Page 44 of Miss Moriarty, I Presume?
Another knock came at the door. “Ah, that must be baskets for this lodge,” said Miss Ellery to Mrs. Watson.
She brought back with her not only baskets, but also a tall, stately woman of about thirty. The woman wore a lovely dinner gown of copper velvet and strode forward with a commanding demeanor.
Mrs. Watson’s breath caught.
Miss Baxter, in the flesh?
But the resemblance was only in the general shape of her face. The woman was introduced as Mrs. Crosby. Mrs. Watson noticed the wedding ring she wore on a chain around her neck. Mrs. Watson, too, carried her old wedding ring as a pendant, though hers was hidden beneath layers of clothes, close to her heart.
True to their claims of insularity, Miss Fairchild and Miss Ellery’s dining table, even after its leaf had been inserted, seated only six. Dr. Robinson and Mrs. Crosby joined the hostesses and the visitors at the table, the Steeles pulled up a pair of chairs to the sideboard. Mr. Peters simply set his basket on his lap.
At the table the baskets were opened. The hearty aroma of a meaty stew filled the air. Mrs. Watson had to admire the baskets, which had been made with the precision of good luggage, with pockets for utensils and condiments, and belts and buckles holding down various containers, preventing their lids from sliding off during transport.
Miss Ellery took out an urn-shaped container from one of the baskets and placed it before Mrs. Watson and Charlotte. She turned the dome-shaped lid over and said, “In households with two people, the lid serves as the bowl for one resident and the crock for the other.”
The flatware, curiously enough, was of wood. And only wood spoons, which turned out to be all that was needed as for the beef and mushroom ragout, and the carrots and peas besides. Miss Charlotte, who wanted a slice of bread, found a wooden spreader for the butter.
“I like these utensils,” she said. “They are simple but elegant.”
“Thank you,” answered Mr. Peters immediately. “I made them.”
“Indeed,” said Mrs. Crosby, looking at him fondly. “Mr. Peters has the most dexterous and skillful hands.”
Mr. Peters received her compliment with a gleeful, dimpled smile. “Thank you, lovely lady. I find that woodwork aids in contemplation, which is what most of us are here for.”
His words were spoken to Mrs. Crosby, but their intended recipients were no doubt Miss Charlotte and Mrs. Watson—who else needed the reminder that this was a quasi-religious community?
Miss Charlotte helped herself to a spoonful of carrots. “Speaking of contemplation, I am terribly curious about how the disciples of Hermes Trismegistus present tonight found their way to his teachings. Will you tell us a little of your journeys?”
The residents of the Garden all looked toward Miss Fairchild. Miss Ellery, at her nod, said, “Miss Fairchild had a travel companion for many years, a bosom friend who was the first to come across the teachings of Hermes Trismegistus. Her devotion eventually influenced Miss Fairchild to also take an interest. The friend passed away in the course of their final voyage and the Garden of Hermopolis is as much dedicated to her as it is to other learners on the same path.
“As for myself, I am only Miss Fairchild’s companion and assistant—Christmas and Easter you might even find me at the nearest church. I cannot speak with any authority on Hermetic teachings, but I know that Miss Fairchild is the best person I know and the teachings that she espouses must therefore also be good and admirable.”
“Hear, hear,” said Mr. Peters and Dr. Robinson together.
Dr. Robinson smoothed his neckcloth and confessed that he was also not interested in Hermetism, but the community wished to have a physician on hand and he was happy to live among such agreeable folks in his old age, being irreligious enough to have no quarrels with their pagan beliefs.
The Steeles came to Hermetism because Mrs. Steele’s father had been a minister interested in pre-Christian thoughts. Mr. Peters had studied the history of medieval alchemy and found that mentions of Hermes Trismegitus peppered almost all the important alchemical writings.
“My late husband was a man of many and varied interests and collected books accordingly,” said Mrs. Crosby, her fingers on the wedding ring she wore as a pendant. “But I didn’t attempt to familiarize myself with his books until after he’d passed away. Perhaps it was my new widowhood, but when I read ‘All upon Earth is alterable,’ that single sentence took my breath away.”
Her fellow acolytes nodded solemnly. Miss Ellery, seated beside her, even gave her a gentle pat on the arm. Mrs. Watson, who had lost a husband in a sudden and devastating blow, felt her eyes mist and had to remind herself that everyone in the compound was a potential murderer and poisoner, including this elegant young widow.
Miss Charlotte concentrated on her stew and let the moment pass, before returning to her informal interrogation. “Can anyone here tell me how Miss Baxter came to the Hermetic teachings?”
At the mention of Miss Baxter’s name, there seemed to be a collective pause of...embarrassment? Mr. Steele turned his spoon over, Mrs. Steele cleared her throat, Miss Ellery scratched herself just under the ear.
But there was also Mrs. Crosby, her cool gaze aimed squarely at Miss Charlotte, and Mr. Peters, whose appealing face took on a hard edge far more swiftly than Mrs. Watson would have thought possible.
“Miss Baxter isn’t one for chitchats, you see,” said Mrs. Steele apologetically. “At least I have never been able to wrangle her into a proper conversation.”
“Nor I,” said Miss Ellery with an air of regret. “I have asked Miss Fairchild the same question but Miss Fairchild also doesn’t know the origin of Miss Baxter’s devotion.”
Miss Fairchild shook her head slowly, as if to underscore Miss Ellery’s answer.
Mrs. Crosby sat back in her chair. “I don’t know how Miss Baxter came to the teachings, but she once gave me a handkerchief embroidered withThat which is sown is not always begotten; but that which is begotten always is sown. When I asked her why she had chosen that quote in particular, she said that it reminded her of her grandmother, who was a great believer in justice.”
She spoke not with pride at her greater knowledge of the enigmatic Miss Baxter, but with the straightforwardness of someone giving directions to a lost traveler.
