Boy of Chaotic Making (Whimbrel House #3)

Chapter 8

March 1, 1847, Boston, Massachusetts

The preparations were made in quick order, with Mrs. Thornton alerted and on her way to Boston, a windsource pigeon sent to Beth at Whimbrel House, Hulda’s bags packed, and the kinetic ferry ticket purchased. Unfortunately, due to the limited number of ferries, Hulda could not depart across the Atlantic until tomorrow.

Which was how she ended up staying the night with her sister.

“It is an awfully long time to wait for matrimony is all I’m saying!” Danielle spoke with a mouth half full of food, which would have been an atrocity if any guests besides Hulda had come to dine in her home in Cambridge. Danielle, wearing a cream gown with far too much lace for Hulda’s liking, paused, chewed, and swallowed. Then, wielding a fork like a sword, added, “Though I suppose a winter wedding wouldn’t be very nice, especially on an island. But really, wouldn’t you prefer a church?”

“We’re having a Christian wedding,” Hulda pressed. “No need to move the entire household across the bay to wed in a church.” Or at the church Hulda attended in Boston, which was a fine building with beautiful windows. It would just be a pain, in the long run. And the streets would be crowded.

Danielle shrugged. “When John asked me for my hand, I couldn’t wait! Each day was painful.”

John, her husband, simply smiled from the head of the table and cut into his portion of chicken.

“Boys,” Danielle addressed her children now, “don’t ever make your belles wait on you. If you’re going to marry them, marry them!”

“Gross,” Benjamin retorted, also around a half mouthful of food.

Hulda rolled her eyes. “I told you, he’s not making me wait—”

“No, you are the cruel one in this matter!” Danielle stabbed the air with her fork. “Really, Hulda, men have needs—”

“Danielle,” John said softly, no food in his mouth. “Perhaps not in front of the children.”

Danielle sighed and slumped in her chair, not even having the wherewithal to blush. “Very well.” She set down the fork. “I’m finished. Hulda, meet me in the parlor when you’re done.”

Pushing away from the table, Danielle sauntered out. Her maid slipped in, graceful as a swan, to remove her dishes.

“Good luck,” John offered.

“Thank you.” Hulda speared a potato. “I fear I’ll need it.”

Hulda did not rush her meal but finished in an orderly fashion. She was antsy to reach Merritt, yet the matter was entirely out of her hands until she arrived in London. Things she couldn’t control often frustrated her, but what was she to do for it? Augurists, even those weak as herself, were a rare breed. Her grandmother had taught her everything she knew, but her grandmother had been neither a master nor a scholar. Still, perhaps while overseas, Hulda might be able to find a tutor of some sort, or a very well-written book on the subject, thus ensuring she learned more in future readings.

In the meantime, Hulda forced equanimity into her thoughts and actions. Forced herself to be meticulous, and to stay occupied. She offered to assist the small staff with cleanup, but was turned away, so she found herself trudging to the parlor, where far too many candles had been lit. Danielle sat on a powder-blue sofa within, working on a cross-stitch of a sunflower. She held it up as Hulda took the seat beside her.

“I’m going to hang it in James’s room,” she said, naming her youngest son. “What do you think?”

Hulda nodded. “It looks well.” Danielle had a knack for tiny, uniform stitches. Hulda had always considered her fingers too long to achieve such a thing, though her sewing was generally considered neat.

Setting the cross-stitch aside, Danielle said, “I’m sorry if I was brash at the table. I was just having some fun. I so seldom get the opportunity to tease my beloved sister.”

Hulda waved the apology away. “I’m very accustomed to your antics. No offense was taken.”

“Still, an apology is due.” Reaching forward, Danielle grasped Hulda’s left hand in both of her own, admiring the ring there. “He’s got good taste.” She grinned. “He’s a fine-looking fellow. Just needs a haircut.”

Hulda snorted. “I don’t think it will ever happen. In truth, I believe it grew long out of sheer laziness, but at this point he keeps it to vex people, most of all me.”

Danielle shrugged. “Perhaps it will come back in fashion. But perhaps not. One cannot set a trend if he spends all his time alone on an island.” She paused. “Are you all right, living there? Away from the city and all the people?”

“I lived there before.”

“But permanently! Won’t you get bored?”

Hulda plucked at a loose thread on her cuff. “Hardly. With the commute into Boston, I’ll barely have time to—”

“Commute?” Danielle interrupted. “You mean you’ll keep the position with BIKER?”

“Of course I will.”

“Is he poor?” She grasped Hulda’s hand. “He didn’t look poor.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” Hulda pulled free and adjusted a pillow behind her back. “He is not poor, though if he were, it wouldn’t matter. I want to work, Danielle. BIKER has been my life and will continue to be my life until the day I die.”

“Do you plan on dying very soon?”

Hulda moved to pinch her sister, but Danielle dodged with a chuckle and situated herself on the far end of the sofa, which was still within pinching distance, should Hulda choose to lean forward. Still, the comment prickled. She knew what her sibling was thinking; Danielle had been married over a decade, and the idea of Hulda continuing to work surprised her. Was Hulda completely ignorant of the callings of a wife? Was she kidding herself to think she could keep both roles?

Smiling brightly, Danielle said, “He is not the only one who enjoys vexing you. I do think it’s my favorite pastime!”

“I’ll be sure to visit more often,” Hulda retorted. “I would hate to leave you bored. John does not seem like he would be pleasing to vex.”

“Indeed he is not.” She sighed dramatically. “But speaking of John. Or, rather, men in general—”

A flush began to work its way up Hulda’s neck. “Spare me.”

“I shall not!” Danielle bounced back to the center of the sofa so that her knees pressed into Hulda’s. “I cannot let a dear sister go into matrimony without every piece of advice and warning I have to offer.”

The flush crept higher. Hulda ignored it. She was tempted to blow out some of the candles to better mask it ... and to cool down the room. “I am well aware of what a marriage consists of, Danielle.”

“But the marriage bed —”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Hulda folded her arms. Leaned toward a side table and blew out two candles.

“Hulda!”

“I read a book on it,” she admitted, softer. “Though I was well aware beforehand.”

Danielle paused. “Did Mother tell you—”

“She had less hope in me than I did.” Hulda absently fixed her hair. “It’s nothing you need worry about.”

When Danielle didn’t respond right away, Hulda glanced over to find her leaning close, eyes squinting to scrutinize her. Several seconds passed before Danielle’s face turned gleeful as a clown’s. “You’ve seen it, haven’t you!”

Hulda leaned back, desperate for personal space. “Seen what? ”

“Seen it !” Danielle laughed. “Oh, but the way your face is blooming, I know it’s true! If only the augury blood had chosen me. I would use it for so many things!”

The room was most certainly too warm now. “I have not.”

“Yes, you have. Else you wouldn’t know what I meant.”

“I know what you mean because it’s simple deduction of the c-conversation—” Hulda stammered, trying to find her words. She hated being taken off guard! “And besides, the augury is only snippets. I hardly see enough to determine—”

“So you admit it, then.” Danielle pulled her legs onto the sofa, kneeling, and faced Hulda full on.

Perhaps some of the heat beneath Hulda’s skin was simple temper. “I admit to nothing, and if you do not drop the subject, I will retire early.”

Her sister’s face fell. “You are no fun at all.” She pouted. “I’ve so few women friends willing to discuss private matters.”

“Perhaps because they are private .”

Now Danielle rolled her eyes. Their mother had always hated the habit, and Hulda wondered, briefly, if Danielle had gotten the foible from her. “Give it a year or two and we’ll have late nights talking all about private things , just you wait. You’ll be dying to have me as a confidant.”

Merritt will be my confidant, she thought of retorting, but determined it might be too harsh. Her younger sister was, well, a younger sister, and an eccentric one at that. But Hulda loved her and had no desire to hurt her feelings.

“We shall see,” she settled on instead. “In truth, I have had a vision, but I couldn’t make much of it. As is usually the case with the trickle of magic I have.” She allowed herself to slouch. “But Merritt seemed to be in a dangerous situation. Or at least an uncomfortable one. And I can’t yet reach him, and it’s putting me out of sorts.”

“Ah.” Danielle’s hand found Hulda’s knee. “Well, I’m ... sure it’s nothing too terrible.” She hesitated. “Would you read for me while you’re here? You have such a calming voice, and you never mispronounce anything.”

Hulda’s lips ticked upward. She knew Danielle meant only to distract her. In truth, Danielle hated the way she read. Not enough inflection . But Hulda was not one to turn away a diversion. Not tonight.

“Why don’t you select a book, then?”

Danielle grinned and leapt to her feet. “I know just the one! Bought it last week because the cover was so lovely. You’ll be the first to crack the spine. I know you’ll like that.”

She did. Fresh spines and the smell of clean pages. And so Hulda took the book, opened it, and began to read. She read well into the night, even after her sister had fallen asleep on the sofa.