After Alice Fell(51)

I swallow back bile. “No letter.”

“Do you need to sit? You’re looking quite pale.” She maneuvers me to the bench by the gnarled trunk, shifting away the willow branches and letting them settle back like a curtain around us. “There. Better?”

The light is a sea green. As if we are inside a glass bulb. The branches scrape the dirt, stirred by a single breeze. Ada drags her upper lip over her teeth and then releases it. She flicks her fan and waits.

“How goes the complaint?”

“I’ve heard nothing,” I say. “I don’t think the constable takes it seriously.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it. If the complaint doesn’t involve cards, stolen horses, or a few bills dangling just within reach, it drops to the bottom of the list.”

“How would you know that?”

“Follow the crimes that never get to court, Thomas says. He’s very keen on justice. Or the blind eye it’s given in Harrowboro.”

“Where are you both?” Thomas calls from down near the pond.

“I’m overheated.” Ada raises her voice enough for it to carry. A teacher’s voice with its stolid edges. “We’ll be down soon.” She twists the fan and flips it back. “Nine p.m., Kitty said. It’s the shift change. There’s a thick patch of woods along Bow Brook, just at the turn from Pleasant. A Mr. Stoakes will meet you there.”

I blink in surprise.

“Wednesday night.” She lifts her chin to fan her exposed neck. “We were meant to sing chorales with the women last Thursday. But only a few were brought down to the dining hall. Everyone was too careful. Dr. Mayhew sat with us. Not his usual custom. He’s a friend of Thomas’s. They meet at the Reform Club sometimes. They’re meeting Wednesday night.”

“When Mr. Stoakes will be in the woods.”

“At just that time.” She peers up through the tangle of branches, then at me. “Are you certain there was wrongdoing?”

“Yes.”

“Hm.”

The willow branches slip and bobble across the ground and are dragged up in Lionel’s hand. “Telling secrets?”

Ada snaps her fan shut and sets it to her lap. “Women always have secrets, Lionel.” She smiles and sways so our shoulders touch. “But no, we were just solidifying plans for her visit to us. I’m trying to induce her to speak to the girls in my class. She can talk about nursing and other such adventures. I thought I’d ply her with dress shopping first.”

“Oh. Well, of course.” He blanches as he looks at me. “Do you need a new dress?”

“Even widow’s togs can be fashionable.”

“I’ll just look, Lionel.”

“Get what you want.”

“It’s all settled, then. If you’re certain, Marion.” Ada stands and moves next to Lionel. “I’m so glad you came to escort us. I’m a bit peckish for those cherries.”

After the walk, the Hargreaveses take to their buggy. Ada reaches down for Cathy’s hand and then mine. “What a pleasure to see you all. And you—I’ll see you Wednesday.” She pulls on her gloves and drops back to the buggy seat. Her skirts billow and settle. “You’ll give the girls a fine lecture, I am sure.”

Thomas flicks the reins. The skin ripples across the black hair of the horse’s haunches, and the Morgan jitters to the side before moving off at a trot. Toby runs alongside, trailing his hand through the hedge. Mr. Hargreaves stops at the end of the drive, then lifts his top hat as they turn to the road. Ada twists back to wave. She holds my gaze, her smile dropping, and she gives one final nod before they are off and away.

Lionel swats a fly from in front of his face. “Still maddening.” He rubs Toby’s head and turns to the house. “Checkers?”

Toby nods and traipses after him.

“Thank you,” Cathy says. She watches the road, the lift of dust from the wheels of the buggy.

“For what?”

“Them. Company.” She takes her handkerchief from her skirt waist and dabs her forehead and the back of her neck. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

“I do. Only Benjamin’s students came to the cottage. Just for their study nights. We had no other company. He forbade it.”

“Why?”

“He was ashamed.” The buggy is out of sight; the dust clings to the air. “I know what it’s like.”

“But you have a new friend now. Who invited you, and not me, to visit.” She paces to the door, then back. “What did I do wrong? Really and truly?” She pulls in a deep breath, blows it out, then lifts her palms. “Does anyone see me? Or do they just see a second-rate second wife?”

I press my lips tight.

“What is it you want to say, Marion?”

“Nothing. I don’t want to say anything.” I step past her.

“So you’ll shut me out too.”

“I’m not shutting you out.” My foot catches on the front step. I right myself and turn to her. Her shoulders are clutched tight, and she pins me to the steps with a stubborn look. Her loneliness rolls off her in waves, and I think how hard it must be really. That she is looked at askance. That the Turee gossip is like a noose. I’ve seen her perched on the settee, awaiting cards that won’t come, ears perked to carriages that won’t stop. “I know how hard it’s been for you. I appreciate—”