The Promise of Morning (14 page)

Pairs of flirty-tailed wrens darted in and out of the hedgerows as Uncle Arthur’s buggy rolled toward the Newberry farm. Bubbling birdsong drifted through the warm afternoon.

Ellie leaned back against the seat, lifting her face to the sun. “It’s good to be out on such a lovely day, Uncle. I’m glad you came to fetch me.”

“Ruby’ll be happy you could help.” He flicked the reins over the horses’ backs. “Git on there.”

Surprised, Ellie realized they were passing the lane that led to her aunt’s house. “Why aren’t we stopping?”

“Ruby’s at the hotel. Seems like she does everything but sleep there these days.”

The hotel! Ellie felt the thrill of forbidden fruit. She’d never have dared visit the place on her own, but the decision had been taken out of her hands, hadn’t it? Pent-up curiosity won out over her sense of duty to her husband. She leaned forward in anticipation when Bryant House came into view.

While Arthur escorted her to the sewing room, she stole quick glances around the hotel. Green velvet drapes outlined windows in the parlors they passed as they walked down the ground floor hallway. In the center of one room, a display of iridescent plumes in a brass vase rested on a round, marble-topped table.

She drew a breath. “Oh, Uncle, can we stop for a moment?” Not waiting for an answer, she stepped over to the table and touched one of the feathers. “How beautiful!”

“As are you, Mrs. Craig.” She jumped at the sound of Mr. Bel-don’s voice. Ellie had forgotten he lived at the hotel. Had she trespassed?

Flustered, she acknowledged him with a nod. “I’m just leaving.”

“No need.” He came toward her, impeccable in a fawn-colored suit. “These are public rooms. Stay as long as you wish.”

A spicy smell, reminiscent of cloves, drifted over her. Mr. Bel-don’s nearness caused Ellie’s heart to beat in her throat. She loved Matthew. She did. So why did she feel drawn to this dark-haired man who caused her husband such discomfort?

“These feathers.” She tried to control her voice. “What are they?”

“Why, peacock tail feathers, my dear. Have you never seen a peacock?”

She shook her head.

“Truly one of God’s wonders. When the male wants to attract a mate, he spreads his tail until he has a spectacular fan of color on display.” He smiled, demonstrating by spreading his broad fingers apart in a fan shape. “It’s quite a sight. Makes one want to take a closer look.”

Uncle Arthur moved next to Ellie, taking her arm. “If you’ll excuse us? My niece is here to help her aunt.”

“Of course.” Mr. Beldon bowed in her direction. “Always a pleasure. Until next time.”

Her uncle hustled her to an unadorned room at the rear of the hall, where she found Aunt Ruby sitting in a low chair, sewing what looked like a dark gray pair of men’s trousers.

“Here she is,” he announced.

Aunt Ruby jumped to her feet. Ellie noted that rather than her usual linsey-woolsey work skirt and apron, her aunt wore what Ellie knew to be her second-best dress. Although the over-dyed green fabric had faded back to yellow, the black flowered calico pattern in the wide skirt still looked bright. The full sleeves flared like wings as Ruby hugged her niece.

“Thank goodness you could come.” She thrust several cut pieces of gray fabric into Ellie’s hands. “These need to be joined into a tunic. On the stage it will look like chain mail.”

“Chain mail?” Ellie’s mind still felt fuzzy from her unexpected meeting with Mr. Beldon.

“It’s what soldiers wore way back when—kind of like knitted armor.”

Settling onto a chair, Ellie asked, “How do you know all this?”

“Mr. Forsythe has been explaining things to me. It’s a pure wonder how smart that man is.”

Completed garments piled up on one end of the table. Ellie mimicked her aunt’s speed, her needle racing along seams and across hems. When she snipped off a trailing thread, she glanced up and noticed Sorrel Forsythe standing in the doorway. His deep-set brown eyes seemed to bore through her.

“Have you brought a spy into our midst?” When he raised an eyebrow, the lines at the corners of his eyes stretched tight and disappeared.

Ellie froze at his question.

Aunt Ruby laughed and glanced at her niece. “Sorrel’s sense of humor takes some getting used to.” She turned to him and said, “I told you this morning I needed help to get done on time.”

“So you did.” He walked over to Aunt Ruby and rested a hand on her shoulder. “From the looks of things you’ve accomplished your task magnificently.”

Her cheeks pinked. “It was nothing.” Shining eyes betrayed the outward modesty.

Mr. Forsythe nodded in Ellie’s direction. “Would you be interested in seeing the stage sets? We’re doing our dress rehearsal this evening—not that I don’t know this play inside and out.” He flicked the fingers of one hand as if to show that it didn’t matter to him whether he rehearsed or not. “But we do need to practice our marks. The stage upstairs is much smaller than anything we’re used to.”

Practice our marks? He might have been speaking a foreign language. Ellie glanced out the window and noticed that the sun had slipped halfway down the western sky. She stood, holding her sewing basket in one hand. “I don’t think I’d better take the time. My family—”

“Nonsense, child.” Aunt Ruby took the basket and placed it on the table. “You can’t leave until Arthur fetches you, so you might as well go upstairs with us.”

Still she hesitated.

Mr. Forsythe held out his arm, crooked at the elbow. “Come along. The devil’s not crouching at the top of the staircase, I assure you.”

“Go on with you. You know you’re curious.” Her aunt gave her a gentle shove.

Giving up her show of reluctance, Ellie allowed herself to be escorted from the room. Instead of using the main staircase she’d noticed when passing through the reception area, Mr. Forsythe headed for the rear entrance.

Aunt Ruby explained the layout of the hotel as they walked. “These are the stairs the actors use. That way the audience can’t see them in their costumes before the curtain opens.”

Their footsteps echoed in the enclosed stairway as the trio climbed single file to the stage. When she entered the ballroom of the hotel, converted to a theater for Friday’s performance, Ellie blundered into a heavy piece of canvas hanging from a rope stretched across the stage.

“Careful. Paint’s still wet on that one.” Mr. Forsythe pulled her back. “Come around here and you can see how it’ll look from the audience.” He guided her past hanging ropes, their ends coiled on the floor.

Walking from the back of the stage to the front, Ellie thought the musty-smelling canvas backdrops resembled laundry hung out to dry, but when she turned around to look from below the stage, she caught her breath in amazement. A crenellated stone edifice had been painted on the heavy cloth. Green brush strokes along the bottom edge gave the appearance of grass and shrubbery.

“Why, it’s a castle, isn’t it?”

Mr. Forsythe smiled. “But of course. The opening scene takes place outdoors.” He pointed at the tops of the other backdrops hanging behind the castle, enumerating each one in turn. “A banquet room, a sleeping chamber, a battlefield.”

Ellie closed her eyes for a moment, imagining the story as Aunt Ruby had told it to her. She turned to her aunt. “Oh, I wish I could see the play!”

“I wish you could too.”

On the ride home, Ellie clutched her sewing basket to her chest. The smell of oil paint clung to her nostrils the same way the image of the makeshift theater stayed in her mind. The thought of people crowding the second floor of the hotel to see
Macbeth
filled her with envy.

She forced herself to focus on family and home. Next to her, hands on the reins, Uncle Arthur whistled a tuneless ditty and tapped his toe on the floor of the buggy. The sun had dropped low on the horizon.

“Would you like to stay to supper?” Ellie asked.

“Don’t mind if I do. Ruby’s been leaving me to fend for myself lately. A home-cooked meal will go good.”

Surprised, Ellie glanced at him. “She’s not home by suppertime?”

“Nope. Not for the past several days anyhow. Eats at the hotel with them actor folks.”

Ellie felt mild shock. She hadn’t realized her aunt had taken up so completely with the theater troupe. “Don’t you mind?”

“Sure I do, but Ruby’s Ruby. It’ll be over tomorrow night, and she’ll be back home, making me hop to it.” He grinned. “Been kind of peaceful, come to think on it.”

When they crossed the bridge spanning the creek that bordered the Craig farm, Ellie looked over the cornfield, hoping Matthew was still at work and hadn’t noticed her absence. But when they entered the kitchen, he was seated at the table.

He glanced behind their backs. “Where’s Ruby?”

“Left her at the hotel,” Uncle Arthur answered.

One of Matthew’s eyebrows dipped in a half frown. He turned to Ellie, his voice rising. “Your note said you were going to Ruby’s. You were at the hotel all this time? With those people?”

Her heart fluttered in her throat. “I didn’t know that’s where we were going.”

Uncle Arthur came to her defense. “S’true. Guess she figured Ruby was to home when I came to fetch her. But Ruby’s been working at the hotel for some days now.” He glanced out the window in the direction of town. “Makes sense, I guess. Easier than packing everything back and forth.”

“At the hotel.” Matthew looked down at the floor, fingers pinching his lower lip.

Ellie knew he was trying to control his temper. She placed the sewing basket on the table and lifted her apron from its peg on the wall. “Supper won’t take long.” She kept her tone light. “Just have to fry up some sausages to go with the beans. I asked Uncle Arthur to stay.”

Matthew stared at her for a long moment, his eyes dark with anger. “How could you?” The words burst from his mouth. “Week after week I’ve preached against this play. How do you think it looks when my wife parades into the hotel and lends a hand in putting it together?”

“It wasn’t like that. I did it to help Aunt Ruby.” Ellie blinked hard to hold back tears. “She asked for me. After all she’s done for us, how could I refuse?”

“She’s right,” Uncle Arthur said. “It was the Christian thing to do.”

“Christian!” Matthew snorted, glaring at him. “I don’t know what that means anymore.”

Stunned at her husband’s reaction, Ellie put her hand on his arm. “What’s wrong?”

He stepped out of reach. “What isn’t?”

12

Matthew woke at daybreak Saturday. His first conscious thought was one of relief that Friday night’s play was now a thing of the past and life could settle back to normal. He stirred on his side of the bed, careful to keep an open space between himself and Ellie on the feather tick. He longed to roll over and draw her close, but instead slid out from under the coverlet. As his bare feet touched cold floorboards, he heard banging at the back door.

Ellie heard it too, and sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Who’d be here at this hour?”

“Someone must be sick and calling for the pastor.” Matthew snatched his pants from a peg on the wall, slid them on, and tucked his nightshirt into the waistband. “I’ll see who it is.” Barefoot, he hurried from the room.

Ellie followed him down the stairs. When Matthew opened the door, Arthur flung himself inside.

“Is Ruby here?” His eyes cut to the corners of the kitchen, as though he might find her hidden behind a chair.

“It’s barely dawn.” Matthew placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Why would she be here?”

Arthur turned to Ellie. “Did she say anything to you on Thursday?”

“No.” Her jaw dropped. “Do you mean she’s gone?”

“She’s gone all right.”

“Something must have happened to her.” Matthew walked to the stove and tossed several pieces of wood on top of the previous night’s coals. “Did you check along the road to town?”

Arthur stumbled to a chair and sat, covering his face with his hands. “Did more than that. It was just an old man’s foolish hope that she’d be here with you.”

Ellie moved close to Matthew’s side. He grasped her hand and turned to Arthur. “Start at the beginning and tell us what’s happened.”

“Went to that play last night, like half the folks in town, then afterward Ruby said she had to stay and help them pack up. Said she’d have someone bring her out after they was done.” Arthur sighed. “So, I went home to bed. Well, I woke up a couple hours ago, and she still wasn’t back.” He looked at Matthew. “I thought the same thing you did—something happened along the road and she was out there hurt. Saddled up the horse and rode to town, slow-like, with a lantern so’s I could check the hedgerows. Nothing.”