A Simple Shaker Murder (8 page)

Now that she was eldress, Rose shared the Ministry House, occupying the entire second floor, while Wilhelm lived on the ground floor. A century earlier, when North Homage had peaked at two hundred Believers, two elders and two eldresses had lived in the Ministry House, eating their meals together in the small dining room, where they discussed the spiritual and often practical direction of the village. Now, for fewer than forty Believers, it was not really necessary to have both an elder and an eldress, but Rose was glad to provide a balance to the powerful, zealous Wilhelm. At times, though, she grew weary of the constant struggle. This promised to be one of those times.

During the past few months, Rose had been setting up a workshop for herself in the empty room on her floor. She rarely used it since she had very little time alone, but it was helpful for a sleepless night. She pulled a workdress over her
nightgown for extra warmth and left her retiring room, carrying her journal with her.

The workshop was sparsely furnished with a small desk and ladder-back chair, an old worktable, and a lamp. The aged ironcast wood-burning stove stood off to one side, still in working order. Perhaps when this Depression ended, the Society could find the money to install a more modern heating system, but for now, and to Wilhelm's satisfaction, they had to make do with the old methods.

Rose opened the door of a cupboard recessed in the thick wall. Inside was a small pile of books she had selected for study, mostly Shaker theology from the Ministry library. However, on her way to bed that evening she'd also pulled
Robert Owen
, by Frank Podmore, and a couple of pamphlets about New Harmony that had been brought by Believers moving to North Homage after the demise of the Pleasant Hill community. She took the Owenite materials to her desk and began skimming through them.

It wasn't long before Rose understood why Wilhelm thought his plan to convert the New-Owenites might work. Like the Shakers, Robert Owen had believed deeply in the importance of communal living, doing away with private property, and granting equality to all, no matter what class or race or gender they'd been born into. He denounced traditional marriage. He believed in educating children and treating them with kindness. He even envisioned severing parental bonds and housing the children together, as the Shakers did.

Her eyelids started to droop, but she kept on reading. The more she read, the more convinced she became that Wilhelm and Gilbert were surely both fighting a losing battle. Their differences overwhelmed their similarities. In fact, as far as she could see, Robert Owen had been like Wilhelm in one respect only—they both had a yen for martyrdom. As a follower of Owen, Gilbert Griffiths would never accept the strict celibacy and profoundly religious basis of Shakerism, and Wilhelm would not give them up if he were the last Shaker left breathing. Nay, she wasn't worried about them. If anything, their fruitless
struggle would keep them both occupied. However, her worry reappeared when she pondered the effects on other Believers.

The young brothers, Archibald and Matthew—had they been swayed by Gilbert's rhetoric? Was Gretchen in danger? Lottie and Frieda? All were in their mid to late twenties. All had put aside what might be strong urges for families of their own for life in the Society. Might they come to see New-Owenism as a way to live in community, work for a higher purpose, and still have families?

Rose paced across the room as disturbing thoughts came to her mind. She thought of Andrew. Might she, too, feel tempted if she were younger and less experienced? Her thoughts were reaching a fever pitch when a tentative knock on the door brought her back to her surroundings. It must be nearly midnight. Surely Wilhelm would not be on her floor at such a late hour. A telephone system connected the entire village and both floors of the Ministry House; if an emergency required her presence, he would have phoned.

“Who is it?”

“It's me, Rose.” Josie peeked her head around the door. “I won't ask what you're doing up at this hour, if you'll let me in.”

“I will ask what
you
are doing up and wandering about the village,” Rose said, beckoning her inside.

“You know me, I'm up and about all times of the night.”

“Is someone seriously ill?”

“Nay,” Josie said, “but it has been an interesting night nonetheless. I saw your light on from the Infirmary, so I decided to bring you into it.” She untied the top of her cloak, which she hadn't bothered to remove before dropping her round body into the largest visitor's chair.

“I've just sent Elsa back to her retiring room,” Josie said. Sister Elsa Pike, an ambitious supporter of Wilhelm's, often made life difficult for Rose and the other sisters.

“I'm almost afraid to ask what she was doing at this hour,” Rose said, pulling her desk chair closer to Josie.

“And so you should be. Elsa seems to have become overly concerned with our worldly visitors and their comings and
goings. Apparently the New-Owenites do not keep the same hours we do. They roam about at night, meeting together and exploring the village. Elsa claims she's been following them, or some of them, to see what they're up to.”

“She confided in you? That surprises me.”

Josie let out a long, tired sigh. “My guess is she sees herself as Wilhelm's eyes and ears. So, nay, she did not rush to confide in me. I saw her from the Infirmary window, as I was checking on my patients. I looked out and what should I see but Elsa sneaking around the corner of the Laundry—I always know her walk. She was following two people who were heading toward the barn. I had no idea what was going on, since I couldn't see who was who in the dark, so I went outside and caught up with Elsa. Normally she would have saved her story for Wilhelm's ears, but she was bursting to tell someone who the couple she was following were. I'll admit, it did disturb me.”

“What disturbed you? Who were they?” Rose dreaded the answer. North Homage had been so quiet when she'd left for the East, with no one falling into the flesh, at least that she knew of. The New-Owenites had brought the peace to an end.

“According to Elsa, it was Gretchen and a young New-Owenite fellow, I think his name is Earl. Mind you, I couldn't see them clearly myself, and I can't say I trust Elsa.”

“Nor do I,” Rose said, “but she may well be right. I thought they might have exchanged a special look at worship last night. I told myself it couldn't be any such thing—after all, I'm not sure they've even spoken together—but it lingered far longer than it should have, at least on his part. I hate to admit it, but Elsa may be right that our visitors are up to something. Did she see where they went?”

Josie's full cheeks blushed pink. “Well, in fact, we both did—though, as I said, I only saw their backs, and from a distance. I'm quite fond of Gretchen, you know, and she's been distracted of late. So I'm ashamed to admit that I followed them, alongside Elsa. They went into the barn. I was horrified and wanted to turn back at that point, but Elsa refused to stop, so I went with her. When we went into the barn,
though, no one was there! Elsa was certain they were . . . sequestered somewhere together, but we explored the whole barn, and we didn't hear a sound.”

“Did you actually see them go in the barn door?”

“We thought so. Though now I think of it, the area in front of the door was dark. We saw them walk toward the door, but then they faded into the shadows. I suppose they could have kept going around back or into the fields.”

“Or on into the orchard,” Rose mused. “I would never have thought to mistrust Gretchen. She has been a Believer for at least five years, since well before I became eldress, and she has always seemed at peace in North Homage. Have you ever known Gretchen to have problems here?”

“Nay, never,” Josie said.

“There must be more to the story, surely. Did you and Elsa go after them any farther?”

Josie shook her head. “I must admit, I was curious, but I wasn't about to encourage Elsa to sneak around spying on the sisters. Not that she needs any encouragement. I talked her into coming back to the Infirmary with me, so I could keep an eye on her. Then I sent her along to bed.”

“Just as well,” Rose said. “Best to keep Elsa out of it, if we can. I'll have a talk with Gretchen. Meanwhile, we'd both better try to get some sleep.”

“Amen to that,” Josie said. She hoisted herself out of her chair and swung it upside down on a couple of wall pegs.

Rose gathered up the book she'd been skimming and put it back in the wall cupboard. As Josie opened the work room door, Rose said, “Josie, I was just wondering . . . I don't remember Gretchen or any of her people living in Languor, do you? Is she from this area?”

“Nay,” said Josie. “I believe she came from somewhere in Indiana or Ohio, but I'm not certain. Is it important?”

“I'm not sure,” Rose said.

“G
OOD OF THEE TO TAKE TIME FOR A BREAKFAST AT THE
M
INISTRY
House,” Wilhelm said, as Rose sat in the chair across from him. She had expected him to give her a dose of irony, so she made no response. She bowed her head in prayer, silently thanking the Father and Holy Mother Wisdom for food and for the wide, strong trestle table that stood between her and Wilhelm.

Though she'd had only a few hours sleep, Rose was eager to track down all the information she could about their visitors before the situation worsened.

“I assume there is a reason for thy rare visit?” Wilhelm asked.

Rose smiled. “Have some baked apple?” She was learning, finally, to rise to his bait only when it really mattered. However, she had to admit he could still irritate her.

“I thought it would be useful for us to chat about our visitors,” she said, scooping some of the sweet fruit onto her own plate.

It was Wilhelm's turn to say nothing, as he took a large bite of apple. By the time he had torn off a hunk of bread and begun slathering it with apple butter, Rose understood that she would receive no encouragement from him.

“What do you know about these New-Owenites?” she asked.

Wilhelm frowned. “All I need to. They would make good
Shakers. What is thy specific concern about them?”

“I have numerous concerns,” Rose said. “But I'll start with the worship service last night. It was a disaster.”

Wilhelm's bushy eyebrows drew dangerously close together, but Rose ignored the portent and continued.

“You and Gilbert Griffiths are both deluded if you think you can join our two communities. Your vision of the New-Owenites suddenly devoting themselves to the teachings of Mother Ann is as ridiculous as Gilbert's notion that somehow he can convince us to forget the faith that we breathe every moment of our lives. All you two will accomplish is a rift within both groups. Disgruntled New-Owenites might become Shakers, but unhappy Shakers will replace them. Gilbert won't change, and neither will you. What possible good can this do?”

Wilhelm took another bite of bread and chewed slowly, staring at the wall behind her. She knew there was nothing there to contemplate but her palm bonnet hanging from a wall peg. With a lazy blink, he brought his gaze to her face. His deliberateness was meant to rattle her, and to her frustration it was beginning to succeed. She steeled herself to stay calm.

“Thy faith is poor and weak,” he said. “I believe that Mother Ann watches over us always. The arrival of these visitors from the world is her doing. They are meant to become Believers. They need faith, and they have been sent to us to find it. Surely that must have occurred to thee.”

“But, Wilhelm, the New-Owenites are just as convinced they can turn us into their followers. Neither group will win, you must see that. It will be a constant struggle. We'll be arguing with them and with each other, and the last thing we need is to be fighting among ourselves.”

Wilhelm's lips curved in a way that Rose had come to dread. “There is no need for thee to worry,” he said. “The way is clear. More apple butter?”

Rose crossed the central road and walked toward the Laundry, enjoying the crisp warmth of an Indian summer morning. She was still worried about the effect of the New-Owenites
on the village, but her breakfast chat with Wilhelm had set her mind at rest on one issue—he did not yet know that Sister Gretchen had been seen out at night with a man from the world. If he had known, he could not have resisted blaming Rose for Gretchen's behavior. Elsa would surely tell him soon, though, and Rose intended to be armed with knowledge if Wilhelm saw fit to confront her.

Many of the sisters worked by rotation, spending six weeks helping with the laundry, then moving on to the kitchen or the gardening, or any of a dozen other jobs. However, as Laundry deaconess, Gretchen spent most of her working time either washing the Society's clothing in the huge washing machines on the Laundry's ground floor, or drying or ironing on the top floor. It seemed grueling work to Rose, and occasionally she would offer Gretchen a different rotation, to give her a change. But Gretchen always said she was content and rather enjoyed laundry work. Rose hoped she hadn't been hiding a growing discontent with her Shaker life.