Fairer than Morning Read Online Free PDF

“Yes, Father.” She failed to keep the impatience from her voice. He withdrew from the doorway.
    She was sorry when she was abrupt with him in that way. He had done what he thought best about Eli’s proposal, and he was a good-hearted man. Still, his attempt at matchmaking now grated on her like a washboard against raw knuckles. She walked to the wardrobe and jerked open the door with ill will.
    The dark red dress hung in satiny folds, taking up almost half the wardrobe. She snatched it without ceremony and tossed it on her bed. After she had divested herself of her everyday work dress, she laced her stays a little tighter and slipped the new dress over her head. The high neck with its ruffles across the shoulders was becoming and modest enough for an eighteen-year-old. The dress fit close around the middle before sweeping out over her petticoats. As her father had said—so mortifyingly for both of them—she had been growing more womanly. The satin against her skin did make her feel prettier, but she had no one to charm. The dress would only earn her more unwanted dance requests from James Murdoch and David Crawford, who were fine enough boys but not well spoken or interested in much beyond their farms.
    When she had dressed and twisted her chestnut hair into something resembling the fashionable upswept style, she joined her father in the kitchen. He lifted his head from the volume of sermons he had open on the table and regarded her with approval.
    â€œBeautiful, my girl.” He stood and gave her a clumsy, one-armed embrace around her shoulders. “You’ll have a fine time with the other young folk, you’ll see.”
    Mabel rushed into the kitchen through the screen door, grubby from an adventure in the mud behind the barn. Her lips were blue; the wind bit sharp in late February, even in the absence of snow.
    â€œYou’re a princess!” She clapped her hands and bounced, which brought some color back to her face.
    â€œJust going to a dance, my sweet,” Ann said. “You need to come in from the cold. Go tell Susan to come in too.” She turned to retrieve her own cape from the stand and wrapped its woolen length around her arms. It was no match for her dress, but practicality trumped fashion. She would never ask her father to waste their money on a fine coat that would be ruined the first time she wore it to clean stalls or feed pigs.
    Mabel twisted one yellow curl around her finger. “I want to go to the dance! May I?”
    â€œWhen you’re older you may go,” Ann said. “You wouldn’t like it.”
    â€œOh.” Mabel grabbed a tin cup from the shelf on the wall. “I need to finish one thing outside.” She darted out before Ann could say another word.
    Ann’s father walked to the door and held it open for her. She walked out, holding her skirts away from the doorframe.
    Across the yard, the girls were in heated conference as Mabel gestured with cup in hand. Susan, a head taller, gave half-audible instructions to her little sister about the water pump and a dirt pile.
    â€œGirls! Go in the house this minute,” Ann called. “You aren’t to come back out until we return. There’s sweeping to do, and, Susan, mind the fire, if you please.”
    With slumped shoulders, the girls obeyed. Ann smiled at their crestfallen expressions. She was glad they were still so interested in play. Susan was about the same age as Ann had been when their mother died. Ann had not been so carefree.
    She didn’t usually need help into the wagon, but her father had to boost her by the elbow because of her voluminous skirt. When she was settled, he took the driver’s position and picked up the reins, clucking to Bayberry. The wagon lurched and rolled out of the yard, startling some of the chickens in the coop into squawks and flurries. It was gray and gloomy. The trees of the woods stood like paupers with their bare arms