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Josie felt herself dragging the entire walk home and wondered why she couldn’t snap out of it. Her head felt heavy, and she was tired much more than she expected she would be after struggling for sleep the night before. The weight of my sins, she thought, and sighed heavily, knowing how dramatic her thoughts sounded even to her.
Arthur was right, she knew, and she needed to shake herself out of this mood so she could focus on their plans and be a contributing partner to help get the shelter off and running. Moping about wouldn’t do anyone any good and those they would help through the shelter had much more to cry about than she did.
She hadn’t eaten since breakfast very early that morning, and when she arrived home and the men left her and her mother alone, she allowed Lucy to fuss over her a bit, spooning soup into a bowl and settling Josie at the kitchen table as she prepared a serving for herself.
Lucy spoke about the children, their excitement at finding a toad in the garden earlier that day, and Joseph’s growing strength as he fought valiantly to master his brace. Everything she said made Josie feel ashamed of her time spent feeling terrible about herself; while others were enjoying the world around them, appreciating the beauty and opportunities they had, she had wasted the day in tears.
Little children were her example, she thought, and she remembered how the Bible said a little child would lead them. She smiled to herself, and unknowingly made her mother relax with the knowledge that somewhere inside of herself, Josie was beginning to feel better about who she was and the mistakes she had made.
When Arthur arrived home, he was astonished to find his parents speaking together in the dining room, plates of uneaten food in front of them. It was a rather informal dinner, apparently, and both his mother and father were waving their forks at each other as they made points in their discussion, which seemed rather heated.
Arthur stepped into the room and after clearing his throat, the two of them stopped arguing and acknowledged him.
“Well, I must say, it’s about time you stayed home and spent some time with your family. All of this do-gooding is rather much for a young man of your age. You need to be out and about socially, looking for a wife, and enjoying the last days of your freedom before marriage.”
“Don’t be so crass, Artie. The boy needs to mind who he spends his time with, in case you are unaware of what young ladies he chooses to visit. That is my primary concern. He had girls on the mind, only not the proper ones.”
“Oh, my, I certainly haven’t heard that one. Do tell, my boy, who has taken your fancy? I’m sure any of the little shop girls won’t mind being a mistress once you’ve married and produced an heir, and . . . “
“Artie! Honestly, I am right here, and this is most improper.”
Arthur attempted to speak but his parents continued as if he wasn’t even there.
“Don’t act as if you are some sort of green girl. Even our own daughters know how this is played, why, I saw Sarah flirting shamelessly with one of the Taunton boys over the weekend, so she certainly knows her duty to match with one in line for fortune and stature. Either one of those boys would be a wonderful match, never mind that the younger one has some sort of arrangement with a housemaid.”
Mrs. Davenport slammed her fork onto the table.
“I am mortified that we are having this conversation, all the more so because your only son has taken up with one of our former maids in a very public fashion. This must end.”
Mr. Davenport turned to Arthur as if suddenly remembering that he was there. He blinked a few times before huffing out a small laugh and tapped the table.
“Well, well, nothing wrong with a bit of skirt before settling down, no matter what your mother says.”
Arthur brought both of his fists down on the table and roared, nearly frightening himself as well as his parents. He couldn’t stand the way they were speaking of Josie, of himself, and of marriage in general.
It was just a game to them, a game in which the winner had the most money and the most influence, and most likely, the least happiness. He wanted no part of it.
“Josette Warren is not a ‘bit of skirt’ – she is a person, worthy of our respect, of our consideration, and I will not have anyone speak against her, even the two of you.”
His mother looked at him as if she had never seen him before. It was appalling to have her own child yell at her like a common street urchin, but the admonishment was horrifying, as if she were the child and he the parent. It was really too much to be borne, she thought, furiously stunned.
She pressed a hand to her chest and looked, blinking, at her husband, who was staring at his son very carefully, as if trying to find someone he had once known but was gone, he was sure, forever, replaced by this ruddy creature with his own eyes and panting ferocity. He could almost admire the boy if he wasn’t being so disrespectful.
“Now, now, see here, Arthur,” he began, but his son cut him off in a show of further disregard for his duties as a good offspring.
“No, I will not see anything you have to show me. It is time you saw things as I do, how they really are, and whether or not you accept my vision is entirely up to you. You will listen to me, however, for the first time in my life, and you will see what I plan for my future, a future I intend to share with Miss Warren, if she will have me.”
He watched his mother sway in her chair, not merely a display of melodrama but a true response to the shock of such a statement. Marry a housemaid? Impossible!
“Oh, son, these things do happen, I assure you. We can certainly help the poor girl with expenses but this is not the end of the world. In fact, many young ladies find themselves in such a state, and are satisfied with enough to keep themselves and the child . . .”
Mr. Davenport stopped when he bothered to look at his son, who was bright red with a fury the older man had never seen on any of his children’s faces until that evening. It was frightening; the boy’s color, his haggard breathing, the words that had been coming forth from his mouth.
It was as if a batch of fairies had descended upon the house and taken his son, replacing him with a changeling, but such things, even in old wives’ tales, didn’t happen with grown men, only infants, and he had to admit he had seen the boy change in front of his eyes over the course of the past few months, even more so as he only saw him momentarily now and again throughout the week, so when they did meet, the change in personality was profound.
It was difficult to accept, but here was the final proof, the angry creature he had produced in front of him, asserting himself in a fine fashion and man to man, he could not be more proud.
“I am sorry, Arthur. Please continue. I must not assume anything about your motives in this situation, and I have been treating you like a child for too long.”
Arthur looked at his father, watching for signs of sarcasm, something which his father was not too familiar with but there was, he knew, a first time for everything. He was sure that his father was being sincere, as surprising as it was, and he stared straight into his parent’s eyes as he continued, leaving the presence of his mother and her astonished gasps aside for the moment.
“I love Miss Warren. We have been working together on the shelter and she is a fine partner, smart, clever, caring . . . and a most fitting partner for my life, the path I am trying to walk as a Christian . . . I think we are good for each other.”
His mother could not let him go on without asking the obvious, and blatantly interrupted in a very unladylike fashion she would find unacceptable in her daughters.
“But is the girl with child? Is she making you marry her? It is perfectly honorable to keep her and care for her and the infant, while marrying within your station . . . “
“My station? My station?”
Arthur turned around and put his face in his hands. He was having trouble keeping himself from grabbing every knickknack within reach and throwing them across the room into the painted mirrors that reflected them all on the opposite wall.
Losing his temper – more than he had already done so already – would do no good to his argument, and he wanted so much to end this amicably with his parents. It wasn’t necessary for them to accept his plans, to accept Josie, but it would be so much easier for them all if they did, and when grandchildren came . . . . well, he was getting ahead of himself for sure, but these were things to consider.
“She is not going to have a baby. She is not that sort of girl and we have not been together in that way. That is for marriage, between a husband and wife, which we intend to be. Which I intend us to be . . . I have yet to ask her. I wanted you to understand my position, not so much that you approve, but that you know, as I don’t like secrets and believe you should be aware of what I am doing. Whether you like me or not, I am still family and I want you there for my children, when they do arrive, in a year or ten years. I want no animosity between us, or any ill feelings for Josie from either of you. She deserves better, and I mean to give her whatever I can to make her life easier, although helping me with the shelter will not be an easy task to begin with. We are committed to helping others, though, so no matter what, we will continue with that project, together.”
He watched their reactions through the mirror, the electric lights bearing harshly on the play of emotions across his mother’s face. Her face had remained unlined and smooth with age, but the ugliness that had shown through her expressions so far during their interaction had made her look as if she was a monster in a children’s story.
He tried to imagine her with a grandchild, a cooing baby in her arms, and he ached, yes, he admitted it to himself, he ached for her to accept that future child and love him or her as he and Josie would. His father sat passive, looking at Arthur’s back, somehow forgetting that the mirror was there and that his son’s face would be visible to him if he only looked at him through the reflecting wall.
“Yes,” his father finally spoke.
Arthur turned to face both of them as his father continued.
“You have the right to make your own decisions, and while I cannot agree that this is the best course for you, I am aware that you are an intelligent man, and I must say that I approve of how reflective and hard-working you’ve been since your trip to Europe. It does no one any good to be as self-centered as we had allowed you to become in your youth. Your sisters as well, although I think they will be satisfied with a good marriage and the free time to gabble about like a couple of chickens.”
Arthur surprised himself with his response.
“Don’t sell them short, Father. They are young yet, and they know nothing but what they’ve seen and heard around them. If they are exposed to more important ideas, more intelligent people, I think you might be surprised. They are my sisters, after all.”
He allowed himself a small smile, and considered that he was guilty of judging his sisters without taking the time to get to know them as people, not just as figures fulfilling roles in his life. He understood how Josie had felt guilty about doing so herself, although her judgments had been about near strangers, not her own family. She at least gave them the courtesy of time and consideration, which he had never done.
Surely Sarah and Catherine were capable of much more than shopping and cooing over the young men available at the beach that summer. He would make a point of spending some time with them, when he caught up with them. Perhaps a visit to the beach, with Josie alongside. She would be a good example for them, and he could gauge their reactions to spending time socially with their former maid on such an occasion.
Not that he could blame them for any adverse responses on their part, for they had been raised to disdain any collaboration between the classes. Given the opportunity, however, they might rise to the challenge and be more open-minded than their mother.
“Indeed, you have given me, us, quite a bit to think about. Well, when you see fit, please let us know when you would like to bring Miss Warren around for tea, so we might get to know her better. If she is to be part of the family, as you seem determined to follow through, we ought to make her welcome. My dear?”
He turned to his wife, who looked as happy as a dried-up trout ready to be dressed for a dinner plate. It was appalling, the entire scene was absolutely dreadful, and she could hardly contain her feelings. As a dutiful wife, however, she was conflicted with the desire to agree with her husband regardless of her own thoughts, and she knew that Arthur and her husband both were aware that she honestly did not approve of any of this business.
The shelter, the girl, none of it. Really, she worried, how much was she expected to take? And her girls? Were they to be tainted by this behavior as well? She was sure her heart would burst with the speed of its beating against her chest as she fought to keep her breath even and her composure intact.
She stood, pushing her chair out behind her and took a deep breath.
“Of course, darling. Whatever you think is best.”
With that, she turned and marched out of the room, her steps as sharp and quick as a general’s. The men were left staring at her back, completely aware that she would do what she could to stop the world from turning on its axis if that was what it took to get her way. Arthur was nervous, but with his father’s support, both his earthly and heavenly ones in tandem, he knew he would be able to follow through and make a life for himself and Josie, as well as share their time and efforts with the less fortunate in order to help them build a future for themselves as well.
⁕
Josie slept the deep sleep of one with a clear conscience, her constant prayers of the day answered with a lifting of her guilt, her worries over her unconscious habits of judgment, and her future. She knew she had to honestly give up the control over the outcome of her efforts with the shelter, her affections for Arthur, and the situation with her mother over to God.
Working towards something was one thing, but the ultimate result was truly out of her hands, and making herself ill over the outcome was selfish and she could see, upsetting those who cared for her.
Arthur indeed was concerned, and while she was sorry she had worried him, it reinforced her belief that he did love her. Of course he had said it, but loving was more than a word, more than a proclamation. Words were easy to say, but actions . . . well, love was an action. It was how her mother took an interest in her life, not only in her ability to contribute to the family finances, but in who she was as a person, her talents, her thoughts, her worries, her plans.
Her mother had been busy and most likely lonely for adult companionship for a great deal of their lives together, but she had always made Josie feel valued and worthy of her attention. That was love. Josie wondered if maybe the interest Dr. Colt was showing in Lucy was blossoming into something more.
She smiled at the thought as she washed her face and brushed the hair from her eyes and bound it with the small string she kept on hand for the purpose. Her mother, her beautiful, intelligent, hard-working and independent mother, with a suitor. She almost giggled at the thought.
He was wonderful to work for, with high expectations but a genuine concern for her, as he demonstrated so well only yesterday, and his efforts to assist young Joseph were beyond admirable. She wondered, with Newport being so small, how they had not met him until only recently.
God worked in mysterious ways, she thought, and perhaps if her mother had met him at a different time in her life there would not have been the attraction that so obviously existed between them.
Her mother was at the door when Josie came into the kitchen, accepting a little girl into her arms and speaking softly with the mother before nodding and closing the door as the woman backed away. She turned to Josie and Josie saw that the girl was one who had been removed from her care only last week.
Her mother beamed with the joy of having the child again, and the little girl held a chunk of Lucy’s hair tightly in her small fist, as if she would never let her go.
“Apologies all around. Nothing specific, just a general apology. All’s right with the world, isn’t it?”
Josie nodded with a small smile, knowing what her mother was really asking. She had come to terms with her guilt and would work towards changing her view of others, and she realized just then, of herself. She had been, as her mother, Arthur, and Dr. Colt had assured her, too hard on herself for being flawed.
She would always be flawed, always make mistakes, but the important thing was that she turned to Christ for help, sorry for whatever she had done, and determined through conscious effort not to make the same mistake again. She understood now how some people chose not to follow Christ, even when they were fully aware of his sacrifice, his willingness to accept them no matter what their failings.
It wasn’t easy, this road, and it required vigilance and honesty about one’s self, but it was worth it.
When she left for work she thought about Arthur, and knew that whatever he was doing that day, he was making the shelter come into the realm of reality, and she admired his steadfastness and dedication to the project, through which he would never become rich on his own account or gain any notoriety.
He was truly doing this out of the goodness of his heart. She loved him for it, and she knew, from his own lips, that he loved her. She didn’t know where it would take them but she was willing to wait and see what God had planned for the two of them. Meanwhile, she needed to focus on the day’s work for which the good doctor was paying her, and spending time with Arthur in the capacity of his business partner.
She couldn’t help but look forward to seeing him on a personal level as well, though, and she smiled to herself as she walked, looking forward to seeing the shelter plans come to fruition.