Janna sniffed and looked disapproving, and Aunt Mari took away the tablecloth I’d picked up for hemming and gave me some charity mending instead. Apparently she thought it was fine for my bad luck to rub off on my sewing as long as it got sent out of the house right away, but she didn’t want me anywhere near something Diane would be using. I didn’t tell her that I’d already spent a month hemming two of the ruffles on the petticoat Diane was going to be wearing under her wedding dress, and put lace on them, too. Aunt Janna would’ve had an apoplexy right on the spot.
After that, I spent most of my time by myself, doing the regular lessons Mama had brought, or practicing the Aphrikan foundation work Miss Ochiba had taught me. I couldn’t practice regular spells without making everyone except Mama and Lan nervous, but nobody could sense me doing foundation work. I even tried Lan’s trick once or twice, calling up magic and then letting it go, just to see if I could. It worked just the way he said—it made people notice me without knowing why they were noticing me—but I didn’t like it. Being noticed made me nervous, especially in company with my aunts and cousins.
Then, barely a week before Diane’s wedding, Frank turned up one afternoon looking serious and insisted on seeing Mama privately, at once. They were holed up in Aunt Tilly’s second-best parlor for an hour, and then Mama called Diane in. The aunts were all buzzing, wondering what it could be about. Aunt Freda thought something dreadful must have happened to Papa, but Aunt Tilly said no, there hadn’t been a telegram, and that was how such news always came. Cousin Marna said Frank could have gotten the telegram, couldn’t he? Aunt Tilly sniffed, and everyone started choosing up sides. They were in such a tizzy they didn’t even think to send me out of the way.
When Mama and Diane and Frank finally came out of the parlor, Diane looked like she’d been crying. Mama was pale and stiff-faced, and all I could think was that Aunt Freda had been right. Then Mama took a deep, shuddery breath and said, “I’m afraid I have bad news.”
The room went so still you could hear the elms outside the window rustling in the wind. “You know my daughter Rennie—” Mama’s voice broke. She closed her eyes and went on after a minute, “My daughter Rennie stayed in Mill City, planning to come East with my husband in a few days.” She paused again, and swallowed hard. “It seems she won’t be coming.”
A little shiver ran through all the aunts and cousins, but nobody quite had the nerve to interrupt to ask why. Mama raised her chin and finished.
“She eloped with Brant Wilson the day we left Mill City.”
CHAPTER 14
THE NEXT FEW DAYS WERE MISERABLE FOR EVERYBODY. NONE OF THE aunts or older cousins wanted to take time to explain to us younger ones just what had happened. We had to figure things out on our own, as best we could. And when the aunts caught us hanging over the banister listening, they relieved their feelings by scolding fiercely—or at least they scolded me. Nobody quite dared to scold Lan, no matter how annoyed they were with him.
So Lan did most of the listening, and we eventually pieced the story together. Papa had never changed his mind about Rennie staying. She’d only said that so she could take her trunk and the money for her train ticket and go off with Brant, without anyone being the wiser. She and Brant had planned it all out. Papa thought she’d come to Helvan Shores with us; Mama thought she’d stayed home with Papa. No one would have known better until Papa arrived for the wedding without her, except that Allie had forgotten to pack her new gloves, and Mama wrote home to have Rennie bring them.
When Papa got that letter, he knew something was wrong, but he didn’t want to worry Mama until he knew what it was. So he telegraphed Frank to find out if Rennie was in Helvan Shores. When he found out she hadn’t arrived, and that everyone thought she’d stayed in Mill City with him, he started looking for her.
It didn’t take him long to find out where she was. She’d been so sure that no one would miss her for a solid month that she hadn’t tried to hide at all. She’d planned to be out at the settlement by the time anyone found out, with no chance of having to face any of us. She ended up having to face Papa, right enough, but it was too late. Rennie and Brant had already gotten married.
That was all that everyone agreed on. Aunt Mari thought that Rennie should be formally read out of the family and never spoken of again, though she certainly spoke plenty about Rennie every chance she got. Aunt Janna said it was a family disgrace, and just what you’d expect from bringing a girl up out in the Western borderland, especially when there was family history. She only said that once, because Aunt Tilly threw her out of the house for “raking up the dead past.” Aunt Ellen pointed out that Rennie was only twenty, so Papa could have the marriage declared void. Several of the other aunts thought he should do just that. I couldn’t see the point. Rennie would be twenty-one in September, and as stubborn as she was, she’d run off and marry Brant all over again, and make the talk even worse.
What I couldn’t understand was why she’d done it. Even if she thought Mama and Papa would object to having their daughter marry a Rationalist, she could have waited a few months and not spoiled Diane’s wedding. And it would have been just plain sense for her to wait until she was legal age. It wasn’t until much later, when I thought to count back from when their first boy was born, that I understood why she’d been in such a fearsome hurry, and why Brant had gone along with her.
After a day or two, when the uproar began to settle, everyone started wondering what would be done about John and Diane’s wedding. Nobody was quite sure how to ask, and there wasn’t much opportunity because Diane spent most of her time in private with Mama. Finally, Aunt Mari took it on herself. She caught me taking a cup of tea up to Mama and followed along. When Diane came out to collect the tea, Aunt Mari asked her point-blank what her plans were.
“Of course, you’ll put off the wedding,” Aunt Mari told her. “So you really ought to notify the guests officially as soon as possible.”
“Put off the wedding?” Diane repeated, staring.
“Oh, dear, hadn’t you thought of that?” Aunt Mari said. “But I’m sure you see how it is. You don’t have to decide now how long you’ll wait; indeed, I think it will be better if you don’t, just yet. Give people time to forget this unfortunate event before you announce a new date. Three months might be long enough—it’s not as if that girl ran off from Helvan Shores, after all.”
“Three months?” said Diane on a rising note. “Aunt Mari, whatever gave you the idea that we were going to put off my wedding?”
Aunt Mari stiffened. “It’s the obvious thing to do. With all this talk, and your father stuck in Mill City dealing with the matter—”
“My father is not stuck in Mill City, and he’s already done as much dealing with things as can be done,” Diane said tightly. “I am not putting off my wedding just because my brat of a younger sister, whom I haven’t seen in eight years, has behaved like a selfish little tramp.”
“I sympathize with your feelings, I really do. But my dear, you can’t have thought—”
Diane glanced back toward the door of Mama’s room, and lowered her voice. “I’ve thought of nothing else for two days, nearly. And I’m not postponing my wedding because of Rennie.”
“I suppose a small, quiet ceremony would be all right,” Aunt Mari said with visible reluctance. “Though there will be talk.”
“There’ll be talk whatever I do,” Diane said flatly. “Rennie has seen to that. Well, I don’t care. I’m not putting off my wedding. I’m not having a small, quiet ceremony. I haven’t done anything to be ashamed of, and I’m not changing a single thing that I don’t absolutely have to change.”
“Have you considered your Mr. Brearsly’s feelings about this? I can’t believe that he will like such an arrangement.”
Diane’s expression softened for a moment. “John agrees with me. I’ve already asked one of my friends to take Rennie’s place as bridesmaid, and Frank has telegraphed back to Mill City to tell Papa.”
“You actually intend to embarrass the family like this?” said Aunt Mari.
“I’m not the one who has embarrassed the family, and I’ll thank you to remember it,” Diane snapped. “If you don’t like it, don’t come.”
