A Most Unsuitable Match by Stephanie Whitson Read Free Book Online

I’d do without you, Hannah. I need you here. And I want to make your room comfortable so that—” she forced a grin—“so that I can torment you for many years to come.” She nudged Hannah’s arm. “How old are you, anyway? A hundred and twenty?”
    Hannah nudged back. “I’ll have you know I’m not a day over seventy-five.” She lifted her chin. “I swaddled you when you came into this world, and I plan to swaddle your firstborn, little miss.”
    “Good.” Fannie nodded. “Until you’re needed to swaddle my firstborn, I think you should have a thick comforter swaddling your stiff old knees.”
    Waving her hand in the air, Hannah relented. “Fine. Have it your way. But make sure James does the transporting. I’ll not have you breaking your neck tripping over something on those narrow stairs.”
    “I’ll head up there right now and get the comforter I was thinking of before Walker arrives to talk gardening. I can manage that, but I’ll let James do the rest.” Hurrying up to her own room, Fannie pulled a leaf of paper, a pen, and a bottle of ink from her writing desk. She would make a list of things for James to bring down and take the comforter out back to air. Until Walker and Tommy Cooper arrived, she and Hannah could work together, emptying the room off the kitchen of drying racks and brooms, mops and cast-off dinnerware.
    As she lifted her skirts and made her way up the attic stairs, Fannie realized she had successfully outrun that dark cloud, at least for a little while. She felt hopeful. Almost happy. It felt good to take charge. Especially when taking charge was going to make things better for Hannah.

    Later that afternoon, an exhausted Fannie paused at the bottom of the front stairs before ascending to face Mother’s room. Tilting her head, she listened carefully. Was Hannah humming in her new room . . . or snoring? They were both tired, but it had been a good day. Hannah’s new room had turned out even nicer than Fannie had envisioned. She’d hired Tommy Cooper to help Walker rescue the grounds, and just as both Hannah and Mrs. Beauvais had said, Walker appeared to be relieved at the idea of having help. As Fannie slowly climbed the stairs, sunlight shining through the leaded window on the landing studded the wall with rainbows of light. Her stomach growled. She hoped Hannah didn’t nap for long.
    She hesitated in the doorway to Mother’s room, peering into the shadowed space like an intruder sneaking into forbidden territory. This room had always been off limits, unless Mother expressly invited Fannie in. Even the carriage accident hadn’t changed that rule. Mother kept a little bell at her bedside. She would call if she needed anything. Later, when she grew weaker, she hired a nurse. Again, the message was clear. Stay away unless invited.
    Stepping inside the doorway, Fannie took a deep breath. Mother always wore a sachet tucked into her pocket or sleeve. Was it her imagination, or did the faintest aroma of roses still linger in the air?
    Clearing her throat, she padded across the room and opened the drapes, then stood watching as the afternoon sun bathed the room in light. The decor was hopelessly outdated, but Mother didn’t care. She loved her periwinkle blue floral wallpaper and the pale blue chairs beside the tea table. Fannie could still hear Mother’s sniff and her studied reply to Fannie’s enthusiastic endorsement when Minette’s mother redecorated their home in the most fashionable of reds and greens.
    A woman has very few rights in this world, Fannie. The right to surround herself with the things she loves—especially in her own private quarters—is one of them. If I have anything to say about it, this room will be this very same color the day I die.
    Remembering those words gave Fannie goose bumps. Rubbing her arms briskly, she headed for the dressing table. As a child, she’d thought it the most enchanting piece of furniture in the world, with its beveled mirrors