Why do you speak so faintly?
Are you not well?
Othello, III.iii
Spring Recess
April 1898
Concordia rang the bell of her mother’s house in the Frog Hollow section of Hartford.
The housekeeper opened the door wide. “Miss Concordia! So glad you’ve come for a visit.” She reached for Concordia’s valise. “Here, let me take that. Come in!”
“It’s nice to be home,” Concordia said. “How are you, Mrs. Houston?”
The housekeeper bobbed her head. “Doin’ just fine, dear, but you look a bit thinner than when I saw you last, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so. You’ve been working too hard, I expect.”
Concordia smiled at the housekeeper’s maternal ways. Some things never change. “Where’s Mother?”
“She’s resting,” Mrs. Houston said, “but she’ll be getting up any minute now. Why don’t you go into the parlor? There’s a nice fire going, and I’ll bring you a cup of tea.”
“That would be lovely.”
The parlor was much the way Concordia remembered. Her mother’s love of order was evident in the matching armchairs with their ornately turned legs, the regimental arrangement of portraits along the far wall, and the evenly spaced set of candlesticks on the mantel. However, the décor seemed to have softened over time; the heavy drapes had been replaced with lighter sheers to let the light and the breezes in; several large crystal bowls of cut flowers topped the tables.
She settled into the burgundy velvet armchair that had been a favorite of her father’s while he was alive. Was it her imagination, or did she catch a faint scent of his pipe tobacco, nearly thirteen years after his death? Impossible, she decided.
Concordia was pouring out tea for herself when her mother walked in, dressed in a simple dove gray sateen wrapper, her silvering blonde hair piled in soft waves atop her head. Concordia was struck by how happy Mother looked these days, and much younger than her fifty-six years.
Mrs. Wells came over and gave her an airy kiss on the cheek. “Concordia dear, I’ve been looking forward to your spring recess for weeks. We’ll have such fun. The first order of business, of course, is shopping.”
“It is?” Concordia repeated blankly. Oh, no. Had Mother already heard about her engagement? Were they going shopping for bridal clothes?
“Yes, of course…oh! I forgot to tell you. I’ll be accompanying Robert and his family on a steamer tour of Ireland in the summer. I need traveling clothes.”
Concordia blinked. “Excuse me?” Her mother, traveling with a man? And Mr. Flynn at that. The relationship seemed to be progressing faster than Concordia realized.
“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Wells said, flustered. “I got so busy that I forgot to write you about it.”
“Not at all,” Concordia reassured her. “I’m usually the one who forgets to tell you things.” That brought a smile. “Why don’t I pour you some tea and you can tell me about this trip.” She picked up the antique silver teapot.
“It’s a group of us, really,” her mother explained. “Several ladies from the Irish Aid Society, Mr. Flynn, his mother and sister. It’s all very proper,” she added hastily. “I’ll be sharing accommodations with two other ladies, and we’ll be visiting the orphanages that we have been raising funds for. We’ll also visit the Flynn family’s birthplace. Robert is most eager to have me see it.”
“That sounds quite exciting,” Concordia said politely. “You are serious about Mr. Flynn, then? Does he return the feeling?”
Her mother flushed and kept her eyes upon her cup. “We don’t have a spoken understanding, but we spend quite a bit of time together, and he’s a most agreeable gentleman. I esteem him greatly.”
“I’m happy for you, Mother, truly I am. Be careful not to give your heart away before you’re sure of him.” How odd to be cautioning her mother, instead of the other way around.
Mrs. Wells nodded as she met Concordia’s eyes once again. “I know. I think I’ve learned a thing or two about that. But let’s talk about you. How are your classes this term? Have you been seeing much of Mr. Bradley?”
At least her mother asked about her work first, before asking about David. That showed improvement.
Now was the time to tell her. Concordia took a sip of tea before answering. “Actually, I have good news to share with you,” she said. Why was she having trouble putting a smile on her face? Perhaps any kind of change had its disquieting aspects, even happy occasions. “David and I are going to be married.”
“Oh!” Her mother clasped her hands together. “Oh, my dear, I am so happy for you!” She reached over and hugged her daughter enthusiastically, as Concordia scrambled to keep her cup upright in her lap.
“But,” Concordia held up a hand, once her mother had sat down again, “it needs to be a secret, until the school term is over.”
Mrs. Wells’ face fell. Concordia imagined her taking a quick inventory of all the neighborhood matrons she wanted to tell. “I can’t tell anyone? Whyever not?”
“I fear it would pose a distraction for my students. Once they are finished with end-of-term examinations, I’ll notify Lady Principal Pomeroy, and share the news with everyone.”
Letitia Wells was quiet for a long moment, looking at her daughter with anxious eyes.
“Concordia, I cannot believe I’m saying this, but—are you sure you want to marry David? You don’t seem terribly delighted about it.”
Concordia set her cup aside with trembling hands. “I’d be less than honest if I said I had no…reservations. It’s a big change in my life. I’m not sure I’m ready for it. But David is a wonderful man. I do love him.”
“So why not wait?” Mrs. Wells said gently.
Concordia, open-mouthed in astonishment at her mother’s question, was at a loss for words. This was the woman who had taken to her bed for a week when her daughter left home for a college education and a career. Now she was advocating that Concordia postpone her engagement?
Mrs. Wells chuckled at the look on Concordia’s face. “Yes, really. You know that the day you marry and the day I hold your first child in my arms will be the happiest of my life. But your happiness comes first. So I’m asking you, why not wait?”
Emotion flooded Concordia. She choked back a sob and put her head in her hands. “I’ll lose him.”
Mrs. Wells moved to the settee beside her daughter and embraced her. The strain that had been there too long gave way at last. Concordia buried her face in her mother’s arms and cried.
After a few minutes, Letitia passed her a handkerchief. “Better?”
Concordia sniffed and nodded.
“Let me tell you something about men.”
Concordia looked skeptical.
Letitia smiled. “This is what mothers are for, dear. You can’t learn it in school. Don’t worry about taking the time you need with David. Waiting is good for a man. It builds character. Heaven knows men could use more character-building, if our politicians are any indication of the general population.”
Concordia smiled through the last of her tears. “Does that mean you’re in favor of women’s suffrage, Mother?”
Mrs. Wells grimaced. “Don’t be impertinent,” she said mildly. “If David is half the man I believe him to be, he’ll wait—and count himself lucky to do so. You won’t lose him.”
Concordia sat up straighter. “You really think so?”
“I’m sure of it. I’m surprised he didn’t come to me first, since your father has passed away, before proposing. David strikes me as old-fashioned that way. But if he had, I would had told him the same thing.”
Concordia felt the tightness in her chest ease. She laughed. “I thought I was too old to need a mother. Thank you.”
Mrs. Wells patted her hand. “A daughter is never too old to need her mother.”