Read Online The Quilter's Legacy by Jennifer Chiaverini - Free Book Online
Authors: Jennifer Chiaverini
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But the iron gates closed, and the carriage pulled onto the street. She pressed herself against the carriage, both to make herself smaller and less visible to others, but also out of fear that she would tumble from her insecure perch. The short drive to the train station had never seemed longer, but eventually the carriage came to a halt. Eleanor knew she should leap to the ground and hide before Miss Langley descended, but she could not move. She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep, steadying breath. She would not be afraid. She would not.
The carriage door closed; Miss Langley's shoes sounded on the pavement. Eleanor heard the driver chirrup to the horses, and with a gasp, she jumped down from her seat a scant moment before the carriage drove away.
At once a crowd of passersby swept her up and carried her down the sidewalk. She managed to weave her way through the crowd to the station house, where she looked about frantically for Miss Langley. She was not waiting in the queue at the ticket window, nor was she seated in any of the chairs. Eleanor went outside to the platform, where a train waited. She did not know if this was Miss Langley's train, and it would do no good to ask about its destination, for she had no idea where her nanny went on her afternoons off. Even if she had known, she had no money for the fare.
“Miss Langley,” she whispered, and then shouted, “Miss Langley! Miss Langley!”
She called out again and again, until suddenly a hand clamped down on her shoulder and whirled her about. “Eleanor.” Miss Langley regarded her, incredulous. “How on earth—” She glanced at her watch and shook her head. “I cannot send you back alone, and there isn't time to take you back myself.” She gave Eleanor a searching look. “I suppose if I had allowed you to ride Wildrose as you asked, you would not have been so determined to accompany me. Well, there's nothing to be done now but make the best of it. Stay close, and say nothing of this to your parents.”
Eleanor shook her head. Of course she would tell them nothing; she fervently hoped they would never know she had left the nursery. She mumbled an apology as Miss Langley marched her back into the station and bought her a ticket. Miserable, Eleanor wondered what portion of a day's wages Miss Langley had spent on her charge's fare.
Miss Langley took her hand and led her aboard the train. “Sit,” she instructed when she found two unoccupied seats across from each other. Then she directed her gaze out the window as if she had forgotten Eleanor was there. Eleanor stared out the window as well, hoping to lose herself in the passing scenes of the city, but she couldn't bear the punishment of Miss Langley's silence.
“Where are we going?” she finally asked, less from curiosity than from the need to have Miss Langley acknowledge her.
“The garment district.”
Eleanor nodded, although this told her nothing. She knew little of New York except for the streets right around her father's store.
They rode on in silence, and gradually Eleanor forgot her guilt in her anticipation of the outing. Where would Miss Langley take her? To meet her family? A beau? The former seemed unlikely, as the only relatives Miss Langley had ever mentioned were far away in England, but the latter was impossible. She could not picture her nanny linking her arm through a man's and laughing up at him as Mother did to Father when they were not fighting. Not even Abigail's tale about the baby could change her mind about that.
After a time, the train slowed and they disembarked. As Miss Langley led her from the platform to the street, Eleanor looked about, wide-eyed. This station seemed older than the one closer to home, older and dirtier. The street was even more so. Not one tree or bit of greenery interrupted the brick and stone and steel of the factories; the very air was heavy with bustle and noise. She slipped her hand into Miss Langley's and stayed close.
They walked for
The carriage door closed; Miss Langley's shoes sounded on the pavement. Eleanor heard the driver chirrup to the horses, and with a gasp, she jumped down from her seat a scant moment before the carriage drove away.
At once a crowd of passersby swept her up and carried her down the sidewalk. She managed to weave her way through the crowd to the station house, where she looked about frantically for Miss Langley. She was not waiting in the queue at the ticket window, nor was she seated in any of the chairs. Eleanor went outside to the platform, where a train waited. She did not know if this was Miss Langley's train, and it would do no good to ask about its destination, for she had no idea where her nanny went on her afternoons off. Even if she had known, she had no money for the fare.
“Miss Langley,” she whispered, and then shouted, “Miss Langley! Miss Langley!”
She called out again and again, until suddenly a hand clamped down on her shoulder and whirled her about. “Eleanor.” Miss Langley regarded her, incredulous. “How on earth—” She glanced at her watch and shook her head. “I cannot send you back alone, and there isn't time to take you back myself.” She gave Eleanor a searching look. “I suppose if I had allowed you to ride Wildrose as you asked, you would not have been so determined to accompany me. Well, there's nothing to be done now but make the best of it. Stay close, and say nothing of this to your parents.”
Eleanor shook her head. Of course she would tell them nothing; she fervently hoped they would never know she had left the nursery. She mumbled an apology as Miss Langley marched her back into the station and bought her a ticket. Miserable, Eleanor wondered what portion of a day's wages Miss Langley had spent on her charge's fare.
Miss Langley took her hand and led her aboard the train. “Sit,” she instructed when she found two unoccupied seats across from each other. Then she directed her gaze out the window as if she had forgotten Eleanor was there. Eleanor stared out the window as well, hoping to lose herself in the passing scenes of the city, but she couldn't bear the punishment of Miss Langley's silence.
“Where are we going?” she finally asked, less from curiosity than from the need to have Miss Langley acknowledge her.
“The garment district.”
Eleanor nodded, although this told her nothing. She knew little of New York except for the streets right around her father's store.
They rode on in silence, and gradually Eleanor forgot her guilt in her anticipation of the outing. Where would Miss Langley take her? To meet her family? A beau? The former seemed unlikely, as the only relatives Miss Langley had ever mentioned were far away in England, but the latter was impossible. She could not picture her nanny linking her arm through a man's and laughing up at him as Mother did to Father when they were not fighting. Not even Abigail's tale about the baby could change her mind about that.
After a time, the train slowed and they disembarked. As Miss Langley led her from the platform to the street, Eleanor looked about, wide-eyed. This station seemed older than the one closer to home, older and dirtier. The street was even more so. Not one tree or bit of greenery interrupted the brick and stone and steel of the factories; the very air was heavy with bustle and noise. She slipped her hand into Miss Langley's and stayed close.
They walked for
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