The Acquisition of Elizabeth Grace by Gwen K. Harvey

Author:Gwen K. Harvey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: re:books

CHAPTER THIRTY

Later in the day, Olivia joined Genevieve and my mother in the kitchen, and was tutored how to make the perfect pie crust, while I explored the vegetable garden with Frederick and helped to weed between the rows and pick beans and tomatoes for dinner. Frederick had changed out of his formal house clothes and into a jersey and a pair of work pants.

“Sometimes, it’s nice for us to dress up for company,” he said. With his large brown eyes, he looked like a gentle giant. “We don’t miss being in service, but we do miss wearing our good clothes.”

“Genevieve’s blouse was very pretty, with all those little pleats.”

“That’s one of her old blouses that probably dates back to when your mother was a little girl. It must have a hundred pleats! It was a nightmare for her to iron, but she was very sad when they changed all the maids to plain white blouses. Sometimes you miss something, even a troublesome thing, when it’s taken away.”

I was glad to be on my own with Frederick. He was a friendly man. He seemed like an adult you could ask questions to and trust the answers that came back. I hoped he might fill in some of the gaps that had cracked open around my mother’s history.

“It was very kind of you and Genevieve to help Mother,” I began, as we finished the weeding, shook the dirt off our pants, and stood up. “We visited Oaklawn Park Hotel yesterday, and one of the staff I’d met years ago explained what happened when my mother came back from London.”

Frederick sighed. “Everyone has moments that can be overwhelming in their life.” His thick eyebrows rose and lowered with his words. “Sometimes when there’s a particularly bad moment, it can pull out troubles from every dark corner you have ever been in. Perspective is lost.” Frederick bent down and started to pick the beans, adding them to his basket.

“I was told she found Mr. Wittington.”

“Yes, she did.” Frederick stopped and clawed his fingers gently through the beans. “It was a huge shock. And it brought back other deaths, other losses . . . and guilt.”

I stayed quiet. I wanted to know what he meant but I didn’t know how to ask. Frederick looked directly at me, and I could feel the protector in him. I could see him thinking. He was weighing how much to say.

“Your mother says she carries a small cemetery within her. Deaths she feels responsible for. Lives she swears she has destroyed. She believes that those she loves are safer if they’re not near her.”

“But it wasn’t her fault that Mr. Wittington killed himself.”

“True. But how she lashed out at him the day before on the phone, may have contributed to his state of mind.”

I’m surprised by these words. I’d have expected Fredrick to fully agree with me, not to give a qualified reply.

“What other deaths does she feel responsible for?”

“Your grand mama and grandpa. She had a huge argument with them over the phone, from across the Atlantic, just before the accident.

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