Read Online Our Own Country: A Novel (The Midwife Series) by Jodi Daynard - Free Book Online
Authors: Jodi Daynard
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clearing up after us, and we both soon heard the carriage pull away. “Oh, Cassie! Dear Cassie!” I flew into her arms. “I have been such a fool. Such a terrible little fool.”
She held me to her breast as I cried. I suppose I expected her to give me words of comfort, but instead she said, “You expectin’ an argument, you won’ get none from me, Miss Eliza.”
6
I DID NOT SEE MR. INMAN THE following week, and it was with some relief that I thought courtship together a thing of the past. Consider my surprise, then, when a messenger appeared at our door carrying an invitation from the Inmans. It was lavishly engraved in blue ink and read, “Mr. and Mrs. Ralph Inman request the Honor of your Presence at a Soiree for their Son George Inman.”
“Mama!” I called from the foyer. She entered from the library, where she had been discussing something with Papa. When I saw her, I proffered the invitation and said, “I can’t believe it.”
“What is it you cannot believe, Eliza?” asked Mama.
“I cannot believe that Mr. Inman would continue to pursue my acquaintance after everything that has happened.”
“Why, what has happened? I heard you told him that you had a headache.”
“He was abominably rude to Cassie. I hold it not gentlemanly to mortify a poor servant for no good reason. Surely you must have overheard.”
“Oh, somewhat,” she said vaguely, shrugging her narrow little shoulders. “But one mustn’t make more of things than they are.”
I moved away in slow and stately fashion, only to fly to Cassie the moment I was out of Mama’s sight.
She was placing a loaf of bread in the oven. The kitchen was hot, and perspiration dripped from her forehead.
“Cassie?” I asked. “What think you of Mr. Inman? Be direct with me.”
Cassie shrugged.
“Well, I myself find him everything elegant and charming. And yet—is there not something self-satisfied and cold in his eyes? That is my question.”
She turned to me, set her bread down, and stood to her full five feet. Then she shivered.
“You wan’ Cassie tell you what she tink? Really tink?”
“Of course.”
“Well,” she began. “ ’Ees hollow. Dere nutteeng inside.” She tapped her own breast. “Maybe some garbage.”
I smiled. Cassie’s judgment came as no surprise. “And in demeanor? Some days I think him quite handsome.”
Here, Cassie made her feelings known by a frisson . “’Ee’s as white as milk. And ’ees bot-tom ’ees flat . ’Eet ’ees da sorriest bot-tom I evah seen. A woo-man must ’ave someteeng to ’old on to , Mees Eliza.”
Cassie’s pronouncement on Mr. Inman’s bottom was so passionate and so grave that I let out a sudden snort of laughter.
“Oh, Cassie,” I said. “You are priceless!”
Mama began to prepare us all for the Inman’s party. While I had a fine new gown to wear, she fretted that my brocade shoes were “not quite the thing.” Louisa came to our rescue with a pair of her own, just my size.
Jeb would not attend, not even under another threat of disinheritance. One night, when I nearly collided with him in the dark hallway before retiring, he said, “Eliza. How can you think of attending such an event when the people of Boston starve? Those who strut their wealth while others suffer shall soon be hoist on their own petard.”
“You’re too extreme , Jeb,” I whispered, as our parents had already retired, and I feared waking them. “I see no evil in the fact that the Inmans wish to celebrate their son’s graduation.”
“You sound like our mother.” He smirked. “No, you don’t see, I agree. But your blind eyes shall be opened soon enough. Mark my words, Sister.”
Rebuked, I felt tears come to my “blind eyes” and blinked them back. “Oh, let’s not quarrel. Please.”
“All right.” Jeb placed a hand affectionately on my shoulder. “Well, in any case, I have arranged to stay with friends in town for a few days. That should provide a good enough excuse
She held me to her breast as I cried. I suppose I expected her to give me words of comfort, but instead she said, “You expectin’ an argument, you won’ get none from me, Miss Eliza.”
6
I DID NOT SEE MR. INMAN THE following week, and it was with some relief that I thought courtship together a thing of the past. Consider my surprise, then, when a messenger appeared at our door carrying an invitation from the Inmans. It was lavishly engraved in blue ink and read, “Mr. and Mrs. Ralph Inman request the Honor of your Presence at a Soiree for their Son George Inman.”
“Mama!” I called from the foyer. She entered from the library, where she had been discussing something with Papa. When I saw her, I proffered the invitation and said, “I can’t believe it.”
“What is it you cannot believe, Eliza?” asked Mama.
“I cannot believe that Mr. Inman would continue to pursue my acquaintance after everything that has happened.”
“Why, what has happened? I heard you told him that you had a headache.”
“He was abominably rude to Cassie. I hold it not gentlemanly to mortify a poor servant for no good reason. Surely you must have overheard.”
“Oh, somewhat,” she said vaguely, shrugging her narrow little shoulders. “But one mustn’t make more of things than they are.”
I moved away in slow and stately fashion, only to fly to Cassie the moment I was out of Mama’s sight.
She was placing a loaf of bread in the oven. The kitchen was hot, and perspiration dripped from her forehead.
“Cassie?” I asked. “What think you of Mr. Inman? Be direct with me.”
Cassie shrugged.
“Well, I myself find him everything elegant and charming. And yet—is there not something self-satisfied and cold in his eyes? That is my question.”
She turned to me, set her bread down, and stood to her full five feet. Then she shivered.
“You wan’ Cassie tell you what she tink? Really tink?”
“Of course.”
“Well,” she began. “ ’Ees hollow. Dere nutteeng inside.” She tapped her own breast. “Maybe some garbage.”
I smiled. Cassie’s judgment came as no surprise. “And in demeanor? Some days I think him quite handsome.”
Here, Cassie made her feelings known by a frisson . “’Ee’s as white as milk. And ’ees bot-tom ’ees flat . ’Eet ’ees da sorriest bot-tom I evah seen. A woo-man must ’ave someteeng to ’old on to , Mees Eliza.”
Cassie’s pronouncement on Mr. Inman’s bottom was so passionate and so grave that I let out a sudden snort of laughter.
“Oh, Cassie,” I said. “You are priceless!”
Mama began to prepare us all for the Inman’s party. While I had a fine new gown to wear, she fretted that my brocade shoes were “not quite the thing.” Louisa came to our rescue with a pair of her own, just my size.
Jeb would not attend, not even under another threat of disinheritance. One night, when I nearly collided with him in the dark hallway before retiring, he said, “Eliza. How can you think of attending such an event when the people of Boston starve? Those who strut their wealth while others suffer shall soon be hoist on their own petard.”
“You’re too extreme , Jeb,” I whispered, as our parents had already retired, and I feared waking them. “I see no evil in the fact that the Inmans wish to celebrate their son’s graduation.”
“You sound like our mother.” He smirked. “No, you don’t see, I agree. But your blind eyes shall be opened soon enough. Mark my words, Sister.”
Rebuked, I felt tears come to my “blind eyes” and blinked them back. “Oh, let’s not quarrel. Please.”
“All right.” Jeb placed a hand affectionately on my shoulder. “Well, in any case, I have arranged to stay with friends in town for a few days. That should provide a good enough excuse
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