over her tumble and was now gnawing away on the spoon.
“I think Minnie’s right,” Ada said with a laugh, “you must be getting a new tooth.”
It would explain the extra fussiness today and last night, which had kept Ada up for several hours. She brushed a strand of hair from her eyes with the back of her hand. When Rosemary napped later, perhaps she’d attempt to lie down as well.
When the dough had been fully kneaded, she set it inside two bread tins to rise. A knock at the door followed by a “’Ello, Ada” reached her in the kitchen.
“Come in, Minnie,” Ada called back. “I’m making bread.”
A moment later Minnie appeared, her burgeoning stomach leading the way. The birth of her friend’s third child was drawing ever nearer. Five-year-old Janey followed behind Minnie, holding two-year-old William’s hand.
“You’re not ready,” Janey said, her expression changing from excited to crestfallen.
“Ready?” Ada shot Minnie a questioning look. Had she forgotten some other task or errand besides the bread today?
Janey tugged William farther into the room. “It’s ladies’ teatime.”
“Is it?” Ada shook her head at her own forgetfulness. Rosemary’s teething had clearly taken a greater toll on her than just her physical strength. Apparently it had meddled with her memory too.
The girl cocked her head. “Mummy thought we’d do it today—”
“’Cause today is the day we do it,” Minnie finished as she bustled forward, a covered plate in her hand. “Shall I put the kettle on?”
Ada eyed the mother and daughter in confusion, but she couldn’t reason what was going on. “Yes, Minnie, if you’ll start the kettle.” She removed her floured apron, draped it over the table, and rolled down her sleeves. “Janey, if you’ll see to Rosie, I’ll set the table in the parlor.”
Her daughter had already started toddling toward Janey, whom she adored. Smiling, the girl picked Rosemary up. The baby promptly began babbling.
“Come with me, William,” Ada said, taking the boy’s hand in hers. She led him into the parlor, where she pulled some of her childhood books from the shelf and found the spools of thread he liked to play with as well.
When the boy was occupied, Ada removed the lace shawl from the trunk and draped it over the lid. Then she positioned the armchair closer to their makeshift table.
Minnie brought in one of the hard-back chairs from the kitchen.
“I can do that,” Ada protested. “Why don’t you sit in the chair of honor today?” She waved to the armchair, but Minnie was already shaking her head.
“I won’t be climbin’ out of that one if I sit in it.” She positioned the kitchen chair on the opposite end of the trunk. “This one’ll do me fine.” She sank into the chair with a contented sigh.
Ada went to the kitchen to gather up the teacups and saucers. She placed them and Minnie’s plate of shortbread onto a tray, then carried it into the parlor. Janey trailed behind her with Rosemary in tow. She expected Janey to take the armchair as the girl often did, but Minnie’s daughter sat on the sofa instead, Rosemary on her lap.
“Why don’t you take the chair of honor, Janey?” Ada set the tray on the trunk. “Your mum refuses to take her turn.”
The girl shrugged. “You ought to have it, Mrs. Henley. On account of it bein’ . . .”
A silencing look from Minnie had Janey closing her mouth.
Ada placed her hands on her hips, an action she’d adopted from Minnie. “All right. What are you two conspiring?”
“Not a thing.” Minnie smiled innocently. “Is that the kettle I ’ear ’issin’?”
Throwing her friend another skeptical glance, which only made Minnie laugh, Ada returned to the kitchen. When the tea was ready, she carried the pot into the parlor and placed it beside the shortbread.
“Ladies’ teatime has officially begun,” she announced.
Before she could sit in the armchair, though, another knock sounded at the door. Ada glanced at Minnie in confusion. “Do you know who that might be?”
Minnie began pouring the tea since Janey still held Rosemary. She didn’t look up as she remarked, “Couldn’t say.”
Perplexed, Ada moved to the hall and opened the door. Her husband stood on the other side, grinning. “Ned? What are you doing back here at this hour?” Sudden worry tightened her stomach. Had he been trying to protect her from more bad news? “Did they let you go?”
“No, love. Nothing like that,” he assured her. He stepped forward and kissed her cheek as if he were coming home at dinner. “I had permission to leave the shop for a bit so I could wait for the train.”
Ada frowned. “The train? You’re not making any sense.”
“Then maybe this will help.” He stepped back and motioned toward the bottom of the stairs. An older woman in a beautiful spring hat and a lace-covered gown stood there, her gloved hand gripping the wooden banister.
“Gran?” Ada’s eyes widened in shock as she watched Ned assist her grandmother up the steps and into the flat. The rustle of silk and the scent of rosewater encompassed Ada as her grandmother embraced her.
“Happy birthday, my dearest Ada,” Lucille murmured in a voice choked with emotion.
She stepped back, still not quite able to believe her grandmother stood before her. “I completely forgot it was my birthday.” She threw a glance at the parlor and laughed. “That’s why the two of them wanted teatime today.”
“I asked Minnie to help with my surprise,” Ned said with a grin.
“It’s a wonderful surprise. Thank you, Ned.” Ada kissed her husband squarely on the lips, even though they had an audience, before she looped her arm through Lucille’s. “Come in, Gran.” She led her grandmother through the kitchen and into the parlor, Ned following behind them.
“Let me introduce you to my scheming but dearest friend Minnie O’Reilly,” Ada said, waving to Minnie.
Despite her pregnant belly, Minnie managed to stand and drop a slight curtsy. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. O’Reilly,” Lucille intoned with obvious sincerity. “My Ada speaks very highly of all of you in her letters.”
Minnie blushed, her cheeks matching her hair, but Ada could tell how much the compliment meant, especially coming from a fine society lady like her grandmother. Her friend introduced Lucille to Janey and William, then Minnie took her seat again.
“Is this my beautiful great-grandbaby?” Lucille held out her hands to Rosemary.
Ada lifted her daughter from Janey’s lap and carried her to Lucille. “Gran, may I present Rosemary Henley?”
Lucille took the child into her arms and fingered one of her dark curls. “Dear, little Rosemary. You are the very image of your mother as a baby.”
“Yes, but those curls and blue eyes come from Ned,” Ada said as she smiled at him.
Her grandmother settled into the armchair with Rosemary on her knee. “Shall we get to know each other, sweet one?”
Once Ada had collected another teacup, Minnie finished pouring the tea with all the poise of a duchess. Ada didn’t drink her tea, though. Instead she stood back, her hand inside Ned’s, content to simply watch the happy scene. Nearly all of the people she loved were right here in this room.
> “Are you happy, Ada?” Ned asked quietly as he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. She knew he was talking about much more than his surprise for her birthday.
“Very happy.”
She nestled against his side so she could rest her head on his shoulder. Her heart felt so full she wasn’t sure she could put the feelings into words. But she would try.
“Years from now,” she whispered to him, “when Rosie is all grown up, and you and I are grandparents ourselves, I shall remember this day as one of the happiest of my life.”
• • •
August 1914
Ada turned her chin upward so she could feel the intermittent sunshine from beneath the brim of her hat. The sun might be weak where it peered through the clouds, but it was there nonetheless. The warm weather, combined with the extended bank holiday, meant the parkland in the middle of the houses and tenements was far from empty. Ned sat beside her, while three-year-old Rosemary chased after William and Janey in a game of pretend. Minnie and her husband, Thomas, were seated nearby. Their younger son, Alroy, kept plucking up the grass and trying to eat it, despite his mother’s attempts at stopping him.
The city had now been her and Ned’s home for more than four years. On days like this one, there was no other place she’d rather be. Her life felt abundant with love, friendship, and hope.
“One-day holidays will seem far too short after having four glorious days this week,” she said, turning to Ned.
He smiled. “I feel like I’m living like a gentleman.”
“Except somehow they seem to need holidays too.” They exchanged a laugh.
“It ’as been nice,” Minnie agreed, “if just to pretend for a bit that we aren’t at war.”
At war. Despite what Ned had shared with Ada about the high tensions in Europe the past few weeks and the likelihood of Britain entering the conflict, the reality of it wouldn’t stick in her mind. To her, war was something distant and intangible, an event from the past.
