“There must be a pattern,” Laura said.
Maud thought for a moment. “Well, he does tend to come on Mondays when Father and Mrs. Montgomery go out to the lodge,” Maud said.
“So he is a bit conniving, isn’t he?”
“I swear…my stepmother is behind this.” Maud had suspected it, long suppressed it, but now, saying it out loud made it truth.
“She would stoop that low, wouldn’t she? And she probably thinks he is a good match.”
Maud laughed. “How did you know?”
“Because it is the sort of thing Mrs. Montgomery might say.”
“Even the congregation knows. And last night Father couldn’t ask me for the mustard without chuckling!” Maud sighed. “It is mortifying. I hate that man so much. No one is on my side.”
Laura clasped Maud’s hands and kissed them. “I’m always on your side.”
—
Over the next few evenings, Laura made sure she was nearby in case Mr. Mustard dropped by. The first night, Laura instructed Maud to move the clock in the parlor a half hour ahead so he thought it was 10:30 p.m. when it was actually 10 p.m.
The following evening, Father and Mrs. Montgomery went to visit the McTaggarts, and Laura arrived just as Maud was putting the baby and Katie to bed. When Mr. Mustard showed up at 9 p.m., they moved the conversation into a heated debate on theology and the doctrine of predestination. Mustard upheld it, Maud opposed, and Laura played devil’s advocate on both sides, even though she was a deep believer.
But the very next evening, Laura was sent home to help her mother take care of her siblings, so Maud was left to endure the miserable visit on her own.
Between caring for her siblings and Mr. Mustard’s visits, Maud was not getting any rest—let alone finding time for writing or reading. Rundown and exhausted, she picked up a nagging cough that no amount of tea could quell.
Every time she even picked up a book, Bruce would cry, or Mrs. Montgomery would call her for something. They had finally hired a woman to do the laundry, but all of the other chores were left up to Maud—with no gratitude from her stepmother.
One morning, she woke up with coughing spasms, as if knives were plunging into her chest, making it almost impossible to breathe. Maud complained to her stepmother, who promptly said Maud was exaggerating. There was no respite from the round of daily chores. Even the indefatigable Mr. Mustard didn’t notice, staying until after eleven o’clock that evening.
The following day, Maud woke up sweating and cold, the cough threatening to tear her chest apart. Through a dazzling haze of fever, she thought she heard her father say, “You have whooping cough.”
Mrs. Montgomery and the children stayed at her family’s house so they wouldn’t catch it. Aunt Kennedy came by to help the doctor and Father take care of Maud. It was a double blessing; Mr. Mustard kept his distance and she did not have to contend with her stepmother.
Sometimes Father sat with her and told some of the old Montgomery clan stories. She felt like she was back in Cavendish around her grandparents’ table or in Park Corner with Aunt Annie. Maud almost asked him about the Commonplace Book, and about Mother, but she didn’t want to disturb the new peace in the house. She never wanted it to end.
—
After a quiet, heavenly three weeks of only her and Father in the house, Maud was well enough to come downstairs. Sadly, it also meant that it was time for Mrs. Montgomery to come home, and Mr. Mustard’s visits would most likely begin again.
Still a bit weak, Maud entered the parlor to greet her stepmother. Mrs. Montgomery was cuddling Bruce while Katie was taking her nap, and Father was reading the paper.
“It’s nice to be able to come downstairs,” Maud said.
“I’m sure you enjoyed your little holiday,” Mrs. Montgomery said.
“Being sick isn’t a holiday,” Maud said.
“What about all of the things that fell on my shoulders while you were upstairs sleeping?” Mrs. Montgomery said. “I think you might have been sick at first, but afterwards, you simply wanted an excuse to do nothing.”
“That’s enough, Mary Ann!” Father yelled. He never yelled. Maud almost leaped into his arms. He had finally stood up for Maud—against her.
Mrs. Montgomery glowered and bounced the baby.
“I truly don’t know what you’re upset about,” he said, more evenly.
Mrs. Montgomery stood up and put Bruce in his bassinet; he immediately started crying. Maud went over to pick him up, but her stepmother stopped her.
“I’ll do it. He’s my child, after all.” She picked up the wailing baby. “You coddle her, Hugh. She was sent here to take care of me and the children, not go tobogganing or take part in Bible Studies or even go to school.”
Maud slid into a nearby chair. She was almost too weak to be angry. “I came to be with my new family and go to school,” she said.
“You silly girl.” Mrs. Montgomery flounced over to her with a sniveling Bruce in her arms. “Is that what you think? Your old-fashioned grandparents sent you here from that little nothing of a village because you shamed them with your behavior. And from what I can see by the way you walk around with that Pritchard boy, nothing much has changed. I had hoped you might finally see what a good match Mr. Mustard is, but you don’t know when something good is presented to you. Yes, that’s right. Do you think with your Father’s meager salary at the auction house and his recent political setback that we can afford to keep you? We planned you might find a good match so you would be provided for.”
“Mary Ann—”
“No, Hugh. I’ve had all I can tolerate from this girl.”
Father rubbed his hands through his hair.
Maud’s whole body, weakened from her recent illness, was shaking like a birch tree in a winter storm. This must be what true wrath and indignation felt like.
“I don’t think I can live here anymore, Father,” Maud said. Even as her body shook, her voice was solid and sure. “I’ll write to Grandma and see if she would be willing to take me back.”
“Maud…I…” He gazed down at his hands, lying open upon his knees, as if in surrender. “Perhaps that would be best.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The next day was miserable. Father spent the whole day working on his auctioneer business and Mrs. Montgomery locked herself in her room. But that evening, Maud escaped and asked Laura and Will to walk along River Street. When she told them what had happened and that she would be leaving Laura burst into tears and Will mumbled something Maud couldn’t quite make out and he ran toward the river.
“I don’t know when I’ll be going. It all depends upon Grandma and Grandfather Macneill.” She paused. “What they’ll say. If…if they’ll take me back.”
Laura hugged Maud tightly and kissed her on the cheek. “They love you,” she said. “I’m sure after you told them—”