She nodded her understanding.
After they’d gone and she’d washed the dishes, she wondered if she’d done the right thing by insisting she stay here. Ben Charles hadn’t seemed perturbed by her decision, and it wasn’t part of her job to attend events at the mortuary.
It was Monday, and as such it was a good day to change bedding, gather the laundry and do some extra cleaning, especially since she didn’t have to plan and cook a meal midday.
Upon entering Ben Charles’s room, her attention was immediately drawn to an enormous stuffed owl perched on a branch atop a round table in the middle of the room. Its eyes seemed to follow her as she stepped around it, a chill spreading up her spine. The room was functional, with heavy pieces of furniture and a collection of feathers under a piece of glass on a long table. She changed the sheets, then dusted and swept the floor.
Tessa’s room was as cheerful as her own, with lacy curtains at the windows and an assortment of bisque dolls on a shelf. On one wall hung an arrangement of four magazine covers, all depicting Nellie Bly in her signature coat and carrying her carpetbag. Violet took a moment to study the colorful images, and she smiled, remembering the girl’s enthusiasm.
Quiet and bookish, Tessa was enamored by the adventurous story and the spirit of a world traveler, but when she’d been sent to boarding school, she’d begged to come home. Violet pictured her in this room as a child, mourning the death of her mother. She was fortunate to have Ben Charles.
Violet went about her work, changed her own bedding and still it was barely after nine. After finding the canvas bags for the laundry and packing it all up for Henry to take to the washhouse, she made herself a pot of tea and sipped a steaming cup.
It took her a few minutes to gather cleaning supplies. She planned to dust and sweep the two drawing rooms before noon. So far she’d kept away from the windows, and she intended to avoid them so she wouldn’t see the comings and goings next door.
Stopping beside the pocket door that led to the room they’d used the evening before, she set down her pail and rags in the hall, grasped the indented metal finger hold and slid open the door.
The unexpected sight of a dozen people dressed in black took her aback. Men and women mingled, speaking in low tones. Tessa, who’d been listening to a woman speak, glanced at Violet over the person’s shoulder. She gave Violet a soft smile. The woman turned to see who Tessa had looked at, but then distractedly went back to what she’d been saying.
Heart pounding with surprise and embarrassment, Violet tugged the heavy door closed as quietly as she was able. Grabbing her cleaning supplies, she darted into the formal parlor. She stood unmoving for several minutes, absorbing what had just taken place...and what she’d learned.
The lovely room where she’d felt such peace the night before was now being used as a gathering place for mourners. She hadn’t noticed another door on the opposite side until her quick glance today. The space had been open to a hallway on the opposite side.
Neither Tessa or Ben Charles had bothered to mention the room’s use to her. Should she find withholding that information disturbing—or hadn’t either one thought of it? She blocked all thoughts of what was going on next door from her mind.
Violet jerked into action and gave the room a good study before deciding what needed done. She covered all the furniture before dusting the ceiling, wiping the walls and cleaning light fixtures. She wasn’t going to get to the other room today, so she’d focus her attention here and do a thorough job.
Finished with the dusting, she pulled off the furniture drapes and carried them out the back door to shake them.
For the second time that day she drew up short.
Fifty yards from the back door stood an enormous moose. Its size—probably six feet high at its shoulders—shocked her. The beast swung its head to look at her as she exited the house. It had begun to snow and the fluffy white flakes showed up against the animal’s dark hide. The moose’s impressive rack of antlers spread over a foot and a half on either side of its blunt-featured head. The moose stared at her, but didn’t move.
She dropped the cloths in the snow and backed up, nearly stumbling in her haste to get safely back inside. Closing the door securely, she went to the long window. The moose had a huge hump across its shoulders and a long hairy beardlike thing hanging under its chin.
The connecting door opened, startling her yet again. She released an involuntary squeak and spun to discover Tessa.
“Are you all right?” the girl asked. “I brought you a late lunch.” She set a napkin-covered tray on the table.
“The moose,” Violet told her. “It’s outside the back door.”
Tessa joined her at the window. “He’s a big one. I’ll let Ben Charles know, so he can keep an eye out as the guests leave.” She glanced at Violet’s face. “Did you go outside?”
Violet nodded. “I was going to shake the furniture covers. I left them out there in the snow.”
“They’re fine. I’ll help you with them later.”
“What does that thing eat?”
“Roots and shoots. Conifers. They’re like giant deer. You’ve never seen one before?”
“Never.”
“Hunters shoot them for their antlers. For the most part the moose are only looking to survive. This one is big and probably eats a lot of food in a day. Today he got a little too close to town, but we’re living in his territory, after all.”
Violet studied the beast with a different perspective. “Do the hunters eat them?”
“I don’t think so. They just shoot them for the trophy.”
“Seems like a cruel thing to do.”
“I agree.” Tessa moved away from the window. “Try the little sandwiches Mrs. Match brought. They’re delicious. And I got a slice of cake for you before it was gone.”
“Thank you, Tessa. I didn’t get around to eating. I’ve been busy. I’d better think about supper once I’ve tasted the lunch.”
“People will be heading home soon. I’ll stay until the last guest is gone and then put away chairs while Ben Charles and Henry see to the grave.”
Violet’s stomach plummeted. She nodded.
After Tessa had gone, she peered at the food. The thought of eating didn’t appeal to her, but she forced herself to taste the sandwich. Again taking control of her thoughts, she moved a chair before the window, carried her plate and sat to observe the moose.
It had moved farther away and was nibbling at twigs poking through the snow. She nibbled at a slice of pickle. She and that moose were getting by the best they knew how. She found the humor in comparing herself to a moose and finished her funeral meal before setting about preparing supper.
It was still early enough to cook a roast, so she browned the meat and set the covered pan in the oven before peeling potatoes and turnips.
She had time later to wash and change before supper. Henry didn’t join them that evening. “The sky is threatening snow, so he went on home,” Ben Charles explained after he’d prayed. “He looks after his elderly grandfather.”
“He never mentioned it,” Violet replied.
“News is there’s a storm farther north, and it’s heading this way. I strung a rope from the back door to the stable before I came in.”
“What for?”
“If visibility is poor, I can find my way there and back to feed and water the horses.”
“I can help you.”
“We’ll see what it looks like in the morning. I wouldn’t mind the company.”
They ate, and the