WHEN ROSE HAD TOO MUCH TO THINK ABOUT, WORKING IN the Herb House always seemed to help. So, after depositing Mairin at the Schoolhouse, she assigned herself to a morning of packing herbs for sale to the world. The harvest was in, and the Herb House would be bursting with bound bunches of herbs hanging from every possible hook, peg, and rack. Many of them were dry and ready to be crumbled and stuffed into round tins. Maybe she’d allow herself to work on the dried buds collected from the lavender plants during their second flowering in the late summer. It was tedious work, but Rose found the fresh fragrance helped clear her mind.
She swung open the Herb House door to an explosion of heady scents—pungent, sweet, and grassy. But her joy was short-lived. The building was filled not just with herbs, but with people. On the ground floor, a brother repaired a large herb press, while a group of sisters, laughing and chattering, worked at a long table. At one end, two sisters were tying up the last of the harvest for drying, while several other sisters used the remaining space to extract essential oils from several piles of herbs. Rose recognized long stalks of valerian. So some of this work was being done for the medicinal herb industry, which Andrew directed.
Waving a greeting, Rose made for the stairs to the second-floor drying room. The smell of pickles told her that dill seeds were being packed even before she entered the room. Once again, the lifting of her spirits was only momentary. More sisters and a couple of New-Owenite women bustled about the room, asking and answering questions. The Herb House was not a quiet, tranquil place. She would have to do her thinking elsewhere.
She descended the staircase to find Andrew at the worktable, consulting with the sisters extracting herb oils. He made a notation in a journal, closed it and hitched it under his arm, and looked up to see Rose. Though his lips barely moved, Rose felt his smile. They never made any effort to run into one another—that would feel tantamount to breaking their vows—but their friendship grew, and they allowed themselves to enjoy working together, when the task called for them to do so.
“Rose, I’m glad to find you,” Andrew said. His expression grew serious. A wave of brown hair, an inch longer than Wilhelm preferred, fell across his forehead. He ignored it. “Have you time to come back to the Trustees’ Office with me? I want to show you something.”
Rose noticed a sidelong glance or two from the sisters, but assured herself she had no reason for guilt. Nor did Andrew, though his habit of direct speaking sometimes triggered suspicions.
“Is there a problem with the books?”
“It seems so,” Andrew said. “It seems that . . . well, it’s better if I show you.”
Rose followed him from the Herb House, her anxiety increasing with each step. Normally Andrew would have consulted with her immediately, unconcerned that others might hear. Something must be very wrong.
“Gilbert says that Wilhelm approved these expenditures,” Andrew said, holding the ledger book out for Rose to examine. She laid it on the desk and bent over it, one hand supporting her chin, the other tracing the columns of numbers. By the time she’d finished, she needed both hands to hold up her head. Her eyes met Andrew’s troubled brown ones, and neither of them cared at that moment that they were too close together, seated at the pine double desk that Rose had once occupied.
“We can’t go on this way,” she said. “Have you spoken with Wilhelm? What does he say?”
“He won’t even discuss it. He says it’s worth the investment. I thought, with your authority . . .”
Rose stared again at the ledger and shook her head. “Two hundred dollars for furniture? I thought Matthew and Archibald were spending all their time repairing furniture for the South Family Dwelling House. How much furniture can a group of seven visitors need?”
“I asked Gilbert the same question, and he was vague, so I called Si at the Languor Furniture Store and asked him for a list. It seems they bought items such as full-length mirrors and new mattresses. Gilbert told Si he had authorization from Wilhelm to charge what they needed to the Society. Si said they put in an order for a couple of double beds, too. He said he wondered about that, what with our being Shakers and all. I took it upon myself to cancel the order. I haven’t told Gilbert or Wilhelm.”
“Nor do you need to, Andrew. I will take care of this myself.” Anxiety had turned to anger, a more familiar emotion for Rose, and a more welcome one at the moment. “You may call Si, and these other merchants as well, and tell them all not to extend any more credit to any non-Believer. Wilhelm should never have authorized this without consulting with me first. He frequently forgets that I am now eldress.”
“Wilhelm has little use for women,” Andrew said.
“Wilhelm has little use for me, in particular,” Rose said, with a bitter laugh.
“Then he is a fool.”
Both sensed danger at this point and scraped their chairs farther apart.
“I’m afraid there’s even more bad news,” Andrew said, a shade too quickly. “I got worried and began checking around the rest of the village. I borrowed a few journals from the deacons and deaconesses, and this is what I discovered.”
He pulled a sheet of paper from his desk drawer and handed it to Rose. It contained two columns—on the left, a list of the village’s food and nonfood stores, as recorded by the Shaker deacons and deaconesses in their journals, and on the right, an inventory of those same stores, dated the day before.
“Our stores are disappearing,” Rose said. “Don’t tell me the New-Owenites have just been helping themselves and not even telling us. I thought surely Wilhelm would have rationed an amount for them, as we would with any guests.”
“The deacons and deaconesses were as shocked as we are, though they had noticed that items seemed to be disappearing. They thought they were at fault for not recording accurately.”
“But how can this be? We put locks on the storeroom doors. Even Wilhelm agreed we had to do so, given the times.” It had been one of Rose’s easier victories, once she’d reminded Wilhelm that the Millennial Laws had once called for locking up the stores. “Do you suppose . . . ?”
“Yea, I’m fairly certain,” Andrew said. “Somehow the New-Owenites have gotten keys to our storerooms, most probably from Wilhelm. They are draining our reserves. At this rate, we won’t have food through the winter, even without guests.”
Andrew’s long bones seemed to melt against his chair with weariness. “I’m afraid,” he said, “this is a battle we will need you to fight. I will do whatever I can to help.”
Rose leaned back, as well. In silence, she let her gaze run over the neatly organized cubbyholes stacked on her side of the desk, and their twins on Andrew’s side. Andrew was lax about some Society customs, such as hair length and authentic clothing, but his organizing skills were above reproach, as was his devotion to his faith. She could trust him. The seeds of a plan germinated in her mind.
“As trustee, can you come up with a reason to make an immediate trip to Indiana?” Rose asked.
“Indiana? I suppose so, but why . . . Indiana is where the New-Owenites came from, isn’t it?”
“Indeed. I heard they’ve been living somewhere east of Bloomington for the last few years. The rest of them are still there, as I understand it, waiting for word from their leaders about where and when to move. My guess is there are people who know the New-Owenites far better than we do and can give us an accurate accounting.”
“And you want me to go there and see what I can find out?”
“Yea, if you can manage it without making Wilhelm or Gilbert suspicious.”
“What should I be looking for? Anything in particular?”
“This may sound odd,” Rose said, “but I seem to have too much information at the moment. I can’t sort my way through it. Some of the stories we’ve gotten are inconsistent. For instance, was Hugh soft-hearted, or did he beat Mairin and keep his wife a virtual prisoner? Are we to believe that Hugh was despondent over gambling debts and hanged himself? Or was he a monster who invited murder? I can’t shake the fear that Mairin saw something terrible and that she is in mortal danger, but I can prove nothing. I need to know what the truth is.”
Andrew rubbed his chin and nodded slowly. “That doesn’t sound in the least odd. To be honest, I’ve had some of the same questions. Celia, for instance. And Gilbert. Are they what they seem?” Andrew glanced over at Rose. “I had an uncomfortable conversation with Celia yesterday evening at the Union Meeting.”
Rose encouraged him with raised eyebrows.
“I’m afraid she was rather . . .” Andrew fidgeted with a pen. “Well, she was downright worldly.”
“I saw how she was dressed. It astonished me that Wilhelm did not object. You seemed untroubled, or I would have intervened.”
“Nay, it posed no problem for me, but I was irritated that she would try to distract me. It was so clearly a calculated effort. She showed no respect for our faith.”
“If I may ask, what did she say to you?”
Andrew’s cheeks reddened. Rose was surprised, since Andrew had once been married and was well accustomed to dealing with the world.
“I want you to know,” Andrew said. “She asked about my background, my marriage and all sorts of highly personal information like that. She paid no attention to the drawings, by the way. It was as if she had rehearsed a part and was going to deliver it, no matter what. After a while, she began speaking in a low voice, and I found myself leaning forward to hear her. She asked if I ever thought about . . .” Andrew took a deep breath. “About being with a woman again. She suggested it was unnatural for a man my age to embrace celibacy when I’d already had a wife and children. I tried to change the subject, but she ignored my efforts. Just after Gilbert got up to leave, she looked into my eyes and told me that she was coming into a lot of money, and she had no one interesting to spend it with. Then she told me to ‘think about it’ and let her know my feelings soon.” Andrew laughed without mirth. “This feels like a confession,” he said.
“You’ve done nothing wrong. Celia treated you with disrespect.”
Andrew sauntered toward a window. After, a moment of silence, he looked back at Rose.
“What did Gilbert say to you?”
“Gilbert?”
“Yea, at the Union Meeting. Gilbert spoke to you at length. You looked uncomfortable to me, so I was just wondering if he was as insensitive to you as Celia was to me.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “I feel much relieved for having told you my experience. Perhaps I can offer you the same relief, if it is necessary. And together we will have more information to work with.”
“Ah, you will be an elder someday, Andrew.”
“Nay, thank you, but I’ve no interest. Tell me about Gilbert.”
She did. Andrew stayed by the window; he seemed to know that she needed distance from him to talk about Gilbert’s impropriety.
“So,” Rose concluded, “it seems that both of their performances were orchestrated. But why? Did they plan it together, hoping we were weak links and would convert to their world more easily than some others? Or did each of them behave independently? It sounds as if Celia hopes to leave the New-Owenites, with Hugh’s money, whatever is left of it, and in the company of a man. Gilbert would hardly be happy with that plan.”
“But he might have instructed her to pretend,” Andrew said.
“Perhaps. I still have difficulty believing Celia could be so much under Gilbert’s influence.” Rose heaved a sigh and pushed out of her chair. “What do you say? Will you go to Indiana and try to find the answers to some of these questions?”
“I wouldn’t miss it. It might be awkward to contact you while I’m gone.”
“If you learn something important and feel it can’t wait,” Rose said, “call through the Infirmary. Josie will understand.”