get married here next month.”
“Moving fast.”
“They aren’t getting any younger, she tells me. Just a small wedding, maybe twenty or twenty-five people. In the afternoon. Details to follow.”
“A small second-time-around afternoon wedding,” Avery considered. “I could do some simple food, and Icing could do a cake.”
“I suggested both. She’s going to talk to her fiance, but again, as she tells me, he’s fine with whatever she wants to do.”
“Handy for her.”
“She sounded giddy. It was sweet. Well.” She looked toward the stairs, then turned as Clare rapped on The Lobby door.
“I wanted to be here, if it’s all right. She helped me, and I thought maybe having us all together would help.”
“Good idea. Let’s go on up. E&D’s her favorite place, so we’ll try there.”
“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Avery brought up the rear behind Clare. “But not spooky strange. It’s kind of like going to talk to a friend. One you don’t know all that well, really, but care about.”
“I’m learning more every day. She led such a restricted life. Not just because of the times, the culture, but her father was so stern, so hard-line. Do you know I haven’t found a single letter from Eliza in her sister’s things? There should have been. People wrote letters routinely back then.”
“The email of the nineteenth century,” Avery commented.
“Sisters would have written each other,” Clare agreed. “But if the father was so rigid, he may have destroyed any letters Lizzy wrote.”
“I think that may be it. There’s plenty of subtext in the letters I have read,” Hope continued. “Catherine feared him. It’s horrible, really, to imagine being afraid of your own father. And I think Catherine founded the school, once she was married and out from her father’s thumb, because of the way she and her sister were restricted. Catherine loved to read, and discovered a love of medicine during the war. She wanted to study, but that was out of the question.”
“So she founded a school so other girls could study.” Clare’s eyes went damp. “So other girls could pursue their dreams.”
“And Lizzy?” Hope added. “All she really wanted was to fall in love, get married, make a home, and raise a family. Everything her father expected of her, except for the first step because love didn’t enter into his plans for his daughters.”
She slipped the key in the lock, opened the door. “We had guests in here last night. The room hasn’t been serviced yet.”
“I think we’re okay with an unmade bed. Sit down, Clare,” Avery ordered.
“I’m fine.”
“Pregnant women should never turn down the opportunity to sit.”
“You’re right.” Clare lowered into the purple velvet chair. “Does she stay in here, do you think, when you have guests like last night?”
“It depends. Sometimes I feel her up in my apartment. Or in The Library if I go in to refill the whiskey decanter or restock the coffeemaker.”
“She spends time with you,” Avery added. “Tell us about the letter.”
“I told you.”
“Tell us again, and maybe you’ll be telling her, too.”
“There are hundreds of letters. My cousin and the school archivist made enormous efforts to find letters written to and by Catherine. The bulk of what they have and what I’ve had access to were written to her. Letters from friends, relatives, the governess she had as a child, her music master, and so on.”
Avery nodded, sat on the edge of the bed.
“There are letters from James Darby, the man she married, and several from her to him. They’ve been my favorites so far. In them you can see the evolution of their feelings for each other, the affection, the humor, the respect. He fell in love first, I think, and I think his loving her, understanding her, helped her discover herself.”
“Lucky for her,” Clare stated. “She married someone she loved, and who loved her.”
“I think they had a really good life,” Hope said. “He not only financed the bulk of the school she wanted to build, but came to share that vision with her. He was from a good family, financially and socially solid, so her father approved. But they loved each other. She was able to have a full life with the man she loved. It wasn’t a marriage based on fear or duty or convenience.”
When she caught the scent of honeysuckle, Hope eased down beside Avery. “Love opened her life. She loved her sister, but she was young, afraid, and didn’t know yet what it was to be in love. She kept her sister’s secret, as far as I can tell. And my sense of her, from the letters, is loyalty. I don’t believe she would have betrayed you. She wrote to your cousin Sarah Ellen. They were close to the same age, and she shared her heart, her thoughts, her joys and worries with her. She feared for you, if your father learned you were slipping away to meet Billy. He was a stonemason, working on your father’s estate. Is that right? You need to tell us if that’s right, so I can keep looking.”
She appeared in front of the door leading to the porch.
“He carved our initials into a stone. He showed me. Initials inside a heart in the stone. He put it into the wall, so it would last forever, and no one would know but the two of us.”
“What was his name?” Hope asked.
“He’s Billy. My Billy. I was riding, and went past where I was permitted, alone. Down to the stream, and he was there, fishing on a Sunday afternoon. He should not have been, and I should not have been. A brisk March afternoon, and the water in the stream pushing through the thawing ice.”
Lizzy closed her eyes as if looking back. “I could smell spring trying to break through winter, yet snow still lay in the shadows. The sky was winter gray, and the wind still bitter.”
Opening her eyes, she smiled. “But he was there, and it was no longer cold. I should never have spoken to him, nor he to me. But we knew as if we had always known. A look, a word, and hearts opened. Like in the novels Cathy would read me, and I would laugh at love at first sight.”
Hope wanted to speak, to interrupt. His name, just his name. But didn’t have the heart.
“We met when I could get away, and loved the rest of that cold March, into the blooming spring and to the lushness of summer.”
She held out a hand toward Hope. “You know. All of you know what it is to feel so strongly for someone. He worked with his hands, not with wood, as your loves do, but stone. This alone would make him unworthy in my father’s eyes. We knew it.”
“Did your father find out?” Hope asked.
“He would never believe or suspect I would defy him in such a way. He chose a husband for me, and I refused when I had never refused him. At first, it was as if I hadn’t spoken. He simply continued with his plans for the marriage. I continued to refuse, but, in truth, I would have had no choice. And the war …”
She turned to Clare. “You understand what war does to those who fight it, and to those who are left behind to wait and fear. He said he must fight, must go, or have no honor. I begged, but in this he would not be swayed. We would leave together, marry, and I would stay with his family until he came back for me.”
“Where was his family?” Avery prompted.
“Here?” Lizzy’s fingers worked at the high collar of her dress as she looked around. “Near? It fades. His face is clear, his voice, his touch. Hard hands. Hard and strong. Ryder.”
“Yes,” Hope murmured. “Strong, hard hands. You eloped with Billy?”
“I could not. That very night my father signed my marriage contract. I should have remained silent, but I shouted at him, I raged. I thought of Billy going to war, and I raged at my father. I would never marry but for love. He could beat me, lock me away, throw me away, and still I would not do what he demanded of me. So he did lock me away, in my room. He struck me.”
As if that memory remained all too fresh, Lizzy touched her cheek. “My mother took to her bed, and he struck me again, and dragged me to my room, locked me in. I could not get out, could not get away. Three days and nights, my father kept me locked in my room with only bread and water. I did what I should have done before. I told
