"Do remember, dear Willa, it is always better to ask forgiveness than permission.” I didn’t think either scenario would help with Margaret in regard to me, but I didn’t say anything...
“Willa! Willa! Wake up! Those are the church bells.” Margaret O’Brien held me by the shoulders and shook me so hard my teeth clanked together. I awoke to find myself in my little room over the laundry with the Dickinsons’ first maid standing over me. Her dark hair with the finest streaks of silver was down and tangled and she wore her nightdress. In these long two years that I worked for the family I had never seen Margaret with her hair down or in her nightdress. I found that more disconcerting than her shaking me awake like I was a night watchman who had slept through his shift. “Church bells?” I asked in wonder. “Is it Sunday morning? Did I sleep through services? I’m so sorry. It must have been the cold that would not allow me to awake.” “No, you fool! It’s fire,” Margaret said. She could barely hold the panic from creeping into her voice. Fear wrapped its cold fingers around my heart. Little else than the threat of fire to home and hearth could cause such immediate terror. “Here?” I managed to squeak. “No, get up. It is near the railroad station, and Mr. Dickinson is heading out. We must be on call to assist.” With that, she left my room. I got dressed as quickly as I could and tethered my hair at the back of my head in a haphazard knot. I hoped that the Dickinsons would not look so closely to see how disheveled I appeared. However, I supposed that everyone would look a little less than composed considering the hour and the incessant ringing of the church bells. Church bells all over Amherst rang. It was not just the Dickinsons’ congregational church across the street, but even my Baptist church that was tucked in the woods. Everyone was called to help with the fire, and this was even truer if the fire threatened the college because the people of Amherst glorified the college whether they attended there or not. Maybe I took pride in living in an overly educated town, too, as an education was a luxury I never had but could appreciate from afar. By the time I made it downstairs to the kitchen, Margaret was already in a housedress and her hair was perfectly drawn back in a bun at the nape of her neck. She was in the midst of packing a hamper of food. It seemed she was determined to give all the bread that we had left to those who fought the fire. She closed the hamper’s lid and shoved the hamper into my hands. “Here. Take this to Jeremiah to take with them. I can’t do much for the men going to help but give food. Jeremiah should be out front by now with the carriage.” Jeremiah had been Henry’s dearest friend and the one who found my brother’s body when Henry was killed. After the incident, Emily convinced her father to hire Jeremiah for the homestead stables as they were moving here to the homestead from North Pleasant Street. She rationally told her father that they were coming into more land and space overall and would need someone who worked full-time for the family to care for the livestock as it was a much larger menagerie than it had been at their old home. I grabbed my own cloak, bonnet, and mittens from the laundry. I put everything on and was about to go out the back door when Margaret stopped me. “Don’t go that way,” she snapped. “You want me to go out the front door?” I asked in shock. I never went in and out the front door. I was a servant, not a guest of the family. “The snow is too high again, and you will be soaked through,” Margaret said gruffly. “Go out the front.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “This one time.” I nodded and took the hamper to the front of the house. In the foyer, Mr. Dickinson was hastily putting on his heavy wool coat and gloves. His wife stood in a nightdress and cap and wrung her hands. “Edward, you are no longer a young man. Leave it to the younger men to put out the fire.” Mr. Dickinson glared at his wife. “As the college treasurer I must go. The air is cold and dry. In these conditions the fire could spread quickly even to the college. I must go.” Mrs. Dickinson looked as if she might be ill as he said this, but as a good wife, she kept any other opinions to herself. Emily slid into the foyer in her winter wool frock, cloak, bonnet, and sturdy boots. Carlo, her beloved dog, was at her side. “I’ll make sure Father is safe, Mother.” “Emily Elizabeth, you are not coming with me,” her father snapped. “I am and I will, and if you don’t take me, I will simply ride with Austin. The stable hand said that he was getting his carriage ready to depart as well.” “I don’t have time to argue with you on this matter. You and Carlo are not coming.” “That is where you are wrong.” She flung open the door and a rush of freezing air and blowing snow flew into all of our faces. Emily didn’t seem to be the least bit bothered by it. She looked over her shoulder. “We will be in the carriage. Don’t delay. We don’t want to miss what’s happening.” I tensed when Emily said that. We knew what was happening to someone’s home, their whole life was being dissolved into flames. I could not imagine what it would have felt like. Emily went out the front door with Carlo walking behind her. Before she closed the door, she glanced over her shoulder. “Willa will be coming too.” I stood there unsure what to do. Mr. Dickinson scowled at me as if this were somehow my fault. “Get in the carriage,” he barked. I didn’t hesitate and carried the heavy hamper out of the house. A path had been shoveled from the front door to the driveway. The carriage and the Dickinsons’ horse, Terror, stood at the ready. The large black horse stamped his hooves on the gravel, and hot steam rose from his nostrils. He didn’t want to be out in the cold any more than I did. Outside the relative safety of the homestead, the pealing of the church bells was deafening. As the congregational church stood just across Main Street, it rang the loudest to my ears. I knew that Horace must have been ringing the bell with all his might. He would have been the first one to the church as he was the sexton and had lodgings behind it. Emily was already in the back of the carriage when I slipped the heavy hamper inside. Carlo lay across her lap like a warm blanket. “Ride inside with us, Willa,” she said as I stepped back. “No, miss, your father wouldn’t like it, and he’s already upset.” I could tell that she wanted to argue with me more about it, but her father appeared. I slipped to the front of the carriage. Jeremiah closed the carriage door after Mr. Dickinson was inside. He climbed up in the driver’s seat, and I followed him. Jeremiah was as bundled up from the cold as I was. All I could see were his dark eyes, and I supposed with my scarf wrapped tightly around my own face that was all he could see of me. Even with all the layers, it was freezing, and I didn’t know how long I would last in this cold. I didn’t know how long Emily would last. She was far smaller than I was. It was like throwing a songbird out into the snow. “What are you doing here?” Jeremiah hissed and flicked the reins. Terror shook his head and then started down the drive at a careful pace as there was a thick layer of ice over the gravel. When we reached Main Street, I said, “Miss Dickinson insisted that I come.” “Why?” he asked. That wasn’t a question I could answer, and as the road was bumpy with ice and snow, I didn’t say another word and held on to my seat with a firm grip. Jeremiah pulled the reins so that Terror would turn left on Main Street, which was away from the college and toward Kelley Square. We had traveled only a few yards when the smell of smoke engulfed us. Just on the edge of Kelley Square a burning house came into view. My heart was in my throat at the terrifying scene before my eyes. The fire licked the sky. Men ran back and forth with buckets of water from the college well, but it didn’t seem to make much difference. Another group of men splashed water on the nearby college buildings, to deter the fire from engulfing other buildings. We were still three homes away when Jeremiah stopped the carriage, but it was as close as the carriage could go. Police officers blocked the road and didn’t let anyone pass. I searched the faces of the officers for any sign of my friend Matthew Thomas. I hoped to see him on the street and prayed he was safe. However, I knew he would be with the men fighting the fire. He was always the first to help. Jeremiah jumped down from the carriage seat and then held out his hand to help me down. He opened the carriage door and Emily and Carlo came out. Emily stared at the flames. Her gaze held that faraway look that she sometimes had, and of which was I so familiar. “A thing that can ignite,” she murmured. Mr. Dickinson came out of the carriage. “Heaven help us.” “Father”—Emily looked over her shoulder—“will you go and help the men fight the flames?” Mr. Dickinson cleared his throat. “The college has plenty of good, sturdy young men who are already here and will do better to put on the fight than I ever would. I will supervise.” A man with a full silver beard and a black felt hat walked over to us. He wore a long black overcoat, but as the hat did not cover his pronounced ears, they shone red in the light of the fire. “Dean Masterson,” Mr. Dickinson addressed the newcomer. “Tell me what has happened.” “Mr. Dickinson,” the man said in turn. “It is a dreadful sight, but I can assure you that the fire will be contained. I have been told that it is no real threat to any of the college buildings. I assume that is why you are here.” “Of course,” Mr. Dickinson said. “Losing one of our austere academic buildings would be a great tragedy and a concern for me as treasurer, as I would have to appropriate the funds to rebuild it.” The dean nodded. “We have been told by the volunteer firemen here tonight that there is no need to be concerned. We’re taking every precaution.” “Very good,” Mr. Dickinson said by way of approval. Dean Masterson saw Emily and me standing a little bit behind Mr. Dickinson and scowled. “This is no place for gawkers. A home is lost. Don’t make a mockery of it.” Mr. Dickinson’s back stiffened. “That is my daughter to whom you are speaking.” “You brought your daughter with you?” the dean asked, glancing at Emily. Mr. Dickinson cleared his throat. “I believe that it is important for young women to know what the true risk of fire can bring. If she sees it with her own eyes, she will be more careful with her candle in the future.” Dean Masterson wrinkled his brow as if he didn’t know what to make of Mr. Dickinson’s statement. Another man joined the pair and had the same academic look about him that the dean did. I wanted to hear what he had to say about the fire, if anything, but Emily grabbed the edge of my cloak and pulled me away. “Come,” Emily said. “There is no time to waste.” I let her lead me away but wondered what time she was referring to. Emily moved closer to the fire and stopped behind one of the small homes to watch. Unsure why we were there, Carlo and I stood with her. Men shoveled snow on the flames that they could reach. It seemed like such a futile act as more of the flames came out of the roof. A fireman stood on the top of the fire wagon, spraying all the water he could from the hose onto the roof. I glanced at Emily, and her dark eyes glowed in the light of the flames. Her reddish hair, which peeked out of her bonnet, shone as if it were always meant to reflect the blaze. “It is magnificent,” Emily said. “Horrible, but magnificent all the same.” I looked at the fire and tried to see it through her poet’s eyes. I don’t believe that I managed it. There was very little that I could see through Emily’s eyes. I was far too removed from musings like she had. I was far too cynical and practical as a result of my hard upbringing and a life of hand to mouth. “I wouldn’t be calling that fire magnificent for all it cost,” a man with a slight Southern accent said. I was surprised by the accent. I hadn’t heard someone speak like that since I had accompanied Miss Dickinson to Washington two years ago. It took me back to some happy and also terrifying memories from that time. Emily looked up at the man and even though she was a head and a half shorter than he was, she seemed to be the more commanding force. “What did this cost other than the building?” “The whole family’s presumed dead,” the fireman said. “I saw the bodies inside. I wish I could erase the memory from my mind. It was a thing of nightmares. They had a child.”
I shivered at the very idea, and now the flames appeared to be even more menacing than before. “The whole family?” Emily asked. “You’re sure.” “I know what I saw. There was the body of a mother and father, and I can only assume that the child would have been inside the home as well. It was horrific. I will never forget what I saw. Never.” I swallowed. It was too horrible for words. A body on a board was wrapped in a white sheet. My chest clenched. I didn’t know if I had ever seen such a horrible sight. Gratefully, I could not see the body, but the smallness of the form under the sheet worried me that it might be a child, like the fireman said. “Have you been here long?” Emily asked the man. “I have, miss. I have been here since the fire began and was the first inside. I will go back to fighting the fire in a moment. I just needed a bit of time to compose myself.” “It was very wise to take it. I believe it is a terrible thing that people don’t spend more time contemplating what they see.” “I suppose,” the fireman said. He looked as if he might cry. He turned away from us. “How did the fire start?” Emily asked. I was immediately wondering why Emily would ask a question like that. What did it matter how the family was killed? It was certainly not something that I wanted to think about for long. “It is hard to tell while the fire is still burning, but I think it was something with the fireplace at the front of the house. The family had built a great fire in it for warmth during these frigid days. This cold weather seems to have snuck up on so many and they weren’t properly prepared for the dark turn in the weather.” “You believe the fire started in the chimney?” “Yes, but it leapt to the curtains in the front room. From there it grew out of control in a blink of an eye.” “How many children lived in the home?” I asked. The volunteer fireman looked at me. “Just the one. That surprised me, though, since they are a Catholic family. A poor Irish-Catholic family, so we can only assume that they had many children as is their way.” I felt my back stiffen at his assumption. I had grown up poor as well and had only one brother. I wasn’t Irish or Catholic, but I didn’t feel it was right for the fireman to be saying this. Emily folded her arms. “I think it would be best to confirm how many children were actually in the family and if there were even more before making such a statement about the family.” The man’s face turned bright red. “I should return to help.” “Yes,” Emily agreed. When he was gone, Emily began to shiver; Carlo pressed his woolly body against her. “Perhaps we should go back to the carriage,” I said. “It will still be cold, but at least you will be out of the wind.” Emily shook her head. “I must know if a child was lost in the flames.” I felt sick at the very idea. I prayed that the fireman had been wrong. He seemed to know very little of the family. Perhaps there were no children. Suddenly, Carlo lifted his broad nose in the air and sniffed. His whole body stiffened as if he caught a scent on the wind. I could smell nothing more than the acrid odor of fire. Carlo sniffed the wind again, and then took off, straight for the flames. “Carlo! Carlo!” Emily cried, and my mistress ran after him. The dog did not stop and circled the house. Men fighting the flames with soot-covered faces yelled at him. They shouted at Emily as well when she ran by them. It seemed that I had no choice but to follow. “Miss! Miss!” I called, but Emily didn’t as much as turn her head. Emily was out of sight around the side of the house before I ran more than a few feet. I had no choice but to go after her. I lifted my skirts high over my stout boots and ran. A cold draft encircled my legs and caused me to whimper from the chill. I rounded the corner that was dark with night and smoke and ran smack into a wall or what I thought was a wall. It would have been a wall had it not had arms. “Willa!” Matthew cried. “What are you doing here? There is a fire.” He told me that there was a fire as if it should be all that I needed to know to keep me away. In most cases that would be true but not when Emily and Carlo might be in some kind of danger. “Emily,” I said, speaking my mistress’s given name aloud to anyone but her for the first time. Emily had given me permission to call her by her Christian name, but I remained careful that I didn’t abuse that privilege in a public setting. There were many that would look down on the friendship of a first daughter of a prominent Amherst family with the second maid in the home. As a woman in domestic service, I always had to be on my guard and make sure that I didn’t commit any breach in etiquette. Young women like me had been dismissed for much less. Thankfully, Matthew seemed too shocked by my appearance at the fire to note my mistake. He held me by the shoulders. “Where is she?” “I—I don’t know. Carlo ran off and she went after him. Then I went after her.” Matthew glanced at the raging fire that looked not any closer to being snuffed out, but it did appear that the men on the scene had been able to contain the flames to the single house. The home was lost and would be completely burned to the ground before the night was over. It was a sight to see, to be sure, but it also caused me to wonder. I had had the misfortune to witness several house fires in my life, and I had never seen one that so engulfed a building. A thought tickled the back of my mind and asked me why the fire would burn so hot and fast. “I have to find Miss Dickinson and make sure she is all right,” I said. “I will go with you to make sure you don’t get too close to the flames.” I frowned up at him, but he could not see my expression behind my scarf. However, I am sure that he could guess that it was there. “I am not a fool and would not run into the flames.” “You would if Miss Dickinson was there,” he assured me. I frowned, as I had no rebuttal to that as it was true. Matthew and I went around the side of the building. There wasn’t much behind it but a stand of trees that were in very serious risk of catching fire. If the flames jumped to the trees, there would be no stopping the fire short of another snowstorm. Thankfully, the wind was blowing in the opposite direction. Unfortunately, that direction happened to be toward the college. However, I reminded myself that the men fighting the fire were confident that the college would be spared. I held on to the sides of my bonnet with the hope of keeping it in place against the cold wind. The woods were dark. Emily and Carlo could have been anywhere. I prayed that Emily had found Carlo or he had found her. I worried about her alone in the dark wood in the middle of the night. I cupped my mitten-covered hands around my mouth and called, “Miss Dickinson! Emily!” There was no response. Matthew looked at the woods. “We might have to get a search party together to look for her. It is foolhardy to strike out on your own on a night like this that is not only freezing cold but has so much confusion and chaos from the house fire.” “I don’t see it that way, Officer Thomas,” Emily said from behind us. Matthew and I both leapt in the air in surprise. “Miss Dickinson,” Matthew said. “I did not know that you were there.” She eyed him. “It’s clear to me that you didn’t, but I am glad to find the two of you. There is a matter that we all need to address.” “Where’s Carlo?” I asked. “I’ll show you.” Matthew and I glanced at each other but allowed Emily to lead us into the woods. We walked no more than ten yards when she stopped and pointed in front of her. Ahead of us on the path, there was a large dark mass. At first, I thought it was a black bear and my heart skipped a beat, but then I realized it was Carlo curled into a ball. “Is Carlo hurt?” I asked. She shook her head. Matthew approached the dog, and I was a few steps beside him. When I was within three feet of Carlo, I saw that he wasn’t just wrapped into a ball, but he had wrapped his woolly body around a child. I covered my mouth. It was a young girl. She couldn’t have been more than eight years of age. There was soot on her cheeks, and she shivered as she clung on to Carlo’s neck as if her life depended on it—and it just might, as she wasn’t wearing a coat or even shoes on her feet. Without a second of hesitation, Matthew removed his coat, wrapped it around the child like he was swaddling a baby, and picked her up. She didn’t make a sound. Carlo stood up, ready to do whatever was required to help the girl. “We have to get her inside now.” Matthew took off in the direction of the fire. Carlo, Emily, and I followed, but it was only Carlo who could keep up with him in the deep snow as our skirts weighed us down. We came around the side of the burning house just in time to see Matthew and the child disappear into a grand home across the street outside of Kelley Square. The house was a large block of a home with two chimneys that billowed hot air into the freezing sky. “Come on!” Emily cried, and she took off at a run to the house. “Watch where you’re going!” called a man who was driving a horse and wagon down the road. Emily didn’t even stop to wave at the man. I waited for the wagon to pass and then crossed the street. By that time, Emily was already inside the house...
~~~
I would have been well pleased to continue reading this fantastically conceived and brilliantly creative merge of one of America's well-known poets of the 1800s, together with the cozy mystery flair of author Amanda Flower... I've been a fan of cozies since I first started reading adult fiction, always choosing mysteries over most any other genre at that time. I've been reading Flower since 2010, so do check out earlier reviews by searching her name in the right column...But, I was most intrigued when I first heard about her new series based upon Emily Dickinson, and set in the town where Amherst College had been first started in 1821, and is now the third largest and continuing higher education institution in Massachusetts.
The entire Dickinson family had large homes built and, given the status of many of the residents who also worked at Amherst, there was an elite environment, where a strict class structure had continued into the new century... There is a clearly defined separation of the white male leaders, as opposed to all of the hundreds of staff who worked in service professions--police, janitors, maids... In fact, it was at that time when servants were so "invisible" to the elite that they knew more about what was happening in town than many of the professionals living there.
In this book we find the possible reason why Emily Dickinson had first connected with the second maid in her home... While what is said may also be true, I like to think that Emily was drawn to Willa because of her desire to learn--often reading the books from the family library--as well as being quick to pick up on issues that happen on a daily basis in their home and community and be able to make real connections in helping to solve mysteries... Everybody in the house knew that at sometime something would have to break up the close relationship that sprung up between the very unique and commanding woman who had a way of getting around her father whenever they disagreed, just by choosing to apologize after she had made a decision, rather than asking for permission in advance. Made sense most of the time. However, the First Maid was constantly upset, even though she realized that Willa really had no choice but to go with Emily when she was ordered to... But, even that, for Emily, was always a game of power that she enjoyed playing--willing to shock everybody, simply by speaking Truth mostly... Still, Willa would catch emily staring off into space, softly whispering...
A ray of bright sunshine broke through the clouds and all around us the snow shone and sparkled. It was close to blinding, but I couldn’t look away. It seemed to me that Emily felt that same way. She stared at the brightest spot on the snow-covered church steeple. “There’s a certain slant of light on winter afternoons,” she murmured.
But this time, yes, there was a mystery to be solved, but Willa, for the first time, had a significant reason she wanted--no needed--to participate in solving the crime(s)...
There had been a fire of a home near the campus, so the entire town was called out to assist. A young married couple had been burned to death in their home and the building had burned to the ground. Emily's best friend, her dog, had located the daughter of the family, who had been saved when her father carefully placed her outside a window and then went back for his wife. They were told by the fireman later that both doors had been blocked by large stones in front of each door. They were murdered.
Later that night, Willa was the one individual who cared enough about the girl, to slip into the bedroom where she was placed and to stay with her, holding her, that entire night. The little girl had known she was there, feeling Willa's concern, but did not reveal that until the next day because she wanted to ensure she was now safe. Even at that point, she and Willa were the only two of all involved others, to whom the girl would speak... Willa immediately recognized her as being a young "Willa" and had talked and shared about her early life... Now, Willa knew one thing, but had to keep silent about her thoughts... because the police were working to find a home for her, after determining that none of those who financially were very able to keep her, weren't willing to actually do so...
Of course, I realized what she was hoping to do, even before it was spoken in the book and that, dear friends, will explain why I considered what happened as the book proceeds through to the climax and Flower presents us with a Lovely Finale to her Trilogy, one that, for me, was...just...perfect!
Amanda Flower deserves exceptional recognition for capturing the personality of Emily Dickinson and introducing her to the world as a totally competent and enthusiastically driven amateur detective who, if we could rewrite history as some try to do, Emily would have been the very first female amateur sleuth! Do check out the first two books in series: Because I Could Not Stop For Death and I Heard a Fly Buzz When I Died (first)/
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