make a ring.
âI love him, Mama. And he loves me. We want to marry but figure weâll have to elope.â
For several minutes their mother said nothing, but Chantel could see that she was deep in thought.
âYour papa and brothers will be . . . ah . . . surprised,â Mama finally said.
âIâd rather not tell them just yet, Mama.â Isabella got back to her feet and smoothed out her gown. âOrlando and I figure to elope after the New Year. We didnât want to cause problems for anyone over Christmas. I love you all so much.â Isabella turned to Chantel. âI never wanted to hurt anyone.â
She took her seat again and picked up her sewing. âIâm making my wedding dress.â
Mama looked at the piece and then back to her lace making. For several long minutes she said nothing. Chantel could see the troubled expression on her motherâs face, however. She knew this would not be an easy matter to deal with.
Finally Mama looked at Isabella. âThis black lace Iâm working on would hardly be suitable for a wedding gown. Chantel, you brought back a good deal of tatted lace, did you not?â
âSÃ, mama.â
Her mother nodded. âYouâll need some lace for your gown,â she said, continuing to nod. âA wedding dress should have lots of lace.â
Isabella grinned. âThank you, Mama.â
Chantel understood this was their motherâs way of accepting the newsâperhaps even approving it.
âAnd youâll say nothing to Papa and the boys?â Isabella asked hopefully.
Mama nodded. âI say nothing for now. But, Issy, you know in time you will have to tell your papa.â
Isabella nodded. âI know, but Iâm praying for just the right time.â
A long and mournful blast from the mineâs whistle sounded and continued to do so for far longer than any noonday lunch signal. Chantel saw her motherâs face pale, and Isabella jumped to her feet.
âSomethingâs wrong at the mine!â her sister exclaimed. âWe must go.â
She threw the bodice aside once again and ran for the hall. Chantel put aside her tatting, tucking it into her chatelaine before helping their mother to her feet.
âIâm sure Papa and the boys are fine.â
Mamaâs eyes met Chantelâs. âWe must pray for the men.â
âIâm already praying, Mama.â She helped her mother into her woolen coat and then retrieved her own while Mama secured her bonnet. Isabella waited anxiously, wringing her gloved hands nervously. Chantel knew she was worried about her father and brothers, but she was also concerned about Orlando. What if the young man had been killed? What if Papa or Marco or Alfredo had suffered injury or death? What would any of them do?
They hurried with hundreds of other people to make their way to the mine. The mass confusion did nothing to reassure Chantel that everything would be all right. The dust in theair seemed far thicker than usual, she thought, and when someone mentioned a premature explosion, she couldnât help but fear the worst.
âDoes anyone know if there are miners trapped below?â she asked as they joined a crowd of women who had gathered close to the problem shaft.
âThey say a half dozen or so,â one of the women responded. She held a rosy-cheeked baby on one hip, while a small girl held tightly to her skirt. âNobody knows yet what happened.â
As the minutes ticked by in agonizing slowness, Chantel began to search the crowd for her brother and father. When she spied Dante Calarco, she breathed a silent prayer of thanks that he was all right before she even realized what she was doing. Uncertain of why the sight of him caused her to react in such a way, she shook her head, then scanned the faces about her once again. When she finally caught sight of her brothers, she shouted to them.
âMarco! Alfredo! Weâre
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