Chapter Five

The Widow’s Sister

Waiting for Clancy to announce my carriage, I paced outside Mama’s parlor and tugged my long sleeves, as if showing my wrists were scandalous. This was my nerves wanting me to hide. Leaving the house was always so hard.

My sister, Ester, came out of Papa’s study and stood close to me in the small hall.

She held her baby son, Josiah, in her arms. “I see you made it out of the dragons’ den.”

“You can join me in the dragons’ den any Tuesday.”

“No thanks.” My sister’s voice sounded soothing, even sympathetic. “I don’t knit well enough, and I don’t know how you survived Mama’s friends all these years.”

“Part of my punishment. Until I’m married, in a ceremony in front of God and the gossips, I have to pay. Part of my testing. How will I be made gold without a few trials?”

My words sounded cheery, but my fingers rattled my bone needles. I peeked at my baby nephew and cooed at the innocent boy, so like Chris. Golden-colored skin. Good grips with his tiny palms.

“Having you here, you and Christopher, feels right.” Ester stepped close, close enough for me to see clearly her olive face. It beamed bright but her lip twitched.

Oh no. The girl wanted something.

I moved my watch chain away from the boy’s fingers. “Out with it, sister.”

“Nineteen Fournier is so big. Must you and the barrister leave when you are married? Do you have to live somewhere else?”

“Yes! As soon as possible,” I said the words without hesitation.

Ester’s head dipped as if she’d been struck. The perfect daughter would never understand.

Josiah’s mouth felt wet, so I wiped spittle from his puckered lips. “He hasn’t proposed. And when I do marry, I’ll still be in town, not far away. You can come to me on Tuesdays to escape Mama’s knitters.”

“I don’t want to lose you again.”

Lose what?

The shell of the person I once was.

A wild child forced to live so carefully.

A target made to endure wounds from dragons like Mrs. Carter.

I shook my head with some violence. That was despair. That wasn’t me. I lived. I knew my truth. I was grateful that I wasn’t what the gossips said. But every day was a battle. If I made it out the door, Fournier’s front door, I was a winner, today’s lucky winner.

“You, my lovely sister, will visit often. You will stay late and drink tea in my very own parlor. You will read me and Chris Shakespeare.”

The smile on Ester’s cherub face blossomed. “That will be wonderful. We could do that here. Tonight? I know I haven’t been as supportive as I should, with the baby and my husband running for Parliament, but—”

“Please stop.” Shrugging my shoulders, I rubbed my thumb along my nephew’s smooth cheek. “Your priorities are good. Josiah is looking stronger. He’ll be crawling soon.”

“Please, Ruth. You’re my sister. I want us to be close again. I love you and my nephew. I don’t want you two to go.”

“Little Chris is everything, so full of curiosity, so sweet. I need him settled in a new situation, something less crowded. Something of my own where I can count my steps and know things won’t change. My slippers won’t move from the spot I put them. And clocks, my clocks will sound as loud as possible.”

“Marriage to Barrister Marks does that? My Bex says he’s a good man, honorable, a fighter for abolition, but he works a lot.”

“Yes. Yes, that’s perfect for me.”

“Mr. Marks will stay away long hours, and your sight isn’t better. Chris is so active.”

That was Ester’s polite way of saying I’d be blind, that darkness was coming for me. Another judgement for the sins I didn’t commit. Eloping could never equal Adam’s brutal death and all the things done to me.

I am dwelling again. This is my personal trap to keep me here, not venturing outside and gaining my proof.

“Ester, sweet Ester. Nothing has stopped the shrinking of my sight, but I’ve made an amiable truce with my faltering vision. I’m learning how to manage. Adam used to count…I will be fine, and Chris will be great. You and yours will be my honored guests.”

I reached and smoothed the wrinkles forming on Ester’s brow. “I get fewer headaches without the lenses, and I don’t have to see sadness on cute faces like yours. There are benefits.”

Ester didn’t say anything, she just cooed at Josiah.

There wasn’t much to say.

I loved my sister, but this was my truth. My pile of spectacles on my bed table attested to it. And Croomes needed proof, undeniable proof to believe anything. That was another of my truths.

My wool fell when Ester pulled me and Josiah tight against her.

“Sorry, Ruth.”

I kissed her cheek. “Once I’m married and secure, we’ll have those Tuesday teas like Mama. I won’t make you knit.”

Mrs. Fitterwall came down the steps from the upper rooms. “Time for Josiah’s nap. Your heavy shawl is on the table at the front, Mrs. Bexeley. Your coat, too, Mrs. Wilky. Here are your spectacles.”

The woman shoved her open palm close to my face.

I was livid. I knew her hand was near. I knew how the red-haired housekeeper moved, like there was a crook in her neck from not stretching.

I didn’t complain. Maybe she thought she was helping, holding my crystal spectacles three inches from my face. “Thank you.”

I put the heavy lenses on my nose. Spotting my yarn, I scooped it up. I knew the answer already, but I asked anyway. “Where are you going, Ester?”

“Yes, where, Mrs. Fitterwall?” Ester’s prim mouth was open wide.

“With your sister, silly goose. That’s what Mrs. Croome said.”

My mama didn’t trust me and had appointed a guardian, the perfect daughter, to accompany me. I nodded and didn’t let my disappointment show.

I shut up and took it.

Mama tigress was still in control. Her words had been said from on high. Mrs. Fitterwall should’ve had the commandment etched on stone tablets. Trust must be earned.

“Yes, come along, sister.”

Bewilderment settled in Ester’s topaz eyes. She tugged at the bodice on her simple beige gown. “Ummm. I should change.”

“There’s no time. Give your son to the housekeeper and let’s go.”

She did, and Mrs. Fitterwall hummed a lullaby and took the wee lad up the stairs—with that crook-necked movement of hers.

“Ruth? You never go anywhere.”

Her voice held such surprise.

Just what I needed to bolster me, a doubting Ester. I chuckled inside.

“I’m glad you are getting out of the house for a bit, but Ruth, I don’t have to go with you, if you need privacy.”

Ester’s soft eyes whimpered. In another moment, she’d repeat platitudes about waiting on change, prayers for patience, or some comforting Job-like concession on long suffering.

There was no time. My strength would wane if I didn’t go now. Ester could be helpful when I took that first step out the door.

I put a finger to Ester’s mouth. “You look like a suitable chaperone. You’ll keep the wayward daughter from a new disaster.”

My sister didn’t move.

I sighed and tried again. “Come with me, Ester. I want you with me. I need you.”

“I don’t have to go, Ruth. I trust you.”

I looked at the door. She’d help going down those steps. “You shall come. Wear my coat. That will fix you up. I’ll wear your shawl. We’ll both match in pink. And that’s your favorite color. We’re in fine Croome fabric as we visit my husband’s family.”

Ester moved with me to the door.

With my spectacles, I study it.

The smoothness of the ebony-painted wood.

The glass sidelights that let in the sun.

The strength of it, a barrier to keep out the world.

“Your husband’s family. The barrister’s family? That’s an odd way to put it when you haven’t married him.”

“Not him. Adam Wilky, my late husband.”

She tugged my arm and pursed her lips as if she were going to share a secret. “But Adam’s made up. There’s no family to visit.”

I took all the lies told about me and pushed the anger to my hands. The volcano swirling in me blew open the door.

The carriage sat close to the house, like Jonesy would do for me.

My chest shuddered. I gripped Ester’s arm tightly. “Come see how fake Adam Wilky’s life was. Let his father attest to his existence.”

Ester started forward. I matched her strides to make myself go over the threshold.

We made it.

The air was different, so different out of the house. It whipped at my face.

My panic stirred, but I’d learned to ignore the frenzied feeling that made my lungs burn.

Closing my eyes, I leaned on Ester and soon we were on the pavement. I blinked, and I saw the carriage standing in front of me.

I jumped in so fast Ester must’ve thought I’d lost my mind. Well, I had years ago, but a survivor did what she had to do.

The carriage moved.

Ester stared at me. She must have thought I was crazed. Part of me was. I’d put hope in Adam again. I prayed his family, his wealthy Mayfair family, didn’t see my face and turn us away.