Editor’s Note: This is an ongoing series which runs each Thursday morning titled the Richland Chronicles by author Paul Lintern. It is set in 1831 and tells the story of Richland County through the eyes of a young girl.
Each day, Amelia gained strength, and her wrist, though showing two nasty scars from the knife cuts and fang bites, was looking much better, thanks to Appleseed John’s stinky concoction. He stopped to see Amelia three more times in the next week.
“How is our little Lexington Minutemaid,” he bellowed as he came into the tavern one evening.
“I am from Boston, and I have never been to Lexington,” Amelia said, “But thank you, I am fine, and my wrist thanks you, although my nose still has not decided.”
“An aroma like that just reminds you that you are alive, and that your olfactory sense is functioning perfectly,” he replied.
“Still, I make it a point to go outside or hide in the bedroom when guests come to eat. We don’t want Aunt Peggy’s cooking reputation to suffer so my arm can get well,” Amelia said.
“By the way, do you know why the nose is in the middle of the face,” Uncle Jacob offered.
“Because it is the scenter,” Autumn and Amelia said together.
“Apparently, I have told that one before,” Jacob replied.
“Even I have heard that from you more times than I can count,” John smiled.
Amelia, of course, had not picked up her violin since the accident, and had greatly missed the appreciative audiences each night in the tavern.
She had become a bit of a celebrity in her first month here, and some had actually come to the tavern to hear her play. It was not that a violinist was such a rarity in Richland County, but that it was a 10-year-old violinist who was a match for Jacob Zeiters, who fancied himself one of the better fiddlers in the area.
Still, she loved to hear him play, knowing that he had learned it from her grandmother, when he was as young as she. The way he could play Mozart one moment and a barn dance number the next was something she wanted to learn, even if she would have to hide that skill from her audiences in Boston, especially, her mother.
It became an interesting evening indeed, when Mr. and Mrs. Arnold appeared at the Tavern door, for supper. They were a dapper couple, as well-dressed as any in Mansfield, as close to a genteel Massachusetts couple as Amelia had yet seen here. To have them sitting at the same table as Appleseed John was a sight she wanted to hold on to forever.
George Arnold owned the “new cheap goods” store Amelia had visited her first day in Mansfield. He boasted of having everything a person could need or want.
“If I don’t have it, I‘ll find it,” he would say.
His was not the only store in Mansfield — Mr. Sturges, Mr. McFall, Mr. Bowman all had nice stores, right there within a block of each other — but because Mr. Arnold was Uncle Jacob’s friend, and because he gave her licorice the first day she arrived in Mansfield, he had her favor.
“What brings you to the Inn, Brother Arnold,” Amelia heard John ask.
“We have been to Olivesburgh, to see about opening a store there, next to or with the general store. Haven’t decided yet,” Mr. Arnold said.
Then noticing Amelia, he added, “And look at how well this filly is recovering.”
Amelia greeted the Arnolds, but blushed a little when he said, “My goodness girl, what is that dress you are wearing? It is all worn. You must come to my store and get some bright, new material for a new one. You are beginning to look like Mr. Chapman here.”
John looked up from his supper and said, “Maybe Mr. Arnold will sell you a nice coffee bag, from which I can make you a blouse and a skirt.”
Amelia didn’t say anything, but had an idea. She went to Peggy and asked if Autumn could be excused from helping with supper, then told her why. Peggy thought it was a splendid idea and sent the two girls upstairs.
“What are we doing?” Autumn asked.
“Mr. Arnold was teasing us about our clothing.”
“He didn’t mean anything.”
“Oh, I know that, but it gave me an idea. We have never actually opened this other trunk, because I was embarrassed that my mother sent so many clothes. These are some of my best dresses. I think we should get dressed up in the very best, and dine with the Arnolds,” Amelia said.
“And mother said yes?”
“You heard her call it a splendid idea.”
And with that Amelia pulled out some of the most beautiful gowns Autumn had ever seen — bright colors, smart patterns, delicate embroidery, with full bodices and lovely, elaborate hats — and they all were her size.
“Why haven’t you opened this until now?” Autumn asked.
Amelia was not sure.
“I guess at first, I was embarrassed that I brought so much, then I was more comfortable dressing like you, then I suppose I just forgot until now.” But nothing was forgotten now. The girls went through the whole trunk until each had found the most elegant ensembles they could assemble. There were even a pair of parasols in the trunk.
With the best dose of quiet grace the two girls could muster, the bedroom door opened and down the stairs into the tavern walked a vision of beauty that the Oakland Inn had not seen in — anyone’s memory.
Mr. Arnold and John stopped their conversation, Mrs. Arnold let out a refined gasp, and the seven other guests all paused, one after another, as attention was directed to the debutantes standing by the fireplace.
“Excuse me, Mr. Arnold, Mrs. Arnold, Mr. Chapman. Would you permit us to join you at dinner this evening?” Amelia asked.
Mr. Arnold paused, then formally stood up, “My dears, it would be our pleasure.”
“Hear, hear,” John said.
“Huzzah,” the other guests shouted.
Amelia looked over her shoulder to the doorway. There were the faces of Peggy, Elizabeth, Katherine, even Isaac, watching the promenade, while Uncle Jacob stood in the other corner, speechless.
The evening continued deliciously. The Arnolds enjoyed fine company along with their excellent meal. Appleseed John, who complimented the girls on their clothing, also got a nice surprise when, a short while later, Isaac walked in to sit down with him at the table, wearing a coffee sack as a shirt, and a tin pan on his head.
