by Nan Ryan
Her gaze following him, she saw him stumble and fall in the foyer. She started to rise, but settled back as Ladd picked himself up and without making a sound or shedding a tear, moved on toward the other drawing room. Carrie smiled when Ladd, spotting his father, rushed forward and threw his short arms around Douglas’s trousered leg.
Without interrupting the conversation, Douglas looked down, grinned, laid a hand on Ladd’s head and pressed his son’s cheek to his thigh. Carrie could hear Ladd’s bubbling laughter from where she sat. She was, she realized fully, the luckiest of women.
Upstairs, the tense drama continued.
The hour of 5:00 p.m. was fast approaching when finally, at long last, Miss Laurette Taylor Howard announced her arrival with a loud resounding cry. His heart hammering in his chest, T.H. burst into the room and saw Delia carefully cleaning the red, squalling infant. He hurried to his exhausted wife and kissed her.
“Are you all right, my love?” he asked, looking from her to Dr. Ledette who nodded his gray head.
“I’m fine,” Marion said, “but I’ve failed you, darling. You wanted a son, but we have a girl.”
“And I’m so glad we do,” he assured her. “What could be sweeter than a little girl just like you? Our Laurette.”
Delia, cooing to the squirming infant now swathed in a soft white blanket, came to the bed to place the child in its mother’s arms. The parents gazed at their newborn in wonder. “T.H.,” said Dr. Ledette, “why don’t you go now and give Marion a chance to get a little rest?”
“Yes, of course,” replied the smiling father, who kissed both his wife and daughter and then rose to his feet. Turning to the doctor, he asked, “After Marion has rested, could I bring a few friends up to see our daughter?”
Dr. Ledette looked from T.H. to Marion. She smiled and shook her head, knowing how much it meant to her husband to show off his child.
“Wait at least half an hour,” warned Dr. Ledette. “Then, bring only one or two at a time and let them stay no longer than five minutes. After an hour of showing off Laurette, you must send everyone home and let Marion get a nice, long night’s sleep.”
“You have my word,” said the beaming T.H.
Taking the stairs two at a time, he rushed downstairs, stopped squarely in the center of the foyer between the two crowded drawing rooms and proudly announced, “My wife has just delivered a perfect daughter whom we’ve named Laurette Taylor!”
Cheers and shouts went up and T.H. opened one of his most expensive boxes of cigars to pass out to the gentlemen. Laughter filled the big house. Champagne corks popped and toasts were made to little Laurette. A half hour into the celebration, T.H. raised his hands to make yet another announcement.
“You may all have a quick look at my dear daughter, but you must come up two at a time, no more.” He glanced at Carrie Dasheroon who was holding her son, Ladd, on her lap. T.H. motioned to her, indicating that she and her husband were to be the very first to see his daughter.
The Dasheroons followed T.H. up the grand staircase. Inside the master suite, Carrie warned her son to be very quiet. Cautiously, she lowered him to the floor. Little Ladd Dasheroon didn’t waste a second. He ran across the room to the satin-draped bassinet, rose on tiptoe and reached chubby hands up to grip the cradle’s top edge. But he was too tiny to see inside. Frustrated, he squealed and attempted to pull himself up.
“No, Ladd, sweetheart,” warned his mother, pulling him away from the bassinet. “You must be quiet and not wake the baby.”
“Baby!” declared the little boy loudly, wanting to have a look at the sleeping child.
“Yes, a beautiful baby girl,” said his smiling mother who lifted Ladd back up into her arms and showed him the infant. “Now be quiet, sweetheart.”
“Baby, baby,” Ladd kept repeating, squirming to get down as his mother and father joined T.H. at Marion’s bedside.
Marion was radiant and smiling, despite her exhausting labor. The grown-ups talked for a few minutes, then Carrie said, “The others are dying to come up. We’ll be over tomorrow. Is there anything we can do for you?”
“No,” Marion replied, sighing with happiness as she glanced up at her husband, “I have everything I’ve ever wanted.”
Douglas Dasheroon smiled and leaned down to press a kiss to Marion’s forehead. Then he shook hands with T.H. and congratulated him again before moving with Carrie toward the door.
“No, Ladd!” his mother had to once again scold him to keep him from disturbing the baby.
Putting up a fuss, which was not like him, Ladd kept straining against her, an arm outstretched over her shoulder, his fingers vainly reaching for the white bassinet.
“Carrie,” said Marion with a laugh, “It’s okay. Take him back over there. It won’t hurt anything. Dr. Ledette said she’ll soon be waking to nurse.”
“You sure?” Carrie asked.
“Yes, let Ladd have a good long look at Laurette.”
While Douglas Dasheroon, his arms crossed over his chest, waited at the door, Carrie took Ladd back to the bassinet. Lowering him to his feet, she said, “You may touch her lightly, Ladd, but you must be very careful not to squeeze or hurt her.” Carrie slid a footstool forward and helped Ladd up onto it.
For a long moment the little boy stared at the pink-faced baby as if he were trying to figure out what she was. Then very carefully, very slowly—with his alert mother monitoring his every move—he reached out a tiny brown hand and laid it ever so gently atop the baby’s downy head. She slept peacefully on.
“Baby,” he whispered and, at his mother’s request, reluctantly took his hand away.
Laurette Taylor Howard held a great fascination for Ladd Dasheroon.
And would for the rest of his life.
Two
It was inevitable that Ladd Dasheroon and Laurette Howard would become good friends. Not only did they live directly across Dauphin from each other, their backgrounds were similar. Both families were wealthy and privileged—from Mobile’s Old Guard.
Ladd’s father, thirty-four-year-old Douglas Dasheroon was a successful planter who owned, through inheritance and marriage, outlying sugar and cotton plantations as far away as the Georgia border.
Douglas was an imposing, dark-haired man with piercing blue eyes, a ready smile, an easy charm and a great zest for life. He was a West Point graduate who had turned his back on a promising military career after meeting and marrying Carrie Lynn Crawford, a raven-haired belle from a monied Southern family.
Without a second thought, Douglas had resigned his commission and built his bride a handsome home in the heart of Mobile’s Silk Stocking row. The Greek Revival style house featured a curved stairway from the center of the lower level to the upper floor. Galleries with square pillars formed a pedimented portico across the large home’s front.
The double entrance doors opened into a large, wide hall that extended the length of the house. Crystal-and-brass chandeliers hung from the high ceilings and lush Oriental rugs covered the heart pine flooring in the spacious parlor. Marble mantels and pier mirrors graced many of the home’s twenty rooms.
Upstairs, in the center of the house, was a room especially designed to be a reception room or ballroom. Thirty feet square with eighteen-foot ceilings, its walls were adorned with applied pilasters. Huge double doors opened out onto a wide front balcony on both sides of the great hall.
A platoon of servants dressed in fitted black uniforms with white aprons and lace caps saw to it that the home’s many rooms were kept sparkling clean and that the Dasheroon household ran smoothly.
The mansion of successful cotton and sugar broker T.H. Howard and his wife Marion was no less grand. The large, white dwelling with its two-story porch framed by eight Ionic columns was an architectural masterpiece. All the windows were floor length and the lower sashes raised above head height into the wall for circulation. Kashmir rugs covered the pine floors in the double parlors and priceless art adorned the walls. Mirrored mantels graced both
rooms and a wide curving staircase ascended from the nine foot wide, thirty foot long front hallway to the upper floor.
Chippendale furniture had been imported from Europe and in the sunny music room was an ornately carved piano of gleaming mahogany, which had been made in Baltimore especially for the musically inclined mistress of the mansion.
In T.H.’s library, where four hundred leather-bound first editions filled the tall shelves, was a round gaming table with a checkerboard top. It was his pride and joy.
Both stately homes boasted manicured grounds and lush gardens and sculptured marble statuary. Scattered throughout both terraced estates, iron lace benches and settees and chaise longues afforded the homes’ occupants and their guests the pleasure of enjoying the outdoors in the welcome warmth of springtime and the pleasing cool of early autumn.
Spaced uniformly along both sides of Dauphin Street were huge, ancient oaks dripping Spanish moss and generously shading the quiet residential boulevard. The district was known as Dauphin Way and it was a sheltered, peaceful, highly desirable area of the city.
Life was good for those who were fortunate enough to live there.
Carrie Dasheroon kept her promise.
As soon as Douglas left for one of his many plantations the morning after the Howard child was born, Carrie went to visit Marion and the new baby, Laurette. She took Ladd with her, but before they went she reminded him over and over that, when they were in the room with the new baby, he would have to be very quiet and still. Ladd had smiled and bobbed his dark head.
Carrie sighed. “You don’t really have any idea what I’m talking about, do you?” Again a wide smile and a bob of his head. His mother laughed then, charmed by him as always. Sinking down onto her heels and clasping his small waist, she said, “We are going to see the new baby and I want you to mind me while we are there. Will you?”
This time she received a puzzled frown.
Carrie gave him a motherly kiss, came to her feet and taking his hand in hers, said, “Let’s go.” The pair started through the grand hall, but before they reached the double front doors, Carrie stopped abruptly. “Wait, sweetheart,” she said, “I almost forgot, Mattie baked a delicious chocolate cake for us to take to the Howards. You stay right here!” she commanded, shaking a finger in his face.
She turned and hurried back through the house toward the kitchen. The minute she was out of sight, Ladd raced for the open front doors and dashed outside. Laughing now, he hurriedly crossed the wide, shaded veranda.
When he reached the steep front steps, he sat on the top step and scooted down, pushing off with his hands. He gave a sharp squeal of triumph when he had successfully navigated the final step and reached the flagstone-bordered front walk. At once he was running as fast as his short legs would carry him.
Ladd was almost to the front gate and freedom when Carrie burst out of the mansion, shouting his name. He stopped running and turned to face her.
Carrie set the freshly baked cake down on the veranda and stalked after her disobedient son. Ladd frowned as she bore down on him.
Her hands went to her hips and she scolded him soundly. “Young man, you know better than to go out of this house alone! How many times do I have to tell you?” Ladd crossed his short arms over his chest and hung his head. “You look at me!” Carrie demanded. Sheepishly, Ladd looked up at her. She said firmly, her jaw set, “You did not mind me, Ladd Dasheroon. I told you not to move and you didn’t obey. You have been bad and must be punished.”
Ladd, not really understanding, gave her a questioning look.
She said, “Since you didn’t behave, you will not go with me to see the new baby.”
“Baby!” Ladd said forcefully, pointing in the direction of the tall white columns across Dauphin. “Baby.”
“No, you’re not going to see the baby. Instead you will…”
Bright tears instantly sprang to Ladd’s large blue eyes. He manfully attempted to sniff them back. Carrie stopped speaking. Apparently he understood that he was not going to see the baby and he was terribly disappointed. He stood there biting his lower lip. His tiny chin was quivering. Carrie shook her head, defeated. She was a pushover for this sweet little boy of hers. He was so small and bright and cute and lovable. How could she stay angry with him?
Carrie began to smile. “You really want to see the baby, don’t you?” she asked softly.
Ladd nodded vigorously. “Baby, baby,” he declared.
“Oh, all right, you may go with me. But if you misbehave while we are the Howards’, you’re coming straight home. Do you understand?” Again he nodded. “Fine. Now, I am going back up to the veranda to get the cake. If you move one inch from where you are standing, you will be sent right back into the house.”
Ladd did not move.
Carrie and Ladd were welcomed into the Howard home by the Howards’ uniformed butler, the white-haired, good-natured Abraham.
“Miz Marion is expecting you,” he said, taking the cake from Carrie and winking at Ladd. Ladd stared at him, puzzled. “Go right on up,” instructed the beaming Abraham.
“What on earth are you doing out of bed?” Carrie asked when they entered the spacious master suite to find Marion seated in a winged chair that had been pulled up beside the bassinet.
“Carrie. I’m so glad you came,” said Marion, smiling and starting to rise.
“Don’t get up,” Carrie said, holding out a hand, palm up, “unless you want me to help you back into the bed.”
“I don’t. I want to sit here and gaze at my exquisite daughter forever,” said the glowing Marion. She looked past Carrie to Ladd, who was hanging back, suddenly shy, a finger in his mouth. She said, “Ladd, would you like to come over here and see the baby?”
Ladd looked to his mother. She shook her head and said, “Yes. Go ahead.”
Ladd eagerly crossed the lush Aubusson carpet. When he reached the bassinet, Marion picked him up and sat him on her knees. Eyes only for the sleeping infant, Ladd leaned close, curled his short fingers around the crib’s top edge and stared, entranced. When Laurette squirmed and yawned, he giggled with delight.
But when, abruptly, she awakened and instantly began to cry, Ladd frowned at her. He put his hands over his ears and made a face.
Marion laughed, gave his smooth cheek a quick kiss and lowered him to the floor. Ladd made a bee-line for the door, his intent to get away from the crying, red-faced creature. But a sharp look from his mother stopped him dead in his tracks.
Marion moved to the rocking chair while Carrie lifted the crying Laurette from the crib and placed her gently in her mother’s arms. Already the child seemed to know who held her. The minute Marion’s arms closed around Laurette and she rocked once back and forth, Laurette’s loud wailing softened to an intermittent, jerking sob. Soon she was quiet and still. Totally content.
Since she was no longer putting up such a terrible racket, Ladd ventured closer. He stood beside the rocking chair, hands clasped behind his back, carefully studying Laurette.
The new baby enticed many visitors to the Howards’ Dauphin Way mansion. Martha Ivy came frequently to coo over the darling baby girl. Melba Adair and her shy daughter, Lydia, were regular visitors, invariably bringing huge bouquets of exotic blooms from Melba’s lush gardens. Lena Parlange came often, declaring that being allowed to hold the gurgling Laurette was the next best thing to holding her own twin granddaughters, Juliette and Johanna, who were far away in South Carolina. Dozens of friends called at the mansion to get a glimpse of the new mistress.
Carrie and Ladd Dasheroon visited every day. Ladd’s fascination with Laurette never waned. He wanted to look at her, to touch her, to pat her soft cheeks.
By the time Laurette was six months old, Marion allowed Ladd to hold her. Carrie anxiously watched as Marion, once again as slim and beautiful as ever, instructed Ladd to climb up into the rocking chair. With a little help he scrambled up, quickly turning about to sit down.
“Now, Laddie,” Marion said sincer
ely, “you’ll be holding my most precious possession, so be very, very careful not to let her squirm out of your arms. She’s stronger than she looks.”
Ladd smiled and held his arms open wide. Marion laughed and very carefully placed her bright-eyed daughter on Ladd’s lap, gently leaning Laurette back against his narrow chest. Ladd’s short arms came around Laurette and he held her as if she were a rare work of art. Which, of course, she was. To her mother’s delight, Laurette did not cry or attempt to wiggle free. Instead she lay there, staring up at Ladd, gurgling.
Both young mothers, standing protectively close, smiled and exchanged looks. Wordlessly they agreed that seeing the dark-haired, olive-skinned eighteen-month-old Ladd tenderly holding the fair-complected, blond-haired six-month-old Laurette was a wondrous sight to behold.
A treasured vision never to be forgotten.
Three
“He’s the sweetest little boy,” everyone agreed any time Ladd Dasheroon’s name was mentioned. “Just the sweetest little boy I’ve ever known.”
Ladd was a sweet child. Happy, mischievous and full of energy, he was, at the same time, thoughtful, mannerly and respectful of others. Naturally outgoing and affectionate, he loved everyone and wasn’t embarrassed to let them know it.
But he was sweetest of all to the feisty, golden-haired charmer who lived across Dauphin. From the time she started walking at the ripe old age of ten months, Laurette Howard followed Ladd around as if he were the Pied Piper, stamping her small feet and squealing her displeasure if he got too far ahead of her.
Reminded, often, by his mother to “look after” Laurette, Ladd was happy to do so. In his mind, Laurette was more or less his own living play toy. She belonged to him, had been put on earth for his amusement and benefit. She was his and he liked watching over her, liked having her at his elbow, looking up at him.
The two quickly became inseparable. If Ladd was not at Laurette’s home, she was at his. He was patient with her and extremely protective. If she stumbled and fell, he picked her up, dusted her off and soothed her. If she was cranky and fussy, he softly reasoned with her until she became placid and calm. If she was sleepy, he rocked her, humming and singing to her. If she cried, he made funny faces and teased her until he got her to laugh.
