Love Finds You in Prince Edward Island Read online

  “Why not? You’re not afraid of hard work,” her mother said. “That’s what they want at Government House—young ladies who’ll be diligent and not lose their heads over the prince.”

  “The prince.” Kate squinnied up her eyes until they became slits with blue slashes glinting at Molly. “Imagine being in the same house with him.”

  Molly shook her head and turned to get the saltcellar from the cupboard. “I wouldn’t be so foolish as to become enamored of an aristocrat. Everybody in this family knows better than that.”

  Nathan entered the kitchen from the dairy attached to the house, carrying a can of cream. “Fresh from the separator.” He lumbered to the churn, and Molly leaped to open the lid for him.

  Her mother continued as if the conversation had not been interrupted. “I expect you’re right, dear. You’d be fine.”

  Her brother tipped up the can of cream and emptied it into the wooden churn. “Our Molly is nearly always right, but what is it this time?”

  Mum gave him a wan smile. “We were discussing whether she should put in her name for service at Government House.”

  Nathan eyed his sister with keen appraisal. “Would you go and scrub floors, or what?”

  “Probably.” Molly shrugged as though it were not important, though her pulse had ratcheted upward when her mother suggested it, and she felt like running to her room to escape the discussion. She smoothed her apron. “The governor’s wife is going to hire extra domestic staff to get ready for the Prince of Wales’s visit. Housemaids and kitchen staff, mostly.”

  “We could use the money, I guess.” Nathan set the cream can on the floor and replaced the churn lid firmly. “With Papa laid up, it might be tough around here this summer. You know the doctor said six weeks at least, maybe eight, before he can work again.”

  Mum said gently, “Molly shouldn’t have to apply if she doesn’t want to. We’ve plenty for her to do here.”

  “Aye.” Nathan gazed at his mother with mournful blue eyes. “We might be all right. Joe and I will work hard.”

  Molly’s chest ached. Go to work at the governor’s house, among strangers? She would have people critically watching everything she did. And would others look down on her if she became a servant? But if this was the one thing she could do that would most help the family in this time of need, of course she would do it. She pasted on a smile for her mother’s sake. “It would only be for a few weeks. The prince is coming in early August.” She went to the large cabinet where they kept the everyday dishes and flatware. Automatically, she counted out seven forks.

  “Still, I never expected to see my daughter go into service.” Her mother shot another questioning glance at her.

  “It’s all right, Mum,” Molly said. “Allison Johnson is putting her name in. I’ll go with her tomorrow.” Molly crossed to the kitchen table and laid down the forks. She picked up that week’s edition of the Islander. “The notice says they want a dozen women.”

  Her mother’s brow furrowed. “If I were younger...”

  “You’ll be needed here at home,” Nathan said.

  “Yes,” Kate said from the corner near the stove. Molly realized she’d been listening and waiting to see the outcome. “You can’t go to work in the city, Mum.”

  “Let Molly apply.” Nathan sounded very like Papa, though he was two years younger than Molly’s twenty. “If they don’t take her, we’ll get by on what we have, though it’s precious little. If they do, it will be a help. And as Molly says, it’s only until August. She’ll be free to help with harvest.”

  “Will Papa and Grandpa get to meet the Prince of Wales?” Molly asked. Grandpa had talked of the possibility for weeks now.

  Her mother frowned. “I doubt your father will be able. He’ll be disappointed. But Grandpa will want to go, of course. I don’t think you could stop him from going into town when the royal party arrives.”

  The door that led to the front yard swung open, and Grandpa Anson hobbled in, leaning on his cane.

  “Well, then, Da, what’s the news?” Mum asked. “I saw you leaning on the fence and conversing with Denny Sayre.”

  “Denny says Lord Washburn is coming with the Prince of Wales in August.”

  Molly caught her breath. “Washburn?” It was a name they all knew well.

  “Aye. He heard it from Tinen Brophy, and he’s a member of the legislature, now there.”

  Mum eyed her father-in-law narrowly. “Now, Da, you mustn’t start anything.”

  “What do you mean, start anything? ’Twasn’t me who started it. All I want is a word with His Lordship, that’s all. Just a word.”

  “But...” Mum closed her mouth and turned back to her biscuit dough.

  Molly realized she’d counted out enough plates and forks to include her father at the table and took one of each back to the cupboard. “Grandpa, I’m going with Allison Johnson tomorrow to ask for employment at Government House. What do you think of that?”

  The old man stroked his white beard. “Well, now, that’s interesting.”

  “It will be a good opportunity for her.” Mum looked anxiously at him for a moment.

  “Perhaps.”

  “Perhaps she’ll meet His Lordship,” Nathan said. He ducked out the back door and closed it.

  Molly stared after him. What would she do if she came in contact with the earl? The idea was more daunting than that of meeting the Prince of Wales.

  “There, we shall have some nice biscuits tonight.” Mum placed each one in the pan and set it in the oven. “Katie, after you’ve set out the cups and knives, go call the boys and your father for tea.”

  “But Papa’s abed, with his leg all smashed.”

  Her mother’s face threatened to crumple. “You’re right—I misspoke. Call the boys and let your papa sleep.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Molly and Kate hurried to finish setting the table. Their mother poured hot water into the teapot and bustled about the stove. When the last dish was laid, Kate scurried out the back door that led through the dairy into the barn.

  Grandpa reached out and laid a gentle hand on Molly’s sleeve. “You’d not be eyeing one of those grand fellows who’ll be with the prince?”

  “Of course not, Grandpa.”

  He nodded and straightened the chipped cup she’d set beside his plate. “The prince is but eighteen years old—two years younger than you, my girl.”

  “That’s so. He’s Nathan’s age. But there’s talk of a ball in his honor.” Molly rounded the table, laying out soft old linen napkins at each place as she went.

  “A ball.” Her grandfather snorted, and her mother looked their way.

  “And why not?” Mum asked sharply. “He’s the queen’s son, after all, and the heir apparent.”

  “Oh, yes. Our future ruler.” Grandpa looked longingly at the teapot. “I suppose he’ll want to dance with the local girls.”

  “Not with me,” Molly said.

  “And why not?” Mum asked again. “You’d stand up to any of them for looks, even Mrs. Dundas.”

  Molly smiled at that. “Now, Mum, let’s not be comparing me to the governor’s wife.”

  “Well, she’s a handsome lady, ’tis true.” Again Grandpa eyed the teapot.

  “I expect it’s brewed enough for you to have half a cup.” Molly picked up the teapot and poured some into his cup.

  Mum shook her head. “You spoil that man, Molly.”

  Grandpa laughed. “Too late for that. My Ellen coddled me for nigh forty years, and you’ve not done such a shabby job yourself, Liza. She’s carrying on the tradition.”

  Mum waved a dismissive hand at him. “There now, don’t ask me to give you extra flan because you talk so sweet.”

  “Well, then I’ll ask our Molly. Think you to be a Cinderella, girl?”

  Molly chuckled. “Me? I’m like her, I suppose. I’ve no dress to wear to a fancy ball. But then, I’ve no fairy godmother, either.”

  “You never spoke a truer word.”


  “Besides, if I’m in service at Government House, I certainly shall not be invited.”

  “Perhaps not.” Grandpa sipped his tea and looked over at Mum. “How’s David doing now?”

  “Still asleep.”

  “I’ll check on him now, before we sit down,” Molly said. She stepped to the door of her parents’ room and opened it gently, peering into the dim room. Her father lay on the bed as the doctor had left him, breathing deeply as he slept.

  The back door opened once more as Molly regained the kitchen, and Kate skipped in. “The boys are washing up.”

  A moment later, Nathan and Joe came in, their sleeves rolled up and their hair damp, with comb marks lining it.

  “If it stays warm like this, we’ll get all the hay in,” Nathan said as he slid onto the bench on the wall side of the table.

  “We may need to hire another man to help us get it all cut,” Grandpa said with a frown. “I doubt we can manage it alone.”

  Ten-year-old Joe took the seat beside Nathan. Kate took the other end of the bench. With her mother at one end of the table, Molly took her customary chair beside Grandpa Anson.

  “Shall we pray?” Her grandfather bowed his head, and all of them followed his example. “Lord, we thank Thee for this food and for our family and farm. We beg Thy swift healing for David, and we ask Thy providential hand on the young prince as he comes to us. May he prosper if You see fit to preserve him and let him one day rule over us.”

  The others said, “Amen.” Molly shot Grandpa a sideways glance, expecting him to begin talking about the royal visitors again, but he began filling his plate and for once kept his thoughts to himself.

  June 28

  Molly and her friend Allison stood in line outside the back door of Government House. A chilly drizzle soaked their bonnets and skirts. Some of the women in line had umbrellas, but most did not.

  Allison’s face pinched up as though she’d bitten into one of Mum’s icicle pickles. “We look like a couple of drowned rats. They’ll never pick us.”

  “We’re no worse off than most of the others.” Molly touched her friend’s shoulder with her sodden glove. “Just be glad you wore your warm coat.”

  “Who’d have thought it, in June?”

  “Indeed.” The line moved forward, and Molly took a step. They’d arrived early, and she had counted thirty women ahead of her and Allison that morning. Nine were left—that she could see. Others were sheltered inside the kitchen of the huge house, as they’d progressed in the line to that point. Behind Molly and her friend, at least sixty more stood in the rain. The queue straggled down the drive toward the city streets near the harbor, so far that Molly couldn’t see the end of it. “We’ll be inside soon.”

  A young woman in a worsted skirt, cotton apron, and gray knit shawl emerged from the door ahead of them, squeezing past those waiting. “ ’Scuse me. ’Scuse, please.”

  “Fanny!” Allison seized the young woman’s arm. “Were you interviewed?”

  “Good day, Allison—or rather, soggy, nasty, wet day.” The interviewee laughed. “You’re nearly there, so take heart.”

  Molly knew Fanny Dalton slightly. The young woman had attended the same rural school as she and Allison but had been two grades behind them. Molly kept her peace and let Allison carry the conversation.

  “What did they ask you?”

  “Hmm. Well, if I had experience in service, and if I could do heavy cleaning, and who my folks were.”

  “Were you hired?”

  Fanny frowned. “The housekeeper said those as are hired will be told on Monday.”

  Molly let out a pent-up breath. So they would have to wait four more days before they knew the outcome.

  Other women in line were looking at Fanny and leaning in to catch her words. Fanny bent toward Allison and said softly, “Once you’re through the door, you’ll be in the kitchen. If you’re there for a few minutes, you’ll warm up and dry out a little. If you’re in luck, your hair will dry and not frizz all over like mine did.”

  Allison smiled. “I brought a comb.”

  “That was great foresight on your part. You ought to get a moment to use it. Best of luck.”

  “Thanks.” Fanny walked away, and Allison said to Molly, “At least we can run the comb through our hair before they call us. Maybe you can shield me so other people can’t see me do it.”

  Molly, whose locks were pulled back and knotted at the nape of her neck, only smiled. Her hat had at least kept the worst of the water from her hair and she doubted she could improve her looks in a ten-second encounter with Allison’s comb, but she was willing to aid her friend.

  At last the line moved forward enough for them to reach the back entrance of the mansion. As she stepped into the dim interior, Molly realized they didn’t enter the kitchen directly. The line wended through a cold room holding several large tubs and baskets. This must be the laundry. Soon they shuffled to the next doorway. Several women were visible inside the vast kitchen, all diligently tending to their tasks—chopping vegetables, filling the firebox on a huge cast-iron cookstove, and putting away stacks of clean dishes. Although the door had to remain open behind them, the warmth of the kitchen prompted the girls to remove their coats and shake their skirts a little, hoping they would dry quickly.

  Four stools had been placed so that the four women at the head of the line could sit down for a few minutes and ease their feet, and to Molly’s surprise a girl of about sixteen, dressed in black and wearing a white overall apron, brought her and Allison each a cup of strong tea.

  “Thank you very much,” Molly said.

  The girl ducked her head. “You’re welcome, miss.” Her soft brogue told Molly that she belonged to one of the many Irish families on the island. “Mrs. Dundas came in an hour ago and saw that the ladies had a long wait. The tea was her idea, to perk you up before you face Mrs. Bolton.”

  “Mrs. Bolton?” Allison asked in a guarded whisper.

  “She’s the housekeeper, miss.”

  “Ah.” Allison shot Molly a glance.

  Realizing they had an opportunity to gain information, Molly asked, “Do you like working here?”

  “Oh, surely.” The girl smiled. “It’s hard work, but they treat us well and the pay is good.”

  Molly smiled back. “What’s your name?”

  “Jane Lyons. I’m one of Cook’s helpers.”

  “I believe my younger brother was in school with you,” Molly said. “Nathan Orland.”

  “Sure, I remember. He was a year above me. But I’m done with school now that I’m employed.” Jane nodded and turned to take empty teacups from those ahead of Molly in the line. On her way back past them, she paused just long enough to say, “I hope you’re hired, ladies.”

  “I wonder how she got her job,” Allison said.

  “Who knows? Maybe she’s related to someone in service here, or perhaps she answered an earlier advertisement.”

  During their conversation they drank their tea and moved forward until they were privileged to occupy two of the stools. Every few minutes a footman wearing green-and-gold livery came to the doorway near where the first woman in line sat and told her to go in. Finally Allison was called, and Molly sat on the first stool still waiting her turn and holding both their coats.

  “Almost there, dear,” said the older woman behind her.

  Molly turned and smiled at her. “Yes, ma’am. Aren’t you Mrs. Chiden?”

  “The same. I’ve known your mother these twenty years.”

  “So, you hope to get work during the royal visit?” Molly asked.

  “We all do, don’t we?” Mrs. Chiden grimaced. “I suppose every family can use a little ready money.”

  “Yes, that’s so.”

  The door opened, and the footman said, “Next.”

  Molly followed him along a hallway and up a flight of stairs, wondering what she should do with the coats. Another footman in his green-and-gold livery stood outside a closed door in the passageway.<
br />
  “You’ll wait here,” said the young man who had brought her up.

  Before Molly could thank him, the door opened and Allison slipped out. Her face was bright red, and she looked close to tears. She seized Molly’s wrist before taking their coats. “Good luck, friend.”

  “Thank you.”

  The first footman said, “I’ll take you down, miss.”

  The footman beside the door nodded to Molly and opened the door again. “There now, go on in, miss.”

  Molly thought he winked at her, but she wasn’t certain, so she decided to ignore him. She stepped forward into a cozy sitting room crowded with furniture. A thin, gray-haired woman sat regally in a rocker near the empty fireplace. Beside her was a small table holding a teacup and saucer, a pencil, and a sheaf of papers. Not a speck of ash marred the spotless hearth. The furnishings outshone those at the Orland farm in their finery, but Molly wasn’t sure the room full of stiff chairs, stands, and china ornaments was as comfortable as the shabby rooms back home.

  The woman’s black dress crinkled slightly as she pushed the rocker back and forth with her toes. “Come in, then, and sit down. We haven’t all day.”

  Molly scuttled into the chair facing her.

  “I’m Mrs. Bolton.”

  “How do you do?”

  “I do fine, thank you. What is your name?”

  “Molly Orland.”

  “Hmm...” Mrs. Bolton consulted the paper before her then raised her chin, giving the effect of eyeing Molly down one side of her ample nose. “You’re a farm girl?”

  “Yes, ma’am. My father is David Orland, on the North River Road.”

  “I see. What sort of work do you do on the farm?”

  “I keep house with my mother, mostly. I cook and sew and scrub and churn—whatever needs doing.”

  “And have you a beau?”

  Molly’s pulse quickened, and she blinked at the abrupt question. “No, ma’am.”

  The housekeeper nodded. “Wouldn’t want your young man coming around while you were working, or making a fuss about it.”

  Molly was beginning to understand why Allison’s face had flushed so while she sat in this chair.