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Emma
Robert had been away for a long time, longer even than his last stint in Inglestone. Edmund was working the fields for a man's wage alongside Alf, who drove Mr. Cochrane's giant machine. Frank helped his brother after school and on holidays. Even Annie was ready to start spreading her wings; she'd been running off to Queenie's, learning the secrets of beekeeping and heaven only knew what else.
Emma was not used to so much quiet.
She found herself making excuses to go outside, like hanging the laundry and then checking two or three times to see if it was dry, or weeding the Timmins garden patch each morning and afternoon. She even welcomed the company of gossipy Bessie Mullins. Only this week she had learned that Squire Timothy might be returning soon, that Caroline Arless was in debt again, and that Ruby Pratt almost certainly had a beau. Of course she couldn't trust a word out of Bessie's mouth, but the sound of her prattle had, at some point, transformed from annoying to comforting.
Emma carried the laundry basket out just in case the sheets were dry. She'd washed them again that morning after only two nights of use. Of course they weren't dry--they'd only been hanging for an hour--but Emma made a thorough job of checking. Then, as if surprised to find them still damp, she clucked, wiped her brow, and ran one trembling hand through her ginger hair. "Well, I suppose it'll have to be weeding, then," she said.
She'd been rummaging around in the soil for a solid quarter hour before anyone came along to distract her. When Emma turned to greet the person whose shadow drew up alongside her own, she was surprised to see it wasn't Mrs. Mullins, but her daughter, Emily. She'd brought little Helen along with her as well. The solemn toddler had Emily's striking dark hair and blue eyes, and she was sure to be a great beauty one day, Emma thought. One could only pray it didn't get her into trouble the same way it had her mother.
"Afternoon, Mrs. Timmins," Emily said, too shy to look her in the eye when she spoke.
"Emily," said Emma, "I wold have thought you'd be working about now."
Emily flushed. "Normally I would, ma'am, only I took an hour so I could come and ask for your help."
"My help?" Emma set her trowel down and stood, brushing her dirty hands on her apron. "Whatever could you be wanting from me?"
Emily drew a great breath, and then the words poured out in a rush. "Only, I was hoping that since you're so good with children and learning and all that, you might give Helen some lessons. She's ready to be getting on her letters, and maybe even sums, but the school says they won't take her until she's at least five-years-old, and she's only just four. I couldn't pay you much, but I do have a little put by..." She trailed off and looked away, slouching as though the effort of asking had drained all her energy.
She used to be such a proud girl, Emma thought. Life has kicked her down enough, I guess. Aloud, all she said was, "I'm sure we can come to an agreement, Emily. Why don't you come in for a cup of tea?"
Laura
The afternoon rounds were a pleasure this time of year, when the grass was just starting to grow long. Laura couldn't help stopping to daydream over her favourite birch thicket where the long-tailed tits liked to congregate. She rested the bicycle against a rock, and sat on the warm ground, fanning her skirts about her just so.
Daniel was making hints about marriage again. This time Laura knew that when he asked, she'd better know her mind. She'd better say yes if she wanted to keep him. He was such a good man, but even the best of men could not be expected to wait indefinitely. She was of an age now when people like Mama and Mrs. Brown were starting to ask if she wouldn't like to have a family, to have babies, and they were right to. Minnie already had one of her own, after all. If Laura wanted to be settled, she ought to settle.
She thought of the last time Daniel had asked, four years ago, when Fisher Bloom had still held a corner of her heart. That old ache had long since faded, but still she wasn't ready.
The trouble was she so loved her work. How could she give up the bicycle, and the post office, or the articles for the Candleford Chronicle, and even sometimes for larger journals?
As if the weather understood her mood, a heavy grey cloud covered the sun. It was no use ruminating on emotional dilemmas at a time like this. She had a sack full of letters to deliver, and they'd better not get wet. Laura scrambled up and onto her bicycle. If she could beat the rain to Lark Rise, Mama or Queenie would surely let her pass the time while she waited it out.
Margaret
Thomas had taken Amelia Cordelia out on his rounds again, and Margaret was alone with George. She looked both ways before they left the house, as if they might be caught and scolded.
"Come on, darling. Let's go visit Sidney, shall we?" she asked brightly.
George nodded. "Visit Sidney, play with bat?"
"Yes, darling" Margaret whispered, glancing around the street guiltily. "Perhaps Sidney will want to play with us."
She knew it was shocking, but Mrs. Brown couldn't bear to give up the cricket. Sidney was old enough to be starting an apprenticeship soon, but he still reserved the afternoons for Margaret. They had a routine. She called in at the post office, shared a cup of tea and a bit of cake with Dorcas, and then, five minutes after she left, Sidney would meet her by chance in the street, carrying a cricket bat.
"Willing to give us a little practice, Mrs. Brown?" he'd ask. Every day just the same. And every day she'd flutter and stammer, flushed with the twin heats of anticipation and guilt.
"Oh, well, if you're certain you wish... If you can't find another practice partner..."
"No one is quite so skilled as you, Mrs. Brown," Sidney would say. Margaret would flush all the harder, but she wouldn't dare give him the chance to retract the offer, not when she might lose the prospect of a few good hits. She wouldn't dress in men's clothing again--she couldn't bear pretending to be something she wasn't--but so long as she could manage it, she'd find an excuse to play all the same.
The post office bell tinkled merrily as she stepped through the door.
"Mrs. Brown." Dorcas smiled her impish smile. "Won't you come back and have a cup of tea?"
"Oh, yes, that would... that would be most welcome, Mrs. Cochrane," Margaret said. Her left hand clutched George's tiny one, and her right hand rose to her cheek, as if it might stop the blush from spreading.
"I'll just ask Sidney to mind the counter for us," Dorcas said.
Minnie
Minne had left the kitchen all ready for Mrs. Cochrane and Mrs. Brown to enjoy their afternoon tea and cake. She would have been welcome to sit with them, but as a new mother, she felt more protective of her few free moments than she'd ever been before.
"Little Man," she said to Sidney, "Would you look after Robbie for a spell? He won't fuss, I promise. He's ever so good."
Sidney pushed up his glasses and peered at her with serious, searching eyes. And then, as though he'd found the answer he sought in her face, he smiled knowingly. "It would be an honour. Just leave his basket on the stool next to mine if you please."
Minnie fairly skipped out of the post office and down to The Stores. She had come a long way towards being a proper and dignified woman since she'd first arrived in Candleford, but surely no one could begrudge her a little skip now and then, could they? Still, she paused to collect herself and straighten her hat and blouse before she opened the door.
The Misses Pratt were fussing around a dress form in the corner. They wore matching confections of white lace and powder blue taffeta--colors which Minnie couldn't help noticing didn't suit Ruby at all, though they looked very well with Pearl's blue eyes and golden hair. Both sisters looked up eagerly when she entered, but only Ruby continued to look eager once they'd seen who it was.
"Oh," said Pearl, her voice dripping with disappointment. "Good Afternoon, Mrs. Arless. Will it be a spool of blue thread today?"
"Pardon, Miss Pearl, but I came to see Miss Ruby. For our lesson."
Pearl smirked. "Still playing at learning to sew, are we?"
Ruby set down her pin cushion and the length of measuring tape she'd been holding. "I don't really think that's necessary, Pearl. Remember how we talked about being generous of spirit?"
"I'll be generous of spirit when others show any hints of caring about me," snapped Pearl. "Now go and have your little tongue wag. I know that's what you're really doing. I'm not an imbecile."
Ruby shrugged in distress and motioned Minnie through to the parlour. "Never mind my sister," she said, taking Minnie's hat. "She's only worked up because she thinks I'll leave her again."
Minnie's eyes widened as she took a seat. "Will you, Miss Ruby?"
Ruby bit her lip. "I said I never would again..."
"But you want to?" Minnie asked.
"It's not that, exactly, only... do you have another letter from Pontefract today?"
"Not today," said Minnie. "Only I know he'll write to you soon, and declare his intentions, and it will all be so very romantic. Imagine you running off to be with him again! And all for true love!"
"It's not--" Ruby stopped, and blinked rapidly several times before she spoke again. "Minnie, can you keep a secret?"
"Oh, Miss Ruby, you know I ain't so good with secrets, but I'll do my best to try."
"It isn't certain, you see. That's why I can't tell her. But the truth is... he's said he might have found a way to move his business here."
"Here?" If Minnie's eyes had been wide before, they were round as saucers now. "You mean, he'd put those dead folks right here in The Stores?"
Ruby gasped, looking something like a startled poodle. "Oh, no, not like that. Only, in Candleford. And he says... he says we might do a good trade in making the satin linings for caskets. We do need the money, but... I just don't know what Pearl will think, and I daren't mention it before I know. Please promise you'll bring that letter the very moment it arrives?"
"I promise," said Minnie. "And I won't say nothing to Miss Pearl neither, as long as I can remember. Only think of it, you with him, right here in Candleford! And rich off making pillows for them's as passed on! Isn't the world funny and wonderful?"
Ruby clasped Minnie's hands. "You are a true friend, Mrs. Arless."
Queenie
It was an odd day when the door opened three times to fortune-seekers. An odd day, indeed.
Queenie thought about what it could mean as she tucked the bees in for the night. Not that there was any physical tucking involved, but that's how she always thought of it. Bees were like children; they wanted a good tucking in, and a little bedtime story.
"Bees, bees," said Queenie. "This May weather has blown in some kind of enchantment."
The hives rumbled pleasantly, singing the song of mellifluous reassurance, and golden sweetness.
"I had visits from no less than three misses, today. Like a fairy tale it was. First Miss Emily, then Miss Laura, then last of all, Miss Pearl. Of all people, Miss Pearl Pratt of Candleford. Can you believe it, bees? I can scarce believe it myself."
"Won't you come inside, Queenie?" Twister called from around the cottage's corner. "I've a hankering for my evening tea. A man works hard, he deserves a good meal."
"Oh, come off it, you old duffer," Queenie called back. "I'll be in when I've seen to my bees. Your tea can wait."
Twister grunted, and she thought for a moment that he might not leave her in peace, but then she heard him start to sing softly as he ambled inside. Doubtless he'd end up dozing in his chair within five minutes. Lazy old man. She smiled to think of him there, though, and to imagine how his eyes would light when she woke him. He'd always looked at her like she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, bless him.
"Well, I'd better make it quick, bees. The old fool won't wait for long," she said.
"Miss Emily only wanted to find some hope for her child's future. I think she and Emma will do well together. They both need a friend just now. Miss Laura, though, that's trickier. She's at a crossroads, and must choose a path. I think she knows which way she wants to go, she just needs to get over the fear of giving up her one love in favor of the other. The leaves said it didn't have to happen that way, but only if she believes it to be so. That young man of hers is fine enough, though, and wouldn't Emma love to see some new little ones?"
The sun was sinking low on the horizon, making the tall grass glimmer like the sea, or at least like Queenie always imagined the sea might look.
"Miss Pearl, though, poor dear. I think she has the toughest lot. 'Will my sister leave me to die old and alone?' she asked. She was half an hour crying her eyes out. I told her that I saw a change, but not a journey, but it didn't seem to calm her much. She was beet red by the time she left. I imagine the drive back to Candleford gave her complexion enough time to even out, though. Poor thing."
As the first stars winked on in the sky above Lark Rise, Queenie stood and stretched her aching back. "Well, bees, I suppose it'll all come out right, won't it?"
The bees continued to hum.
"Yes, of course it will," Queenie said. "Now I'd best go in and give Twister his tea."
Dorcas
She loved the quiet of the post office at night--after all the day's business was done, and the evening dishes washed and stacked neatly in the cupboard, after Laura and Sidney and Gabriel had drifted off to sleep for the night. Dorcas crept out of bed and down the stairs. She sat by the kitchen stove in her night dress, and basked in the glow of the cooling embers.
This was her thinking time, her best time. She pondered the possibilities for progress, and for mischief. She wondered how long it would take for her to steer Mrs. Brown to the conclusion that what the town needed was a Ladies Cricket Club, and when exactly Laura would realize that Daniel loved her for the working woman she was. He wouldn't ask her to stifle her talents just because she was a married woman anymore than Gabriel would do that to his beloved.
Gabriel's beloved. It had such a pleasant ring to it. Miss Dorcas Lane no more, she thought. And how delightful that fate had turned out to be. He with his gears and pipes in the forge, and she with her happy routines all intact. And then very late, when the stove had gone cold, and even her active mind had quieted, she slipped into bed and curled up around him, warming her feet on his legs. She smiled at his sleepy sigh, and the way he pressed his calves against her naked toes. Warm feet were, after all, her one weakness.