Hattie Glover’s Millinery

niece refused a suitable match, it was a time fraught with emotion for her entire family,” Hattie lied.
Mrs. Pruett looked sharply at her reflection. “My daughter confided in you?”
“The story of her fears emerged quite naturally. One cannot blame the girl since the subject of an impending engagement is uppermost in her mind. Trust me, Mrs. Pruett, I would not breathe a word about it.”
Suddenly, Gladys Pruett crumbled. Tears filled her eyes and her shoulders slumped. She set aside the hat and dropped onto the chaise again, hands clasped to her cheeks. “I am at my wit’s end. I haven’t been able to budge the girl and my husband is counting on me to manage her. I truly fear he will lose patience and demand medical treatment to curb her capricious nature.”
Hattie bit her lip and suppressed an answering prickle of tears. She detested the drama of which she had become a part. Jennifer’s mother was also a victim, bound to a tyrannical husband and as compliant as grass crushed beneath his heel.
Hattie knew all too well what happened when a woman stood up and announced her own thoughts and feelings. She recalled the day she’d left her aunt and uncle’s home after doing just that. In her view, they’d been unloving and cruel. But she had been very young and unable to understand the complexity of human hearts. Had Aunt Elaine later regretted her harsh words? Had Uncle Martin tried to find Hattie without success due to her name change? If she sent them a letter these eight years later, would they reply?
She refocused her attention on the matter at hand. “I am sorry to hear that. The nature of shock therapy is quite unpleasant, I have heard.”
Mrs. Pruett wiped tears from her cheeks. “I know that. I’m not an unfeeling monster. But what can I do? I must obey my husband’s wishes.”
“Perhaps, given a bit more time, Miss Pruett would come around. You might suggest a longer period of wooing from the would-be groom.”
“You do not understand. My husband views the match as a business arrangement and wants to finalize the agreement quickly. He does not wish to lose an opportunity to ally himself with this suitor’s prominent name and great wealth. Besides, I doubt if Lord Bella—if the suitor will be patient. He won’t understand why any young lady would not be thrilled at making such a grand connection.”
Hattie had expected this response, but Mrs. Pruett’s next words surprised her.
“I do not know how to resolve the matter, and I am so very tired of doing what is expected of me at all times!” Mrs. Pruett released a shuddering sigh as if merely saying the words aloud had passed some of her burden to Hattie.
Hattie attempted to shoulder it. She knelt before the older woman and touched her hands. “I am truly sorry for your difficulties. You are in a terrible predicament. It is not my place to offer a suggestion, but perhaps…”
“Yes? I will gladly listen to any advice.”
“Point out to your husband that if word of a sanitarium visit got out, the taint of mental imbalance might deter not only this prospective suitor but all other eligible bachelors. Stop your daughter from undergoing treatment for her nervous condition. Meanwhile, you might locate a different prospective groom who would satisfy both your husband and daughter.”
“It would take an offer of marriage from a member of the royal family to change Mr. Pruett’s mind. Once he has made a decision, he is intractable,” his wife said forlornly.
“At least you will know you’ve done all you could. The best any of us can do is try.”
Mrs. Pruett blinked and focused her attention on Hattie, as if becoming keenly aware she’d spoken too freely about very personal family matters.
Hattie rose and stepped back, her head slightly bowed. “I must leave now. Please, do enjoy your new hat.”
Mrs. Pruett also stood. “Mrs. Glover, I pray I may trust in your utmost discretion in this matter.”
“Absolutely. My lips are sealed. Good day, Mrs. Pruett.”
She left the room, closed the door and leaned against it for a moment. For better or worse, her task was accomplished. Whether her intercession would be of any aid to Jennifer Pruett remained in question, but at least Hattie could carry on with a clear conscience. As she had said to Mrs. Pruett, all one could do was try.

Chapter Seven
“Mr. Hardy, can you hear me?” Agnes Worthy shouted so loudly Guy had to take the receiver away from his ear.
“Yes, I can, Mrs. Worthy,” he spoke clearly into the mouthpiece of the telephone. “You needn’t speak quite so loudly. Your words are very distinct.”
“Confound this contraption. Pardon my language, but I shall never become accustomed to it. Mr. Rumsfield has the information you requested. It is better shared in person, if you have the time to come to the office.”
It had been two full days since Guy’s lunch with Hattie Glover. He had occupied himself to keep from inventing excuses to go to her shop. Yesterday he’d gone to the country to inspect a Silver Ghost Rolls his chum Jolly had bought. Today he’d rousted up members of his old crew for an afternoon’s punting that left his arms and chest throbbing. After a drink and a meal with Jolly, Dickens, and Brumby, he’d bid the fellows goodbye and went home just in time to receive Mrs. Worthy’s telephone call. At last he would have a legitimate reason to visit Hattie again. That filled him with much more excitement than Jolly’s beautiful new motorcar.
Rumsfield’s office was as Guy had left it several days earlier, dust motes dancing in the late afternoon light, horses frozen forever in mid-jump in the hunting print, Mrs. Worthy sharing another delightful story about a grandchild. Luckily, he didn’t have long to wait before the detective was ready to see him.
Guy dropped into the worn chair. “So?”
Rumsfield sucked on his pipe and exhaled a fragrant cloud before he