Free Lady of Ashes by Christine Trent Page B

thinning a bit on the sides.
    Suddenly, Violet felt sharp pangs of homesickness. She’d hardly missed her parents at all since marrying Graham, but sitting together to dinner like this made her long for them, long for a time before she was responsible for home and hearth and her husband’s mercurial disposition. Yet how could she wish to return to a time before she had her life’s passion in undertaking? She dragged herself back to the conversation.
    Violet’s father was interested in Fletcher’s work. “How many sailings to America do you make each year?”
    “As many as I can, sir. The Jamaicans want their tea, and the British need their rum.”
    Violet’s father chuckled. “Quite. Although I never understood the propensity for rum. I much prefer port or claret, which I hope we will partake in tonight?”
    “Of course, sir,” Graham said. “I’ve saved my finest for you.”
    “This is quite fine, too, brother,” Fletcher said, lifting the red wine bottle and offering it around the table. “Violet, did Graham tell you he is joining me in a new venture?” Fletcher asked.
    “No, he didn’t—”
    “No need to burden Violet with our little enterprise,” Graham said.
    “It’s no burden. What venture is this?”
    Graham tried to interrupt again, but Fletcher cut him off. “We’re going to make the Morgan name known across the Atlantic. Because of their war, there is quite a demand for funerary supplies in America, so we’re going to ship them the superior goods provided by Morgan Undertaking.”
    “Graham, you haven’t mentioned this to me.”
    “It’s nothing, really. We’re developing certain contracts that will allow us to ship coffins, shrouds, wreath cases, and the like over to help families bury their sons, brothers, and fathers.”
    “How much is this costing us? How will it affect our own inventory? Graham, you should have told me.”
    “Now, darling, that’s why I didn’t tell you about it, lest you worry over nothing. I have everything under control.”
    Ida looked up from her plate. “Violet, a good wife trusts her husband. I’m sure Graham knows best.”
    Violet ignored her mother-in-law. “They don’t have their own cabinetmakers who can build coffins? Wouldn’t that be cheaper than importing coffins from us? And aren’t there undertakers over there?”
    “You see, Violet, that’s why I didn’t share this with you. You don’t have a head for international business transactions.”
    “I have as much head as you for all of our business dealings.”
    “But this is much more sophisticated and complex. You see, you’re already hysterical and you know nothing of it.”
    “I’m not—” Violet swallowed her retort. Her parents looked stricken at the argument taking place between husband and wife. Ida had returned to her food, but could not disguise a self-satisfied look.
    Her brother-in-law attempted to repair the situation he’d caused.
    “Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair, you probably don’t realize how the Morgan reputation has grown under Graham’s leadership. I never had any interest in the family business and it would have undoubtedly failed if I’d remained in it. Graham was always the one with a mind for the hereafter, so to speak.
    “When he met your breathtaking daughter, well, the match was secured by the Almighty for the two of them to work side by side on dressing, cosmetically altering, and otherwise preparing their, er, clients, for their final meeting with their divine destiny. I’ve often wondered if those you know are bound for Hades receive less attention than those bound to sit at the right hand of the eternal throne. Perhaps you don’t dress them in their finest?” He winked at Violet.
    “Honestly, Fletcher, you’re going to frighten my parents into thinking I’m somehow influential in those destinies. Mother, Father, pay my brother-in-law no mind. He’s had too much sea water to drink and it’s made him dizzy.”
    Ida Morgan managed to put down her