When they were alone, the room felt suffocatingly small as Amanda and Julie faced each other, the weight of their unspoken words hanging in the air. Amanda’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson as she fidgeted nervously.
“I don’t know what you must think of me, Julie,” Amanda stammered, her voice trembling. “I should never have done this without telling you.”
Julie’s brow furrowed in confusion and frustration. “Why didn’t you tell me? What on earth were you thinking?”
“I was terrified you’d think I was being foolish or meddling,” Amanda confessed, her eyes darting around as if searching for an escape. “I felt like I’d done something wrong, and this was the only way to make things right.”
Julie’s curiosity was piqued. “When did you actually send the letter?”
Amanda took a moment to recollect. “I mailed it last Thursday, so about a week ago.”
Julie’s eyes widened in disbelief. “And you knew all along that this was going to happen today?”
Amanda’s shoulders slumped. “I hoped she would come, though I wasn’t certain. The uncertainty made me so anxious. I guess that’s why I was snappish with you. Will you forgive me?”
Julie’s anger melted away, replaced by a sigh of relief. “Of course I forgive you. But, oh, how I wish I’d known all of this earlier!”
Amanda looked puzzled. “Why? What difference would it have made?”
Julie’s eyes narrowed, listening intently. “Shh! Is Mrs. Collingwood coming down?”
-----
The minutes ticked by slowly, each one stretching into what felt like an eternity. Amanda and Julie exchanged worried glances, their initial excitement giving way to mounting concern. They couldn’t help but worry—what if something had gone wrong? What if Mrs. Collingwood needed help?
“Do you think we should check on her?” Amanda asked, her voice laced with anxiety.
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“No, she probably just wants some privacy,” Julie reassured her. “You did well by letting her explore alone. I don’t think I would have thought of that.”
Eventually, the sound of footsteps on the stairs reached their ears. Mrs. Collingwood reappeared in the drawing-room, her demeanor strikingly different from before. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her cheeks glistened with traces of tears. She approached the mantel and stood in front of the portrait of the twins, her gaze lingering wistfully.
“My darlings,” Mrs. Collingwood murmured, her voice thick with emotion. The girls watched in silence, unsure of how to respond to the raw display of vulnerability.
Finally, she turned to them and settled back onto the sofa, placing a comforting hand on each girl’s shoulder. The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken questions, and the girls waited nervously for her to speak.
“My dear girls,” Mrs. Collingwood began, her voice soft but resolute. “Forgive me if I seem to speak of you as if you were younger than you are. Perhaps you consider yourselves on the brink of adulthood, but to me, you are still very young.” She looked at them with a mixture of affection and sadness. “I intended to share some things about my life, things you might not know, thanks to Great-aunt Lucia’s stories.”
She paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I was married at seventeen. I was born and raised in the South, but my husband brought me here to the North. I loathed it here, despite my love for him. Our views on life were so different. I always dreamed my children would embody the spirit of the South.”
Mrs. Collingwood’s gaze turned distant as she reminisced. “When my twin children were born, I planned for them to return to the South when they were old enough, to live and marry there. But life, as it often does, had other plans. My daughter died young, and soon after, my husband was taken from me as well. My hopes rested solely on my son, Fairfax.”
Her voice grew somber. “As he grew, his sympathies shifted towards the North, especially as the Civil War approached. This deeply troubled me, but I kept my feelings to myself, hoping he’d change his mind. I wanted him to attend a Southern college, but he begged to go to Harvard. Despite my reservations, I relented.”
Mrs. Collingwood’s face hardened with remembered pain. “When the war broke out, I began arranging for Fairfax to join the Confederate cause. I never doubted he’d follow my wishes. But he shocked me. He was steadfast in his convictions, and our final confrontation was a tempest of anger and despair. I wanted him to do what I felt was right, but he insisted he was acting honorably. It was a painful, intractable clash.”
She looked at the girls with a weary smile. “Time has softened my perspective, and I’ve come to understand things differently now. I’m grateful for your help and your curiosity. It’s a reminder of the past and a bridge to understanding.”
Julie and Amanda exchanged glances, absorbing the gravity of Mrs. Collingwood’s story. They felt a deep sense of respect and empathy for her struggles and sacrifices.