Miss Charlotte could hear the rhythmic chopping of a knife coming from the kitchen beyond the main hall as she entered through the front door and set her cloak on the peg beside the door. The steady sound was at odds with the sporadic hammering inside her chest, since she had bustled up the hill to the Litwell home faster than she was used to walking. She wasted no time in crossing the entrance hall and proceeded in towards the kitchen.
After the briefest pause in the clicking of the knife against the cutting board, a young female voice called out, “Miss Charlotte, is that you?” Without waiting for an answer, the knife continued its measured knocking.
Passing from the main hall to the kitchen, Miss Charlotte was greeted by the firelight flooding out from the hearth and the sight of it shining against the golden tresses of the young woman who was responsible for the repetitive sounds.
Ellany’s head turned from the partially sliced tomato before her to Miss Charlotte with a mildly petulant expression. “What kept you, Miss Charlotte? I was beginning to grow worried at your absence. I can’t remember the last time you stayed out so late past sunset.” She looked ready to continue but grew silent as she registered the grave expression of her housekeeper.
“There’s been a devastating fire up in Trestlebridge! Some ladies in town are saying the people up there are left entirely defenseless with their homes burned and their supplies gone!” The usually stoic Miss Charlotte covered her face in her hands as she let her emotions overtake her.
Ellany laid down the knife, taking up the grey-haired lady in her arms. “Oh, Miss Charlotte.”
“Think of the little children and everyone…” Miss Charlotte sobbed. She let her hands fall and looked up at Ellany with moistened eyes. ‘Do you remember how often we used to go there with your father to trade when you were little? Your mother was so fond of the people there and they treated her like one of their own.” Pulling a handkerchief from her pockets, she dabbed at the corners of her eyes as she attempted to quickly collect herself. “Your mother would have been so sad to hear of it.”
After a minute and a couple sniffles, the elder woman’s face resurfaced from behind the cotton square and she took in the younger girls’ expression which mirrored her own. With a frustrated wave of her handkerchief, she seemed to toss aside her melancholy. “Oh, don’t let me go on so. Come now, you’ll be hungry coming home from work and not finding even a spot of supper on the table.”
In an instant, Miss Charlotte maneuvered past Ellany, tucking away her handkerchief and putting on an apron which she quickly knotted around her waist. Promptly, she assumed Ellany’s position at the cutting board as though nothing consequential had passed.
Ellany quietly watched her housekeeper as she moved to stand in front of the fire to stir the stew, which already simmered with beans and onions. Though Miss Charlotte was well acquainted with news, both big and small, in town and was often the first to know anything, hearing about the situation in Trestlebridge had not startled her. Just earlier that day, Mister Hollace Fenflower had visited her at the Town Hall to pass on a letter from his younger brother, Corrben. In writing, he had explained that he was leaving Bree for Trestlebridge in the north where he felt the situation was dire. As a result, she had already been contemplating how she might also help, while preparing supper.
“Is there anything we could do, Miss Charlotte? We have many unused quilts upstairs…and there are more vegetables in the gardens than we can eat with father gone from the house…” she began to suggest mildly.
The elderly housekeeper turned around to look at Ellany in the middle of peeling potatoes. “Why, that’s a lovely thought, Miss Ellany! The ladies in town and I can speed up our latest sewing projects to send up north and see if any of the neighbors have things here and there they don’t need. We can collect supplies and send them with the next merchant going up!”
Ellany paused her stirring to hesistantly suggest, “Well, why don’t I go myself? I have a friend who has already gone to Trestlebridge and I think Mister Hollace might want to go up as well.”
At the start of Ellany’s suggestion, Miss Charlotte had opened her mouth with a strong look of disapproval, but her brows softened at the mention of Mister Hollace’s name. Mulling over her words, she seemed about to start speaking multiple times before finally deciding and saying, “You’ve never taken the wagon and horses anywhere by yourself, Miss Ellany.”
“It’s only up north a bit, not very far from Bree town. And I’ve seen Father do it my entire life; I think I could manage. Besides, think about it, Miss Charlotte. It would be the quickest way to get the supplies up and I could make sure that it went to the right place and people. And I want to see the situation myself to see if there isn’t anything else we can do.”
It wasn’t until the vegetables were all added to the stew and simmered in the pot with herbs that Miss Charlotte agreed to the idea. They pondered over the details as they ate dinner, and it was decided that Ellany would take the first collection of donations – whatever they could find in the next few days – up to Trestlebridge. During her time there, she would also find out what supplies were needed most and contribute to the rebuilding efforts. Meanwhile, Miss Charlotte would continue quilting and sewing with the ladies in town and gather additional donations until Ellany returned to drive up the next collection.
The only uncertain aspect of the entire plan was how Miss Bonnie Milkweed at the Town Hall would take the news that Ellany would be leaving her position for an indeterminate amount of time.
