minimum we’ll
need to redecorate the two main parlors, the washroom off the front hall and
the one near the ballroom, the reception room, the sitting room off the
ballroom, and the ballroom itself. Oh, and we’ll need to repaint the hall, of
course.”
Father thought, blinking a couple of times as he ran through
some mental inventory. “I see no problem with that. If you need assistance
finding reputable workmen, you can always enlist Timothy’s aid.”
“That’s very kind of you, Hiram. Thank you.”
Henry didn’t care about any of the other rooms, but he
realized with a sentimental pang that he did not want the ballroom to be
changed, at least not until he’d had a party in it himself. “Mother? Could we
leave the ballroom as it is? I like the way it looks now.”
“Henry, don’t be ridiculous! That wallpaper is older than
you!”
“I don’t care,” Henry told her. “I think it’s the prettiest
room in the house.”
“We could bring it up to date, darling, and I’m sure you’d
like it even more.”
Henry hesitated, on the verge of a childish tantrum. “But I
like it now . It would mean a lot to me if we could leave it alone.”
“Henry, really, I—”
Father interrupted. “Louisa! It’s the boy’s party and he
likes the ballroom the way it is. Let him have what he wants and you can
redecorate it later.”
Mother gave a haughty sniff. “Fine.” She turned to look at
Henry and forced a happy expression. “We’ll leave the ballroom alone for now,
darling, but no promises about after the party! I think it’ll be necessary to
redecorate the entire house, eventually—though of course not your father’s
study.” She sipped more tea, ate another bite of scone. “Think about what you
might want done with your bedroom, darling. It’s very old-fashioned and you’re
such a modern young man.”
Henry felt overwhelmed. “I’ll think about it.” He would not
actually do this. He felt he had enough to think about without considering
carpets and wallpaper. He was quiet a moment, then remembered Martin’s
excitement at the idea of a party. “Mother, Martin should definitely be
involved in the planning. He’s good at things like that.”
“Well, of course, darling.” Mother graced Martin with one of
her lovely smiles. “I’ll put your Martin to work when the time comes. There’ll
be plenty to do.”
Henry remained nonplussed by this unfamiliar, invigorated
version of his mother. She was prettier, sharper-tongued, and ate more solid
food, and she certainly took much more interest in him than she ever had in her
previous incarnation. It was promising that it had been weeks since he’d seen
Pearl give her a dose of her medicine, and she was out of the habit of staring
through people with glassy eyes. He liked her better than he ever had, but he
wouldn’t go so far as to trust her as of yet. If she did indeed let Martin help
with party plans, it would go a long way toward solidifying the nebulous
goodwill he felt toward her. In the meantime, he would be watchful and remain
open-minded.
After breakfast, Henry wanted a nap and dozed with his head
in Martin’s lap while Martin read to himself from a novel that Pearl had loaned
him, a favorite of hers from her girlhood. It was about a young woman of good
family, orphaned and slaveless, who went to work for an eccentric man as a
governess for his young ward. Naturally, the orphaned governess and the lord
fell in love, but their union was prevented by the existence of an inconvenient
wife, who was mad and kept locked up in the attic. The wife was attended by a
scheming companion who was nearly mad herself, and this wild-eyed slave plotted
against the governess and did her best to thwart the romance. Henry was quite
over madwomen in stories—over the years, Pearl had chosen many books that
featured them—and expressed surprise that Martin would tolerate this one, but
Martin hushed him and said, “I’m enjoying it, Henry. Please go to
need to redecorate the two main parlors, the washroom off the front hall and
the one near the ballroom, the reception room, the sitting room off the
ballroom, and the ballroom itself. Oh, and we’ll need to repaint the hall, of
course.”
Father thought, blinking a couple of times as he ran through
some mental inventory. “I see no problem with that. If you need assistance
finding reputable workmen, you can always enlist Timothy’s aid.”
“That’s very kind of you, Hiram. Thank you.”
Henry didn’t care about any of the other rooms, but he
realized with a sentimental pang that he did not want the ballroom to be
changed, at least not until he’d had a party in it himself. “Mother? Could we
leave the ballroom as it is? I like the way it looks now.”
“Henry, don’t be ridiculous! That wallpaper is older than
you!”
“I don’t care,” Henry told her. “I think it’s the prettiest
room in the house.”
“We could bring it up to date, darling, and I’m sure you’d
like it even more.”
Henry hesitated, on the verge of a childish tantrum. “But I
like it now . It would mean a lot to me if we could leave it alone.”
“Henry, really, I—”
Father interrupted. “Louisa! It’s the boy’s party and he
likes the ballroom the way it is. Let him have what he wants and you can
redecorate it later.”
Mother gave a haughty sniff. “Fine.” She turned to look at
Henry and forced a happy expression. “We’ll leave the ballroom alone for now,
darling, but no promises about after the party! I think it’ll be necessary to
redecorate the entire house, eventually—though of course not your father’s
study.” She sipped more tea, ate another bite of scone. “Think about what you
might want done with your bedroom, darling. It’s very old-fashioned and you’re
such a modern young man.”
Henry felt overwhelmed. “I’ll think about it.” He would not
actually do this. He felt he had enough to think about without considering
carpets and wallpaper. He was quiet a moment, then remembered Martin’s
excitement at the idea of a party. “Mother, Martin should definitely be
involved in the planning. He’s good at things like that.”
“Well, of course, darling.” Mother graced Martin with one of
her lovely smiles. “I’ll put your Martin to work when the time comes. There’ll
be plenty to do.”
Henry remained nonplussed by this unfamiliar, invigorated
version of his mother. She was prettier, sharper-tongued, and ate more solid
food, and she certainly took much more interest in him than she ever had in her
previous incarnation. It was promising that it had been weeks since he’d seen
Pearl give her a dose of her medicine, and she was out of the habit of staring
through people with glassy eyes. He liked her better than he ever had, but he
wouldn’t go so far as to trust her as of yet. If she did indeed let Martin help
with party plans, it would go a long way toward solidifying the nebulous
goodwill he felt toward her. In the meantime, he would be watchful and remain
open-minded.
After breakfast, Henry wanted a nap and dozed with his head
in Martin’s lap while Martin read to himself from a novel that Pearl had loaned
him, a favorite of hers from her girlhood. It was about a young woman of good
family, orphaned and slaveless, who went to work for an eccentric man as a
governess for his young ward. Naturally, the orphaned governess and the lord
fell in love, but their union was prevented by the existence of an inconvenient
wife, who was mad and kept locked up in the attic. The wife was attended by a
scheming companion who was nearly mad herself, and this wild-eyed slave plotted
against the governess and did her best to thwart the romance. Henry was quite
over madwomen in stories—over the years, Pearl had chosen many books that
featured them—and expressed surprise that Martin would tolerate this one, but
Martin hushed him and said, “I’m enjoying it, Henry. Please go to
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