Authors: Delia Parr
No response.
“Mark and Catherine are sweet and gentle people who are almost as young to marriage as they are to parenthood,” she continued. “You knew that and you used it to your advantage, hoping they'd give up and take you back to your mother. Instead, they brought you to me because . . . because they had no other choice . . . because your mother won't allow you to come home.”
Still no response.
“I'm so sorry, Wryn. But you can't go home. Not yet,” she added, trying her best to provoke some response from Wryn.
When Wryn's head perked up just a hair, Emma drew in a long breath. “As sad and as heartbreaking as it might be, you may never be able to reconcile with your mother. But if you're willing to listen, I'd like to tell you how you can try to make that possible.”
Wryn edged in her seat to be able to see Emma without turning around completely. Though her cheeks were still glistening with tears and her eyes were red from crying, her gaze was steady.
“Do you enjoy eating pumpernickel bread still warm from the oven?”
Apparently caught off guard by the odd question, which Emma had hoped she would be, Wryn replied almost automatically. “Yes, I suppose I might favor it, but I can't see what that has to do withâ”
“What would you do if you accidentally drizzled vinegar on top of the whole loaf of bread instead of butter?”
Wryn wrinkled her nose and scrunched up her face. “I'd toss it away!”
“The whole loaf? Why?”
“It'd be ruined!”
“You can't just lop off the crust on the top?”
“Hardly,” Wryn snapped. “The vinegar would have gone through and flavored the entire loaf of bread.”
“Exactly so,” Emma replied. “Flippant remarks and defiant or outrageous behavior are much like vinegar, Wryn. They seep from our mind and our lips to our hearts and souls, where we've buried our most awful hurts until our entire lives and the lives of the people around us are destroyed. You haven't any hope of reconciling with your mother unless you change your behavior.”
Wryn dropped her gaze.
“That means you can't lie to people anymore. You can't talk back to adults or try to provoke them by exaggerating whatever punishment you've been given. You can't take things that don't belong to you, either.” Emma drew in a long breath. “Everyone here at Hill House wants to help you. Me. Your aunt Catherine and uncle Mark. Even Mother Garrett. But you can't go on the way you have.”
Wryn let out a sigh. Nothing more.
“I know it won't be easy. But if you can change your ways, which I'm very confident you can do, I promise that I'll do what I can to help you and your mother to reconcile. If I fail, or if we both fail to accomplish that, then you'll be welcome to make your home here with me at Hill House or back in Albany with your aunt Catherine and uncle Mark. On that you have my word. But ultimately, wherever you live is entirely up to you.”
When Wryn looked up at Emma, her gaze darkened. “What about after you get married?”
“Nothing will change what I've just discussed with you,” Emma promised, knowing that if Zachary objected, he would not become her husband and would not have any say in the matter at all.
“Everything will change,” Wryn whispered.
Emma swallowed hard, all too aware of how Wryn's life had changed after each of her mother's marriages and unsure of how to convince her it would not happen again.
“Even if I did believe you, which I don't after what you did to trick me, how do I know you're not lying to me again?” Wryn asked.
“You don't, but I'll try very hard to regain your trust. I kept my promise to help your friend Morning, didn't I?”
Wryn nodded.
“From now on,” Emma continued, “I promise you that I'll always be truthful with you.”
“Completely truthful?”
“Yes.”
Wryn pursed her lips. “Did you really eat all those chocolates I bought?”
Emma sniffed. “I don't suppose you have a proper excuse for being in my room in the first place, which you can't deny, since I saw my chemise drying on the line. You have no right to go snooping about other people's rooms or taking things that don't belong to you.”
Wryn cocked a brow.
“No, I didn't eat all the chocolates. Only most of them, I suppose.”
Wryn grinned. “Not quite. I ate a few, but I think I like the licorice root better.”
Chuckling, Emma shook her head. “Good. I have a few tins you can have, as long as you promise not to go into my room or anyone else's room without permission,” Emma cautioned and held back a smile. “There's also something you need to understand.”
Wryn narrowed her gaze again.
“Mother Garrett just warned me that having too much patience
can be as much of a mistake as having too little, and . . . and I'm afraid I'm inclined to agree with her. From now on, since I'm the proprietress here at Hill House, I'll decide if and when you should be punished if you don't change your ways. If you're disrespectful or misbehave, you'll be punished immediately by being sent to your room, with no writing tablets or books to entertain you. You'll also lose the privilege of joining the rest of the family for meals. I'll have them brought to your room. You could also lose your privileges to leave Hill House. I have no objection if you'd like to visit with Liesel or Ditty at night after supper, but that's also a privilege you could lose.”
“What about the list of punishments I wrote for having my gifts put onto your account?”
“Considering how I've treated you, along with the fact that I'veâthat
we've
eaten through most of the chocolates, you can tear it up or toss it into a drawer, which is what I did with all those clever letters you wrote. We still have to decide what to do with the rest of those ill-gotten gifts you bought, though.”
When Wryn looked away, Emma understood she had said enough for now and stood up. “I don't expect you to change overnight, but I do expect you to try. You may stay here and think about what I've said for as long as you like, although I hope you'll join us for dinner. If there's anything else you'd like to say to me later, I'll listen,” she promised.
She took a step to leave but stopped abruptly. “In the future, I'd prefer not to be addressed as or referred to as Lady Garrett. You may call me Widow Garrett for the time being, although I'd be pleased if you might want to choose a more familial term later. Just so you know, I'll be introducing you to others as my niece,” she offered before leaving Wryn alone.
Emma left the gazebo and headed toward the patio steps
whispering a prayer to thank God for helping her. Although she was tempted to see what Wryn was doing now, she did not look back; instead, she tried to keep her focus on the days ahead and slipped her hand into her pocket. When she found the strips of cloth from Catherine that she had added to her other keepsakes, she smiled and hoped one day to have one there for Wryn, too.
With one burden lifted, her steps were a bit lighter now. The moment she spied Zachary watching her from the patio, she smiled, hopeful she might resolve her doubts about marrying him as easily as she had cleared much of the tension between herself and Wryn. She held on to her smile as she mounted the steps and walked through the gate he had opened for her. “You're back!”
Without returning her smile, he nodded. “Just now.”
“Were you able to confirm everything Morning claimed to be true?”
“Both of my clients should be pleased. Just be sure to have Morning make an appointment with me so I can discuss it with her directly,” he suggested. “How's the war with Wryn going?”
“It's over, or at least I'm hopeful it's over,” she replied. Anxious to make a clean sweep of her mistakes, she quickly explained the plan she had set into motion with Wryn that was now defunct and apologized for involving him, albeit by innuendo, in the first place.
His gaze grew more distant. “Where is she now?”
“She's still sitting in the gazebo, so I don't know what she'll do for certain, but I feel much better and I hope she does, too.”
“I hope you made it very, very clear to Wryn that I had no part in this foolish little scheme of yours.”
Emma blanched. “I told you that I did.”
He shook his head. “Yet you waited until now to tell me how you planned to keep that young woman under control, even though
you had ample opportunity to tell me when we were together in Bounty,” he said, using the same tone of voice he reserved for when he challenged one of her business decisions, like selling the General Store or purchasing Hill House.
“I may have had the opportunity, but given your suggestion that Morning Drummond's interests would be better served by a formally trained lawyer, I had no reason to believe you would be either supportive or understanding of what I'd done in regards to Wryn,” she countered. She had never let him intimidate her in the past when he was strictly her lawyer, and she refused to do so now that he was her betrothed. “I did what I thought was right for her at the time. Perhaps if you hadn't left so abruptly when Mark and I were discussing what to do, you would have been able to offer a more suitable plan. Or perhaps if you'd spent even a few words acknowledging that I was right to try to help Morning Drummond instead of reminding me more than once that I wasn't a lawyer and I should leave her concerns to a properly trained lawyer, I might have told you,” she said, unloading the disappointments she had kept bottled up inside of herself, including the very real fear she had sorely misjudged the man who had claimed her heart.
“It's never been my intention to be anything less than supportive or understanding, with the possible exception of setting a date for our marriage,” he replied.
“Choosing a date to be married is not a simple matter. It's something we need to discuss at length,” she argued, not quite satisfied with his apology.
“You're right, but the sooner we do discuss it, the sooner we can both agree and the sooner we can be married, although I'll grant you one thing: It may take some time to find a suitable buyer for Hill House.”
16
S
TUNNED, EMMA DROPPED BACK
a step. “You don't want to live here at Hill House?”
“It isn't practical. Setting aside the fact that my clients would be greatly inconvenienced by it, there's little sense in either one of us remaining here.”
Emma could only stare at him. She was scarcely able to hear him over the throbbing in her ears. Disbelief unleashed so many questions in her mind she grew faintâfor the first time she could ever remember.
“You're uncommonly pale. Apparently, we should have reserved this discussion for a later time,” Zachary noted with concern. Taking her elbow, he guided her to one of several pairs of outdoor chairs that had been set up on the patio. He helped her into her seat and then turned the chair next to her so when he sat down, he was facing her. “Would you like a glass of water?”
Trembling, she shook her head. “No. I . . . I'm fine. Just . . . surprised,” she admitted, although she was touched by the concern for her that etched his features.
“More than a bit, judging by what I can see. A white linen sheet has more color than you do at the moment.”
She dropped her gaze and folded her hands together on her lap to keep them from shaking. Unable to comprehend how he could expect her to walk away from the home she had worked so hard to make for herself and her guests, she was determined to continue to be as forthright with him as she had been during this entire conversation. After drawing in several long breaths, she looked up at him. “You're right. I am very surprised and deeply disappointed. I just assumed . . . that is, I thought you understood how much Hill House meant to me.”
“When you finally accepted my proposal and agreed to marry me, I assumed that I had come to mean more.” He took one of her hands in his own. “Are you saying now that I haven't?”
She managed a smile. “No, I'm simply saying that you and I apparently have very . . . very different visions of what our lives together would be like.”
“Perhaps we do,” he said, tightening his hold on her hand.
She cleared her throat. “Could you tell me why you want me to leave Hill House? Succinctly,” she added, making the same request he had so often made of her when they had discussed her legal affairs.
“Succinctly put,” he said, “if I can assume you've planned to set aside a specific room at Hill House for my office, I'm afraid my clients would find it most tiresome to traipse up and down the hill to meet with me.”
“I truly didn't think far enough ahead about where your office would be, except that it would be here. My office is obviously too small for you and I'd still need it for myself, but I should think the library would be suitable. From what I've seen of your office, the room would be large enough, although we could make whatever alterations you think are necessary,” she offered. “We'd need to add
an outside entrance, too, so your clients wouldn't have to pass by my guests, who would be using the front parlors or the center hall. I realize there are times when discretion might be paramount.”
“Regardless of how you alter Hill House, accommodating my clients by remaining in town is important, but it's not my first priority,” he cautioned. “I travel more often now, and I was hoping that I wouldn't have to travel alone once we're married.”
“If I travel with you, I'd be gone too often to effectively run Hill House and accommodate my guests. Is that what you think?”
He cocked a brow. “Am I wrong?”
“No,” she admitted. “I need to be here, especially in the warmer months, although I might occasionally arrange for someone to take my place. I'd be much freer to travel in winter when the canal is closed and we rarely have guests, but the weather wouldn't be very accommodating, and opportunities to travel then are limited.”