Homespun Bride by Jillian Hart Page A

choked on a sob “—I shall never forgive you. Mark my words! I will hold it against you for all eternity, that’s wh-what I’ll d-do.”
    Her aunt broke down again, all tears and incoherent fear. Noelle unfolded her hands from prayer and rose to find a fresh handkerchief from the top bureau drawer. The eerie, waiting silence of the room and of the house made her padding footsteps seem louder than a herd of horses at feed time.
    â€œHere, Henrietta.” She felt her way to the other side of the bed, where her aunt sat sobbing. “What more can I do for you?”
    â€œThere’s nothing you can do, child. All I want is to see my Robert awake and alive and as good as new. That’s what I want.” She took the handkerchief and blew her nose with a trumpeting sound. “That man! Why did he go and do that? Mr. McKaslin told him not to buy that mare. Not a lick of sense. He’s at that age.”
    Knowing her aunt needed to talk, that it would comfort her, Noelle knelt on the wood floor. “What age?”
    â€œSelling the house in town, moving out here to this wilderness is trouble enough. But he quit his job at the bank. Quit. We still have our girls to raise and marry off, every single one of them. This is not the time to begin a horse ranch. Weddings are expensive and we’ll have five of them, and Lydia’s and Meredith’s finishing school costs. Next year Angelina will be attending the academy in Boston, and the year after that Minnie. How will we find good matches for the girls and their lasting happiness if we cannot afford it?”
    Noelle found Henrietta’s elbow and from there, took her aunt’s hand in both of hers. She knew her aunt well enough to know it wasn’t the finances she was so distraught over. Henrietta’s love was so deep for her husband she could not speak of it.
    Noelle wished she knew how to comfort that kind of pain. She felt inadequate as she gave Henrietta’s hand a loving squeeze. “One worry at a time. You’re not alone, my dear aunt.”
    â€œYou are a blessing to me.” Henrietta sniffled. “What is keeping that doctor? Doesn’t he know my Robert needs him? What kind of a physician takes his own sweet time? I should write a letter of complaint.”
    She heard the echo of an approaching step at the far end of the hallway.
    â€œThe doctor’s riding up now.” Cook charged into the bedroom, breathing hard with her exertion. Water sloshed in a basin and she plunked it down on the top of the bureau. “Out of the room, missy. The doc will need room to work.”
    Yes, she was in the way. Noelle released her aunt’s hand and pressed a loving touch to her uncle’s forehead. He was such a good man. He had taken her in when she’d had nobody else. He was a good husband and father.
    As she slipped from the room the doctor was hurrying up the stairs, perhaps let in by the maid, Sadie, and once again, Noelle was in the way when she wanted so badly to do something to help. She took several paces back and waited in the hallway’s cool corner until the medical man strode through the doorway in a great hurry and clatter.
    Only then did she make her way downstairs. With a trembling step and a heavy heart, she retreated to her chair in the parlor. The low crying and quiet sniffles told her she wasn’t alone in the room. The fire was low, judging by the dull hum of the flames and the lazy occasional pop, but she could not see to add wood to the grate.
    â€œMatilda? Would you like me to pray with you?”
    Another quiet sniffle. “N-no. I just left Minnie and Angelina praying in the library. I j-just hurt s-so mu-uch.”
    â€œWhat can I do for you?”
    â€œThere’s nothing that you can do. Only the d-oc-tor. And G-god.”
    â€œShould I make you some hot tea?”
    â€œThat would be l-lovely.” Matilda stifled a sob. “Cook’s lemon