Where Love Dwells (14 page)

12

N
O HISTRIONICS.
N
O FLIPPANT
remarks. No challenging retorts. Only disbelief and heart-wrenching pain echoed in the parlor the next morning.

“I can't believe you did this. You actually did this to me,” Wryn whispered to Mark and Catherine over and over again, her voice quaking, growing softer and softer with each word. Eventually, she collapsed against the back of her chair in the east parlor and let the papers she had been reading slip to her lap.

Wryn's reaction to the document making her Emma's ward tugged at Emma's heart. With Mark and Catherine sitting together in the settee directly in front of their niece, Emma sat off to the side next to Mother Garrett and watched as huge silent tears flowed down the younger woman's cheeks and dripped off the tip of her chin. Her face was as pale as the moonflowers that would soon blossom at night, and she was trembling so hard she had wrapped her hands around her waist.

Indeed, Wryn's reaction was so surprising and so disturbing, Emma was tempted to cancel the plans she had worked out late last night with Mark and Catherine. Emma had never intended to
deepen the pain Wryn had experienced when banished from her mother's home and her affection, but she moved quickly to lessen it. “I'm only named as your guardian temporarily,” she offered, grateful that Wryn had not noticed that while her mother's name was on the document, her signature was not, which was also true of the judge named on the papers, which Emma had hastily drawn up herself.

Wryn sniffled, blinked back tears, and looked around the room with a dazed expression. As if only realizing now that she was not alone, she wiped her face with her hands, sat up straight, and set her shoulders back, as if setting the chip she carried there back into place. “The document doesn't say that,” she challenged, staring hard at Emma.

“No, the document says you'll be my mother's ward until it's no longer prudent,” Mark said in a gentle voice.

Wryn turned to stare at Catherine. “Who decides when that will be? You or him or Widow Garrett?” she asked, finding the flippant tone of voice she had lost while reading the document that now lay in her lap.

Emma noted that Wryn had apparently given up trying to use a more familial title for Emma, an early victory that would establish a distance between them, which Emma hoped would be in her favor. She also noticed that Mother Garrett was holding to her own plan to do nothing more than attend this family meeting, watch, and listen.

“Your uncle Mark and I make all our decisions together,” Catherine replied. “Although we've tried very hard, we haven't been able to provide you with the guidance you need. Here at Hill House, we believe you'll have that.”

Wryn pursed her lips. “Then
she
decides.”

“Yes, I do,” Emma replied, since Wryn was obviously referring
to her, “but your uncle Mark and aunt Catherine will be staying here for another few weeks, and I'm hopeful that I'll be able to allow you to return with them to Albany when they leave.”

“And if you won't?”

“Then you shall stay here in Candlewood.”

“Here. With you.”

“Yes.”

“What about Mr. Breckenwith? Since the two of you are getting married, he must have something to say about this. Why isn't he here?”

“Mr. Breckenwith had to leave on business. He'll be back in a week or so,” Emma explained, although his refusal to support her still made her heart ache.

Wryn huffed. “I assume he's the one who drew up these papers,” she said, glanced down at her lap, and scowled. “Did he also decide what I'm supposed to do when I'm living here?”

“That will be entirely up to me,” Emma remarked without correcting Wryn's misassumptions about the creator of the document. “As you know, Liesel and Ditty work very hard for me during the week. When they return home to their families each weekend, the work they normally do naturally falls to Mother Garrett and myself.”

“And now it will fall to me?”

“Yes, along with other work you can do during the week as a member of my staff. I'm hoping—”

“Then I'm you're slave, not your ward. I'm not even to be treated as good as those hirelings of yours,” Wryn snapped.

“Wryn!” Catherine exclaimed in gentle reprimand.

“Well, it's true,” Wryn charged. “Liesel and Ditty have time off for themselves, but apparently I won't, which means I'll be slaving every day of the week. Except to go to services on Sunday
morning, of course, although I shouldn't make such an assumption. Despite Sunday being a day of rest, I shouldn't be surprised if I'm forced to work then, too.”

“No, that isn't true.” Emma silently prayed for more patience. “Before you interrupted me, I was going to say that you'd be a member of my staff and you would be entitled to choose a specific day off during the week for yourself.”

Wryn cocked a brow. “I choose?”

“Yes, although we may have to change that day occasionally, should you be here when guests start arriving in May.”

Wryn stood up, snatched up the document that had fallen to the floor, and tossed it onto Catherine's lap. “You should keep that as a reminder of how poorly you've treated your own niece,” she snapped and cast a glance at Emma. “I'm choosing today as my day off,” she announced and started to hurry her way out of the room.

“You're not to leave Hill House without my express permission,” Emma firmly stated.

Wryn tilted up her chin. “I'm sure if I violate any of your precious rules, you won't hesitate to call for Sheriff North. But don't worry. If he's busy, you could always call for the judge who allowed Uncle Mark and Aunt Catherine to throw me away, just like my mother did. At least she didn't make me a stranger's ward,” she snapped as she passed by Emma with a swish of her skirt and left the room.

The young woman's heartbreaking words echoed in the room and stirred the very depths of compassion in Emma's soul. More than ever, she was convinced that Wryn needed patience and understanding to help her heal, even if that meant causing her pain now.

Once the sound of footsteps marching up the center staircase
had faded, Mother Garrett was the first to break the silence in the parlor. “Might I get back to my kitchen now?”

“You still don't approve,” Emma ventured, disappointed that like Zachary, Mother Garrett had refused to be part of the conspiracy that was necessary to make Wryn responsible to only one person—Emma.

“No, I don't, but this isn't my house and I don't make the rules, except for in the kitchen—which is where I need to be or the dinner I've got simmering on the cookstove won't be fit for eating. All I've got to say before I leave is . . . Never mind. I'll keep the rest of my thoughts to myself. For now,” she announced and traced Wryn's footsteps out of the room.

Catherine's eyes widened, and she rested her hand on Mark's arm. “Oh, dear. I hope we haven't upset your grams, too.”

Mark patted her hand. “Grams has her own way of doing things that is much more . . .”

“More to the point,” Emma said. “I wouldn't worry. My mother-in-law won't be able to hold back her advice for long. When she does, I'm sure we'll be able to find some common ground.”

“I wonder how long it will take for you and Wryn to do the same. She was very, very upset by the document, which didn't stop her from being snippy with you,” Mark commented.

Catherine shook her head. “Mark told me Mr. Breckenwith wasn't very pleased when he left last night. I'm so very sorry to impose my family's troubles upon you, Mother Emma.”

“You're family, too, Catherine, and Wryn is your niece. I'm more than willing to do what I can to help,” Emma said, without admitting she was worried about the way Zachary had taken his leave, too.

While it remained to be seen how Wryn would decide to respond to the plans that had just been set into motion, it was clear
she was as intimidated by the document as she had been when Emma had mentioned involving Sheriff North to get Wryn to admit to her misdeeds.

In point of fact, despite all their plans, Wryn could remain outright rude and defiant, in hopes of having Emma give up and force Mark and Catherine to take her home with them. On the other hand, she could decide to undermine Emma's attempts by over-responding, just as she had over writing her letters of apology. Or she could simply give up and change her behavior, which is what Emma prayed she would do, in time to return to Albany with Mark and Catherine.

In any case, the first lesson Wryn needed to learn was that Emma was more persistent than Wryn gave her credit for. With that thought in mind, she offered her son and daughter-in-law a smile. “You did notice how she managed to leave the room without settling the matter of her punishment for her misadventure on Main Street, I hope.”

Mark and Catherine looked at each other and shook their heads.

Emma chuckled. “Apparently not, but don't worry. I've got the list right here in my pocket. Since Wryn has chosen today as her day off, I believe I'll let her think she's made me forget all about it. By tomorrow morning when she's back to work, I'll have made my decision about which punishment she must do. In the meantime, since Wryn will be too busy either feeling sorry for herself or plotting ways to undermine me, we can all enjoy a peaceful day together. Why don't you go upstairs and see if those precious grandsons of mine are up from their morning nap and ready to play with their Little Grams?”

With Wryn stewing in her room, peace lasted the rest of the morning and through most of dinner. While Mother Garrett held Mark and Catherine captive through dessert with her tale of how Mr. Kirk had managed to get the three nanny goats caged up to bring to Hill House, Liesel and Ditty were washing and drying the dinner dishes. Little Jonas and Paul were sitting in their high chairs feasting on spoonfuls of warm bread pudding Emma was feeding them.

When Wryn blew into the kitchen, Emma looked up, clenched her jaw, and reached for the tin of licorice root sitting on a nearby counter with one hand while she offered Jonas his bread pudding with the other. Mother Garrett's eyes widened for a moment, just long enough for Emma to see a flash of disapproval that quickly disappeared. Mark's cheeks flushed almost as deep pink as his wife's, while Liesel and Ditty simply froze in place.

Wryn stopped and made a deep curtsy. “I've come to ask my lady for permission to leave Hill House for the afternoon.”

Emma popped a piece of licorice root into her mouth and held it between her teeth, just long enough to let the awful flavor distract her from an immediate response while she kept Paul busy with another spoonful of bread pudding. After deciding to ignore the title Wryn had given her in favor of focusing on the outrageous apparel Wryn was wearing, she even managed a smile. “I see you've taken great pains dressing for an outing.”

Wryn swirled about to show off her costume. “Yes, thank you, I did. It was kind of you to notice.”

Emma nearly choked and tucked the licorice root in one of her cheeks. If Wryn was standing in any of the crowds that had gathered in Candlewood last fall for the fiftieth anniversary of the town's founding instead of the middle of the kitchen, she still would have been hard to miss.

Apparently, instead of spending hours in her room recovering from the shock of being placed under Emma's guardianship, Wryn had used that time to prepare for the first skirmish in the battle of wills Emma had not expected until tomorrow.

The straw bonnet Wryn had worn in her travels now sported the forget-me-nots that once had been sitting on the bird's nest atop Mother Garrett's garish daffodil bonnet before plopping into Reverend Glenn's soup some months ago. She had trimmed the bodice and skirts on the brown muslin gown she wore, as well as the band on her bonnet, with remnants left from the silk brocade costume Aunt Frances had used to fashion a riding skirt for Emma. Wryn was also wearing the ruined leather gloves Emma had worn on her fateful outing with Zachary just the other day.

Determined to be patient and to wear down this young woman's outlandishness and defiance one challenge at a time, Emma chose not to be baited into battle, especially now that Wryn's tactics were clear. If Wryn thought she would force Emma to make her change or embarrass Emma by wearing such a garish costume, Wryn was wrong.

Rather than comment further on the young woman's apparel or ask her how she had found the discards meant for the trash pit, Emma swallowed the last of the licorice root in her mouth and gave each of her grandsons another spoonful of pudding. “Are you going visiting?”

“Or joining the circus?” Mother Garrett muttered under her breath, just loud enough for Emma to hear her.

Wryn swirled about to show off her costume, which gave Emma a peek at the pink laces in her boots. “I'd like to visit Reverend and Mrs. Glenn today, if that meets with your approval.”

After Wryn's misadventure on Main Street, there were few places in Candlewood Emma would allow this young woman to
go. Fortunately, Reverend Glenn's cottage was one of them. “I think that's a lovely idea, as long as you're home by six for supper. And remember: no shopping,” Emma replied. “Are you certain you wouldn't like something to eat before you go?” she asked, pausing to wipe the babies' mouths.

“Thank you, no. While everyone else was busy elsewhere, I had something to eat before you all sat down to dinner. The stew you prepared was particularly good today, but I do prefer a pinch more basil in mine,” she said to Mother Garrett before she turned and scurried from the room.

Emma held her breath, waiting for Mother Garrett to say something caustic, but her scowl said it all.

13

A
T SIX-THIRTY, WRYN INTERRUPTED
supper by poking her head into the dining room. “I know I'm late, but I have a good reason,” she announced, standing in the open doorway without joining the rest of the family.