Harriet awaited Judith in her sitting room. The room was more than a little chilly, but the redheaded maid had thoughtfully made a fire.
Judith handed Harriet her hat and gloves and moved to warm herself by the fire. “My grandfather plans to take a tray in his room for lunch. Would you ask the cook to arrange one for me as well, please?”
“Mrs. Markle already planned on it. When Mr. Ashton takes his food in his room, she never orders the table set.”
“Well, I suppose that makes sense, being as he’s the only onewho has been around all these years. You might let her know that it’s fine with me to continue that way. No sense being formal when it’s only me.”
Harriet nodded. “Do you need help to change your clothes?”
“No, I’m fine. Thank you.”
“I’ll go arrange for your lunch, then.” She gave a curtsy and left before Judith could reply.
Judith moved to the dressing room, released the buttons on her skirt, and let it drop to the floor. She then unfastened her jacket and slipped out of it before placing both garments across the back of a chair. The dressing room was quite well furnished, and Judith found that even though she’d brought a rather sparing wardrobe, Mrs. Deeters had arranged for other items to be purchased and added to her closet. Apparently, her grandfather didn’t want her to find herself in need. The thought crossed her mind that she should probably ask Helen to send an additional trunk of items. She would add the request to the letter she’d started on Friday.
She located a warm blue woolen skirt. After shedding her bustle and pad for a little more comfort, Judith pulled the skirt on over her head and dropped it in place. The white blouse she’d worn to church was a bit nicer than she usually wore to just sit around the house, but she didn’t feel like asking Harriet to return and help with the row of back buttons. It would suffice.
Doing up the buttons on her skirt, Judith remembered the face of the strange man. He had dark brown eyes and a straight nose. His brown hair had a bit of wave, much like her own.
She moved to the window and looked out at the rain. Who was he? And why was he so angry? Was it as her grandfather had suggested? Had he been wronged by James Ashton Sr. in a business dealing? Was he plotting to take his revenge?
Judith smiled and shook her head. She was letting her imagination take charge. If she was to ponder anything, it would bemore beneficial to think about how she might play her role as a good Samaritan in Minneapolis.
As the family sat down to lunch after Sunday services, Roman was still stunned at the realization that Judith Stanford had been sitting next to James Ashton in church. What was she doing in Minneapolis? No doubt she had been the woman he’d seen earlier in Ashton’s carriage, but how could she possibly keep company with such a man?
“Roman?”
He glanced up. His mother, sister, and aunt were all staring at him. He forced a smile. “Sorry. I’ve got my mind on a dozen things.” It was a bit of a lie. He was only thinking about Judith.
“Would you offer grace?” his mother asked.
“Of course.” He bowed his head. “Father, we thank You for this meal, and for the hands that prepared it. Bless us in Your will. Amen.”
“Amen,” the trio of women said in unison.
Roman’s mother held out her hand. “Give me your plate, Roman, and I’ll dish you up some roast and vegetables.”
He did as she instructed and waited until she’d filled everyone’s plate before picking up his fork. He stabbed a piece of the roasted beef and then glanced up. He could see that everyone was looking at him.
“I’m sorry. I’ve just been a bit preoccupied.”
“With the young woman you were watching at church?” his mother asked.
“I didn’t see that he was watching a young woman,” Aunt Mary said, nudging Claudette. “Did you?”
Claudette giggled. “No. Have you finally been pierced with cupid’s arrow? Wouldn’t it be glorious if Roman fell in love after all these years?”
“My attention was on James Ashton. How that man has the audacity to show up in church is beyond me.”
“It is the place for sinners,” his mother chided. “Roman, you’re going to have to forgive Mr. Ashton one day. There’s no sense in carrying around your anger toward him. I’ve had to give mine over to God in order to keep it from eating me alive. You must do the same.”
“Ashton is responsible for killing Father,” Roman replied, looking again at his plate. “I’ve given it to the Lord to deal with, but forgiveness is slow in coming.”
“It’s been nine years,” Aunt Mary joined in. “I understand how Roman feels, even though Andrew wasn’t related to me. He was like a brother. So kind and considerate when my own Eustus died. No brother could have been dearer.”
“That’s just how Andrew was,” Roman’s mother said, smiling. “He loved you as a sister.”
“Papa was kind to everyone,” Claudette said, sounding a little sad. “I miss him so much.”
