Nobody's Secret by Michaela MacColl Page B

cheese, anything that would be more convenient to purchase,
The Frugal Housewife
would have you make yourself.”
    Ursula looked horrified. “It sounds deadly.”
    Emily laughed. “Remember the passage about young women? It seems we should not waste our time with education, because that only prepares us for a life of idleness. A diligent mother would school us in the domestic arts.”
    “And to think I always envied you!” Ursula laughed. “Mother would rather die than have me wear homemade clothes.”
    Emily and Vinnie exchanged amused looks.
    Mrs. Hitchcock spoke loudly, as if to change the subject. “Has everyone seen,” she paused dramatically, “the Body?
    “Don’t speak of it, dear,” Mrs. Dickinson said. “I’ve forbidden the girls to even think of it.”
    “Our maid discovered it!” Vinnie said.
    Mrs. Hitchcock leaned forward, her mouth half-open. “Of course! He was found on your property, wasn’t he?” She playfully tapped Mrs. Dickinson’s arm with her embroidery hoop. “The whole town is talking of it. I went to have a peek, but I had never seen the poor man before.”
    In a high-pitched voice, Mrs. Langston said, “Oh, was a body found? I hadn’t heard anything about it.”
    “If you want to see, you had better hurry,” Mrs. Gilbert said. “He’ll have to be buried soon. I made my husband bring me—I was afraid I would swoon. But the poor boy looked very natural. And so good-looking.”
    Emily felt a sickness in her stomach.
    Mrs. Dickinson shook her head sharply. “Please, not in front of the children. They are already fascinated with death. I recall last year when Emily’s friend Sophia died—she insisted on staying at her deathbed for days. Emily’s health suffered for months afterward.”
    There was silence in the room as the ladies contemplated Emily, who blushed to the roots of her red hair, seething that her mother would bring up poor Sophia.
    Mrs. Hitchcock broke the silence after a few moments and asked Mrs. Langston, “Are you enjoying your stay in Amherst?
    Mrs. Langston’s cheeks were flushed, but she seemed to welcome the change of subject. “It’s quite wet, isn’t it? I daresay it rained in Boston, but I don’t recall there ever being so much mud in Beacon Hill.”
    “You lived in Beacon Hill?” Mrs. Dickinson asked.
    With a nostalgic sigh, Mrs. Langston nodded. “Our house was so convenient and our neighbors were quite famous.” She waited, and when no question came, she added, “Of course, it would be unladylike to tell you their names.”
    Emily bit her lip and settled back to watch her mother deal with her guest’s unusual manners.
    “Beacon Street is such a desirable address,” Mrs. Dickinson said. “Charles Street has lovely shops.”
    “You’ve been there?” Mrs. Langston asked, looking slightly alarmed.
    “You may not know, but my husband used to be the representative for Amherst to the Massachusetts Legislature. Did you live near the State House?”
    “No. We don’t care overmuch for politicians. My husband says they are all thieves and liars.” She laughed. “He says they aren’t to be trusted.”
    Emily nearly stabbed her mouth with her sewing needle when she covered her lips to prevent a laugh from escaping. Vinnie’s giggle was audible, while Ursula, mortified, stared fixedly at her embroidery.
    Mrs. Dickinson blinked. Finally, she asked, “What brought you to Amherst?
    “We didn’t have much choice,” Ursula muttered.
    “Hush, Ursula!” Mrs. Langston snapped.
    Emily glanced from mother to daughter.
    “My brother lives here,” Mrs. Langston said. “We had lost touch, and I thought it important to spend some time with him.”
    Emily carefully fixed her needle to the fabric and leaned forward. “Do you have a large family? Any other brothers?
    Mrs. Langston glared at Emily. “Not any longer,” she said sharply.
    “I’m sorry; I didn’t realize it was a sensitive subject.” By now all the ladies were staring at Mrs.