Free The Soul of the Rose by Ruth Trippy Page A

for walking, but somehow he hadn’t felt free to make the proposal. At the book discussion, when describing Scrooge she had glanced at him. Quite directly so. What did she think of him? If Mr. Chestley had walked her down tonight, maybe he would offer to accompany her back.
    A servant opened the door. Ah, Hatfield .
    “Good evening, Mr. Lyons. Please come in.”
    The vestibule smelled pungently of evergreen. Garlands festooned the staircase railing and doorway entries. Mrs. Harrod could be depended upon to fill her home with the holiday spirit. He remembered she was a great champion of plants and flowers of all varieties.
    “May I take your coat, sir?” And then, “Would you follow me?” Hatfield led the way to the first doorway on the left. Voices raised in appreciative laughter. Edward stopped on the threshold. “Thank you, Hatfield.”
    Edward surveyed the assembled party searching for his hostess. Mrs. Harrod came forward immediately. “Mr. Lyons . . . Edward. So good of you to come. How distinguished you look. You bring credit to my drawing room.” She took his arm. “This is like old times, isn’t it? Let me introduce you.” She gently guided him to the edge of the gathering and called for everyone’s attention. “It’s been so long since we’ve had the honor of Edward Lyons’s presence, I want to make certain everyone knows him and that he feels a warm welcome.”
    Edward nodded at each introduction. Mrs. Harrod had been true to her word. The gathering consisted mainly of family with three or four others in attendance. “Edward, you know Mrs. Adams, of course. We’ve enjoyed the book discussions together.” Next to Charles sat Miss Thatcher, his head bent attentively to hers. Now he rose, and Miss Thatcher looked up. She was dressed in a simple dark dress that hung gracefully about her person. Pearls encircled her neck and her hair coiffed into an elegant chignon. When Mrs. Harrod made the introduction to Miss Thatcher, her eyes looked up into his.
    Mr. Harrod approached and held out his hand. “Lyons, glad you could come. Want you to have an opportunity to talk with our new neighbor, Judson Darrow. He and his wife are newly arrived from Boston.” Mr. Harrod drew him off to the side where an elderly gentleman sat. “Darrow, I’d like you to meet a Boston Brahmin who has decided to grace our fair town, Mr. Lyons.” With that, the three of them talked agreeably about the old days in Boston where Mr. Harrod had taken his law training.
    “Dinner is served,” Hatfield announced.
    Mr. Harrod approached his new neighbor’s wife, offering her his arm. Mrs. Harrod motioned for Mr. Darrow to escort Mrs. Adams, and then approached Edward. “Would you escort me in, please?” They led the way, the others pairing off, following suit. Leading his hostess to her chair at the foot of the gala table, Edward noted his name card placed to her right. His confidence rose. Mr. Darrow was seated on her other side. Charles escorted Miss Thatcher to the seat next to the new neighbor and then sat by her. Mrs. Adams was seated on Edward’s right.
    “Your table is beautiful, Mrs. Harrod,” Celia said. A pair of porcelain angels stood either side of the scarlet poinsettias in the table’s center. All else was white napery, crystal, and silver.
    “Thank you. The poinsettias were an offering from Mr. Lyons. He sent them on ahead—from his wonderful greenhouse.” Edward looked at his hostess and smiled, then glanced across the table at Miss Thatcher. Her eyes had an appreciative glow.
    After everyone quieted, Mr. Harrod gave a hearty welcome and offered grace. Two servants carried in the first course, a delectable terrapin soup.
    Mrs. Harrod turned to Mr. Lyons. “Are you remaining here for the holidays? Or will you visit your mother?”
    “She’s invited me to see the new church in town, hoping my interest in architecture will lure me to Boston.”
    “Are you referring to Trinity Church?” his hostess asked.