Honor by Lyn Cote Read Free Book Online Page B

“Dorcas could have been more gentle,” the older woman murmured.
    Honor dropped onto the backless bench in a daze.
    The meeting began with a quiet time of prayer. Then men and women rose at the prompting of the Inner Light—the Light of Christ—to quote Scripture or give insights. Finally Jemima rose and introduced Honor, and she was welcomed into the meeting. After a closing prayer,everyone gathered in the aisles and on the steps, greeting one another and exchanging news.
    Royale, with Eli in hand, slipped outside, but Honor forced herself to stay and chat with women who came up to greet her individually and in small groups. She tried to connect names and faces, but both flowed through her mind like water through fingers.
    “I’m looking for a position as a governess or lady’s companion,” she repeated. “And my maid is seeking a position too.”
    Her requests were met with polite surprise and delicate inquiries of what had brought her to Pittsburgh. But no leads. No one knew of anyone seeking either a governess or a companion. No one required another maid.
    “The times are bad,” Jemima said, summing up all the commiseration and rebuffs.
    “I’m also interested in abolition.” Honor posed this to the group of ladies around her. “Are there any other Friends here working toward that?”
    Again the response was lukewarm at best. Emancipation was laudatory but had nothing to do with this meeting. Pennsylvania was a free state.
    Then, even more unwelcome, first one and then another gentleman presented himself to Jemima to be introduced to Honor. One was a young attorney and another a middle-aged businessman. Each asked where she lived and if he might call on her. Each question caused her nerves to tense.
    Jemima reminded them that Honor was in mourning and added that Miriam was not well enough for visitors.
    Both men in turn bowed solicitously over Honor’s hand, and from their expressions, she feared she would be seeing them again anyway.
    Jemima patted her hand. “’Tis hard to be among strangers.”
    Honor’s smile was merely a coating on her lips, and Samuel’s anguished face glimmered in her mind. For some reason her fingers fidgeted as if they wanted to practice the signs Miriam continued teaching her.
    Finally Jemima walked beside her down the steps, stiff from sitting so long. From the shade where they’d been waiting, Royale and Eli joined them.
    “Miriam has been faithful to this meeting her whole life,” Jemima said as they started home on foot. “It is a shame that her older son Samuel stopped coming to meeting. People didn’t make the effort to learn how to speak to him in that hand language Miriam found. And it has made matters difficult for her and Samuel.”
    Honor had wondered why no friends visited the Cathwells in the week she’d been with them. Walking within the small circle of shade cast by her parasol, Honor pondered the end of her hopes. She had lost her home and her inheritance—and in the midst of very bad times. Everything stood against her. And intertwined with concern for herself and Royale was worry over Miriam, little Eli, and most of all, Samuel.

    That stifling afternoon Royale carried Eli to the back garden to play. Samuel’s mother reclined on her chaise in the parlor, and at her request Samuel and Honor joined her.
    Samuel resented his mother for including Honor. This woman had learned sign language, breached the barrier existing between him and everyone else. Also, she always looked him directly in the eye. Women ignored him. Why didn’t Honor?
    Her regard caused him to imagine impossibilities like having a wife and a family—things other men could possess, not him. The old, empty feeling dogged him.
    The sheer curtains fluttered in the faint breeze. His mother began to sign and speak. “Samuel, I don’t have much strength, so . . . please do not counter everything I say. I must settle matters . . . for thee and Eli, and soon.”
    Samuel’s heart sank. I