candlesticks while I leafed through the latest Montgomery Ward catalog. For the first time I began to believe I might enjoy being Lady of Wheiler House.
“You are a great beauty, lass,” Mary had told me. “You will be a success tonight.”
I’d lifted my chin and spoke to my reflection, banishing the ghost of my mother. “Yes, I will.”
When I’d reached the landing, Father’s back was to me. He was already engaged in an animated conversation with Mr. Pullman and Mr. Ryerson. Carson was opening the front door for several couples. Two women—one I recognized as the rather plump Mrs. Pullman, and the other, a taller, more handsome woman—were admiring the large central arrangement of lilies, cattails, and draping ivy I’d spent so many hours on. Raised in pleasure, their voices had carried easily to me.
“Well, this is quite lovely and unusual,” Mrs. Pullman said.
The taller woman had nodded appreciatively. “What an excellent choice to use these lilies. They have filled the foyer with an exquisite scent. It is as if we entered a fragrant indoor garden.”
I hadn’t moved. I’d wanted to take a private moment of pleasure, so I’d imagined, just for an instant, that I was back on my bench in the garden, curtained by willows, cloaked by darkness, and sitting beside Arthur Simpton. I’d closed my eyes, drawn a deep breath, inhaling calm, and as I released it his voice had lifted to me, as if carried on the power of my imaginings.
“There is Miss Wheiler herself. Mother, I do believe the arrangement you have been admiring shows evidence of her hand.”
I’d opened my eyes to gaze down at Arthur, standing beside the handsome women I hadn’t recognized. I’d smiled, said, “Good evening Mr. Simpton,” and had begun descending the last flight of stairs. Father had brushed past them and hurried to meet me, moving so quickly that he was puffing with effort when he offered me his arm.
“Emily, I do not believe you have met Arthur’s mother, Mrs. Simpton,” Father said, presenting me to her.
“Miss Wheiler, you are even more lovely than my son described,” Mrs. Simpton had said. “And this centerpiece arrangement of yours is spectacular. Did you, as my son surmised, create it yourself?”
“Yes, Mrs. Simpton, I did. And I am flattered that you admire it.” I hadn’t been able to stop myself from smiling up at Arthur as I spoke. His kind blue eyes were alight with his own smile—one I was already finding familiar and increasingly dear.
“And how would you know Emily created the arrangement?” I’d been stunned by the gruff tone of Father’s voice, sure that everyone around us could hear the possessiveness in it.
Nonplused, Arthur laughed good-naturedly. “Well, I recognize the stargazer lilies from—” Partway through his explanation, he must have seen the horror in my eyes because he broke off his words with an exaggerated cough.
“Son, are you well?” His mother had touched his arm in concern.
Arthur had cleared his throat and regained his smile. “Oh, quite well, Mother. Just a tickle in my throat.”
“What is it you were saying about Emily’s flowers?” Father had been like a bloated old dog with a bone.
Arthur hadn’t missed a beat, but had continued smoothly, “Are they Emily’s flowers? Then I have made an excellent guess because they instantly reminded me of her. They, too, are exceptionally beautiful as well as sweet.”
“Oh, Arthur, you do sound more and more like your father every day.” Arthur’s mother had squeezed his arm with obvious affection.
“Arthur! Oh, my. I had hoped you would be here.” Camille had rushed up to us, ahead of her mother, though Mrs. Elcott followed so closely on her daughter’s heels that it appeared as if she pushed her along.
“Miss Elcott.” Arthur had bowed stiffly, formally. “Mrs. Elcott, good evening. I am escorting my mother as my father is still unwell.”
“What a coincidence! My Camille joins me this evening because Mr. Elcott believes he may be coming down with an ague. And, of course, I so wanted to be sure I was here to support Emily at her first formal dinner as Lady of Wheiler House that I couldn’t bear to cancel.” Mrs. Elcott had explained with a honeyed tone, but her pinched expression as she cast her gaze from Arthur to me belied her words. “Though, sadly, I have only daughters and no devoted son. You are a fortunate mother, Mrs. Simpton.”
“Oh, I readily agree with you, Mrs. Elcott,” Arthur’s mother had said with a fond smile. “He is a devoted and an observant son. We were just discussing that it was he who guessed that these lovely decorations were created by Miss Wheiler herself.”
“Emily? You did that?”
Camille had sounded so shocked that I’d had a sudden urge to slap her. Instead I lifted my chin and did not soften my voice and make little of my accomplishments, as Mother would have.
“Hello, Camille, what a surprise it is to see you. And, yes, I did make this arrangement. I also created all of the arrangements on the dining table, as well as those in Father’s library.”
“You are a credit to me, my dear,” Father had said.
I’d ignored him and kept my focus on Camille, and very precisely said, “As you and your mother observed during your last visit, I am learning early what it is to be the Lady of a great house.” I had not added the rest of what Mrs. Elcott had said,
“Yes, well, as I said. You are a credit to me.” Father offered his arm to me again. I’d had to take it. He nodded to the Simptons and Elcotts, saying, “And now we must greet the rest of our guests. Emily, I do not see the champagne being served.”
“That is because I chose to follow the University Club’s lead with the menu tonight. George will be serving amontillado before the first course instead of champagne. It will pair much better with the fresh oysters.”
“Very good, very good. Let us find some of that amontillado, my dear. Ah, I see the Ayers have arrived. There is talk of a permanent art collection for his Indian relics, which the bank will be very interested in…”
I’d stopped listening, though I allowed Father to lead me away with him. That entire night, as I played the part of hostess and Lady of Wheiler House, I kept always in my mind the hope that Arthur Simpton was noticing, and each time I managed to steal a look at him our eyes met because
As the evening progressed, I’d understood that, as always, after dinner the men would leave us and retire to Father’s library for brandy and cigars. The women would go to Mother’s formal parlor, sip iced wine, nibble on tea cakes and, of course, gossip. I’d dreaded that separation, and not simply because Arthur would not be there, but because I had no experience conversing with ladies of my mother’s age. Camille was the only one of them within a decade of my age. I’d realized I had a choice to make. I could sit beside Camille and chatter like I was nothing more than any other young girl, or I could truly attempt to be Lady of Wheiler House. I knew I might be treated with condescension. There were, after all, great ladies such as Mrs. Ryerson, Mrs. Pullman, and Mrs. Ayer present, and I was but a sixteen-year-old girl. But as I led the ladies into Mother’s parlor, and was met with the familiar and soothing scent of the stargazers I had so meticulously arranged, I made my choice. I did not withdraw to the window seat with Camille and cling to my childhood. Instead, I took Mother’s position in the center of the room on the divan, supervised Mary’s refreshing of the ladies’ wine, and tried to hold my chin up and think of something— anything intelligent—to say into the building silence.
Arthur’s mother was my salvation.
“Miss Wheiler, I am interested in these unusual bouquet creations you have beautifully displayed in each of the rooms. Would you share with me your inspiration?” she’d asked with a warm smile that had reminded me so much of her son’s.
“Yes, dear,” I’d been amazed to hear Mrs. Ayer say. “The decorations are quite cunning. You must share your secret with us.”
“I was inspired by our gardens and by the fountain at its heart. I wanted to bring the lily scent and the water
