Chapter Five

A Wolf in Her Chamber

Willa hoisted her own small carpetbag over her shoulder and used her free hands to drag Elena’s two heavy valises. Trying not to trip, she followed her mistress across the icy mud of the street toward the pier. The cabriolet that had brought them rattled away, leaving them to fend for themselves among the noise and confusion of the busy harbor. Men and boys hurried here and there carrying barrels and boxes, and seemed not to care if they jostled wind-bedraggled ladies trying to find their way.

Elena fought her way through the crowd toward the docks. Several ships were dancing against the creaking wooden piles, but none of them was named Lady Jane. Elena attempted to ask a lad where she might find the ship, but he said, “Don’t know, miss,” and hurried away.

After some time of wandering about in the freezing wind, they found the harbormaster, a thin, hawkish man who looked at them as though he’d never seen a woman before.

“Traveling alone, ladies?” he asked with an unmistakable leer.

Elena stood straight and looked directly at him. “That is not your concern. Please tell us where we can find the Lady Jane.”

“No need to be hoity, m’dear,” he chortled. He pointed out toward the dark sea. “There’s your ship, anchored right off shore. She’ll soon depart, so better hurry.”

Willa and Elena stared out to sea. A tall ship with her bare masts swaying wallowed in the wind. “How does one get to the ship?” asked Elena, too frightened to be “hoity.”

The harbormaster sneeringly directed them to a longboat whose keeper would row them out to the Lady Jane. Elena curtsied coldly to him and screwed up her courage to make her way among the bustling men and piles of freight to the longboat. She reminded herself she had entered many a ballroom with her head held high, knowing that every eye was upon her. She called upon her innate courage now, marching with an air of dignity across the bare, muddy ground toward the longboat. She had almost reached the shore where the craft was pulled up when a gentleman standing nearby called out to her.

“Miss, miss, have a care! Your companion has fallen!” He rushed to Willa’s aid, and Elena, turning back, saw Willa was on the wet ground, struggling to rise. Elena’s valises were lying in an icy puddle, and one had broken open. Elena gasped in horror at the sight of her personal items, including a bundle of lacy undergarments, spread upon the ground.

“Willa!” she cried. “Look what you’ve done!” While the gentleman assisted Willa, Elena gathered her belongings and stuffed them into the valise. The effort caused her to become splattered with mud, and her temper rose in proportion to the abatement of her dignity.

As she attempted to brush off her dress, she became aware that the gentleman was staring at her. She faced him and his angry dark eyes.

“Madam,” he said coldly, “I do not know your city of origin, but if you are an example of its inhabitants, they are a heartless set of beings.”

Elena gave him an icy glare and pulled her eyes away, too shocked to reply. Hoisting her valise, she said, “Come, Willa,” and turned to move away. The gentleman, to her utter amazement, reached out and seized her arm.

“Will you have the goodness, madam, to take notice that this young lady has injured herself?”

Elena jerked her arm away, but she looked at Willa, who was on her feet but leaning heavily on the gentleman.

“Willa, are you indeed injured? I did not realize…”

“It is nothing, Miss Bellwood. If the gentleman could assist me to the boat, I’m sure I will be well in a few minutes.”

“I believe you have sprained your ankle,” said the gentleman. “You must allow me to carry you. Your…friend…can manage the valises.”

With that, he picked Willa up in his arms and bore her effortlessly across the slippery terrain to the longboat. Without ceremony, he deposited her on a forward bench. He made no attempt to assist Elena with the bags, and Elena with a great effort gathered them in her arms and struggled toward the boat.

Good lord, these bags were far too heavy for one person. I’ve been very cruel in not helping Willa with them.

While the gentleman assisted Willa to place her injured ankle in a comfortable position, a young sailor came forward to help with the bags, but just as he had almost reached Elena, her feet hit a patch of wet ice, and she tumbled to the ground. She cried out as she found herself sprawled on the ground with the valises spread about her. She had landed in a cold puddle, and mud, freezing water, and shards of ice were all over her.

The gentleman immediately rushed to her and with the help of the sailor lifted her to her feet. She was not injured, she immediately realized, but her dignity was shattered, and her only thought at that moment was the necessity of sitting down somewhere and crying her eyes out.

Willa stumbled from the boat to assist her mistress and, shrieking from the sudden pain in her leg, staggered against the side of the craft and clung there. The gentleman knew not whether to drop one lady to rescue the other or hold onto the one already in his arms, but the sailor declared, “I’ll get ’er!” and ran to Willa.

In a few moments, both young women were in the boat. They were thoroughly embellished with mud, and Elena’s face was scratched and abraded, while Willa’s ankle was rapidly swelling. The sailor stowed the valises, after the gentleman, to Elena’s mortification, had scooped up her silk chemises and pantalettes, which had once again escaped when she fell, and stuffed them back into her valise.

Elena dragged a wet handkerchief from her reticule and swabbed her face, swiping mud across her forehead. The gentleman smiled and turned away while Willa solicitously applied her own handkerchief to her mistress’s face. Two wet handkerchiefs were insufficient, and the gentleman was in the act of searching for his own in the pockets of his greatcoat, when the sailor solved the problem by producing a soft linen towel.

“This is a horse towel, ma’am, but it be a clean one.”

In ordinary circumstances, Elena would have spoken sharp words to anyone offering her a horse towel to wipe her face, but she eagerly accepted it. Having thoroughly cleaned her hands and face, she felt better and, ashamed of her previous unkindness to Willa, applied the towel gently to the dabs of mud on the maid’s face.

Her temper and self-control restored, Elena turned to the men and attempting a smile said, “I am grateful to both of you for your kind assistance. It would please me to know your names.”

The gentleman deferred to the sailor. “Scott, ma’am. James Scott, at your service.”

The gentleman bowed. “Benjamin Garrick, ladies. Also at your service.”

Elena offered her hand to each in turn. “I am Elena Bellwood, and this is my maid, Willa McCrea.”

“Pleased to meet you,” James declared.

“If not quite a pleasure at first, ’tis a pleasure at present,” stated Ben. “And now, might I inquire as to your travel plans? If you are taking the Lady Jane to New Haven, my sister and I will be your traveling companions. She is already aboard, but I was delayed by the loading of equipment for my farm.”

Elena was surprised, for Mr. Garrick was clearly a gentleman and she did not associate her concept of a farmer with a man who was confident, well-dressed, well-spoken, and (she must admit) handsome. But she replied to his remark with courtesy.

“Yes, we will be aboard the Lady Jane, and I will be most happy to make your sister’s acquaintance. But we will soon be traveling onward to my aunt’s home in Mystic.”

Just then another sailor appeared, and the men began to push off the longboat. Ben assisted while the two girls clung to the side of the vessel to avoid being knocked about. Soon, they were afloat. The oarsmen skillfully turned the craft, and they headed through the choppy waves toward the Lady Jane.

Ben pulled damp wool blankets from the bottom of the boat and assisted the girls to cover themselves. The noise of the harbor receded as the powerful sailors plied their long oars. Elena shivered; if this were the adventure of traveling, she had been much mistaken in longing for it!

When he had leisure for speaking, Ben inquired, “You are going to Mystic? I’m going there myself, Miss Bellwood. What is your aunt’s name? I may perhaps know her.”

“Rosalie Murdoch.”

“Great heavens, you are Miss Murdoch’s niece?”

“Do you know my aunt?”

“I know her very well, indeed! She is one of my dearest friends.”

Willa spoke softly. “Mr. Garrick, you said you have a farm. Once Miss Bellwood has reached her aunt’s house, I’ll be needing a position…and I love a good farm.”

“Miss McCrea, I am sure Miss Murdoch will give you a position. She is very busy with her bookshop and relies on others to tend her own farm. But if she cannot, I will certainly—”

Elena interrupted Ben’s courteous speech. “My aunt owns a bookshop?” Elena demanded, drowning out Willa’s quiet, “Thank you, sir.”

Ben ignored Elena and spoke to Willa. “Between Miss Murdoch and myself, you can be assured that a position will be found for you. But first, your ankle must heal. Miss Murdoch, I warn you, will tie you to a chair if need be until she’s convinced you’re fully recovered.”

Elena did not like being ignored. Her eyes flashed at Ben as she said, “So my aunt is a shopkeeper. Charming. One moment I am a New York debutante, the next the niece of a poor shopkeeper in the Connecticut hinterlands…” To her shock and humiliation, she began to cry.

Ben looked to Willa for an explanation.

“Miss Bellwood’s poor mother died and left her penniless.”

“Willa,” Elena sobbed, “pray do not tell strangers the humiliating tale of my poverty…”

She could say no more. She leaned forward with her head in her hands, but at that moment a wave rammed the boat upward, then down with a jarring crash. Elena found herself thrown across the space between the benches and was suddenly within the strong arms of Benjamin Garrick. She tried to wriggle free, but he held her securely.

“It’s good to have a cry,” he said, holding her head against his shoulder and thumping her back. “Have it out, Miss Bellwood. The loss of one’s mother is a tragedy indeed.”

Elena struggled to gain control of her crying fit and as quickly as possible extricated herself from Ben Garrick’s arms and returned to her own bench next to Willa. By then, the longboat had cleared the harbor mist and suddenly the Lady Jane loomed above them. The ship, which had looked small from shore, now looked huge, and Elena stared at the swaying hulk with one thought: how on earth did one get into it?

Before she could speak, Willa whispered, “Miss Bellwood, I’m sure I don’t know how I will climb the rope ladder with this throbbing ankle.”

Elena turned on her, eyes wide with shock. “Rope ladder! Willa, what do you mean?”

“Have you never boarded an anchored ship, Miss Bellwood? The crew will throw a rope ladder down to us from the stern.”

“What!” Elena cried. “Mr. Garrick, is it true? Does one climb a rope ladder?”

“Indeed, it is very true,” he replied with a smile. “But fear not, Miss Bellwood. I’ll climb behind you so the sailors in the longboat will not see your pantalettes when the wind blows your skirt up.”

Elena was too shocked to speak. She stared at Ben and then glanced at Willa, who was white-faced with pain and trepidation. “But Mr. Garrick, Willa will not be able to climb a rope ladder.”

“That is very true. We will need to tie a stout rope about her, and she will be hoisted that way. It will not be very pleasant for her, I fear.”

James Scott had finished tying up to the stern of the Lady Jane and, hearing their conversation, said, “I’ll tie a foot loop in the rope, and Miss McCrea can stand her good foot in the loop. We’ll then strap her to the rope so she won’t fall into the sea.”

As outrageous as that seemed to Elena, the plan worked very well. She herself tied Willa’s skirts around her knees so the unruly wind would not expose the girl’s undergarments. James Scott, standing easily in the rocking longboat, strapped Willa to the rope at waist level. At his signal, the crew on board began to pull. Willa gave a little cry as she rose into the air, but she arrived safely on the deck. Elena peered upward, shading her eyes from the winter sun, and sighed with relief when Willa waved to her.

The rope ladder was then thrown down for the others. The older sailor climbed first, and Elena watched in fear as he went steadily up the ladder. At the top, he threw himself aboard and waved to the others.

Ben took Elena’s hands in his and helped her rise. “You are next, Miss Bellwood. Pray do not faint! Put one foot at a time on each cross rope, and for heaven’s sake, hold on tight with both hands. I will be right behind you; do not be afraid.”

If Elena had been less frightened of falling into the dark, frigid sea, she would surely have fainted, but the fear of climbing the ladder was so much less than her terror of being submerged in icy water, she set off up the ladder with a will. Ben stayed close behind her, and she was climbing quite easily when a gust of wind suddenly tore up her skirts and wrapped them about her head. Instinctively, she released the rope from her right hand to pull her dress down and then screamed as her body swung outward.

“Hold on! Don’t let go!” Ben cried. He took one of his hands from the rope and scrabbled at her skirts. Managing to get them down to her waist, he seized a mass of fabric, twisted it, and tucked it under the waist seam of her dress.

“Now climb!” Ben shouted.

Shaking, Elena gathered all her strength and climbed to the stern rail. Male hands reached out and seized her, and she was dragged onto the deck. To her infinite distress, her pantalettes were in full view, to the chortling appreciation of the sailors.

Finally, in the privacy of their tiny cabin, Elena and Willa fell exhausted into their hammocks. They were shortly interrupted, however, by the ship’s mate coming to say that the sails were going up and they would weigh anchor in a few minutes.

“Don’t be alarmed,” exhorted the cheerful mate. “The Lady Jane will froth about a bit, for the sea’s as rough as a sailor’s beard today. You ladies might be a bit under the weather, but ’twon’t be for long. If this wind holds, we’ll be in New Haven in three days.”

When the mate departed, Elena and Willa looked up in surprise, for in the open doorway stood a young woman in a dark dress obviously waiting to speak with them. Elena immediately staggered forward.

“You must be Miss Garrick.”

“Miss Bellwood?”

The young ladies shook hands. Miss Megan Garrick was a naturally pretty girl, but she did little to capitalize on her looks. She was plainly dressed, and her hair was pulled back into a knot that reminded Elena of newspaper drawings she had seen of women at political rallies screaming about strange things like voting in elections. Mrs. Bellwood had referred to them as harpies who did not understand their place in the world.

But Miss Garrick did not seem a harpy. She was soft-spoken with a warm smile. But though gentle and quiet, she did not give the impression of being weak.

Elena invited Miss Garrick into the tiny cabin. When she introduced Willa by means of a quick “My maid, Willa,” Miss Garrick walked up to Willa and grasped her hand, greeting her as warmly as she had greeted Elena.

One suspects she has been raised in poor society. But she is quiet and gentle and should be a pleasant traveling companion.

“I came to inquire about your well-being,” said Megan. “You, Miss McCrea, have a badly sprained ankle, so my brother says, and you, Miss Bellwood, had to climb that dreadful rope ladder in this frightful wind.”

Both girls thanked her and assured her they were well. Willa’s ankle was already beginning to subside, she insisted, and Elena was able to laugh at her humiliation of being dragged aboard ship in her pantalettes.

“Excellent,” replied the gentle Megan. “Then I will return to my cabin. The voyage will be rough until we reach the open sea, and then it should be a bit smoother.”

Shortly after Megan’s departure, the ship suddenly jerked and rolled to one side. Although Willa assured Elena that they were simply turning about and heading to sea, Elena felt a surge of fear. How different reality was from one’s silly daydreams. She recalled her past desire for travel and adventure. Here she was, leaving New York to visit strange and unknown lands, and she didn’t feel excited or confident or sophisticated or elegant, or any of those things she expected. She only felt sad…sad and frightened.

****

The voyage to New Haven, although unpleasant, was not as terrible as Elena had expected, and in three days’ time she and Willa were safely ashore and settled in the Red Marlin Inn near the piers. The weather had warmed a bit, and Elena, usually accompanied by Megan Garrick, was able to stroll about, visit tea shops, and even make a few small purchases of wool gloves and hats for herself and Willa, whose ankle was not yet healed.

Elena took the opportunity of becoming better acquainted with her new friend. She could be a close questioner when she was interested in her companion, and Miss Garrick did indeed interest her. Elena learned that as she suspected, Megan was a suffragette, but her devotion to the rights of women did not stop with voting. Her explanations were at first rather shocking to Elena, but the more she listened, the more her curious mind began to understand. According to Megan, the role of women in society had been restricted for centuries, and that must change. Not only must women gain suffrage, but also they must be allowed freedom of choice in all areas of their life. They must not be viewed as the property of first their father and then their husband. And women such as Willa, who labored for a bare subsistence, should not be treated as virtual slaves in a household.

“All women are our sisters,” declared Megan, warming to her subject, “and we must help and protect each other. However, I realize that your upbringing as a debutante has in no way prepared you for the understanding and acceptance of the ideals I espouse. I’ve been reared in a different manner and have been exposed to freethinkers and liberals from a young age.”

“You are correct in your assumption,” replied Elena. “My father died when I was a child, and my mother’s focus was always on arranging a brilliant marriage for me. As it turned out, it was not a good plan, for it brought about her financial ruin and, when she died suddenly, mine.”

“Indeed!” Megan exclaimed. “I had no idea!”

“Sadly, it is so. Thanks to the foresight of my mother’s solicitor, a small amount of money was kept aside for my travel expenses in case my mother should die before I was wed.”

“I admit I was curious,” said Megan, “for—forgive my frank comment—you are so lovely it seems incredible that you finished your coming out year without being wed.”

“As it happened,” said Elena, “I expected to receive a proposal of marriage from a most unexceptionable suitor—the Duke of Simsbury—on the very day my mother died.”

“And…what happened? Why did you decide not to accept him?”

“My dear Miss Garrick, I would have accepted him in an instant. But he informed me that he had already engaged himself to a woman of fortune…although he did offer to make me his mistress.”

“Good lord! He is a blackguard! You are extremely fortunate to escape from matrimony with such a man!”

“I’m not sure I agree with you. The alternative is that now I must throw myself upon the mercy of an aunt whom I have never met and live in a place that is alien to everything I have known.”

The four travelers spent three days in New Haven before getting passage on a mail ship up the coast. As they were undergoing the bustle of leaving the inn, a welcome sight appeared—James Scott.

“Mr. Scott!” called Ben. “I was uncertain if you would accept my offer.”

“Heyo, Mr. Garrick, ladies!” called the cheerful seaman. “I talked to my ma, Mr. Garrick, and she said, ‘Don’t be daft, Jimmy. Go to Mystic, and captain the freight boat for the gentleman.’ ”

“What is all this about?” asked Elena. “Are you going with us, Seaman Scott?”

“Aye, miss. Mr. Garrick has two ships that run freight up the coast and out to the islands. One needs a captain! Quite a promotion for a poor sailor like me!”

“I congratulate you, Mr. Scott,” said Megan.

“Thank you, miss.”

“Ben,” continued Megan, “your ships are ketches, are they not?”

“What is a ketch?” asked Elena.

“Why, miss,” enthused James, “’tis the finest boat made. Small, tight, and a match for the cold North Atlantic. A ketch has two masts, and a good sailor can make her do anything he wants.”

As the others smiled at James’s outburst, Willa said, “But Mr. Garrick, I thought you were a farmer.”

“I own a farm,” he replied, “but it’s for my own use and not a commercial venture. The income from my freighting ships allows me to spend my time pursuing my main interest.”

“Which is?” asked Elena.

“Science,” he replied, “particularly astronomy.”

“Astronomy! I’m very surprised, but certainly intrigued.”

“Are you? I’m glad to hear it. Most women run away as soon as they hear the word ‘science.’ ”

Elena was not surprised at his assessment of women, for her own mother had despised science in any of its forms.

“I’m sure such women exist,” she replied, “but I have the misfortune to be very curious, so anything strange or obscure catches my interest immediately. What exactly are you trying to learn about astronomy, Mr. Garrick?”

“For one thing, I’m trying to replicate the findings of the last century’s most brilliant astronomer, David Rittenhouse, regarding the transit of Venus.”

Ben glanced at Elena and perceiving no hint of insincerity in her expression, added, “I want to expand on his findings and also calculate the movements of all the planets as they relate to this hemisphere. I recently procured the latest, most accurate telescope, one produced in the Netherlands.”

“That is fascinating indeed.”

Megan pulled her away. “You are in danger, Miss Bellwood. If you show too much interest, he will drag you to his farm and force you to sit all night staring at the sky with a notepad on your lap.”

Ben laughed. “I’m not such a fool, Megan. But Miss Bellwood might enjoy looking through the telescope for a few minutes some evening.”

“Yes, I would like that very much.”

With such friends to cheer her, Elena found that some of her anxiety about her new life was easing, and the voyage to Mystic passed quickly. She saw little of the Mystic River or the village that lined its banks when they sailed into port, for a thick snow was falling and the dark sky threatened a serious blizzard. Ben and James left the women on board until they had secured two cabriolets. The horses stamped and fretted as the travelers and their belongings were loaded, and the coachmen looked uneasily at the thickening snow on the road.

“Take us only to the Book & Candle,” Ben instructed, “and then you’d best get yourselves and your horses under shelter.”

“Aye, sir, that we will.” The carriages set off, slipping every few feet, with the horses plodding to keep their balance. They passed across the river on a wooden bridge and traveled slowly along the main road of the town. Elena could see nothing through the snow, and when they stopped, she had no leisure for looking about, for she and James had to assist Willa out of the cab and into the doorway of the shop, while Megan helped Ben with the luggage.

She had been surprised to find the Garricks were planning to accompany her into the shop and even more surprised when Ben had explained that they would ask Miss Murdoch to accommodate all of them for the night, as it was impossible to travel to the farm. James offered to walk to the small inn they had passed on the other side of the river, but Ben assured him it would not be necessary.

They all crowded into the dark interior of the shop. One candle only illuminated the space, and the winter darkness was descending rapidly. Elena could barely see where she was, and she and Megan, who had never been in the shop either, bumped into each other as they made their way from the door into the interior.

Footsteps sounded, and a woman emerged from the rear of the shop.

“Good heavens!” she cried, “Is it you, Ben? I did not expect you in this storm!”

In the dim light, Elena saw a very pretty woman hurrying toward them. She looked to be in her late thirties with blonde hair and a fair complexion. With a start, Elena realized that she and her aunt looked considerably alike.

Ben stepped forward. “Rosalie, you are a treat for sore eyes. And behold, I bring you your niece, who I assure you has proven her mettle on this journey!”

“What! Elena is with you?” The woman dropped her lantern onto a table and approached.

Elena had just begun to say, “My dear aunt, I am very grateful—” when she was clasped in the woman’s arms.

“Elena, Elena,” whispered Rosalie, and her niece realized that she was crying.

Elena attempted to extricate herself without being discourteous. She took her aunt’s hand and told her how very happy she was to make her acquaintance. Rosalie stared at her and then began to weep in earnest.

“Come, come, Rosalie,” said Ben, taking hold of her arm. “This won’t do.”

“I am so very sorry,” replied Rosalie. “The shock of seeing her after all these years…I…”

Ben handed her his handkerchief. She wiped her eyes and attempted a smile. “I received Mr. Coakley’s letter about my sister’s sudden death only a week ago. I was shocked and grieved by the news but delighted to find that dear Elena would be coming to me.”

Ben introduced Megan, Willa, and James Scott and mentioned their need for shelter.

“Of course,” answered Rosalie. “I have room enough for twenty in this rambling old house.”

They all followed Rosalie upstairs to her parlor, with James and Ben assisting Willa. Elena was pleased when she looked around the room. It was large and commodious, with simple, comfortable furnishings. A feather-stuffed sofa dominated one side of the room, and on this Willa gingerly settled with her injured leg raised onto a hassock. Several wing chairs accommodated the others. A pianoforte claimed one corner, with sheet music lying on its bench. In another corner was a desk with neat piles of paper, quills, and jars of ink. A few simple country scenes, plainly framed, adorned the walls. A warmly hued carpet covered the center of the wooden floor, with the colors reflected in cushions about the room.

How different this room was from her mother’s parlor in New York. But she liked it. It spoke of comfort and…contentment.

Rosalie announced she would put water on the stove for tea. “While you are waiting for tea,” she said, “you must warm yourselves with sherry. Ben, you know where my wines are located. Will you pour?”

“Most assuredly,” he replied, “but, Rosalie, where is Bramble?”

“He’s in my bedchamber. I closed him in there when I went downstairs, for I was afraid he might frighten whoever it was that had entered the shop.”

Elena turned to Ben. “Who or what is Bramble?”

Ben smiled. “I’ll tell you if you promise not to swoon.”

Elena reached out and tapped his arm. “I am hardly going to swoon because my aunt keeps a pet.”

“Good,” he said, grinning, “because Bramble is a wolf.”

“A wolf!” cried all the others.

Rosalie returned from the kitchen. “I assure you, he is as gentle a creature as ever was seen. You need not fear him.”

“Oh dear,” whispered Elena, “a wolf…”

Megan turned to Elena. “New York debutantes and wolves—of the animal kind,” she added with a smile, “do not often meet.”

“With the human kind,” Ben could not help saying, “no doubt many meetings occur.”

“I’ll bring Bramble out to meet all of you,” Rosalie said, “if it won’t distress you too much, my dear.”

“No, I’ll be fine,” said Elena. “I think…”

“Miss Bellwood,” said Ben. “When you meet Bramble, you’ll realize he’s a pussycat in wolf’s clothing.”

“Simply sit quietly and allow him to acquaint himself with you. He is not the least bit dangerous, I assure you,” said Rosalie as she left the room.

She returned in a few moments with a dark shadow following her.

Elena was shaking as the animal approached. He appeared huge, and his deep yellow eyes seemed to see into her soul. She shivered, but some instinct she did not know she possessed made her hold out her hand to him. He stretched his neck toward the offered hand and sniffed.

“May I touch him?” she whispered, her voice quaking.

“Yes, certainly.”

Elena tentatively touched the great beast’s head, and Willa stroked his back. He waved his tail and strolled onward to meet James and Megan. Elena could see Megan’s hand quiver as she touched him. James sat very still and waited for the wolf to finish examining him.

When Bramble had acquainted himself with the new humans, he turned to Ben, demanding the attention of the person he loved second to Rosalie. Ben scratched his neck and talked to him, and to Elena’s shock, the creature lay at Ben’s feet and flipped himself over.

“What is he doing?” she whispered.

“He wants his belly scratched,” Ben replied. “Have you never been around dogs, Miss Bellwood? Dogs and wolves are quite alike.”

“Are they indeed? I had no idea.”

Rosalie left the room and returned with hot, fragrant tea and a platter heaped with cookies and sandwiches. To her surprise, Elena realized she was hungry. Well, she might as well eat what she liked, for she didn’t have a ball or party to attend requiring an iron corset and fitted gown. She helped her aunt pass the tea and then filled her own plate. Bramble settled at Rosalie’s feet and closed his eyes.

Rosalie raised her teacup. “To new friends,” she said with a smile. Everyone joined her in a toast.

Willa turned to Rosalie. “When I was little, my pa used to toast the family after we said grace. He’d say, ‘May God bless us all for life and especially my dear good wife.’ ”

“Lovely,” said Rosalie. “Don’t you all agree?”

The others agreed. Elena nodded, surprised that Willa, who never said anything personal to her, would have the courage to tell such a thing to her aunt.

After all had eaten, Rosalie assigned bedchambers. The men would be downstairs in a small room behind the shop. Elena and Megan would share a bedchamber near Rosalie’s room, and Willa would have a small room off the kitchen.

“The bed in this room is much lower than the others, Miss McCrea,” said her kind hostess. “You will find it easier to manage. And if you need assistance, there’s a call bell in the room.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“We will have a simple supper at eight,” Rosalie announced as they all dispersed.

“Aunt Rosalie,” questioned Elena, “do you have no staff to assist you?”

“I was going to ask the same,” said Megan. “Elena and I are perfectly able to help with cooking chores. Or I am, for I’m not in the least fatigued from the journey.”

“How kind!” said Rosalie. “But do rest and refresh yourselves for a time before we begin. We will have only a simple meal, for this storm has made it impossible to purchase foodstuffs. But I have fish and potatoes, and of course bread and butter. I put a roasting hen in the oven before you arrived.”

“Your kindness in welcoming us into your home so unexpectedly is greatly appreciated,” said Megan, “but it’s not surprising. My brother’s letters have been full of your praises for years.”

“Ben is one of the best men I’ve ever known,” replied Rosalie. “I can compare him to only one other.”

“Who?” asked Elena.

Rosalie turned away and busied herself with pulling potatoes from a bin. “Someone I knew…a long time ago.”

Elena wanted to ask more questions, but Megan urged her to retire to their chamber. “Come, Miss Bellwood, I will assist you with your unpacking. Your maid’s unwell, and I think it likely that you’ve never hung up a gown in your life.”

Elena laughed. “That is very true, and except for tonight, I have no intention of ever doing it again. I think Willa quite mad to prefer farm work to helping me with my gowns, but if that is her choice, I’ll hire someone else.”

Rosalie and Megan stared at her. “I-I am surprised to hear you speak so,” Megan began. “From what you told me of your finances—”

Rosalie interrupted. “My dear Elena, I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but you will not have a personal maid in this household. You must learn to care for your own clothing.”

“Of…of…course,” whispered Elena, with tears in her eyes. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Rosalie put an arm about her shoulders. “I’m sorry, love, that your life has been turned upside down. But you’ll come in time to appreciate your new life, I feel sure of it.”

“Of course I will.” She forced a smile. “And now, Miss Garrick, I await your first lesson in gown storage!”

When Elena and Megan emerged from their chamber an hour later, they found Rosalie and Bramble in the kitchen. Rosalie was stirring a boiling pot of potatoes, and Bramble was dispatching a large beef bone with raw meat hanging from it. Elena shivered as she watched him gnawing the huge bone and tearing shreds of meat off it, but he looked back at her nonchalantly and thumped his tail.

Elena had never cooked anything in her life except a cup of tea, but she was able to slice bread, butter it, and arrange it on a plate. When that was done, she watched Megan sauté mushrooms in an iron skillet, adding herbs and fish fillets when the mushrooms had softened. Rosalie lifted the chicken from the oven, pulled down a platter, and carved the bird, reserving gristly bits for Bramble.

When the men appeared and dinner was served, Elena was surprised at her feeling of pride as the meal was praised. How silly to take pride in the preparation of a simple meal—she, who was once the most popular debutante in New York City!

But her wayward thoughts would not be squelched. Perhaps she’d been taking pride in the wrong things. Here was her aunt, running a shop and a farm on her own, while Elena had been sitting in one New York parlor after another making silly conversation with women who could not work in a shop or cook a meal if their lives depended on it.

When dinner was over, they assembled in the parlor and, after looking out the windows and remarking on the depth of the snow, seated themselves. Rosalie passed around an after-dinner liqueur with a delightful orange flavor and everyone accepted. Elena felt a bit guilty for drinking sherry in the afternoon, wine at dinner, and now liqueur, for her mother had allowed her no more than a half glass of wine thinned with water at dinner.

“Too much wine makes a girl plump and silly,” she had scolded, “and no debutante can afford to be either of those things.”

But here she was, a hundred miles from home and sitting in a parlor over a bookshop with a strange aunt who gathered herbs and owned a wolf. The thought made her giggle, and she saw Ben glance at her in surprise.

“Rosalie,” he said, “I know this is an imposition, but would you be kind enough to play to us? This has been such a delightful day and promises to be a delightful evening—music would make it perfect.”

“I certainly shall. And if you’re so inclined, we might find enough room here for dancing.”

Elena opened her mouth to speak her shock at such a plan—dancing in a parlor with sailors and maids and wolves, good heavens! What would Prudence say to this?—but stopped herself, afraid to offend her aunt.

The first song was a lively country dance, and Willa clapped while the other four skipped their way through the steps, laughing when one of them went awry. When it was over, they collapsed into their seats, but Rosalie began to play a tender waltz that floated effortlessly from the piano. James Scott, doing an imitation of a fine gentleman, bowed to Megan and led her to the floor. A little thrill ran through Elena’s spine, for it was inevitable that Ben would ask her to dance. She saw him in her peripheral vision rise from his chair, and in a moment, he was bowing before her.

“Miss Bellwood, may I have the honor?” He held out his hand.

“Most certainly.”

Ben’s hand closed over hers and his other arm slipped around her waist. They began to move together in the waltz, and such a fine dancer was he, their bodies seemed to flow as one. The tempo was slow, and as she and Ben drifted into a darker corner of the room, she raised her eyes to his face. He gazed at her in return, and although Elena had previously thought his face rather angular and stern, the look in his eyes now was so warm and expressive that she quivered.

“Are you chilled?” he whispered, keeping his eyes on hers.

“No. I-I feel a bit lightheaded. Perhaps I’ve had too much wine.”

Ben stopped dancing and moved away from her. “Come over to the window. I’ll open it a bit, and the fresh air will revive you.”

“No, I’m quite all right.”

They resumed dancing, but the song ended. As she was reseating herself, Elena glanced at Willa. Poor Willa! She would not be dancing!

“Willa,” she said in a loud voice, “I’m going to ask everyone here to promise to gather together for another party just like this one, to take place when your ankle is healed.”

Everyone cheered her words and all promised. Willa smiled in gratitude, and when James Scott joined her on the settee and engaged her in conversation, she looked very happy indeed.