"Do give my congratulations to Ben," Elizabeth said as they were walking through a lane carefully, making sure not to trip on the inches of snow on the ground. "'Tis a pity you're a Patriot and I'm a Tory. He might appreciate my congratulations more."
"Ben going away is not anything to give congratulations to," Felicity grumbled and kicked up a pile of snow, but lost her balance in the process and fell. Elizabeth pulled her up and patted the snow off her skirts before continuing.
"Why is it not?"
"Elizabeth, he has been my companion for years now, and has helped me run the store! 'Tis a crying shame that you would not notice it!"
"Lissie," Elizabeth sighed, "you are out of sorts today. Let's forget this and visit Mr. Nye."
Felicity wanted to give Elizabeth a small smile, but felt as if it were beyond her capabilities to do so just this moment. The two walked in silence for a while until they reached the snow-covered tannery.
Thank Goodness Mr. Nye had changed. He had turned out to be not so bad after all—he had restored the house to its former respectability and moved the materials of his trade further into the forest where the stink would not drift over to the town. No longer did he work his poor horses to death; on the contrary, he treated them well now.
Just half an hour ago they felt they ought to extend their Christmas greetings to him, and so they had been walking to the tannery.
Elizabeth, always a little spooked still by the sight of a seemingly empty house, stood by the gate surrounding the field while Felicity stepped boldly up to knock. No one answered. When they waited for a few minutes longer, still no one appeared.
Felicity turned back to Elizabeth, muttering, "Strange! He's usually punctual, and stops work quarter of an hour before we arrive. He sees us on the path."
Elizabeth shrugged. "Perhaps he is inconvenienced by something or someone."
Felicity's annoyance—was it annoyance at all?—deepened and she turned sharply away from the door and took Elizabeth's arm so they could walk back.
A few minutes later on the path back home, Felicity had cooled down enough to at least feel a little guilty for being so rude, even if she did not want to admit it. She did feel obligated to admit it, and did so.
"Lissie, you were out of sorts. 'Tis hardly your fault you were snapping at me. I think we must return to your house and work on our samplers. My mother will be wondering if we do not make some progress on them."
Felicity gave an inwards groan. She hated, first and foremost, stitching, and handwriting practice less so. Stitching made her back ache, her eyes hurt, and she often accidentally stuck the needle into a finger or two. It was a terrible way to pass the hours. "Let's not. Let's go to the store and help there. I wouldn't mind being a boy and having to suffer the hardships of being an apprentice if only I could run about!"
Elizabeth giggled. "'Twould be a sight to see your future husband seeing you go about town in breeches, as Ben saw you! Though it was at night," she added. Ben was the Merrimans's apprentice, though his contract had long expired.
At this Felicity couldn't help giggling as well. "What would Annabelle say? Would she faint from the shock?"
"Do you know; I do believe she would!"
By this point they had reached the edge of the town and were just about to greet Ms. Manderley, their governess, when Ms. Manderley herself came out to the gate. "My dear Elizabeth and Felicity!" she exclaimed. "It has been a long time since I've seen you two. What fine ladies you are growing up to be!"
Both girls stepped closer to the gate.
"Elizabeth, you are certainly the striking image of Venus, and Felicity, I declare you with your fiery hair and your spirit will rival Diana."
"You are too kind, Ms. Manderley," both girls said simultaneously and looked at each other, suppressing yet another burst of giggles.
But Ms. Manderley stepped closer. "Elizabeth, I have just heard from your mother that your father may be coming back for a short while. I am not sure it is safe for him."
"Oh!" Elizabeth's blue eyes widened in shock. "I thought my father had more sense than that."
"You must hurry home. Your mother is anxious to see you."
"I shall, Ms. Manderley. Good day." Elizabeth flew back into the center of town, leaving Felicity feeling a little bit shocked by the abruptness of her departure.
"Ms. Manderley, is it bad?" Felicity asked hesitantly. She didn't want to pry, but she was eager for information. Perhaps a little too eager.
"I am not sure, my dear. 'Tis better that you either return to the store or to your house. Daylight is beginning to fail."
She hurried to the store—if she were to hurry home, she would certainly be trapped and forced to stitch. "Ben, did you hear the news?" she shouted, only to realize that she had clattered into the store in the middle of a transaction with Mrs. Fitchett, and what a gossip she was! "I do beg your pardon."
Luckily, Mrs. Fitchett was not in a gossiping mood today and merely finished up the transaction. She sailed out of the store, ribbons fluttering and dress train whispering on the floorboards.
"Ben," she said this time, lowering her voice, "Elizabeth's father is to return from England. What do you make of that?"
"Felicity, where did you hear this from? Mrs. Fitchett? She is hardly a reliable source of information." He leaned over the counter, and Felicity felt like a dwarf besides him, although she was tall for a girl. Thank goodness he had stayed beyond his apprenticeship after the war to help the store. Felicity would have felt more insecure about handling transactions and keeping the record-books if he hadn't been around.
"Mrs. Manderley told me, and she heard it from Elizabeth's mother! Just think—it will cause a riot! 'Tis not safe for him to return, and we have to tell him so—"
"Mrs. Cole could have misinterpreted a letter, for all we know! He has more sense than that. You had better not go about rushing headlong to conclusions." Ben removed himself from the counter and began to close up shop.
"Benjamin Davidson, you are far too serious," she said in a mock scolding tone.
"And the trouble with you, Ms. Merriman, is that you are far too spirited."
"Why, I don't see any trouble in being spirited."
"You might frighten all your future husbands away!" he joked, although he didn't smile. He wasn't one given to smile often.
"Oh, Ben, everyone seems to be reminding me to be married. I don't want to be married. I'm only sixteen."
"Most girls I know begin courting at sixteen."
There was silence for a long period of time that made them both uncomfortable. Ben pulled on his cloak and helped Felicity up from the box she was sitting on. The Merriman house was not too far from the store, luckily, because evening had brought a chill that made their bones ache.
They stopped at the stables so that Felicity could give Patriot, Penny's yearling, a little bit of sugar. He was a fine black little horse, with spirit and fire. She felt her hand being warmed by Patriot's hot breath and smiled at Patriot's tongue licking her palm for any more sugar. Penny had gone away with Father to help transport supplies for the militia, but they would be returning very soon.
"Ben," she said on the doorstep, "when do you suppose you're going away?"
"Oh... As soon as the winter is over. 'Twill not be long now." He exhaled and a stream of white fog issued from his mouth. "I must return home, for my mother is ill. Your father has been kind to give me passage money."
"No."
He gave her a curious look.
They stepped into the house, removing their pattens and cloaks before entering the parlor. "Mother," Felicity called out, "is supper ready?"
"Nearly. Go up and change for supper. We're expecting the Coles for supper tonight," came a voice from the kitchen.
"The Coles, ma'am? I just heard they received some distressing news," Ben replied.
"I do hope they'll come. Do run over to their place and enquire. And quickly now, lad!"
"I hate it when she calls me 'lad'," he muttered and set off for the Coles' place. "It is as if I never fought a war at all!"
Felicity had just sat down in the parlor when Polly, her youngest sister, came trotting in with William, her little brother, in tow. She was willing to help Polly and William read from their primer—although Polly really should have learned to read better long ago—until Nan, the second-oldest sibling and just returned from her dancing lessons, started to ask, ten questions at a time, about her day.
"Nan," Felicity groaned, "you're giving me a headache."
"But Lissie, I've been cooped up in the house all day. 'Tis not fair you're older!" Nan pouted.
"You stand being cooped up in the house better than I do. I promise, tomorrow I'll take you out for a walk. Now all three of you go and change so I can change too." She shooed them upstairs and spent a few minutes pacing impatiently in the parlor, waiting for Ben to come back.
At last, Ben came and he reported, "The Coles are not coming."
"Why, what's the matter?" Mrs. Merriman came from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.
"I don't know. The housekeeper only told me that they wouldn't be coming to supper." He shrugged and sat down on a chair.
Felicity couldn't help feeling that something was very wrong about the whole affair with the Coles.
During supper, which was mostly silent, Felicity kept wondering what had happened to Mr. Cole and Elizabeth. She hardly noticed that her fork drooped on her plate more than once, or that when Mrs. Merriman asked her a question, she didn't respond—at least until Mrs. Merriman snapped, "Lissie! Pay attention!"
"I'm sorry, Mother," she murmured, hanging her head.
"You are twelve years old now, and ought not to let your mind wander off. 'Tis unseemly and rude for a gentlewoman to do so."
Felicity silently kicked a table leg in annoyance. "Mother, I was worried about the Coles. Will they be all right?"
Mother's demeanor softened and she put down her fork and knife. "I am sure it's nothing. I know you're worried about your friend, but it could honestly amount to nothing, all this fuss."
"Excuse me for saying this, ma'am, but the Coles seemed very distressed," Ben butted in. "Mrs. Cole was pacing up and down the parlor."
"Well, I wonder!" Mrs. Merriman sighed. "Perhaps I will call on them tomorrow morning."
"Please take me with you," Polly piped up.
"No. This is an affair that doesn't concern you, Polly. You are far too young," Mother said gently. "I will take you out a-calling some other time."
Yet another pout of Polly's. She seemed to be pouting all the time as a thirteen-year-old, more than when she was twelve. She picked up her fork and played with her food, which was extremely rude.
"Polly, stop playing with your food," William chided. His warning earned him an under-the-table leg kick, which left William howling with pain. Mrs. Merriman could only glare at her disapprovingly while Ben and Felicity suppressed grins, sneaking glances at each other over the table. For once, Felicity was admiring Polly, who had always seemed the perfect little lady, even more so than Nan, who occasionally had her moments of rebellion.
At last supper was over and the Merrimans gathered in the parlor. Ben sat, hidden away in a far corner, as he wasn't supposed to join the family. He was only an apprentice, after all, and wasn't of the same class that the Merrimans were.
This time, Mrs. Merriman was supervising Felicity's sampler and kept making her redo her stitches. They were either too crooked or too large; Felicity never seemed to be able to get them straight and in a straight line. Felicity fidgeted in her seat and tried not to yawn as she pulled her needle in and out of the cloth.
Pull the thread in and out... The design was supposed to be a house with trees surrounding it and a little verse in pretty script, but the house was rivaling the Tower of Pisa in crookedness currently, not to mention that the trees looked more like tangled knots than graceful branches.
She started reviewing how the supper had been. For some reason, her mind stopped at when she and Ben had been smiling at William. He had grown more outgoing ever since six years ago; then he wouldn't have laughed at such a thing. At twenty-two he was less shy than he was at sixteen, even having gone through a war.
Oddly enough, her mind toyed with their ages. Twenty-two was not so very old, was it? Annabelle had been but fifteen when she married to Edward Knowles, a wealthy merchant of forty! Felicity was sixteen. Seven year's difference was nothing compared to that.
A sharp jolt of pain shot up her finger. "Ow!" A bead of blood stood on the pad of her finger and she sucked on it, hoping that the pain would disappear soon. She sent her thoughts away and tried, unsuccessfully, to stitch.
With every tangled knot, with each crooked seam, her dissatisfaction and her anger grew until she felt herself growing hot from it.
She threw the sampler down on the little whatnot in frustration beside her and folded her arms. "I don't want to stitch, Mother! I wish to read! I don't want to be educated as a gentlewoman. 'Tis boring and useless," Felicity huffed.
"Felicity, you are sixteen. Whether you like it or not, you have been brought up as a gentlewoman and must fulfill your role in doing so. You will soon begin courting," Mother tried to reason. She swept a lock of Felicity's bright red hair behind her ear. "Why, you have been learning French for the past three years! That is a sign of education."
"I don't wish to court."
Felicity's mother threw up her hands as if to say "I surrender" and resumed her stitching.
At eight o'clock, though, Ben cleared his throat to make an announcement. "Mrs. Merriman, may I speak?" She nodded. "Some of you have heard that I'm leaving for home," he said. "I still want to go, and I realize that Mr. Merriman might still need my assistance. Therefore, I wish to ask your advice, Mrs. Merriman, on the matter."
Mother leaned back in her chair. "Benjamin Davidson, you may do what you will, but I do beg you to consider that Felicity cannot run the store all by herself, and there is a shortage of men here to employ."
"Very well. Then I will stay." He bowed and took his seat again.
Felicity's heart fairly overfilled with joy. So Ben was staying after all! He wouldn't be going off! She grinned but hid it by ducking her head as if looking at her sampler more closely. Her cheeks were hot, nay, burning with pleasure. This day was not turning out to be all bad news after all.