Another Country by Kate Hewitt Read Free Book Online Page B

it?”
    “Indeed it has.” Biting her lip in concentration,
for she’d never been an accomplished seamstress, Eleanor threaded
her needle once again.
    “I’m so glad I brought as many frocks as I did!”
Caroline confided. She peered in the cracked mirror above the
washing pitcher and bowl, smoothing one hand over her still-glossy
ringlets. “I should hate to arrive in Boston in something dirty and
stained. My uncle expects me to be well turned out at all
times.”
    “Does he?” Eleanor had not much opportunity to learn
of Caroline’s circumstances. “Is he giving you a season, then?”
    Caroline whirled around, her reflection momentarily
forgotten. “Oh, yes! He quite assures me that a Boston season is
just as well as a London one, and I am hoping it’s true. I shall
find a husband, of course, but not before I enjoy myself
immensely!”
    “I’m sure the delights of the Boston season are
manifold,” Eleanor said. She imagined the offerings briefly...
balls and midnight suppers, musicales and masquerades. She smiled
wryly. It was the stuff of the romantic novels Jane McCready had
sometimes read on the sly. Eleanor had never bothered with it, and
she couldn’t imagine herself in such surroundings now.
    “Why are you going to Boston, Eleanor?” Caroline
asked, almost timidly, as if she realized she perhaps should
already know.
    “My brother is a doctor there. I’m going to live
with him.”
    “Just the two of you? Is that... well... don’t you
need a chaperone?”
    “I hardly think so,” Eleanor replied, stabbing her
needle in the cloth once more. “America is different, and I’m a
widow as it is. I should think it is completely respectable.”
    “A widow!” Caroline’s eyes widened. “Oh, but I’m
sorry! Did you love him very much?”
    Eleanor thought briefly of John’s face, the shock of
brown hair, the warm eyes, the ready smile. All were slightly
blurred, nameless features arranged in a pleasing pattern. Had he
really looked like that, or was it just what she liked to remember?
“I did love him,” she said after a moment, “but we only had six
weeks together before he went to India. Sometimes it’s hard to
remember.”
    Caroline was silent, and the only sound was the
creaking of the ship and the gentle lapping of the sea against its
broad sides.
    “I can lend you a dress,” Caroline said quietly, “if
you like.”
     
    “Catch me, Uncle Rupert, catch me!”
    Harriet gazed from the doorway of the cabin, baby
Anna in her arms. Rupert was playing a game of tag with Maggie and
George, the puppy, now half grown, frisking at their heels.
    Rupert had arrived two weeks ago, and he’d been a
blessing to their family, filling the house with laughter and
delighting the children with his games. His company was a special
boon this summer, when the days had been cold and wet.
    “Careful, now,” she warned as her children made
towards the house. “Your boots are caked with mud and Margaret
Jane, look at the state of your apron.” The scold was lighthearted,
and, all offending boots removed, Harriet ushered them into the
house.
    There were honey and oatcakes on the table, along
with a fresh pot of tea, and the children eagerly helped
themselves. Harriet laid Anna in a fleece-lined basket and poured
the tea into thick mugs.
    “Little savages.” Rupert ruffled George’s hair as he
took two oatcakes himself. “When did you get this marvelous
honey?”
    “Papa found a honey tree,” Maggie said between
mouthfuls of oatcake. “A great big, hollowed out one, simply
buzzing with bees!”
    “Lucky for him.”
    “We took most of it to market this past spring,”
Harriet said. “It paid for Blackie, and the two fat geese that will
be our Christmas dinner and then some.”
    “Maggie was sad about the bees,” George said
scornfully, “because they wouldn’t have any food!” He shrugged,
taking a large bite of honey-smeared oatcake. “I’d rather have
honey. May I take another, Mam?”
    Rupert