I'm writing this in the daytime… weird… I usually do this at 3 AM… anyway…
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I wiped perspiration from my forehead as I peeled potatoes for dinner. Mrs. Webber pulled hot, fragrant bread from the oven. The kitchen was stifling hot as I helped make dinner.
The twins hauled water from the well and traipsed through the kitchen with the heavy bucket between them. I smelled a meat pie baking; despite the discomfort I endured, I enjoyed the serenity of the kitchen. It reminded me of my mother in Mrs. Webber's place, patiently teaching me how to set dough rising, seasoning meals, so many things…
Soon, we were sitting down at the table; Rev. Webber said grace. I glanced across all the dishes at Angela. I thought to myself again how lucky I was to have a good friend turn into an almost sister. She, along with the twins and the new baby girl, were part of my new family.
We passed the serving bowls amongst ourselves, to the soft clinking of forks on plates. The quiet conversations turned to murmurs as we ate, until they were interrupted.
"Bella?" Mrs. Webber looked up from her own plate.
"Yes?" I poured water from a pitcher into one of the twins' glasses.
"I heard something interesting today. The Newton boy was asking about you."
My hands froze on the act of setting the pitcher on the table. I quickly settled them into my lap to avoid them betraying me. "Oh?" I kept my eyes down.
"Aren't you curious?" she pressed. Mrs. Webber meant well, I knew, but she had no idea who she was talking about—vile Michael Newton.
"What did he say?" I asked reluctantly.
"Well, I believe his intentions are very serious, my dear. He has asked permission to call on you formally." Mrs. Webber smiled, pleased at the thought.
"You mean, he wants to court Bella," Angela said quietly. I detected a hint of laughter in her voice.
"Michael Newton might make a good husband for you, Bella, dear."
"I hadn't really thought about marrying, Mrs. Webber."
"You're eighteen now." She set her cutlery on the edge of her plate. "I should hope someone as nice as Mr. Newton would be interested in Angela."
Reverend Webber had remained characteristically silent throughout our conversation, but now he looked covertly at Angela herself. I glanced at her briefly, trying to avoid bursting into laughter. She knew my plight regarding Michael Newton and certainly hoped no one like him would ever dare speak to her.
"So, what do you say, Bella?" Mrs. Webber would not give up.
I hesitated, worrying my hands in the apron I wore. I didn't want to offend Mrs. Webber's sensitivities, but I also wanted to make myself quite clear on this point.
"I—I really don't think I'm quite ready for that, Mrs. Webber."
"Is that the answer you want me to give him?" She sounded disappointed.
"I do," I said, firmly.
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"Boys, listen. Girls, you too." Rev. Webber paused at the door to the sitting room. He had risen to go to bed, while we remained alternately knitting or mending by the fireplace. We looked up from our various activities.
"There has been some… trouble recently. I suppose there's no delicate way of saying this…"
"Trouble? What is it?" asked Mrs. Webber anxiously.
"A couple of people have disappeared in the past few days. Their… bodies… have been found in the forest." Rev. Webber coughed, uncomfortable discussing such gruesome matters with the women. "I ask you to be careful, and not go into the forest alone."
The twins looked solemn, and their mother worried. I frowned. "Who is responsible?"
"It's not a matter of who, but what. Bears… or wolves perhaps." He shook his head. "This is wild country, after all."
Angela reassured the reverend. "Don't worry, Father. We have no reason to forage into the woods, do we, Bella?"
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R&R please! Mini-chapter… I'm trying not to go overboard with the formality of their speech, what do you think? I don't know a whole lot about 19th century life, but I'm getting a little into research mode… if you spot anything totally implausible, let me know… thanks for reading!