Chapter Five: The Kitchen Door

Hester Wynn had served Eleanor through two residences, three miscarriages that the household knew about, and a marriage that grew colder after every failed attempt to produce an heir.

She knew which doors were kept locked, which drawers contained money, and which doctors accepted fees to repeat whatever their employers wished to hear.

She also knew when a woman was frightened for reasons she would not name.

Hester had watched Caleb leave Hawthorne in the dawn wagon.

She had seen Ruth run to the gate and arrive a minute too late.

Since then, Ruth had kept working with a fierce concentration that made the other servants worry about her.

She diced vegetables faster than anyone, carried heavy kettles without complaint, and refused the offered comfort of a prayer unless she could keep moving while she listened.

Hester found her by the kitchen hearth on the evening after the rider departed.

“There’s a note,” Hester said.

Ruth stared at her.

“From Caleb?”

“From someone helping him.”

Hester handed over the paper beneath a tray of folded napkins.

Ruth read slowly.

Caleb was alive and had not agreed to return to Hawthorne.

A woman called Lottie could help Ruth travel to a safer place if she wished.

Ruth gripped the counter.

“Does Mrs. Whitmore know?”

“Not yet.”

“She’ll find out.”

Hester nodded.

“She has sent a second message to Red Cedar.”

“What does it say?”

“Bring him before the physician arrives.”

Ruth looked up.

“What physician?”

“Doctor Gideon Avery.”

Ruth had seen him once, arriving with polished boots and a medical case lined with red leather.

He had spoken privately with Eleanor and left without visiting the sick children in the quarters.

“Why would a doctor need Caleb?” Ruth asked.

“I don’t know,” Hester said.

“But he brought a small brass measuring device the last time he came.”

“What kind?”

“A device used to measure an infant’s head, from what I could see.”

Ruth felt suddenly cold.

“Has Mrs. Whitmore had the baby?”

“No one in this house has seen one.”

Hester looked toward the stairs.

“And that troubles me more than I can say.”

That night Eleanor called Hester into the private sitting room.

Her face appeared strained, and a travel trunk stood open on the carpet.

“Have you heard from the rider?” Eleanor asked.

“Not since he left.”

“He must bring Caleb by Saturday.”

“The roads are wet, ma’am.”

“Then he can take the higher bridge.”