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By midday, the coach had carried them beyond the rural gridwork of outlying farmlands that spilled from the core of Charlottetown. Though the quilt of green, yellow, and red fields had succumbed to urban development, the city was organised in rows upon rows of civic blocks pinned between muck-filled roads and hitching rails. The usual clip-clopping of the horses was instead a slapping of mud mingled with the slush of passing carriages. Smart-dressed pedestrians meandered along the brick buildings that stood like a fortress of commerce on either side of the city’s streets. They stuck to the wooden sidewalks and planks that laid atop the gummy streetways, careful to mind the passing stagecoach.
The smell of the countryside was carried in by the trot of horses, though as Ethel leant out her window to gawk at the jigsaw of urban wonders, she inhaled the fresh scent of perfume from within the miasma of wet dirt. It waved hello from off the decorated hats of the women and girls who wandered the world in their colourful promenade costumes, even despite the swampy muck. Ethel couldn’t help but sigh at the sight of them as she pulled at her black scalloped cape. Ethel had gotten so thin as of late, that she hoped her brother would recognize her.
“They’ve a store for everything here, eh Miss Ethel?” Beulah was round-eyed as she leant out the opposite side of the carriage to read the myriad of signs posted between the rows of arched windows. Cobblers, bakers, clothiers, and medical halls. Hardware, stovers, tinware, and some shops named for the people who owned them.
“I suppose they must label everything so that no one gets lost,” Ethel mused, watching as a gaggle of men wandered towards a pub in a swagger.
They must be sailors... She sat back to smooth her skirts and fiddle with the pins that held her hair in place.
“You’ve been to Charlottetown before, haven’t you, Miss Ethel?”
“Yes,” Ethel said, “with my father, and later on with Ernest. Though it’s been a while, and I’ve not seen the house the two conspired to build.”
“Eden Hall’s coming up, Miss!” Al hollered back, steering the horses west on Grafton Street. The smell of the water filled the air and settled on the tongue like a bladder of rockweed.
When her brother was married, their father had been ill, and the ceremony was conducted on the shores of Summerside for his sake. Eden Hall had been but a dream then, schemed up by her late father and brother as a wedding gift. She remembered seeing the drawings in the den—blueprints accompanied by scrawls and notes. Three stories, a verandah, and turret... Her father said it had to be in the style of a Queen Anne. Ernest agreed. What that entailed, Ethel could only guess at the time, but as the carriage pulled up and rounded the bend towards West Street, her family's conjurings were given life against the backdrop of the roiling Charlottetown Harbour.
Eden Hall was much more than three stories, a verandah, and a turret. While each complimented the general ambiance ushered from the manor’s appearance, the plum cross-gabled roof, green trim, and ash grey asymmetrical facade reminded her of the orchards up past Richmond. It was a hearty building with conical bay windows on its right flank and a corner tower on the left. Above the expansive veranda trimmed in fluted stone columns, a balcony rose of much the same design.
Ethel could imagine Dolly waving out towards the road when company called, her sunny hair pinned yet gleaming from the sun that just barely managed to shine past the shaded rooftop. The thought brought a smile to Ethel’s lips. She hoped with every business trip, Ernest found happiness in such a goodbye and homecoming.
A black, wrought iron fence outlined the perimeter of Eden Hall, though there were few neighbours along the corner of Grafton and West. The stables sat behind the manor.
Al Carlow and Fritz Humphrey stalled the carriage just outside the cobbled main path that led up to the front porch. Ethel heard both men grunt as they stood to stretch their backs, and Beulah echoed their relief when the front door to Eden Hall opened to welcome them.
“That can’t be my sister, Ethel, without ink stains on her fingers or her nose buried in a book?” Ernest crashed out the front door like a cannon fire, hardly allowing enough time for Al to open the carriage door.
He proffered a helping hand and Ethel’s smile grew in the presence of her brother. “Your affection is catching,” she said as she stepped down into his warm embrace. “It’s been too long, Ernest. The few short seasons we’ve had since your wedding seem like ages.”
“And yet you seem smaller, Etty!” He stood back an arm’s length to regard her, the severity of his dark brows and trimmed moustache eclipsed by soft, brown eyes and a round face.
“You’ve also gotten larger, Ernie,” Ethel replied, sparing a glance towards his belly, disguised behind a tweed vest and open sack coat. She kept her chin down, biting back a cruel giggle as her eyes watched him from under the blackened rim of her mourning hat.
Ernest guffawed. “A time at Eden Hall will see you thicker as well, I suspect!” he said, clapping his hand around her shoulder as he tucked her underneath his arm. “And I haven’t forgotten about you, Mr. Humphrey! I suspect Fritz, Al, and I will enjoy a shot of gin or two later this evening?”
As usual, the older man grunted, though there was an air of approval in Fritz Humphrey’s eyes. Acting as translator, Al smiled and said, “Who could say no to an offer like that, Sir? I’ll make sure the horses are well put to bed before any libations are thrown around.”
“Good lad! And show Fritz a room he’ll find comfortable.” Ernest and Ethel were making their way up towards the large, snaking verandah when her brother peered over his shoulder to call back, “And I haven’t forgotten about you either, Miss Murphy. I want to know all the trouble you and Ethel have gotten up to in my absence.”
“No trouble at all Mr. Arsenault. But I’m afraid my poor backside begs for better pillows on the ride back.” Beulah carried Ethel’s Gladstone bag in her right hand whilst the other patted her rump in emphasis. Ethel was surprised to have forgotten her bag in the stagecoach.
“Hopefully, that will be a while yet.” He leant down to mutter more privately. “Dolly has been quite eager for you to arrive, Etty. I’m afraid my business ventures often take me away from Eden Hall, and the poor dear is often left alone at the house.”
“The hall is magnificent. You and father really outdid yourselves.”
Ernest rumbled with another jolly laugh. “Yes, but I’m afraid its size takes a lot of getting used to. More women to fill the corridors will help Dolly settle in. She’s not quite used to something so grand.”
Neither was she, Ethel thought. Even her family home back in Summerside was not so elegant, but Ernest’s business in Charlottetown had been lucrative.
They stepped up onto the patio. The door to Eden Hall was solid mahogany, framed in stained glass with sidelight windows.
“When do you leave for Boston, brother?” Ethel asked, glancing back to Beulah to ensure the woman was following after them.
“I’m all set to leave in a few days. I wanted to make sure you were comfortable before I departed. Though servants often fill much of the space during the day, there are none that stay overnight, having homes in the city. Even now, only Adella comes regularly.” The initial reason Ernest had wanted her to come and stay at Eden Hall was because Dolly wasn’t used to the grandeur of a large house or estate. Ethel couldn’t imagine being in a great big place like Eden Hall all by herself. Though now that her parents were gone, it was only her and Beulah who stayed together at Greens Shore.
As they entered, the light from outside spilled inward to the foyer. Patterned green wallpaper, spotted with pink roses, kept the interior in perpetual spring, while dark stairs, coated in plush carpet, wound upwards to frame a hanging chandelier. Portraits of gardens and shipyards hung on the wall, while corridors spilled into surrounding rooms, lit by the natural sunlight that meandered in through the tall windows.
It was familiar, like the ghost of her father lived on in the wooden panels that bisected the emerald wallpaper. It was like stepping into a dream or through a portrait that you saw every day but never quite got a good look at it.
“This is lovely Ernes–”
“Is that Ethel? Ernie, you were supposed to let me know when she arrived.” Dolly was a spark of vigour as she descended the stairs, in the process of pinning a diamond teardrop in one ear. Her hair was pinned loosely atop her head. Her ruffled blouse, buttoned in a high collar with a silver and garnet brooch, was tucked into a brown plaid skirt with twin pleats and secured with two rows of brass buttons. She portrayed a picture of youthful fashion, her soft features and charm emphasised by the light in Dolly’s blue eyes.
“How was your trip here, Ethel?” Dolly asked, rushing into a warm and familiar embrace that seemed natural for her. Ernest stumbled aside in an attempt to accommodate his young wife, while Ethel tensed, caught off guard by the merry hello.
“It went well, thank you.”
“I know you have an aversion to the water, Etty, but next time you must simply take the boat. The ride here has left you looking awfully tired.” Dolly pressed the pads of her fingers beneath Ethel’s chin in an effort to lift it higher for examination. Dolly’s face turned into a portrait of concern, made genuine by the softness of her eyes and parted mouth. Ethel was touched by the woman’s care. It seemed maternal in nature, despite Dolly being younger in age.
Ethel grasped her sister’s-in-law’s hand and held it between her own. Her eyes were rather heavy, but she became determined to mirror a bit of the sun and sparkle that was emitting from her sister-in-law.
“Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine. Truly. It’s nothing a nap won’t cure.” Dolly glanced at Ethel’s mourning attire and pursed her lips into a thin line. Before the silence could darken, Ernest shook his head.
“Hear that, Dolly? Our old Ethel is as tough as aged leather.”
“I wouldn’t have put it quite so poetically, perhaps,” Ethel muttered, glancing behind her as Beulah chuckled.
Ernest smiled so big his top teeth were exposed. “Well, you were ever the poet in the family, Ethel,” Ernest replied, gesturing towards the stairs. “Come, I’ll show you and Beulah to your rooms on the second floor so you may rest and unpack.”
Dolly jumped, moving from her place before the stairs to her husband’s side. Her eyes widened like sea pearls, and her cheeks went flush despite the cool air that had shifted inside when the door had opened.
“Oh, Ernie, do you think it would be unfathomable to dine at the Windmill tonight? I’ve heard a lot of the ships have come in, and it would be simply beautiful to dine on the docks this evening.” Dolly turned to include Ethel in the conversation. “Ethel, you would love it. The view from the second-floor window would certainly inspire any poet!”
Ernest looked askance at his sister with an unsure grin. “Well, Dolly... I have some business to attend to at the Windmill tonight—”
“I know.” Dolly beamed. “And we wouldn’t dare get underfoot. After we dine, I can show Ethel to the landing. It’s right outside, after all.”
“With all the sailors afoot?”
Dolly waved her hand. An emerald cluster sparkled upon a golden bangle dangling from her delicate wrist. “I’m sure we could arrange a chaperone if you’re worried, dear. But there will be plenty of constables about to ensure no ruckus is made, what with all the ships coming in.”
Ethel muffled a phantom laugh in her fist as Ernest looked to her to dissuade his assiduous, young wife. When it was obvious she would not come to his aid, Ernest opened his arms, waffling excuses. “I’m sure Ethel would like some time to rest and unpack, Dear, and we can’t leave her alone when she’s only just arrived...”
“I don’t mind getting settled for you, Miss Ethel. There are a few hours before supper, so you’d have time enough to get ready and have a nap, if you wished.”
Ethel couldn’t help but laugh at the face her brother pulled at poor Beulah, but as always, the young lady was unfazed. “It would also give me a bit of time to get familiar with the house while you three are gone.”
Dolly squeaked with cheer, moving past her husband to face Miss Murphy as though the verdict had been chosen. “Quite right, Miss Murphy. Oh, Ethel won’t you please agree to come?”
Dolly was grasping her arm again, a flurry of eagerness between the four of them. Looking past the young girl’s sunny locks and elegant attire, Ethel saw her brother’s spent resolve sputter in a drawn-out sigh and sheepish shrug behind her.
“It sounds wonderful, Dolly. I would be most pleased to accompany you.”
The echo of Dolly’s mirth seemed to brighten the dull light petering in through the windowpanes. And as they bounded up the stairs, arm in arm, leaving Ernest to contemplate his new evening plans, Ethel couldn’t help but feel warmed in the wake of her sister-in-law.
“The room down the hall is yours, Beulah. I know how much of a friend you are to Ethel, so I thought you’d both enjoy being in close proximity. There is one other girl who was staying overnight downstairs in the servant’s quarters, but she’s already headed home to visit her mother.”
The wallpaper continued up from the first floor, though here it was speckled with large, hand-drawn portraits and mirrors, along with one grandfather clock standing sentinel between two bedroom doors.
“Do most of the maids come in during the morning, Mrs. Arsenault?”
“Precisely. Around five o’clock. And Aloysius stays in a room off the stables most nights. You can find him there if something goes amiss in the night and Ernest isn’t around.”
Beulah nodded, glancing towards Ethel as the bedroom off the right side of the hall was opened. Ethel would be staying on the second floor of the Queen Anne’s turret. A large, four-poster bed with heavy curtains sat against the far wall, soaking up the sunlight that poured in streams along the floor. Beige walls sectioned by wooden panels were adorned with portraits of birds standing idle in egg-shaped frames. The fireplace was next to the bed, the flame low, while a mirror, vanity, and dresser stood beyond the borders of a plush green carpet. There was a lounger at the end of the bed, as well as a few books that looked to have been brought up from downstairs. Outside the four, front-facing windows, the sea was a blue grey, like cobalt on a dour morning.
“I’ll have Aloysius and Fritz bring up the rest of your stuff, and Beulah can unpack when we leave. I’m sure you’ll want to refresh and change after your nap.”
“I best go make sure that the rascal doesn’t break something,” Beulah barked, setting Ethel’s Gladstone bag on the bed before leaving through the doorway. Ethel watched her go and tried to avoid the look in Dolly’s eyes as the young woman regarded her black dress from toe to chest.
“Ethel,” she began as soon as they were alone, “how long has—I mean, it’s been well over a year, has it not?”
Ethel looked away, expecting the question and yet, not quite prepared to answer it. She had been in mourning longer than Ernest and Dolly had been wed. But despite the time, and the fact that Roland had never been her husband, Ethel wasn’t ready to let him go.
She didn’t wish to snuff out Dolly’s bright enthusiasm, however, so grasping her by the hand, Ethel nodded. “My old clothes don’t fit, is all, and I’ve been too busy to have them tailored.”
Dolly’s smile returned, and Ethel was glad to have been the one to inspire it. “We shall have to go shopping. I’ve a few dresses that you could have in the meantime, if Beulah is good at sewing.”
“Very good,” Ethel agreed, her heart sinking. Dolly’s enthusiasm soared, but despite unceremoniously getting caught up in it, Ethel found herself short of breath.
“I’ll take a look while you rest. If you need anything, be sure to let me know. Our room is upstairs on the third floor, and the parlour is downstairs next to the study. That’s where Ernest keeps himself most days when he’s not at work.”
She left in a whirl of excitement, leaving Ethel to her own gloomy thoughts while reeling from the sunny storm that was Dolly’s cloying demeanour. Though she could hear the tumult from downstairs, Ethel closed the door to her room, expecting that Beulah would handle the luggage and see that she was not disturbed.
Ethel lay upon the bed and stared up into the canopy. As the noise dimmed and the soft patter of rain ticked like moments against the windowpanes, she closed her eyes. Thinking of Roland as the world spun in circles, she slept amid the heart of it all at Eden Hall.
