Chapter Three: Ruth’s Choice
That afternoon the rain stopped and the house filled with voices from the visiting buyers.
Ruth carried towels to Catherine’s chamber and found Mrs. Vale examining a row of linen dresses.
The stranger measured sleeves with a cord and wrote figures on a slate.
Catherine stood by the window as though another person’s inspection of her belongings were a personal insult.
“You needn’t measure those,” she told Mrs. Vale.
“They aren’t included.”
“Mr. Whitcomb said the entire upstairs inventory was available for review.”
Catherine took two steps toward the dresses.
“My husband confuses things that are mine with things he has paid for.”
Ruth saw the trunk with the loose lining beneath the bed.
Its lid had been closed, and a velvet shawl lay across the top.
Mrs. Vale noticed Ruth looking and told her to bring the smaller trunk into the hallway.
Catherine spoke too quickly.
“Leave that one.”
The room fell silent for half a breath.
Mrs. Vale smiled with professional patience.
“I will return to it when you are ready.”
Ruth lifted an empty hatbox instead and carried it downstairs.
In the corridor she passed seventeen-year-old Ellen, her daughter, who was polishing a brass railing.
Ellen watched her mother’s rigid shoulders.
“Has something happened?”
“Finish that rail and go to Hester,” Ruth said.
“Don’t linger upstairs today.”
The girl obeyed, but the concern remained on her face.
Ruth went to the laundry room where Betsy, the youngest house servant, was rinsing napkins.
She asked whether anyone had seen the mistress’s jewelry since yesterday.
Betsy said the brooch had been on Catherine’s collar at supper two nights earlier.
She remembered it because one diamond had caught the candlelight and flashed into her eyes.
“Why do you ask?” Betsy whispered.
“Because I saw something I wish I hadn’t.”
Ruth described the open trunk and Catherine’s hand beneath the lining.
Betsy put down the napkin.
“Then you have to tell Master Whitcomb.”
“If he believes his wife, he may accuse me of stealing too.”
“If you don’t speak, Daniel could be sold.”
Ruth knew both statements were true.
That was what made choosing difficult.
Betsy looked toward the window where Gideon’s visitors were crossing the courtyard.
“They measured my shoulders this morning,” she said.
Ruth gripped the edge of the table.
“Who did?”
“That woman from town.”
The two women stood listening to footsteps pass outside.
Ruth finally told Betsy to say nothing until she had spoken with Hester.
She did not want an accusation to travel through the household without protection for the person who made it.
At the kitchen table Hester was cutting apples with a blunt knife.
She heard Ruth’s account without interruption.
“So Catherine invented the theft,” Hester said.
“I saw her put something under the lining.”
“And Dent is here to price the household.”
Hester put the apple pieces into a pan.
“Then we must understand how those two things meet.”
They sent Ellen into the front hall carrying fresh candles.
Ellen was small enough that the men often stopped noticing her before she had left the room.
When she returned, she said Dent had demanded a list of everyone who might be sent away.
He wanted to inspect Daniel first.
“Master Whitcomb told him Daniel might be dishonest,” Ellen reported.
“Dent said dishonest men should be separated from the rest before the sale.”
Hester stared at the cold fireplace.
“That is how they’ll break up families,” she said.
“They’ll call it separating the troublesome ones.”
Ruth remembered Catherine saying she could accuse Daniel of entering her room without permission.
That threat had seemed personal yesterday.
Today, with Dent measuring people and Gideon making lists, it was becoming useful to the entire estate.
The kitchen door opened and Gideon entered with his gloves in one hand.
Every woman in the room straightened.
“Ruth, my wife requests you upstairs.”
Ruth’s pulse climbed.
“Yes, sir.”
He examined the half-cut apples.
“And keep the younger servants out of the front rooms while Mr. Dent is working.”
Ruth followed him into the hall.
Before they reached the stairs, Gideon said quietly, “My wife claims you were in the upstairs corridor last evening.”
Ruth stopped for an instant.
“I delivered linens.”
“Then you may know whether Carter entered her room.”
Ruth looked toward the empty staircase.
She could lie and keep herself safer for another day.
She could tell the truth and risk making her daughter’s life the price of it.
“I saw him leaving the upstairs passage, sir,” she answered.
“And did you see him take anything?”
“No, sir.”
Gideon gave a small irritated sigh.
“That tells us very little.”
He went toward his study and left Ruth standing beside the rail.
She had answered honestly, but the words felt smaller than what she knew.
Upstairs Catherine waited with the bedroom door open.
“Ruth,” she said, “we must talk about loyalty.”
