A Changing Light by Edith Maxwell (feel good books to read txt) 📕

“I thank thee, Georgia.” My feet were chilled from getting wet earlier, and a cold breeze had blown up, too. A ride would be lovely. I moved closer to Wilson. “I’m pleased to make thy acquaintance, Wilson. Has thee worked for Georgia long?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve been with Mr. Clarke’s family since I was a lad.” He smoothed the neck of the horse, whose light gray coat was indeed nearly silver.

“I see. I wondered if thee might be able to tell me what time thee drove Luthera Harrington home on Second Day evening this week. What thee calls Monday,” I hastened to add.

He gazed directly at me for the first time. His lips rounded, as if he was about to ask “Why?” Instead, he closed his mouth and nodded. “Yes, ma’am. It was nearly midnight.”

“That’s late. Does thee live here on the property?”

“I have quarters in the carriage house, ma’am.” He glanced toward the back, where a sizeable two-story carriage house stood, with trim and paint to match the main house.

“Where did thee pick up Luthera, if I may ask?”

“Why, in front of the opera house, ma’am. It’s where the evening’s festivities were held.”

“Was she alone?”

He blinked, and the corners of his mouth turned down. “Of course not, ma’am. That would be unseemly for a lady. Mr. Clarke escorted her.”

“I see. Did she seem flustered or . . . ?” I let my voice trail off. I couldn’t very well ask if she’d had blood on her.

“I’m sure I wouldn’t know, ma’am.”

Or didn’t want to say, more likely. “Well, I thank thee for this information.”

“Would you like to return home now, Mrs. Dodge?” His tone sounded like he would like to be rid of me, even if I wasn’t ready to go.

But I was out of questions for now. And I had new things to ponder.

“Yes, please.”

Chapter Twenty-seven

David and I sat at a table next to a window that evening in the Grand Hotel, which perched atop Whittier Hill, one of the highest points in Amesbury. The lights of the town twinkled in the distance below. The clink of silver on china and a room full of murmured conversations surrounded us.

I gazed at what remained of my chicken cutlet, which had been delicately flavored with herbs and lemon. A final morsel of mashed potatoes and one last asparagus spear, imported from somewhere south of here, still awaited me. Around here the tasty shoots didn’t come up until mid-May. Across from me, my husband popped in the last bite of his roast beef, which had been served with a mushroom sauce and potato croquettes. We’d managed not to discuss the murder once during dinner.

“I am nearly full to the brim,” I said. “But not quite.” I cut a piece of asparagus and savored it.

“This is a nice break, isn’t it?” David sipped from his red wine.

“It certainly is. Thank thee for suggesting it.”

“And you look lovely in your new frock, my dear.”

“Thank thee.” I smiled at him. For our outing, I’d changed into the green dress, which was plain and pretty at the same time. I felt vain liking that it complemented my coloring, but even Friends want to look nice for their dearly beloved. What with the bloom of pregnancy on my cheeks, I hadn’t needed to use any “Quaker rouge,” the rub of a mullein leaf that pinkened skin in a pleasant way. “This style is ever so much more comfortable.”

“And if you are at ease, the baby will be as well, isn’t that right?”

“I believe so.” I thought of what Esther had said about Akwasi being overjoyed at having a baby boy. “David, does thee hope very much for a son?” I resettled my spectacles, which had a habit of slipping down my nose.

“Rose, don’t you know me by now? A son would make me happy, but so will a daughter. All I care about is you and the baby making it through in good health. I’m not the archaic type of man like the new father you told me about last year, who wouldn’t even acknowledge his newborn daughter after her twin brother died.”

“Because all he wanted was a son,” I said, remembering.

“Our child will be perfect, regardless of its sex.”

“We are in agreement.” I smiled at him.

“I have some news. I agreed to let offices on Market Street today.”

I clapped my hands. “That’s wonderful. I’m so glad, dear David.”

“As am I. It’s near the square, and in the same building as Dr. Norton, the homeopathist. I’ll switch my attending privileges to the Methodist Hospital a little farther out on Market next month.”

“Bravo.” I gazed out at the darkness. Despite the beauty of the evening, it brought to mind the night of Justice’s murder. Luthera hadn’t left the opera house until midnight, but she’d been with Robert Clarke. Being escorted home did not clear her of the murder, though. She could have left the festivities earlier, shot her husband, and returned. For that matter, so could have Ned or William. Were Kevin and his men asking all who had been present their whereabouts and what they’d seen? I hoped so.

“A penny for your thoughts, my dear?” David asked gently. “Or maybe I needn’t pay. I wager you’re thinking about”—he glanced around and lowered his voice to a murmur—“this week’s events.”

“Thee knows me too well. I spoke with Kevin this afternoon. He doesn’t seem to be making much progress.” I glanced up as a couple approached us. When I saw it was Jonathan Sherwood with a pleasant-looking woman, I smiled.

“Good evening, Jonathan,” I said. “Has thee met my husband, David Dodge? David, this is Jonathan Sherwood of Lowell’s Boat Shop. He also sits on the Board of Trade.”

David rose and the men shook hands.

“This is my wife, Amy,” Jonathan said. “Amy, midwife Rose Dodge.”

We exchanged pleasantries. “Did thee enjoy thy meal?” I asked her.

“Very much,” Amy said.

Jonathan nodded his agreement.

“I had an excellent older midwife here in town for our son’s birth ten years ago,” she said. “Do you know