Chapter 16

Upon first meeting Mildred, it would have been easy to assume her a typical older woman, prone to sleep and consumed with

her own quiet affairs. It had not taken long for Sadie to realize this was entirely inaccurate of Mildred, aside from her

affinity for napping. Her motherly friend was quick-witted and never short of things to say.

The two women sat side by side in the modest home of the Ascot family, looking at Anne, the mother, and her daughter, Louisa.

They'd been welcomed in with warm smiles and promptly offered coffee. Mildred led the conversation, informing the Ascots that

she'd been eager to show Sadie around and introduce her to the locals. It was a guise but not wholly fictitious, since Sadie

was in fact new to town and not well acquainted.

"I heard you were working at the feather duster factory," Louisa said, her voice touched with the slightest note of condescension.

"My friend Bridget works on the binding machine. How do you have time to make calls?"

"Mr.Hoag has allowed Sadie extra hours at the mansion while we prepare things for Mr.Taylor. You have heard that he will

be at the masquerade skate, haven't you?"

"Yes, of course. Everyone is talking about it," Louisa said.

Mildred set down her cup. "Today we intend to air out some of the unused rooms, but first I insisted we pay some calls."

"We're glad you've come," Anne said in a voice that seemed truly welcoming. "Tell us where you're from and about yourself."

Sadie kept her answers short, quickly talking about her father's health and her sisters' joint efforts to save their farm.

They seemed satisfied with her answers, though far from impressed. "I'm enjoying my time in Monticello and am grateful to

now be at the Taylor house."

"No doubt. You've the job every woman wants." Louisa's pinky stayed high in the air while she sipped her coffee. "You'll meet

him first."

"I keep her busy," Mildred said, taking the conversation back by the reins. With great skill she brought the discussion from

Sadie being new in town to the last quilting night. She journeyed through one connecting topic at a time until she was able

to comment, "Children with no home could easily be lost. It's a shame, is it not?"

Anne and Louisa shared a glance—these women must know something! Sadie edged forward on her chair, doing her best to seem

unaffected when, in fact, her senses were firing alarms in rapid succession.

"Louisa has a cousin," Anne said softly. "She found herself... I'm sorry, I should not be telling you."

"Go on," Mildred said. "We all have a plethora of cousins. Tell your tale—we won't spread it around. I've been feeling the

call to educate myself about the foundling cause. Perhaps you can help me understand better."

"I know little of the foundling cause. I only know that... well, when someone finds themselves in such a condition, it

complicates things."

Mildred spoke slowly. "You know this because of your niece?"

"Yes, it was over four years ago," Louisa said, then turned to her mother. "It doesn't matter now if we tell. It won't change

anything."

Anne grimaced. "It's not our story."

"I'll tell it," Louisa said, ignoring her mother's resistance. "She was twenty and I was sixteen. When she first came here,

I remember being jealous of all the attention she got."

"She was lovely," Anne said. "Such a beautiful girl."

"I believe I remember her," Mildred said. "She attended church with you while she was here. I'm sorry to hear that her life

was burdened."

Anne pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped at her tears. "I blame myself. She was here with us... I was supposed

to be taking care of her."

"It wasn't your fault," Louisa said with a defensive air. "She should have been more careful."

"I can't change it now, but I shouldn't have let her go out whenever she wished. When she told me her troubles," Anne said,

wiping at her tears again, "I asked if she could marry the father. She said no, and then the next day she left. She went back

to Blackwell, to my sister's home. I wrote to her asking after her condition, but my sister wrote back, saying it was all

lies and that my niece had only been trying to get attention. She claimed that her daughter was prone to deceits, but that

was not our experience with her. I have always wondered... There's nothing I could have done anyway."

"They hid her condition?" Mildred tsked. "How heartbreaking."

"My sister refused to ever confirm what Katie had told us, but an old friend of mine lived not far from them in Blackwell.

She told me that my niece was bedridden and very ill. No one saw her for a long time. When I finally went to visit, she did

not have a child, and no one speaks of it. I don't know what happened."

"How is your niece now?" Mildred asked. "I don't believe anyone can truly care about foundlings and not care about their mothers."

"I'm told that an intense melancholy fell upon her." Anne stood and began walking the floor. "She died not long later. No

one understands exactly what happened—an accident I'm told. I cannot make sense of the details. Please don't tell anyone about

her. I don't wish to tarnish her memory. She was a sweet girl. And if she did have a baby and gave it up, it was for the best."

"We don't want to slander her name or yours," Mildred said.

Anne smiled her thanks, but a heaviness in the room blanketed the women in sadness.

"Perhaps she didn't have a child?" Sadie suggested, only to immediately wish she'd not said it and simply let the conversation

lull.

"I'll never know for certain." Anne exhaled. "Mildred, you've got my tongue wagging. It was all years ago. I've put it away

the best I can."

"It's all you can do. Give it to God to sort out. But there will be others who find themselves in the same situation, and

your story makes me want to offer a hand," Mildred said. Then she directed the conversation away from tragedy and regret.

"Tell me, have you finished your quilt?"

"Yes, only last night." Louisa brightened. "Mother says it's the finest pinwheel quilt she's seen."

"Your stitching is exceptional!" Mildred said. For twenty more minutes they talked about quilts, socials, and church meetings.

By the time they left, the mood was light and cordial. The hurt and pain of the past tucked away but not forgotten.

"Do you think Katie was somehow connected to Elisabeth?" Sadie asked five minutes after they left the Ascot home.

"The timing would work, but Anne never saw a baby. I suppose it is possible she gave the baby to Reginald to care for, but I don't know how we'd prove it with both Katie and Reginald dead..."

"It's all so tragic. Perhaps it's my country upbringing, but I cannot imagine denying a baby."

"The world can be cruel to unwed mothers or anyone else it feels like turning its back on. It's not right, of course." Mildred

clicked her tongue, dismayed by reality. "Even Otis felt it when he was young. He was the sweeter of the two boys, so tenderhearted.

I'm still haunted by his cries of pain from those foolhardy cures. It's not too late though. I pray he finds the love he's

been missing."

"I believe it could happen," Sadie said, leaning on her natural faith and her love of happy endings.

Mildred laced her arm through Sadie's. "Come on, let's go shopping."

An hour later they walked, with parcels in hand, back to the Taylor mansion.

Otis greeted them at the door like a puppy eager to see its master. "Tell me, are we any closer to finding her?"

"Sit down," Mildred said, leading the way to the chairs in the parlor.

***

Otis listened to the recounting given by both Mildred and Sadie. Important pieces were missing—concrete evidence that Katie

was connected to Reginald and that Elisabeth was their child. He rubbed his forehead, silent a moment before saying, "If we

were to go to Katie's parents, do you think they would tell us more?"

"Anne's sister denies it all," Sadie said. "We could write them, I suppose, but I don't believe it would help. If there was a baby, they've already turned their back on her."

"And they would know Anne spoke to us, and we assured her we would not spread gossip." Mildred looked toward the doorway that

led from the hall to the parlor. Leon, with Wolf at his heels, made his way into the room. "Come and help us think."

Leon sat and the four of them put their heads together.

"We could post a query in the paper here and in the paper where Katie was from. Her parents might see it and come forward

themselves. Worded right, they can ignore it if they wish," Sadie suggested. "We could ask after an orphan named Elisabeth

and have all the information gathered sent to a lawyer. That way no one would have to connect the story to you if they wanted

to remain anonymous, and you would not have to reveal Reginald's role in it until you were ready to."

"I'm not ashamed of Elisabeth." His spine bristled at the thought.

"I didn't think you were. But you have been cautious and thoughtful about when to go through the streets of Monticello, so

I assumed you would want to be equally cautious about how you broach the subject of your connection to Elisabeth."

"She's right," Mildred said. "Best to continue with caution until we have all the answers. But don't you worry. None of us

will shun the child or look at her different because she's an orphan or believe her marked by her birth."

"We never would," Sadie said with confidence. "I've known orphans and good families that took them in."

"Elisabeth has love waiting for her—we just have to find her." Leon pulled a hat from a peg and put it on his head. "Should

I go inquire after a lawyer? I'll make sure our conversation stays confidential."

This new plan, hatched so quickly, was already springing to action. But it was solid and the only ploy they had. There was no reason to delay. "Yes, I'll trust you to find someone willing to accept any correspondence that comes because of the newspaper queries."

"Write up what you want in the paper," Leon said, and Otis obeyed. He scratched out three different attempts until he had

a brief note ready for Leon. He left out most of the particulars but made sure to include the words loving relative has been found .

He read it aloud to the others, and when they gave their approval, he handed it off for delivery.

"Now we wait," he said to Leon's back when he stepped out the door.

"No," Mildred said. "Now you go and skate. Sitting around here fretting won't bring Elisabeth home any sooner. Makes my nerves

jittery watching you fidget. Go get ready for the masquerade."

"If Otis doesn't want—"

"I want to." He surprised himself with his enthusiasm. Mildred was right. Elisabeth had consumed his mind—and she still did—but

they had a plan, and until that failed, he had to carry on. "Mildred, do you want to join us?"

The older woman laughed. "You're sweet to ask, but I'd fall on my backside and never get back up. I'll come and watch though."

Both Otis and Sadie were surer footed as they skated today than they had been the day before. Their pace was slow but steady

as they made large circles around the factory. Mildred sat on the side, resting comfortably in an old chair. Every time he

made eye contact with her, she nodded her head and smiled at him.

"Do I get another rule today?" he asked Sadie ten minutes into their escapade.

"Of course. I simply have to think of it first." She pursed her lips, drawing his attention to them. Her lips were the first he'd ever truly noticed. They were expressive, rising and falling depending on her mood, and at the top they formed the upper half of a heart. "Rule four: at the masquerade, be wary."

"Wary? I expected a rule, not a riddle. You'll have to be more direct."

"There are women eager to ensnare you. They will skate beside you, fall at your feet, and you with your lack of experience

will believe yourself smitten with whomever first catches your eye. But my mama says it is better to be a lonely heifer than

in company with wolves."

"Your mother compared you to a cow?"

Sadie slowed to a stop, put her hands on the hips of her shapeless brown skirt, and pulled her perfectly pink lips into a

thin line. "I never thought much of it. But it's not very flattering to be compared to a cow, is it?"

"No," he answered with a laugh. "She should have said, ‘It is better to be a spring flower on a hill being thrashed by the

breeze than to be plucked and thrown in a vase with other flowers only to wither and die.' No, I'm not sure that works either.

Hmm."

"I believe the meaning is the same. It is better to be sovereign and alone than it is to be saddled with someone you do not

care for. I boarded with a Mrs.Smith before she gave my room to someone else. Her husband is a difficult man to be married

to." She covered her mouth. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to chin-wag. I was only trying to think of an example to help you be

cautious about who you marry."

"You're worried I'll marry up with some conniving woman after the masquerade? All these years I believed courtship took longer

than that."

"It can happen quickly. One moment you are rolling along beside an unsuspecting partner, and then you look at them and see them as something more."

He looked at his partner then. They were just skating partners, weren't they?

Her cheeks went pink. She looked away quickly. "You don't want to end up with a bride you regret."

"I'll remember to be wary, though I don't expect it to be a problem. Are there other rules?"

"There are, but you had best master these ones first."

"I will work on my first four rules as quickly as possible." He skated faster, with more confidence, gliding ahead of her.

A few feet farther and he turned to face her. "Do you think I'm ready to be an exhibitionist?"

"No." She shook her head, smiling. "But with effort, you'll be able to roll onto the Big Rink floor and not make a fool of

yourself."

"I'll have you to thank for it."

She threw her hands out to her sides and offered an exaggerated curtsy. "How gracious. Now tell me, what will you wear?"

"Mildred has agreed to help me alter some of Reginald's old clothes to fit me, and she will make me a mask. What will you

wear?"

"I'm not going," she said, and her feet faltered. Onto her backside she went with a loud thump . "Oh!" She rubbed at the pain. "I could never go. I would fall there and die of embarrassment."

"I'm not ready to skate without my teacher." He sat beside her with their backs to Mildred, who now slept with her mouth slightly

open, giving them a sense of privacy.

"Otis, I really am not going."

"I thought you wanted to go."

A small patch on the side of her skirt kept her right hand busy as she picked nervously at the edges. "A part of me does want to go, but it's best I don't."

"You lecture me on going and showing the town I'm more than my appearance. Why shouldn't you go and show them you are their

equal, despite your ragged clothes? Besides, you look much better now that you have taken up bathing. At first I thought I'd

taken in a stray turkey."

"Honestly! You're insufferable."

"You know I was only having fun. Besides, we are our own definitions of normal. Why can't homespun be normal too? Come with

me and show them you are important and... and that you are beautiful."

Her hand stilled for a moment before moving from her patch to her skates. She worked the leather strap free with an almost

frantic motion, her bottom lip sucked in. This new look was one he did not know. Unsure what to do, he watched and waited.

Had he said too much?

"I went to school with a man named Marvin Bennett," she said quietly, with her head down. "We would walk the fields together

and I'd gather armfuls of flowers. We sat by each other at the church socials, and one summer he worked on our farm."

"I didn't know." His forehead furrowed as he tried to imagine the man whose arm she'd been on. Was he her beau? For no justifiable

reason, he decided he did not like Marvin Bennett.

"There's not much to know. He is a good man who went off to college. He's due back soon."

"Ah, so rule four was not as much for me as for you. You don't want to meet anyone at the masquerade because your heart is

Marvin's?" He managed to keep his tone nonchalant. After all, he had no claim to Sadie. She was his employee, his teacher—that

was all.

At last, her head came up. She looked at him the way she always did, like she could see past his outer shell and into his soul. "Rule five is be honest. I said no more rules, but number five is so important I couldn't keep it to myself. And like a good teacher, I have led by example."

"The truth is that someone has claim of your hand and heart," he said through gritted teeth. "Is that what you are saying?"

"I don't know." She stood with her skates dangling at her side and looked at the corner she once slept in. "I know I believed

myself in love with him for a very long time, and it only seemed right to tell you."

A dry throat kept him from speaking. Instead, he nodded, stood, and skated over near Mildred, afraid to be alone with Sadie

because his heart felt wildly free when she was near, and she'd just told him to keep it locked inside its cage.

***

... I have spent a great deal of my life daydreaming about what my future would look like. The longer I am here in Monticello,

the more muddled my dreams become....

She finished her missive to her sisters, frustrated that the writing of it did not bring her more clarity.

Be honest. She'd told herself and Otis to follow the timeless counsel. Be honest.

She pulled out a new sheet of paper and began another letter.

Dear Marvin...