perplexed, her eyes filled with concern.
“Oh, Hettie. It’s really—it’s really quite funny. He outsmarted them. Again. That funny little man. Mr. Williams. He—he’s as sharp as—”
Hettie was still shaking her head, wondering if Julia herself needed an asylum.
Through spurts of laughter Julia told Hettie the story. “They came here to get Mr. Williams. He had been a visitor at the asylum where Mrs. Williams—no Miss Whistler—that was her real name—was a patient. They weren’t married at all. Well, Mr. Williams tried to get her discharged, but she never seemed to get well and so they kept her in the asylum. He loved her, and when they wouldn’t discharge her to his keeping—well—he just stole her away. They are really—how do you say it—on the lam—the run. And those two men thought they had caught up with them here—but when I came up to call Mr. Williams—he was already gone.”
Julia was laughing again, great tears rolling down her cheeks. Hettie couldn’t tell if her tears were from laughing or crying. Julia didn’t know either.
“It’s sort of sad,” Julia stopped to say. “Sad—and sweet. Imagine—the old gentleman loving her enough to risk everything. He left only a note—and the money.” Then Julia’s face brightened. “Well, I’m glad,” she said firmly. “I’m glad they got away. The men from the asylum implied that I knew all about this. That I helped them escape. Well, I didn’t. But I’m not sure I wouldn’t have—had I known.”
At the sound of Hettie’s gasp, Julia hastened to explain. “Well, why not? I mean, they are hurting no one. Why shouldn’t they be free to live their own lives? Wouldn’t it have been wonderful if we could have had the minister marry them? Just think! We could have given them a little reception!”
Hettie did not respond enthusiastically.
“Don’t you think—?”
“I think they are total strangers,” said Hettie slowly but firmly. “I think they were fugitives. We don’t know much at all about their circumstances—but—if she was in an asylum, then there must have been a need for her to be there. A reason.”
Julia sobered. Hettie was right. “Well, they seemed so—so blameless—so sweet,” Julia ventured.
Hettie nodded.
“They left the money,” Julia said again, showing Hettie the bundles. “He was very, very generous. He figured the cost of the rooms exactly. And he left money for the picture, the one from the hallway. The one she would sit and look at,” Julia explained. “He even left money for the food they took with them.”
“So that’s where it went,” Hettie said. “I went to get dinner and couldn’t find—”
“Did they take much? He certainly left adequate payment.”
“I haven’t checked closely. I just couldn’t find some things I was looking for. I couldn’t understand—and when I saw those two strange men I started to worry.”
Julia’s eyes darkened as she remembered the two men. She tucked the bills in her apron pocket.
“Well, as you say, perhaps she should be back at the asylum. Perhaps there is a reason for her being there. But—well, quite frankly, I’m glad they got away. I wish them the best—wherever they are, and I hope they are able to outsmart those two bloodhounds—forever.”
Julia closed the dresser drawer and wiped her hands across her apron.
“Now, perhaps we should check the pantry. We might need to do some shopping before dinner.”
Chapter Fourteen
Summer’s End
Julia hung a small mirror in the hall where the painting had been. She missed the quiet scene, but she would not have taken it back from the woman who had found so much joy in it. “I do hope it brings you many hours of pleasure,” Julia whispered as she adjusted the mirror.
Julia went to the kitchen to help Hettie prepare tea for the committee meeting. Jennifer and Felicity were already there. Felicity was bent over a rolling pin, working on pie crust, and Jennifer was whipping the
“Oh, Hettie. It’s really—it’s really quite funny. He outsmarted them. Again. That funny little man. Mr. Williams. He—he’s as sharp as—”
Hettie was still shaking her head, wondering if Julia herself needed an asylum.
Through spurts of laughter Julia told Hettie the story. “They came here to get Mr. Williams. He had been a visitor at the asylum where Mrs. Williams—no Miss Whistler—that was her real name—was a patient. They weren’t married at all. Well, Mr. Williams tried to get her discharged, but she never seemed to get well and so they kept her in the asylum. He loved her, and when they wouldn’t discharge her to his keeping—well—he just stole her away. They are really—how do you say it—on the lam—the run. And those two men thought they had caught up with them here—but when I came up to call Mr. Williams—he was already gone.”
Julia was laughing again, great tears rolling down her cheeks. Hettie couldn’t tell if her tears were from laughing or crying. Julia didn’t know either.
“It’s sort of sad,” Julia stopped to say. “Sad—and sweet. Imagine—the old gentleman loving her enough to risk everything. He left only a note—and the money.” Then Julia’s face brightened. “Well, I’m glad,” she said firmly. “I’m glad they got away. The men from the asylum implied that I knew all about this. That I helped them escape. Well, I didn’t. But I’m not sure I wouldn’t have—had I known.”
At the sound of Hettie’s gasp, Julia hastened to explain. “Well, why not? I mean, they are hurting no one. Why shouldn’t they be free to live their own lives? Wouldn’t it have been wonderful if we could have had the minister marry them? Just think! We could have given them a little reception!”
Hettie did not respond enthusiastically.
“Don’t you think—?”
“I think they are total strangers,” said Hettie slowly but firmly. “I think they were fugitives. We don’t know much at all about their circumstances—but—if she was in an asylum, then there must have been a need for her to be there. A reason.”
Julia sobered. Hettie was right. “Well, they seemed so—so blameless—so sweet,” Julia ventured.
Hettie nodded.
“They left the money,” Julia said again, showing Hettie the bundles. “He was very, very generous. He figured the cost of the rooms exactly. And he left money for the picture, the one from the hallway. The one she would sit and look at,” Julia explained. “He even left money for the food they took with them.”
“So that’s where it went,” Hettie said. “I went to get dinner and couldn’t find—”
“Did they take much? He certainly left adequate payment.”
“I haven’t checked closely. I just couldn’t find some things I was looking for. I couldn’t understand—and when I saw those two strange men I started to worry.”
Julia’s eyes darkened as she remembered the two men. She tucked the bills in her apron pocket.
“Well, as you say, perhaps she should be back at the asylum. Perhaps there is a reason for her being there. But—well, quite frankly, I’m glad they got away. I wish them the best—wherever they are, and I hope they are able to outsmart those two bloodhounds—forever.”
Julia closed the dresser drawer and wiped her hands across her apron.
“Now, perhaps we should check the pantry. We might need to do some shopping before dinner.”
Chapter Fourteen
Summer’s End
Julia hung a small mirror in the hall where the painting had been. She missed the quiet scene, but she would not have taken it back from the woman who had found so much joy in it. “I do hope it brings you many hours of pleasure,” Julia whispered as she adjusted the mirror.
Julia went to the kitchen to help Hettie prepare tea for the committee meeting. Jennifer and Felicity were already there. Felicity was bent over a rolling pin, working on pie crust, and Jennifer was whipping the
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