To Love and Cherish

by Tracie Peterson

  “Edward and I were horrified by the news coming from Georgia. With that terrible hurricane and some of the islands underwater . . .” Her voice trailed off and she flapped the fan back and forth as though she might faint. “What did Cyrus have to say? Has he heard anything from Mr. Zimmerman or Victor Morley? Edward is eager for news and said I should inquire. He knows Cyrus keeps abreast of such matters. We’d considered going down before Christmas this year, but if Bridal Veil has flooded, we won’t be going at all.”

  Melinda scooted to the edge of her chair, certain she’d heard Mrs. Genesee mention Georgia and some of the islands being underwater. Shock turned to panic as the words registered in her consciousness. She longed to grab Mrs. Genesee by the arm and force the woman to repeat every word she’d said. It took everything in Melinda’s power to sit at attention and remain quiet, to smile with folded hands resting on her lap, as though all remained perfect with the world. She silently berated herself for daydreaming instead of keeping an ear on the conversation.

  Mrs. Mifflin frowned and clucked her tongue. “Such an unpleasant topic to discuss during tea, Martha.”

  “It wasn’t my idea to discuss the disaster. Edward reminded me several times that I should inquire. He’ll be unhappy if I have nothing to relate. The newspapers have reported a variety of articles, and all of them differ. He doesn’t know what to believe.”

  Disaster? Melinda heard the word as clearly as the chimes of the parlor clock. Myriad questions lodged in her throat, but she dared not say a word. She pressed her damp palms down the front of her silk moiré skirt and strained forward, afraid to miss a word yet frightened of what would be said.

  “Now, Martha, you know how newspapermen like to exaggerate. They all want fascinating headlines so they’ll sell more papers than their competitors.” Mrs. Mifflin tipped her head toward Mrs. Genesee, but she cast a quick glance at Melinda.

  Sally stepped into the kitchen doorway, and the moment Mrs. Mifflin looked in her direction, the maid gave an affirmative nod. Mrs. Mifflin stood and invited the ladies into the dining room. As they made their way into the other room, Mrs. Mifflin approached Melinda.

  “I’ve decided you should begin to play now. Please take your place at the piano.” Mrs. Mifflin looked at the piano and then back at Melinda.

  She stood, but her feet wouldn’t move. “Has Bridal Veil been struck by a hurricane?” Her throat caught as she awaited an answer.

  Mrs. Mifflin’s eyes turned dark. “Were you eavesdropping on my conversation with Mrs. Genesee, Melinda?”

  “I wasn’t—”

  “Go to the piano. We will discuss this after my guests depart. And play well. I don’t want my guests to hear any sour notes.”

  Hands trembling, Melinda took her seat at the piano. Worried or not, she must play well. Otherwise, she’d gain little information from Mrs. Mifflin. She inhaled a deep breath and caught her lower lip between her teeth. She must concentrate. “Please, Lord, help me play well,” she whispered.

  For the remainder of the afternoon, her fingers moved effortlessly across the keys, playing the concertos of Mozart, Beethoven, and Chopin that she’d memorized during her endless hours of practice. Now she was thankful for the years of piano lessons that made it possible for her to perform under such pressure and worry. Several of the ladies clapped when she completed Mozart’s Concerto no. 21.

  Mrs. Genesee strolled toward the piano. “I do love that piece, and you play beautifully.”

  Melinda glanced at Mrs. Mifflin. Had she been playing too loudly? The matron’s expression appeared detached, which generally was not a good sign. The ladies had finished their tea, and more of them now strolled into the parlor and gathered around the piano.

  Mrs. Williston took a seat near the piano. “I’m so pleased you supplied us with entertainment, Dorothea. I do appreciate an opportunity to enjoy artistic talent along with our tea. I had planned to have poetry readings at my next gathering. I think we could all benefit from more than idle chatter, don’t you agree, ladies?”

  “Indeed! Leave it to Dorothea to be the one who encourages us to expand our cultural horizons.” With a smile large enough to swallow her face, Mrs. Genesee gestured toward their hostess.

  A polite round of applause followed. While Melinda worried over the news she’d heard and the safety of Evan and the other employees on Bridal Veil, the ladies discussed a variety of offerings they might introduce at future gatherings. She longed for them to leave so that she could make further inquiry. None of the servants had mentioned anything about a storm, but how would they know? Most of them cared little about the world outside of Cleveland.

  When the last of the guests had departed, Mrs. Mifflin gestured for Melinda to follow her upstairs. She hoped the guests’ approval of her music would temper Mrs. Mifflin’s earlier displeasure. She remained at a short distance behind Mrs. Mifflin while she climbed the steps. The older woman glanced over her shoulder when she arrived at the top of the staircase. “I cannot abide this dress any longer. The lace has scratched my neckline the entire afternoon.” She strode to the mirror in the upstairs hallway and leaned forward for a better view. “Look at these red splotches. Everywhere the lace touches, I have a red mark. You need to do something to fix the neckline, or this dress is unwearable.”

  “I’ll see to it this evening.” Melinda followed Mrs. Mifflin into her sitting room and then into her bedroom, where she set to work unfastening the dress and corset. Mrs. Mifflin frowned as she touched her fingers to her neckline. “Your guests appeared to enjoy themselves this afternoon.” Perhaps a bit of conversation would distract Mrs. Mifflin from her concern over the neckline of her gown.

  “They did, indeed. Your musical training proved a benefit to all of us. At least your mother did not fail you in that area. I am pleased the ladies have decided to use our gatherings for more than idle chatter, which ultimately leads to unfounded gossip.” She removed the dress from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. “In the future, you need to refrain from eavesdropping, Melinda.” She stepped out of the dress that lay in folds around her feet. “I don’t intend to decrease your wages for the improper behavior, but only because you redeemed yourself at the keyboard.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Mifflin. I truly was not eavesdropping. It was only when I heard mention of Bridal Veil that my attention was drawn to Mrs. Genesee’s comments. Surely you can understand my extreme worry over the employees residing on the island, especially if a hurricane has left them flooded.” Melinda lifted the gown from the floor and then removed a day dress from the wardrobe—one that didn’t have any lace embellishment.

  Mrs. Mifflin’s eyebrows dipped low above her eyes. “You’re worried about all of the employees or one employee in particular?”

  “My concern is for all of them, as well as for those who may be stranded on the other islands. Of course I’m extremely distressed that something may have happened to Evan.”

  “So I would assume. Sally tells me that he continues to write you every week. Sometimes even more often.” Her frown deepened. “You truly should cease this letter writing nonsense, Melinda. Though I find it inappropriate, I haven’t forbade you from keeping company with a gamekeeper while we’re on the island. I realize he’s a pleasant diversion during your time off, but there’s no need to continue corresponding throughout the year.” She fussed with the bodice of her dress. “I find it completely inappropriate that the two of you would exchange words of affection with each other.”

  Melinda was stunned to hear Mrs. Mifflin mention the possibility of forbidding her to keep company with Evan on her time off work. But it was her final remark that truly gained her attention. “Words of affection?” Anger welled in her chest, but she forced an even tone. Sally had obviously been up to her old ways again. “Why would you think such a thing?”

  “As I’ve often mentioned, with a bit of persuasion, Sally can be most informative. She does enjoy an extra coin in her pocket now and again.”

  “Since it
would seem she has been steaming open my mail and sharing the contents when it is to her advantage, you already know of my deep feelings for Evan, so it should come as no surprise that I would be very distressed to think he’d been stranded on Bridal Veil during a hurricane.” Melinda looked away, but not before Mrs. Mifflin noticed her tears.

  “There’s no need to become overwrought. I’m sure Martha Genesee was exaggerating what she’d heard. She loves to make a story out of nothing. When Cyrus returns for supper, I promise to inquire. Surely you realize that if there was any need for concern, he would have already mentioned the storm.”

  Melinda didn’t know any such thing. Mr. Mifflin never discussed anything of consequence with his wife—at least not when she was attending to the woman. Instead, their hours together consisted of small talk and long silences. Melinda thanked the woman, but waiting for Mr. Mifflin’s return would surely seem an eternity. In the meantime, she would go downstairs and ask the other servants if they’d heard anything about the storm. She also planned to have a word with Sally about her snoopy behavior.

  Melinda started toward the door, but Mrs. Mifflin stopped her. “This would be an excellent opportunity for you to begin removing that lace on my gown.”

  Melinda sighed. Instead of carrying through with her plans, she’d be stuck in Mrs. Mifflin’s sitting room removing tiny stitches from lace while Mrs. Mifflin wrote a letter to her cousin in New York.

  Careful not to rip either gown or embellishment, Melinda had detached the lace by the time Mr. Mifflin returned home. When the downstairs door opened, she turned toward the sitting-room door. If Mrs. Mifflin wasn’t in the downstairs parlor, Mr. Mifflin usually greeted his wife in her sitting room. Melinda fervently hoped he would do so today. She strained to hear the sound of footfalls on the carpeted stairs and silently cheered when she finally heard Mr. Mifflin approach.

  He tapped before entering the room. “I see you ladies are hard at work. How did your tea go this afternoon, my dear?” He crossed the room and placed a fleeting kiss on his wife’s cheek. “I thought you might be resting after an afternoon of activity.”

  Mrs. Mifflin set aside the pen and paper. “I would have enjoyed a short nap, but I have correspondence that must be answered. What with all the plans for today’s social, I’m behind in my replies. There’s so much that requires my attention, it seems unending at times.”

  “You do a marvelous job, my dear. No one could ever complain about your adherence to proper social etiquette.” He glanced toward Melinda. “Isn’t that correct, Melinda?”

  “You’re absolutely right, sir. Your wife’s accomplishments are exemplary. Even today, her guests were praising her abilities.”

  Mrs. Mifflin preened while she explained. “They lauded me with a host of compliments.” She gave a little shrug. “And all because I had Melinda play the piano.” Uttering Melinda’s name seemed to jar the older woman’s memory. “Tell me, Cyrus, has there been any word of a hurricane hitting Bridal Veil? Martha Genesee said she and Edward had heard reports of damage to some of the islands off the coast of Georgia. Edward instructed her to inquire, but I knew nothing to report.”

  “Nothing definite yet, although I do know there was damage in Biscayne. A storm, but I don’t know if it was a genuine hurricane. The reports have been varied, and I can’t say we know anything of a precise nature just yet.”

  Mrs. Mifflin looked up at her husband. “Melinda is concerned about some of her friends who remain on the island throughout the year. Perhaps you could telegraph and make certain there haven’t been any injuries.”

  He nodded. “But a visit to the telegraph office can wait until morning. I’m ready for supper.” He patted his stomach. “Besides, any damage is already done, and whether I inquire now or tomorrow won’t make much difference.”

  Melinda bit her lip. How could the man be so indifferent to those who might be injured or in need of aid, people charged with keeping his property maintained and safe during the summer months? She tried to recall if she’d ever observed her parents act with such coldness toward those of a lower class. If they had, she couldn’t remember, and for that she was thankful.

  “Come along, Dorothea. Let’s see what the cook has prepared for us. I’m famished.”

  Outside the door, Melinda turned in the opposite direction and went down the back stairway into the kitchen. Though she was permitted to use the front stairs, the staff ate in the kitchen, and she wanted to speak to Sally.

  Once the meal had been served to Mr. and Mrs. Mifflin, the servants gathered around their own table. After Matthew said a quick prayer, Sally passed a bowl of creamed potatoes. “You got your share of notice today, didn’t ya, Melinda?”

  Melinda bristled. Sally was never pleased when one of the other servants received attention, and right now Melinda had little patience for the woman’s jealousy. “It wasn’t my desire to be noticed. I was ordered to play the piano, just like you’re ordered to prepare meals.”

  “Maybe so, but you did your best to play tunes that would gain ya the most attention. All them trills and such. You didn’t fool me. You were hoping those ladies would take notice.”

  Melinda wanted to explain that what she’d been playing weren’t “tunes” but concertos, but then she’d sound as pompous as Mrs. Mifflin. “I didn’t choose the pieces. They were selected by Mrs. Mifflin. If you’d like to ask her, she’ll confirm what I’ve told you.”

  “Bah!” Sally waved the serving spoon. “Ain’t worth my time to ask.”

  Melinda waited until the roast beef and potatoes had been passed around the table. “I’d like to speak to you privately after we finish supper, Sally.” She kept her voice low so that the others wouldn’t hear her request.

  Sally looked up from her plate. “If you got something to say, you can say it in front of all of us. I got nothing to hide from anyone sittin’ round this table.”

  Melinda hesitated. She didn’t want to embarrass the woman.

  Sally leaned in her direction. “Go ahead! Say what you got to say and be done with it.”

  “Mrs. Mifflin tells me you’ve repeated information you gathered from reading my personal mail. I knew you’d told her I was receiving letters from Evan, but I didn’t realize you’d continued reading them and passing along the contents.” She frowned at the maid. “In our previous conversation, I was quite clear when I said you should never again open and read my mail.”

  A chorus of gasps followed the disclosure, and Sally waved the other servants to silence. “Ain’t what you think. I didn’t want to do it, but the missus made me. She said she wanted to know what was going on between you and Evan. Said she didn’t want to lose you as her lady’s maid.”

  “She also mentioned that you gave her the information in exchange for extra money.”

  Sally’s fork clattered onto the china plate. “Is that what she told you? That I’ve been reading your letters so she’d give me extra money?”

  Melinda tipped her head and arched her brows. “That’s what she said. And what do you say?”

  “I took money from her. But even if she hadn’t offered money, I would have done what she told me. I need my job, and if she says to steam open and read your letters, then that’s what I had to do.” Sally glared at the other servants. “Don’t act like you’d do any different. If you was threatened with losing your job, you’d do the same thing—you just don’t want to admit it to Melinda.”

  “I’d like to think I would do the right thing, Sally, but sometimes we don’t know until we’re confronted with a situation.” The other servants resumed eating their meal. Given a choice of reporting on another servant or earning a living, they would choose to continue working, too. There was no denying that in this instance Mrs. Mifflin was far more to blame than Sally.

  “Well, I’m hoping you’ll forgive me. And I hope Evan and those other folks weren’t injured in the storm.” She shoved a forkful of potatoes into her mouth.

  “You know about the hurricane?”
>
  Sally swallowed the mouthful of potatoes. “I know the mister is going to send a telegraph in the morning.” She grinned and waved her fork to include the other servants seated at the table.

  Melinda forced a feeble smile. There were no secrets in this household—not even one.

  CHAPTER 10

  The next morning concentration proved near impossible for Melinda. As the lunch hour approached, she watched for any sign of Mr. Mifflin. Occasionally he returned home for the noonday meal. Melinda hoped today would be one of those occasions.

  “Do sit down, Melinda. Your pacing makes me nervous.” Mrs. Mifflin waved toward the brocade-covered chair. “Why don’t you read to me?”

  Melinda was well aware that Mrs. Mifflin’s question was actually a command. Instead of sitting, Melinda walked toward the library. She glanced over her shoulder as she neared the door. “Did you have a particular book in mind?”

  “You choose. I trust your judgment.”

  Melinda considered her volume of Emma. She’d had little time to read and would enjoy completing the book, but she couldn’t very well begin reading in the middle of the story. Then again, perhaps she could, since Mrs. Mifflin usually fell asleep while she read to her. She grinned at the thought but pushed it aside as she studied the bookshelves. Certainly Mrs. Mifflin wouldn’t enjoy listening to any of the history volumes that lined her husband’s bookshelves. Melinda traced her finger along the spines, hoping to find something that might capture the woman’s interest as well as her own. She rested her hand on a volume of poetry as the front door opened. Her heart jumped in her chest when she heard the sound of Mr. Mifflin’s voice.

  Though she wanted to run the short distance to the parlor, she willed herself to proceed down the hallway at a normal pace. Still clutching the book, she stopped at the parlor doorway. Mr. and Mrs. Mifflin sat on the divan, their heads close together and their voices low.