Where Love Dwells (16 page)

She followed him down a narrow hallway past rooms closed off from view and into the kitchen. Although the room itself was quite small, several curtainless windows offered lots of afternoon light. A yellow-and-white checkered tablecloth on the table added
a warm touch, but she was far too nervous about his reaction over why she had come to Bounty to be able to relax.

“There's a peg over by the back door for your cape and bonnet,” he offered as he set his package on the table. By the time she had hung up her outerwear, he had laid out two plates and utensils and had a pot of water set to boil on the cookstove.

“What can I do to help?” she asked, impressed by how self-sufficient he seemed to be here.

“Nothing at all,” he replied, pulling out a chair for her. “Would it be too much to hope that you rode all the way to Bounty to see me?” he asked as she took her seat.

She drew in a breath and held it for a moment. “Why would you say that?”

He sat down across from her, caught her gaze, and held it. “In all truth, after how poorly I behaved when I left you at Hill House, I wasn't certain what type of reception I would receive from you when I returned to Candlewood,” he said.

Reaching across the table, he took her hand. “I'm sorry. I should have been more supportive of your efforts to help Mark with Wryn, but I must warn you that I am not particularly patient when it comes to anything that might interfere with our plans to marry as soon as possible.”

Moved by his apology, she swallowed hard and squeezed his hand. “I thank you for your apology, which I accept,” she whispered, reluctant to spoil the moment by telling him of the plan she and Mark had set into motion, because she sensed he would most definitely not approve.

“Why did you come to Bounty?” he asked, typically direct as he usually was, before he started opening the package he had set at the end of the table.

“Actually, I came because of Wryn,” she admitted. While they
shared a hearty portion of the veal stew he had brought home, along with a pot of tea she fixed once the water had come to a boil, she detailed the general purpose for her journey here without mentioning the specific names of the parties involved, including Morning's. “Although I was able to find out that the minister is deceased, I'm afraid I didn't have enough time to learn anything about the man she married,” she said in conclusion.

He shook his head. “I'm not certain I understand why you got involved at all. The woman clearly needs the services of a trained, experienced lawyer.”

Stung by his words, despite the fact they were gently spoken, she tilted up her chin. “There are some things women feel uncomfortable discussing with a man, especially a stranger,” she argued.

“That may be, but a lawyer—”

“Is always a man,” she interjected. “That said, I rest my case. In any event, since I'm forced to stay the night, I'm hoping to find the man she married tomorrow. I didn't come here to seek your legal advice on her behalf, at least not yet. Unfortunately, I didn't plan on Mercy throwing a shoe. I only came here to ask if you'd be willing to loan me the funds I need to secure lodging for the night. Obviously, I can't stay here. We're not married yet.”

He gave a sly smile. “No, but we could change that easily enough.”

She drew in a deep breath. “Without my family here?”

He smiled. “It was worth suggesting.”

She did not return his smile. “Perhaps, but I'd rather have had you offer to help me find Mr. Harrison.”

“Did you say Harrison?”

She nodded. “Yes, why?”

“Because I came to Bounty on behalf of one of my clients in Candlewood, William Harrison.”

“Oh,” she whispered. “This woman's husband's name was Harrison, too. Thomas Harrison. Do you think they might be related?” she asked as her heart began to race.

Zachary's eyes widened. “Thomas Harrison is, or I should say
was,
my client's brother. He lived in Bounty until he died some months ago.”

Stunned, Emma clapped her hand to her heart. “H-he died?”

“After some kind of accident. It's the terms of his will that are at the center of the problem I'm trying to resolve for his brother. I'd been having a difficult time locating the man's widow, until now, it seems. He was married two years ago to a woman named . . .”

“Matthews. Josie Matthews,” Emma murmured. “That's the name of the woman Wryn brought back to Hill House, although she calls herself Morning Drummond now. She said she used to work for Thomas Harrison's mother. I think her name was Esther.”

Zachary nodded. “Yes, it was.”

“Then they are the same. The widow of Thomas Harrison you were looking for is the same woman Wryn brought home to see me. Wait,” she said and retrieved the accounting Morning had written down. “This is what she wrote down for you.”

She returned to her seat while he read the paper, anxious to know what he thought. “Well? Is Morning the woman you're looking for?”

“Apparently,” he admitted, nodding his head.

Emma grinned. “Then Morning's problem is solved. She doesn't need a divorce or an annulment. She's free to marry again, isn't she?”

“Yes, she is, but only if I can confirm everything she's written down, which is what I could have done if she had entrusted this to me in the first place instead of coming to you. Both you and
Morning should leave this now in the hands of a trained lawyer,” he noted firmly as he set the paper down on the table.

“I believe we just did,” she murmured, without bothering to remind him that she had been able to give him the very information he needed to help his client. Instead, she tucked his rebuke, however gentle it had been, next to her growing concerns that by agreeing to marry this man, she may have made a mistake after all.

14

T
HREE DAYS AFTER RETURNING
home to Hill House from Bounty, Emma walked calmly out of the library and into her office without saying a word to Wryn. She climbed the stairs to her bedroom, opened the tin of licorice root, and popped two small pieces into her mouth.

She sat down on her bed and chewed them very slowly and cringed as the distinctive flavor filled her mouth. One quick glance at the packages sitting in the corner next to the scarred wardrobe that had belonged to Emma's grandmother told her she had another problem. Although Wryn had been tight-lipped about her plans for the remaining gifts, it hardly mattered who was going to receive the two boxes of Belgian chocolates. To get rid of the awful taste of licorice root in her mouth, Emma had managed to eat her way through one box and was nearly halfway through the other.

“If I could develop half the taste for licorice root that I've discovered for chocolate, I would be happy,” she grumbled, although she was not sure how she would explain to Mother Garrett what she had done.

Although she was satisfied now that she would be too focused
on the unpleasant taste in her mouth to be baited into responding to Wryn's most recent taunt, she resisted the urge to slip a piece of chocolate into her pocket. She returned to the library holding tight to the slim strand of patience she had left. She also tried to keep her concerns about marrying Zachary in the back of her mind. The fact that she expected him to return to Candlewood in the next day or two made that almost impossible, since she knew he would definitely not approve of her making herself Wryn's guardian any more than he had approved of her helping Morning.

Wryn, however, was no longer there.

The ladder she had been using was leaning up against one of the paneled walls. The bucket of water and the beeswax she had been cleaning and polishing the walls with were still there, right where she had left them.

“But she's not here. Again,” Emma grumbled, gripping the licorice root between her teeth and marching into the center hall in pursuit of the wayward young woman. When she reached the center staircase, she met Liesel, who was just getting to the bottom of the steps carrying a basket of soiled bed linens, and tucked the licorice root behind her cheek. “Wryn didn't pass by this way, did she?”

Liesel blushed. “I didn't see her, and I'm . . . I'm sorry, Widow Garrett. I know I should be using the back stairs, but I was so preoccupied I was halfway down the steps before I realized where I was,” she gushed and shifted the basket from one hip to the other.

“Please don't give it a second thought,” Emma replied, hoping her answer would ease the frown on Liesel's face. Although Liesel was only a year older and perhaps an inch or two taller than Wryn, they both had the same slender build, but they were direct opposites in temperament. Liesel was hardworking, anxious to
please, and always respectful, which was how Emma could only hope Wryn might be someday.

When Emma's response did not ease the frown on Liesel's face or completely erase the guilty look in the younger woman's gaze, she cocked her head. “Is there something else bothering you?”

Liesel's eyes darted around the hallway at doorways leading to the two front parlors, as well as the dining room. “I know how busy you are, but I was hoping to speak to you. Privately,” she whispered, still looking about as if worried they might be overheard.

“I think we're alone, so you can speak freely now, unless you'd rather come into my office,” Emma whispered back.

“No, I . . . I suppose here is fine,” she murmured and leaned closer. “It's just that . . . I don't mean to tattle, but Ditty and I both got ourselves in trouble last fall because we were lying to you and . . . and even though Ditty doesn't think this would be a lie exactly, she thinks . . . that is, we both think we should tell you so we don't get in trouble again.”

Emma immediately took a slow chew on the licorice root. “Tell me what?”

Liesel surveyed the hallway one last time. “Four or five nights ago, while you were away in Bounty, Wryn started sneaking up to the garret to our rooms to visit with us late at night. We didn't invite her. That's the honest truth, but we were afraid if we tried to make her leave or to make her stop visiting she'd cause a scene and . . . and . . .”

“And she'd manage to convince me it was all your idea and you and Ditty would be in trouble again.”

Liesel nodded and blinked back tears.

Emma smiled. “Thank you for telling me. Thank Ditty, too.”

Liesel nodded again. “It's not like we don't want her to come. Sometimes young people just like to be with other young people.
Wryn's got a trunk full of troubles, and she's awful lonely, Widow Garrett. Me and Ditty . . . we wouldn't mind if she came up to visit with us, if you said she could.”

“That's very kind of you both. I'll see if I can't find a way to let her know that she's free to visit with you and Ditty without letting her know we had this conversation. In the meantime, I'll let you get back to your work,” she suggested.

With her face still troubled, Liesel hesitated. “Me and Ditty are real happy for you and Mr. Breckenwith. You're not planning on selling Hill House, are you?”

“We haven't discussed it at all, but I can't imagine I would,” Emma said to assuage the young woman's unspoken fears that she or Ditty might lose their positions if Hill House changed owners.

Wearing a smile now instead of her frown, Liesel bounced off to the kitchen, leaving Emma with yet one more item to discuss with Wryn. She was making so little progress with Wryn, she hoped she had made the right decision to let the three young women visit with one another without any adult supervision. “Not that my decisions lately have proven to be very wise,” she muttered and swallowed the last bit of licorice root.

Emma realized that taking Wryn's suggestion that she clean and polish the paneled walls in the library as the first way she would make amends for her shopping spree had been Emma's big mistake.

Anxious not to make another poor decision, she hurried to the kitchen. She spotted the basket of laundry sitting on the floor, but Liesel was not there. Neither was Wryn, which surprised her, since this was where she had found the young woman twice already today. Emma walked over to Mother Garrett, who was sitting at the table dicing turnips while she had a pot of beef bones simmering on the cookstove.

“I see Liesel was here,” Emma noted as she walked over to her mother-in-law. “Is that pumpernickel bread in the oven that smells so good?”

“Two loaves, but they won't be good and done for a spell, so don't plan on waiting for a hunk. Liesel went back upstairs to help Ditty finish dressing the beds. If you wouldn't mind, you might grab a knife and get started on those carrots or the potatoes. I need to get these vegetables added to the soup or it won't be ready for dinner.”

“I came looking for Wryn,” Emma replied. More reluctant to deny her mother-in-law's request than she was to delay searching for Wryn, she sat down and picked up a knife. “Why isn't Liesel helping you?”

“Because she's helping Ditty. Doctor Jeffers just took out those stitches yesterday afternoon, and Liesel wanted to make sure Ditty didn't hurt herself again, since she's tripped a few times on bed linens. Not that she's particular. Planked sidewalks will do. So will stairs.”

Emma grinned and started peeling a potato. “You could have asked Ditty to sit with you and chop vegetables. At least she'd be off her feet.”

“But likely to lose a finger or two. I know vegetable soup is Mark's favorite, but I highly doubt he'd be pleased knowing it wasn't all beef that flavored his soup.”

“Oh, Mother Garrett, that's a gruesome thing to imagine.” Emma shuddered. “You wouldn't have any idea where I could find Wryn, would you?”

Mother Garrett pointed to the back door with the tip of her knife. “She's hanging up the cleaning rags she rinsed out again.”

“That's the third pair of rags she's used today, and it's only midmorning.”