Sweeter than Birdsong (37 page)

The Winters’ Irish maid let him in. The house was empty, most of it dark and cold. Only a meager fire guttered in the parlor grate— the maid must have just lit it upon his arrival.

The bearded man came in, looking out of place in the feminine, delicate parlor. Ben stood to shake his hand. To his surprise, Mr. Winter’s grip was firm, his eyes clear.

“I am Benjamin Hanby, sir.”

“Yes, I remember you . . .” He trailed off as if reluctant to remember the scene at the Joneses’ house.

“I am here to ask your permission to court your daughter, and to express my regret for not having done so months ago.”

“Yes, my wife had mentioned to me her displeasure with you. Something about that musicale. But then, I told her not to force Kate to do it.” His nose was red with the broken veins of the alcoholic, but no odor of whiskey or stale spirits floated around him. “But I do not have any say in the household now.”

It was not Ben’s place to hear such revelations—he shifted from one foot to another. But the man was so lonely that it would be heartless not to respond. “Sir, your opinion is significant to me. Are you willing to grant me permission to court your daughter?”

The fire threatened to go out, casting deep shadows under Mr. Winter’s heavy brows. He looked like a soul in torment. “I am telling you that I do not have the right to speak for either my daughter or my wife. My sins have lowered me in their eyes, and with good reason. My wife must decide on your question.”

“Sir . . .” Ben hesitated. “You seem quite well today. Different from when I last saw you.”

“You mean because I am not drinking. Yes. I am attempting to reform.”

Ben could not tell if it was bitterness or pain that spurred Mr. Winter’s dry riposte.

“I am going to see your wife, sir. In Philadelphia.”

Mr. Winter stopped as if contemplating something deep in his soul. “Then I would like you to tell my wife and daughter something.”

“Yes, sir.” He almost dreaded to hear it.

“Tell them they may return without fear of harm, ever. That if the bottle ever masters me again—and I hope and pray it will not—that I will leave them here and never return.”

There was no polite response to such a thing—it was not a sentiment commonly expressed in parlors. And so Ben would not treat it so, with mumbled pleasantries and excuses. He would treat it as a man should. “I will tell them, sir. And I respect your intention.” He stood and extended his hand once more. Mr. Winter creaked to his feet and shook Ben’s hand in farewell.

The maid let him out and Ben walked down the steps, glad to be out in the crisp, open air on the field of snow that covered Northwest Street.

What could Mr. Winter mean by a return without fear of harm? Had the hand he just shook ever been lifted in violence against Kate or her mother? Ben grimaced and wiped his hand on his trousers before he realized what he was doing. But whatever had gone before, a repentant man should not be shunned if he could keep to his resolve.

He would bring Mrs. Winter the message, along with his own. He would simply have to pray that Kate would not be returning to this house for long, and that if Mrs. Winter and the younger sister did, Mr. Winter would not fail them again.

Forty

K
ATE ARRIVED IN THE DINING ROOM THE NEXT
morning to find the table set with silver, crystal, pastries, and fresh fruit. An Irish maid in crisp black and white curtsied to her.

“Good morning, miss. Mrs. Cadwalader should be down any minute.” The maid whisked herself away to the kitchen.

Kate wore her best blue morning dress, but still felt shabby in the formality of her mother’s family home. Her mother had said they would go shopping after breakfast. It would have been wonderful to be here in the city, with a thousand shops to explore, had her mother’s response to Ben Hanby not rained ash on everything. Columbus was just a rural village compared to the magnificence of Philadelphia, but even such urban splendor was bound to be lost on Kate now.

“Good morning, Kate,” Aunt Mary said, rustling gracefully into the room and taking a seat across the table. She wore an exquisite maroon dress embroidered with intricate leaves and flowers. She selected a croissant from the small mound on the crystal platter and offered it to Kate. “Do you care for pastry?”

“Thank you,” Kate said, and began to butter it. How would she pass all this time with someone she didn’t know?

Fortunately, her mother walked into the dining room at that moment, her hair impeccable. Apparently she did not always need Tessie to arrange it for her.

Aunt Mary offered her some breakfast as well. Kate could not stop sneaking glances at her aunt. She was so like her mother, even in some of the words she chose. But so much softer.

Aunt Mary filled her mother’s teacup. “I’ve been in to see Mother this morning. She’s still not able to speak. I’m sorry, Ruth.”

“You’re not responsible for her illness.”

“I know, but I believe she has many things she would like to say to you.”

“Such as?” Kate’s mother sounded very satirical.

Kate was embarrassed on her behalf. They were guests in this house, no matter what had gone before.

Mary dropped her head. “Those are words she must say herself.” She spoke gently and took her time cutting a pear into even slices before speaking again. “I hope you will give us the pleasure of entertaining you until she recovers the power of speech.”

“Do you think she will?”

“I am sure of it. She had a spell like this before, and it only lasted a few days.”

A loud rap at the door interrupted their conversation. They heard the manservant answering and a woman’s voice. Then a young woman walked into the dining room.

She looked like Kate, only a few years older. The same dark, wavy hair, piled artlessly atop her head, the same vivid blue eyes, and the same fair complexion. Kate felt a clutching at her heart. This was her family.

Mary rose, delight radiating from her smiling face.

“Ruth, this is my daughter, Georgia Cadwalader Adams. Georgia, this is your aunt, Ruth Morris Winter.”

Kate’s mother extended her hand politely, but Georgia drew her into a warm embrace. “Aunt Ruth! I am so glad you could come! How wonderful to meet you.”

Kate watched in silent fascination. She did not think she had ever seen her mother embraced. Her mother looked slightly shaken but covered it well. “Thank you.”

“You will have to come over and meet your great-niece and -nephew as soon as you have a moment.” Georgia’s smile broadened in welcome as she turned to Kate. “And you, my twin!” She almost crowed in delight.

Kate could not help but smile despite the heaviness in her heart. “I’m Kate. We must be cousins.”

Georgia gave her a warm peck on the cheek. “Kissing cousins!” She laughed, and Kate had to chuckle too, both taken aback and pleased.

“Mother,” Georgia said, “I have a surprise for us. Dear Arthur has procured us extra invitations to the charity ball tonight.”

Georgia reached out to touch Kate’s mother’s arm. “Would you like to come with us, Aunt Ruth? Please do! Arthur would love to meet you, and my brother Geoffrey is bringing his wife too.”

“I didn’t bring an evening gown with me.”

“But you are welcome to wear one of mine,” Mary said. “We look to be still of a size.”

“And you may wear one of mine!” Georgia said to Kate. “I will bring it back with me.”

“I suppose we can go,” Kate’s mother said.

“Wonderful!” Georgia clapped her hands.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Ruth Winter said, “I plan to go on a shopping expedition today, so I’ll need to leave soon.”

“Oh, I’ll come with you, if you don’t mind,” said Mary. “I have some things to buy too. And I would enjoy the opportunity to hear more about my nieces.”

Kate’s mother looked as if she wished that her sister would not come along, but she could not say so. “Very well.” She headed for the stairs.

Kate smiled at Georgia. She had a cousin, and she liked her already.

The ballroom of Powel House was in the fashion of the previous century, sculpted white molding over the fireplace all the way to the ceiling. The musicians clustered along the wall, strings, woodwinds, and brass, with a large drum and cymbal.

“May I confess something?” Kate said to Georgia under the cover of the swirling music.

“Of course.” Her cousin smiled.

“I have never heard so many instruments play together at once.”

“Really? But it’s only a chamber orchestra.”

“I know. I am a country mouse.”

“You do not look like one. You look like a belle of Philadelphia, and you will probably receive dance invitations by the dozen.”

“But I do not know how to dance.”

“Never fear. You will not have to dance if you do not wish it. This is no great affair, just a run-of-the-mill ball to raise support for a local orphans’ home.”

“Only in this city could there be such a thing as a
run-of-the-mill
ball.” Kate smiled, and her cousin laughed.

“Quite true. But the main thing is that you may do as you wish, even if that should mean sitting against the wall and watching. Though I do hope you’ll enjoy the music and the refreshments.”

“Oh, I’m sure I will.”

The violins shimmered into a rest, and the flutes picked up the melody over the rhythm of the cello and double bass. How Ben would love this glorious music. It might be one of the Lanner waltzes Cornelia had played for Kate on the piano, but it sounded so different with the rich textures of the orchestra. She would be quite content to listen all evening.

“Mrs. Adams, you have a lovely guest, I see.” A young man bowed to Georgia and smiled at Kate.

“Mr. Cutler, this is my cousin from Ohio, Miss Winter.”

“A delight.” His brown hair was short, but swept forward in the current style to wisp near his face. He was handsome, she supposed.

“Would you honor me with a dance this evening, Miss Winter?”

Kate hesitated.

“My cousin is not ready for dancing yet, Mr. Cutler.” Georgia rescued her. “She is still fatigued from the journey. But she is a lover of music, so I asked her to come sit with me and enjoy the evening.”

“Ah. The orchestra is excellent.” He seated himself next to Kate. “I am also a lover of music, Miss Winter.”

Her mother eyed her from across the room, where she and Aunt Mary had gone to remember old times with some childhood friends. At least Kate’s mother was too far away to even guess at the content of their conversation. That would stifle some of the matrimonial speculating that was undoubtedly beginning in her mother’s brain.

“And do you happen to know the composer of this piece?” Only belatedly did she realize she was conversing with a strange young man. The music had distracted her. Her tongue grew clumsier and her head emptied.

“Lanner, I believe.”

Kate fumbled for more sentences. To her surprise, it was not difficult to find more. Here in the city, she had numerous questions to ask. “Have you heard other orchestras here?”

“Yes, several good ones. But I prefer my music in the opera, or even in the theater.”

He had captured Georgia’s attention. “Indeed, Mr. Cutler? I did not know that. I’m surprised we have not crossed one another’s paths more often. Arthur and I love the theater. Do you frequent Chestnut Street?”

“Usually. Not of late, however.”

“Yes, tickets are scarce for
Uncle Tom’s Cabin
. Splendid production, however.”

“That’s in the eye of the beholder.” Mr. Cutler’s expression grew dark.

“Oh, look, Arthur is coming now.” Georgia rose to her feet, tiny beads sparkling on her gown. “Miss Winter, let us go to him. He had someone he wanted to introduce. If you will excuse us, Mr. Cutler.”

He stood as Kate did and bowed. He did not seem in a good humor.

“Why is he so vexed?” Kate murmured to Georgia as her cousin took her arm and headed for her husband.

“My mistake. I should not have mentioned
Uncle Tom’s Cabin
. Passions are running too high on slavery and the Union.” They reached her husband. “Arthur, you said you would like Miss Winter to meet someone?”

Her husband appeared confused, then regained his poise. “Oh yes. Come with me.” He offered an arm to each of them. It seemed like a dream that Kate had joined this glittering train of women and the elegant company of dancers out on the floor. Her mind and body were present, but her heart had sent its regrets and was back in Westerville, of all places.

Nothing stirred her but the music, and as soon as the introductions to various persons were finished, she turned to Georgia. “Please, you must go out and enjoy the dance. I would be just as happy sitting by the wall and enjoying the concert.”

“But I cannot leave you alone, nor do I wish to.”

“But what will Arthur do?”

“He can manage for himself—he is quite the conversationalist, aren’t you, dear?”

Arthur smiled. “I have been known to enjoy a good talk.” He bowed a fraction and walked over to the gentlemen.

Kate was glad that Georgia stayed with her all evening, as several gentlemen requested dances. Her cousin fended them off on Kate’s behalf with gentle excuses of travel fatigue.