If the Prospect Pleases Page 2

  A slow smile teased her lips as her active mind toyed with a few possibilities.

  ❧

  “Phin—e—as!”

  Even in the attic with her door closed, Annora heard the blood-chilling shriek clearly. She rolled her eyes and expelled a frustrated breath, incapable of imagining what Mirah had done this time that would ultimately be blamed on her. Hardly a fortnight passed without at least one incident of a destructive nature. As it was, Annora had long ago been deprived of even the smallest privilege. When she wasn’t helping the housekeeper with the housework or the cooking, or attending service, she was banished to her room. Very seldom was she permitted to leave the grounds unless sent on an errand. How anyone could surmise she somehow managed to find time for mischief despite that fact was beyond her.

  Bolstering her courage, she opened the door and tiptoed to the landing in order to ascertain the problem. She could already detect the light pattering of Mirah’s footsteps as the younger girl all but flew out of her bedroom and down the stairs. Annora knew she would have to follow soon enough, so she quietly began descending.

  “Whatever is amiss, Mother?”

  “Look!” Mrs. Baxter wailed. “Just look! Six months of painstaking needlework, all for naught. Why, the entire piece is in tatters. Ruined. Completely ruined. That wretched, ungrateful girl. . .”

  “Oh, Mother,” Mirah crooned in utmost sympathy, her tone absolutely dripping with honey. “How perfectly awful. Your poor, poor scene. . .and after all your labor every evening.”

  Annora could just picture the brat’s innocent face. No doubt the halo above her head must be dazzling in its brilliance. Why, the dear young thing could do no wrong. Almost choking on the ludicrous farce of it all, Annora held her breath, anticipating how long it would take before she was summoned to face up to this latest alleged infraction.

  Barely a heartbeat.

  “Annora! Annora Nolan!” the older woman called out. “Come down here this instant!”

  “What’s happened, Millicent?” the minister inquired, finally arriving at the parlor. “I heard you all the way out in my office.”

  Descending the main stairs to her certain doom, Annora could see his wife holding forth the tattered embroidery—its myriad strands of colored threads dangling. Obviously it had been savagely hacked to shreds with scissors. She felt a huge lump clog her throat at the horrific sight and swung her attention to Mirah.

  The most minuscule gleam of triumph sparked in the frigid brown eyes, then immediately softened with an affected shimmer of moisture as she turned to fawn over her mother.

  As Annora proceeded into the parlor, the threesome seared her with the heat of their gazes.

  Mrs. Baxter broke the weighty silence. “It positively astounds me, young lady,” she said, her clipped words masterfully controlled by what she termed her good breeding, “that you could find it in yourself to be such a constant source of malicious harm to this household.”

  “I did not do it, madam,” Annora whispered.

  “Hush!” She shot a glance toward her far-too-meek husband, then directed it at Annora again with a disbelieving shake of her head. “I might have surmised you would resort to falsehood again, as you’ve done so often in the past. In fact, I’ve come to expect your lies by now. And that, despite all our prayers on your behalf.”

  “But I did not do it,” Annora repeated. “Why would I want to—”

  “Precisely!” The control began to wane. “Why would you be so ungrateful—so unbelievably hateful to people kind enough to take you in when you were homeless and alone in the world? And penniless, I might add, after those less than wise investments your late father made. I must confess, the thought quite boggles my mind. I had hoped, after these tendencies of yours had surfaced when we first took you in, that our dear little Mirah might be a good influence on you. But I see now that I was wrong.”

  Seeking support from the minister but finding none, Annora felt her last hope fizzle away. She could not bring herself to look at dear little Mirah.

  “Well, Phineas,” the woman continued, her tone one of both resignation and utter defeat, “it should be obvious by now that this. . .ward you insisted we take into our home has far too much idle time on her hands. Some additional labor might be what it will take to cause her to mend her ways. It’s high time she assumes the upkeep of the church along with her other duties. Nellie has been feeling overly tired of late. This should serve to alleviate both problems.”

  Annora could barely swallow.

  “Mother,” Mirah broke in, cloyingly gracious in her manner. “Perhaps I could help out somehow.”

  Mrs. Baxter’s eyebrows arched high in surprise. “Why, that’s very generous of you, darling,” she gushed. “But there’s no reason why you should trouble yourself over any of this. And I’m afraid your music lessons would suffer were your hands to become roughened by harsh soaps.” Her demeanor turned to stone as she regarded Annora once more. “The matter has already been settled.”

  “Yes. Settled. Ahem.” Rocking forward on his toes, then back on his heels, the minister peered through the reading glasses still centered on his nose, his color heightening by the minute. “Well, Miss Nolan, it seems my wife has been gracious enough to extend you yet another chance. I trust you will not waste it. I should hate to be forced to take any more. . . drastic measures. Kindly return to your room. And on the morrow, I shall see you in the sanctuary.”

  “Yes, sir,” Annora all but croaked. “Madam.”

  On her way to the staircase, she met the housekeeper’s expression of understanding as Mrs. Henderson hovered nearby in the hallway. But the level of Annora’s misery precluded any comfort from the woman who had grown to be a dear friend. She willed her legs to carry her up to the attic.

  Once in her refuge, she lay back on her bed and stared at the rough beams above her head. Only the deep, abiding faith she had in the Lord kept her from hating Mirah Baxter. It would have been an easy enough thing to do, but then the younger girl would have had even more to gloat about if she knew she had turned Annora into a person similar to herself. No, it wouldn’t be worth it, when Annora had ammunition of a far superior kind.

  She rolled off the bed and onto her knees. Dearest Father in Heaven, I am supremely thankful for Your presence in my life. If it had not been for You, Mrs. Henderson, and the comfort I find in Mama’s Bible every morning, there’s no way of knowing what would have become of me. I cannot say I feel any love for Mirah—but I know Your great love extends even to her. Her parents have tried to keep my welfare uppermost in their minds, and I know they’ve meant well each time they inflicted a new punishment on me. After all, they truly believe I am in the wrong. Who wouldn’t fall for that angelic act their spoiled daughter plays to perfection?

  She expelled a slow breath, then continued. I know Your dear Son faced even more painful betrayal when He walked this earth, and I pray that You will help me to remember how He suffered in silence and how His very life radiated Your infinite love. Please help me to be faithful in following His example.

  Rising to her feet, Annora moved to the window to gaze out upon the rows and rows of rooftops whose varied hues changed colors as the sun moved across the sky. The view was speckled liberally with patches of green grass where laughing, carefree children played. The pleasant scene added to the indescribable peace flooding her being, and Annora smiled. Somehow, some way, even this would work out for her good.

  ❧

  “The cleanin’ things are stored in the closet at the end of the hall,” Mrs. Henderson explained, escorting Annora about the church building the next day. “I usually look after the reverend’s study on Monday mornings, when he goes to visit our shut-ins. Sweepin’ and dustin’, mostly. Sometimes after a rainy spell you might need to mop. But he don’t like anything on his desk disturbed.”

  “I understand.”

  The housekeeper exhaled in a huff. “I know I don’t have to tell you that the reverend and his wife are good folks
at heart,” she said gently, placing a hand on Annora’s arm. “They made a home for me when my husband passed on and have paid good wages all these years. I wouldn’t think of turnin’ my back on them. Not even when I’m bone-weary of Mirah and her tempers.”

  “I know,” Annora sighed. “I keep hoping that if I stay long enough, I’ll be vindicated, possibly even repay them for their kindnesses. Otherwise, I’d have sought employment with some other family before now.”

  The older woman appeared to mull over that thought for a moment, then tipped her head. “Still, this is just too much, them pushin’ all this work onto those slight shoulders of yours. Why, a good gust of wind could up and whisk you clear into the next county.”

  “I’m stronger than I look, dear friend,” Annora said with a wry smile. She patted the woman’s gnarled hand. “And I’m sure I’ll catch onto all of this soon enough. What’s next?”

  Mrs. Henderson continued to regard her for a moment. “I sometimes think you must’ve been born all growed up. Or else you just had to grow up quicker than most other gals your age—and a far sight more than Little Miss Uppity ever will, I expect!”

  Annora could not help but laugh. “I’m just following the example my mother left me. She loved helping people. And now I know why. It brings joy.”

  “Could be, missy. Could be.” Nodding, she started forward again, gesturing toward various rooms as they came to them. “Well, on Tuesdays the ladies get together in this side room and make quilts for the hospital or roll bandages. . .whatever’s needed. There’s a remnant box in the closet they’ll root through. Mostly they bring spare goods from home. After they finish up, around noon, I come back and straighten things a bit. I do whatever other extra rooms look like they need attention through the week.”

  Annora made a mental note as she listened.

  “Of course, the sanctuary gets swept through and dusted toward the end of every week without fail. Mopped at least once a month—sometimes more often near the doors in rainy or snowy weather. On occasion there might be a weddin’ or funeral, too. That makes extra work for sure. I’ll come help out then. And now and again the reverend likes to have the pews polished. I leave it up to him to say when. Only other thing is the board.”

  “Board?”

  “The public board in the vestibule. A fellow brings by notices to post as they come in from the territories. Some-times somebody in the congregation wants to rent out a room or sell something. They’ll drop a bulletin in the basket for you to pin up. Just keep it lookin’ neat, take down the old ones. . . that sort of thing.”

  “Doesn’t sound too awfully hard, really,” Annora commented with no little relief. “Spread out through the week the way you’ve done it.”

  “Well, all the same, you give a holler if it gets too much for you. I don’t mind a’tall lendin’ a hand. You’ve been such a help since you’ve been here. But. . .be watchful, if you catch my meanin’. Maybe some of the shenanigans will stop now that you’ll be so busy. Then again. . .

  Annora gave the housekeeper a hug. “I’ll be very, very careful. I promise.”

  two

  After helping the housekeeper bring supper in from the kitchen a few endless days later, Annora took her place opposite Mirah at the table and bowed her head for grace. It never ceased to amaze her that, despite her many alleged offenses, she was expected to dine with the Baxters every evening. But then, she supposed it presented the illusion of family unity, should the odd church member happen by.

  “. . .in the name of Thy Son, we pray. Amen.”

  The others echoed the minister’s last word, bringing Annora back to the moment at hand, and with supreme effort she opened her eyes.

  “It’s been the grandest day,” Mirah declared, helping herself to a small portion of roasted chicken breast from the platter her father passed her. “But tomorrow will be even better. Just everyone will be at the picnic.”

  Picnic! Annora had been so busy with her duties, she had completely forgotten about Saturday. And with all that remained to be done to ready the church for Sunday service, she knew she could not even dream of an outing. She seriously doubted she would receive permission anyway, considering the gravity of her latest transgression.

  “We’ll have Annora and Nellie prepare an extra special basket for you, darling,” Mrs. Baxter said, subtly quashing Annora’s hopes. “There should be plenty of food left over from this evening. Nothing is quite as tasty in a picnic lunch as cold chicken.”

  “Thank you, Mother. If the weather remains pleasant, I’ll wear my new dimity frock.” She nibbled delicately at the tender meat on her plate.

  Annora well knew that the look of relish on the younger girl’s face had nothing to do with food, but she maintained her composure, even as her own spirit sank to its lowest ebb. She forced herself to eat as if nothing in the world was wrong, as if her appetite hadn’t vanished the instant Mirah opened her mouth. After all, summer wasn’t half over, she assured herself. There would be plenty of other social gatherings with Lesley and the other church young people. With Jason. Avoiding the haughty brown eyes across the table, Annora somehow endured the remainder of the interminable meal.

  Just as everyone was finishing, the housekeeper entered the room and handed a note to the Reverend Baxter. “This just came for you, sir.”

  The minister’s wife smiled at her. “I must compliment you, Nellie, on this excellent spread. And were those huckleberry tarts I smelled earlier, perchance?”

  “Yes, madam.”

  “Wonderful. I shall have sweet cream on mine, please.”

  “Well,” the reverend cut in, directing his attention to his wife as he laid aside the folded stationery and came to his feet. “I’m afraid I’ll have to decline, my dear. I am needed at the Thornby residence right away. It’s unlikely I’ll be back for several hours. You needn’t wait up.”

  “As you wish.” She nodded to Annora. “You may help Nellie serve dessert.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Blotting her lips on her linen napkin, Annora rose and began clearing the supper plates, glad for the opportunity to leave the room for even a few moments. She was so weary it would be a chore to stay awake until the dishes were done, but no amount of fatigue would stay her tears over the missed outing with her friends.

  ❧

  The interior of the church had never seemed so huge before. Pausing to catch her breath, Annora rested her palms atop the broom handle and gazed at the play of sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows. She had never noticed before how it sparkled over the dust motes in the air, then fell in glowing rainbow patches on the dark polished floor. The gentle peace and reverence of the sanctuary was a balm to her wounded soul as she comforted herself about not seeing Jason Markwell.

  She blew a few damp hairs from her eyes and adjusted her kerchief before continuing with the sweeping. Even though the doctor’s raven-haired son had never openly declared any special feelings he might have for her, Annora always sensed he enjoyed her presence as much as she did his. Had her absence at today’s picnic disappointed him also? Well, she’d probably find out soon enough, when she was forced to suffer through Mirah’s embellishments of the occasion over supper. Clenching her teeth, she propped the broom in a corner and pulled a dust rag from the waistband of her apron, then returned to the front.

  As she moved between the pulpit and the pump organ in the high-ceilinged room, she heard a woman’s muted voice, obviously distressed, drifting from the minister’s office.

  “. . .and he now fears Bertram may not last the night. I don’t know what we shall do if he should actually. . .if he—”

  “I cannot tell you how sorry I am, my dear Mrs. Thornby,” the Reverend Baxter said in his most consoling tone. “He seemed to rally last evening. Of course I will join you and your son as you keep vigil at the bedside.”

  Feeling the intruder as she eavesdropped on someone’s troubles, Annora tiptoed to the opposite end of the large paneled room. She still needed to set the ves
tibule in order for the morning service, so she made short work of sweeping the enclosed entry.

  The sills of the windows flanking either side of the door needed her attention next, she noticed, brushing the rag across their smooth length.

  The pastor’s door squeaked open just then.

  Annora started, and her elbow bumped the small basket off the shelf beneath the public board. Little pieces of paper scattered everywhere even as the Reverend Baxter and his visitor headed toward the vestibule. Quickly gathering the notices within her reach, Annora stuffed them into her apron pockets out of sight, restoring order.

  “I’ll be along very shortly, Mrs. Thornby,” the reverend assured his guest as they reached the exit.

  The large-boned woman drew a handkerchief from the wristband of her long sleeve, then pressed it to her nose. “Thank you. Percy and I, we appreciate your prayers and your presence in this hard time. Hester will let you in when you arrive.”

  Pinning up the new notices during the exchange, Annora saw the pastor nod and close the door behind Mrs. Thornby. Then with little more than a cursory glance at Annora, he went back to his study.

  She breathed a sigh of relief. Finished with the last bulletin, she took a last look around, then went to put away her cleaning things. She might be done here, but there was still supper to get.

  ❧

  “And, oh, it was ever so pleasant to stroll in the shade,” Mirah gushed as she, her mother, and Annora partook of the evening meal without the reverend. “But best of all was when we paired up for croquet.”

  “Always a delightful endeavor,” Mrs. Baxter said, forking a thin chunk of the roast beef on her plate. “Did you choose a partner, dear?” She raised the meat into her mouth.

  Annora toyed with her own food, bracing herself for what she knew would follow.