Free The Widow of Larkspur Inn by Lawana Blackwell Page B

the past eight years.
    Beds were made in the children’s rooms, cobwebs swept away, and wood fires now snapped in the fireplaces, warding off the evening chill. Best of all, unshuttered windows gave vent to the remaining evening sunlight.
    Julia stopped in the doorway of the girls’ room, where Aleda and Grace had helped Fiona unpack their trunk. A pinkish conch shell, gathered by Aleda at Brighton Beach, sat on a dresser top alongside her delft blue music box, a framed photograph of both girls seated atop a pony, and Grace’s book of fairy tales. Two dolls shared a small crib on the floor near Grace’s side of the bed, next to the sparrow’s lard tin.
    She was so glad that she’d allowed the children to pack some treasures from their old rooms, even though luggage space had been tight. The abrupt change in their lives was softened by these familiar reminders. It’s closer to looking like a home, she thought.
    True, there was still much work left to do. She and Fiona would be sleeping on divans in the hall until their rooms could be cleaned. Most rooms on the ground floor, including the kitchen, still needed serious attention. The upstairs floor and attic hadn’t even been touched, and with the children starting school on Monday, their help would be unavailable for the better part of the weekdays.
    But we’re here, and not out on some London street . What had Saint Paul written in the Scriptures? In whatever state I am in, I have learned to be content . So that meant if contentment did not come naturally, it could be learned.
    Julia went to the window at the end of the family corridor and stared out of the freshly scrubbed glass. The sun stood poised to dip behind the brown mass of Anwyl. Its downward way was marked by clouds of every sunset color—flame, purple, pink, violet, and all the tints of gold. I am not happy, Lord, she prayed silently. Philip’s death and then the discovery of his betrayal were wounds she felt so deeply in her soul that she wondered if she would ever know joy again. But with Your help, I will learn how to be content .

Chapter 6
     
    The Worthy sisters had retired to their cottage by the time Julia walked across the dark lane after the family had suppered on the remaining roast beef sandwiches from Henrietta Wilson’s generous basket. She was weary to the bone and had yet to take a bath, having removed only the worst of the grime from herself. But the two elderly women were her nearest neighbors, and she wanted to start out on good terms with them.
    Two good-sized windows set in the sisters’ wattle-and-daub structure were separated by a sturdy oak door. Illuminated from inside as they were now, and with top frames obscured by overhanging thatching from the roof, the windows resembled inquiring eyes set under a mop of amber-colored hair. Since darkness had forced the sisters to vacate their posts, the house looked as if it had taken up the responsibility of watching the goings-on at the crossroads.
    “Come in, Mrs. Hollis,” the sister named Iris said, answering Julia’s soft knock at the door. “We were just about to have a cup of hot chocolate. It has become a habit of ours after supper. Will you have some with us?”
    “I’d be delighted,” replied Julia, “but only if you’re sure you have enough.” After receiving an answer in the affirmative, Julia stepped inside. The two-room cottage was simply but not shabbily furnished, with brightly colored rag rugs over a stone floor, baskets of lace in one corner, and a calendar from The Churchman’s Almanack over the chimneypiece. A tallow candle flickered light on a plain table in the center of the room, where Jewel stood filling crockery mugs. There were three set out, so obviously the sisters had been expecting Julia’s visit. She breathed a sigh of relief, for the temptation had been great to put off this little chore until tomorrow.
    “We was beginnin’ to wonder if ye’d forgotten,” Jewel’s raspy voice said in a