Impulsively, Anne took Rosa’s hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, tentatively took Katherine’s too, relieved when she didn’t pull away.
Gazing down at the still figure once again, Anne said reverently, “Good-bye, Lady Celia. We will never forget you.”
Tears filled Katherine’s eyes. “Even if we wished to.”
The work finished, Miss Fitzjohn retired to her own room. As the door closed behind her, Anne’s stomach growled. Only then did she remember she’d eaten nothing since breakfast. She went downstairs to find a late supper for Rosa and herself.
In the kitchen, she found the cook digging through drawers and cupboards.
“Ah, Miss Loveday. My best knife has gone missing. Kezia and I are searching for it. You didn’t happen to take it upstairs with you? To slice a bandage or some such? Can’t imagine where it’s got to....”
“No, I’m afraid not. I will look and also ask Miss Stark if she has seen a kitchen knife where it shouldn’t be.”
“Thank you, miss. If you find it, take care. It’s devilish sharp.”
The next morning, Katherine asked Buxton to summon the undertaker, who came to measure the body and provide a wool shroud, then departed to give the coffin maker instructions for building a coffin.
News of Lady Celia Fitzjohn’s death swept through the town like a fire through a hayfield.
The curate, Mr. Strong, came over to pray and discuss funeral arrangements with Miss Fitzjohn.
With the aid of the new crutches, Charlotte Newland came over to see Anne that afternoon, full of concern for her. Anne assured her she was well and would be returning to Yew Cottage as soon as Miss Fitzjohn no longer had need of her.
Miss Fitzjohn had also asked Rosa to stay on a bit longer to alter her old mourning gowns from her father’s death more than three years before and to help her choose a few new mourning gowns from a local modiste as well.
The women worked together to make a black wreath for the door and small tokens for the mourners who would come for the viewing or funeral. Miss Fitzjohn decided against more elaborate favors like mourning or hair jewelry and instead chose simple sprigs of rosemary, symbolic of remembrance, tied with black ribbon.
Katherine gifted Rosa with her mother’s silk shawl, which Rosa had so carefully pressed, and to Anne, the book of sermons the two had often read together.
“Thank you.” Anne opened the book and was surprised to find a folded note tucked inside, the nameKatherinescrawled on the front.
Anne handed it to her. “Did you know this was in here?”
“No.” Katherine frowned. “It’s Mamma’s handwriting.” She opened it, quickly scanned the few lines, and then shethrust it back to Anne. “Will you read it? Otherwise I will doubt the evidence of my own eyes.”
“Of course, if you wish.”
Anne read,
K,
I regret the distance and tension between us. I am sorry for intercepting your letters and for breaking that little vase you made for me years ago. It was an accident, but seeing it again made me realize I should have told you rather than try to dispose of the evidence of my clumsiness.
I know I have been hard on you over the years, but please believe I was only trying to keep you safe. Perhaps I was overprotective, especially after we nearly lost you to scarlet fever. How I thanked God when you recovered!
Praise does not come easily to me, but never doubt my love. Your father and I had all but given up hope of children when you came along. When you were born, we arranged for every bell in the parish to ring a long, joyous peal.
I rejoice over you still, my precious daughter.
—CF
Anne glanced up and found Katherine watching her closely.
“What do you think?”
“I think it’s rather wonderful.”
Tears brightened Katherine’s big brown eyes and a tremulous smile tilted her lips. “So do I.”
