Cinders to Satin

by Fern Michaels

  Callie went into the kitchen, knowing Mary would be out on the service porch with the calico kittens she’d named One, Two, and Three. Lena was nowhere about. A large kettle simmered on the stove, and the everpresent scent of fresh coffee assailed her.

  Hugh MacDuff came into the kitchen to pour himself a cup. Seeing Callie sitting in Lena’s chair, dabbing at her eyes, made him want to reach out to comfort her. “I saw the postman stop at the end of the drive and open the box.”

  “I mailed a letter to Rossiter,” Callie whispered. Hugh nodded his head, adding thick yellow cream to his cup and a few grains of sugar. “Do you know where Lena is?”

  “Root cellar, I expect. I’m going up to the attic with her later to lay out the apple slices to dry. They’ll come in handy this winter. They always do. I could make you a cuppa tea, lass, if you’ve a mind to put somethin’ in your stomach.”

  “No thank you, Mr. MacDuff. I’ll just wait for Lena. Is Mary on the service porch?”

  “Aye, and she’s just fine. Happy as a lark with them kittens.”

  Mrs. Powers’s words swarmed around Callie’s brain like angry bees. Rossiter proposed to an heiress, and she accepted him. Rossiter was going to marry someone else. Rossiter loved someone else? How could that be? Rossiter had loved her. He told her he loved her. The heiress was beautiful and wealthy; she was a servant and as poor as a church mouse. Rossiter was in love with someone else. How could he forget her so soon? How could he do this to her? Would Mrs. Powers lie to her about her son? A mother wouldn’t lie about her son. Peggy never told a lie in her life. A mother didn’t lie. God would punish a woman who would do such a terrible thing. No, it had to be the truth, but knowing it was the truth didn’t make it easier to bear.

  The letter! When Rossiter got her letter, he would change his mind and realize how much he loved her. He’d know that their love had made a child, his and hers. She would be able to accept his straying from her love if he returned to her now that she was going to have a baby. She would work so hard, she would make life so easy for her beloved if only he gave her the chance. She would cook and clean and iron his beautiful shirts. She would love him twenty-four hours out of every day. It had to be Mrs. Powers’s fault. Rossiter would never have deserted her on his own. Mrs. Powers wanted someone more suitable for Rossiter than a mere servant girl. Callie felt so confused. Mothers didn’t lie. They didn’t.

  Lena dumped her vegetables on the work table and wiped her hands on a clean cloth. There was no need for words. She gathered the girl into her arms and held her close. Poor thing. Her world was crashing down about her, and this was just the beginning. Callie choked out the words and watched Lena’s round, pink face. She was stunned to see the deep hatred in the woman’s eyes. “Don’t fret so, child. You sent your letter, and you have to wait for Master Rossiter to reply. All you can do now is wait. Listen to me, child,” Lena said, cupping the young face in both hands. “I want you to stay out of sight of Mrs. Powers as much as you can. We don’t want her getting ideas before it’s time. She’ll send you packing without so much as a minute’s notice. We have to plan, MacDuff and me. We need time, Callie. This isn’t going to be easy. We have to do what’s best for you. Make up your mind, child, that you’re going to have to leave here.”

  “Oh, Lena, I can’t leave here. Mary . . . I can’t leave Mary . . . you don’t understand. Rossiter . . . what if Rossiter comes back and I’m not here?”

  “I’ll tell him where you are, and he can go to wherever that is. Mary will be all right. Right now, you have to start thinking about yourself, Callie.”

  “Lena, you don’t understand about Mary . . . I can’t leave Mary because . . . I can’t leave Mary.”

  “You have no other choice. What will you be doing if Mrs. Powers takes it into her head to toss you out on your ear before we can find some place for you to go? What will you do about Mary then? Nothing. There won’t be a thing you can do. Try and understand, child, what it is I’m telling you.”

  Oh, Mum, I need you so. If you were here, what would you be telling me to do? Her thoughts flitted to Byrch Kenyon. He would know exactly what to do and how to do it. He would understand about Mary too. No, even if she was dying with the world crashing down about her ears, she wouldn’t go to Byrch Kenyon for help. Lena was right; it was she and Hugh MacDuff who would help her. There wasn’t another soul in the whole world who cared a thing about her. You said you loved me, Rossiter. I believed you. I loved you. He would come back. As soon as he received her letter, he would return. She had to believe that! She had to!

  Callie walked the basket of laundry out to the service porch. Pumping the water into the washtub and lifting the heavy kettle to add the hot water nearly exhausted her. She looked down at the little white pinafores and underwear and sighed. Let them soak for a while; she was feeling dizzy and light-headed and wanted nothing more than to just sit.

  When she went back into the kitchen, Lena took one look at her and indicated her own chair near the work table. “I’ll get you a cuppa tea,” the cook bustled. Mary was scooting around the floor, playing with the kittens. Little bells had been tied about their fuzzy necks, thanks to Mr. MacDuff. “So Mary can hear them and not have to chase all over hell and creation to find them,” he had said tersely. Bells so Mary could hear. It would almost be ludicrous to Callie, if it weren’t so sad.

  “Callie,” Lena said, lowering her voice so Mary wouldn’t overhear, “Mrs. Powers sent Miss Anne here a while ago to say she wanted to see Mary in her parlor. I told the child, but she’s being obstinate today. She won’t even look at me, much less listen to what I’m saying. I think she might be coming down with something. She looks peaked to me. I don’t know what’s got into her. When I speak to her, she just ignores me. She sits and plays with the kittens well enough. Have you noticed her being under the weather?”

  “No,” Callie said shortly. Her stomach fluttered wildly at what she imagined Mrs. Powers was going to do. She bent down and shook Mary by the shoulders. “Mary, Lena seems to think you’re not well. She said she’s been talking to you, and you aren’t answering her. That’s very poor manners. Your Mamán is going to think I haven’t been teaching you properly. Remember I told you that your Mamán wanted you to have tea one day soon with Dr. Margolis? I think today might be the day. Your sister said your Mamán wants to see you in her parlor. But first you must apologize to Lena.” Callie exerted some gentle pressure on the child’s thin shoulder. A stricken look settled on Mary’s face. By turning her back to Lena, she had closed out the world, and now she would have to pay for it.

  “Lena, Lena, I’m sorry. I was being contrary because . . . because my stomach is upset.” She threw her arms around Lena and looked up at her, knowing the woman would hug her and immediately think of something to make her feel better. Mary felt only a small pang of remorse at the trick she was playing on Lena. But for Callie she would do anything. It was Callie who was sick. Poor Callie, being so brave and pretending everything was all right. No one knew how Callie suffered but herself, and she would never tell, under pain of death. Poor, poor Callie. Each night now for a long time she had cried herself to sleep. It was Mary who crept in and turned the sodden pillow over after Callie fell asleep. What would she ever do without Callie? She couldn’t manage without Callie’s help. Today was a perfect example.

  “I have just the thing,” Lena said bending over to hug Mary. “Strong peppermint tea. You’ll be right as rain in minutes. You don’t want your Mamán ordering you to bed now, do you?” Mary shook her head and settled herself on a stool to wait for the tea.

  “I’ll just take this on up to my room, and when I’m finished, I’ll stop in the parlor to see Mamán,” Mary said holding the heavy mug carefully. “Are you coming, Callie?”

  For the first time in days Callie had something to occupy her mind besides thoughts of Rossiter and the baby she carried. How was Mary going to manage? Mary’s tendency to carelessness when in the company of her parents and her dependency
on Callie to see her through her “ordeals,” as she called them, could cause problems. Her shrill voice of late was another concern for Callie. The doctor was sure to wonder why the child spoke in such a manner. It was the one thing Callie couldn’t control. She wouldn’t draw an easy breath until the child was back safe next to her.

  “Lena made this peppermint tea for me, but I think you need it more than I do. I’m sorry, Callie, for being so careless. I was having such a wonderful time with the kittens, I wasn’t paying attention to Lena. I thought she was busy with her baking,. I’m so sorry, Callie. I won’t do it again. I promise to be more careful from now on.”

  “All right. I know you didn’t do it on purpose. Come here, let me freshen your face a little, and a quick brush to those curls won’t hurt. We don’t want your Mamán to think you’re a ragamuffin now, do we?” Callie dabbed at Mary’s face with a clean, wet cloth and then brushed the tangled curls gently. “Just to be on the safe side, let’s put on a fresh pinafore. I see cat hairs all over the one you’re wearing. You’re ready, Mary. Now be careful and please behave.”

  Mary hugged Callie and pointed to the teacup before she scampered out of the room. Callie sighed deeply.

  Anne Powers stared at her daughter for a full moment, uncertain of how to proceed. Mary was always such a difficult child. Not a child who was easy to love for some strange reason, considering Anne and Rossiter. Perhaps it was Mary’s unruly red hair and the freckles. If only she looked more like Anne. And that shrill voice of hers grated on her nerves. Always in trouble of one kind or another. Why couldn’t she be more like Anne? Rossiter and Jasper seemed to adore her. She wished she felt more maternal where Mary was concerned. “Come here, Mary. I don’t think you look well. I think we better have Dr. Margolis take a look at you.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with me, Mamán. I’m fine. I don’t hurt anywhere. I don’t have a fever, and my throat doesn’t hurt.” She didn’t want to see Dr. Margolis. Doctors poked and jabbed and always came up with some reason why you had to stay in bed. She brightened for a minute. If she had to be put to bed that meant she wouldn’t have to go to the tea and Callie could stop being nervous. Now she was sorry she had spoken so rashly. Better to be sent to bed and let everyone fuss over her.

  “I think I know best. Let me feel your forehead. It does feel a little warm. We don’t want you getting as sick as Rossiter was, now do we?”

  “No, Mamán,” Mary said in her high-pitched voice.

  “Mary, could you please lower your voice. You’re positively shrill at times. It is not pleasant. Especially for when Dr. Margolis is here. The truth now—what hurts you?”

  Mary grimaced. She would get sick for Callie. Anything to take the look of worry off her face. It seemed fair to her. It was only a small lie, and no one need know about it. Lena would lend credence to the lie with the peppermint tea. “It’s my stomach. Sometimes I can’t stand up straight. Sometimes I roll on the floor.”

  “I knew it!” Anne Powers said triumphantly. “It’s perfect . . . what I mean is, it’s perfect timing for you to get sick because Dr. Margolis will be able to check you over this afternoon. Why didn’t Callie tell me about this? Mary, how long have you been feeling like this?”

  “Callie doesn’t know. I didn’t tell her I was sick. If I was sick, she wouldn’t let me go outdoors or play with the new kittens. I didn’t let her see me . . . roll on the floor or double over. Callie doesn’t know, Mamán.”

  Mary shrilled so loudly, Anne Powers clapped her hands over her ears. It was no wonder Mr. Reader declared the child possessed no ear for music. Her voice was nasal and flat and too loud! “We’ll just see about that. You go back to the nursery and get into bed. I’ll send Hugh MacDuff for the doctor. I’ll be up shortly to see Callie. Not another word, Mary. Mind me and get along.”

  Mary raced back to the nursery. She shouted and shrilled at Callie to make her aware of what was going on. The look of dismay on Callie’s face was enough to make Mary burst into tears. “Every time I try to do the right thing for Mamán, I make trouble. If only Papá were here. He’d take care of this. Callie, I’m not sick! I don’t want to be sick and be in bed, but I’ll do it. Mamán is so angry. Quick, help me get this dress and pinafore off. Mamán expects me to be in bed.”

  Callie thought her heart would leap out of her chest. God must be displeased with her to be making her suffer so. What she didn’t need was another meeting with Mrs. Powers. Poor Mary, she was beside herself through no fault of her own.

  “She didn’t believe a word I said, Callie! She wants to believe that it’s all your fault! If only Papá were here.”

  “Hush. It’s all right, Mary. Your Mamán will understand. She’s just worried. All mothers worry about their children. It will be all right, I’m sure of it. Together we’ll talk to your mother and make things right.”

  Mary’s movements were frantic and feverish. Callie didn’t doubt for a minute that the child would work herself into such a pitch she really would be sick when the doctor arrived. Poor thing.

  Anne Powers came up to the nursery a short while later, carrying a small tray with bottles on it. “Just in case,” she said to Callie as she set it down next to Mary’s bed. “Lena is sending up some tea and toast. Hugh MacDuff went off to ask the doctor to stop by. You rest now,” she said, wagging a finger at Mary.

  The minute her mother’s back was turned, Mary stuck out her tongue and then dove under the covers. She quickly surfaced when she realized her mother was turning on Callie in an attack that was vicious and uncalled for. Mary saw the contortion of her mother’s face, the bitterness in her eyes, and watched the movements of her mouth.

  “I won’t tolerate such behavior from you, Callie. My husband saw to it that your duties were so light as to be almost inconsequential. He wanted you to devote all your time to Mary, and I agreed. How could you not know this child was sick? How could you? What is it you’re mooning over? Look at the poor child. Where is your brain? Mary is your first concern, and you’ve failed her. I’ve had to call the doctor. Mr. Powers is going to be most unhappy when he hears about this situation on his return.”

  Callie suffered Mrs. Powers’s verbal abuse with her head high. Never in her life had she been more miserable. “Well, young woman, what do you have to say for yourself?”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Powers. It is my fault. I was lax in my duties. It won’t happen again, I promise you that.”

  Mary leaped out of bed and raced to her mother. With flailing fists she lashed out, “I told you it wasn’t Callie’s fault! I told you that! Why are you blaming her? I’m going to tell Papá when he comes back!”

  The child’s voice was high-pitched, deafening in its shrillness, as Callie struggled to pull her away from her mother. At Callie’s firm touch the hysterical girl screamed all the louder.

  Anne Powers suffered her daughter’s attack in stunned disbelief. Her eyes were venomous as she watched Callie try to calm Mary. “Enough!” she shouted to be heard above Mary’s screams. “Enough, Mary! I refuse to tolerate this inexcusable behavior another second.” With a quick, violent motion she shook the frantic child from her skirts and stepped backward.

  Callie’s grip on Mary’s thin arm remained firm as she, too, backed off several steps. Mary’s breathing was harsh and raspy as she struggled against Callie’s iron grip on her upper arms. Frightened almost out of her wits at the scene being played out in front of her, Callie continued to back away from Anne Powers, dragging a screaming, kicking Mary with her.

  Mary had never behaved in such a manner before. Callie’s mind raced as she tried to figure out if there was something between the child and her mother of which she was unaware. How could she have neglected Mary these past weeks? She adored the child and considered her a younger sister. She was her responsibility, and one she didn’t take lightly.

  Mary in her frenzy whirled around and was about to lash out at Callie with her foot until she saw the warning and misery in Callie’s eyes. Her own eye
s widened as she realized what she had done. She calmed immediately. Callie led the limp little girl to the bed and helped her into it. All the while her dark gaze warned the child that she should say nothing more. “I’ll handle this,” she mouthed the words for Mary’s benefit as she pulled the light coverlet up to the little girl’s chin.

  And just how was she to handle this, she wondered? Poor Mary. With all the dignity she could muster she advanced within a few feet of her employer. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Powers. I don’t know what got into Mary. I think she misses her Papá and brother. She didn’t say anything to me about not feeling well this morning. She was fine when she went to sleep last evening. I apologize for her distressing behavior and assure you she won’t misbehave in such a fashion again. When she’s feeling better, she’ll apologize herself. Please forgive both of us, Mrs. Powers.”

  Anne Powers’s lips curled distastefully. Where had the little snip come by such dignity? How haughty she looked standing there, apologizing for her laxness. “We’ll discuss this later, Callie,” she said.

  “Yes, Mrs. Powers,” Callie answered weakly. Surely, when the doctor arrived he would confirm that Mary wasn’t ill. Surely things would right themselves at that time.

  Mary lay in her bed, her slim body rigid. Her eyes were closed in feigned sleep. Callie wouldn’t disturb her if she thought she was asleep. Something was wrong. It was wrong with Callie, and it was wrong with her mother, too. Whatever “it” was. Even Hugh and Lena had been acting peculiar as though they knew a secret and promised not to tell. That’s what it was, a secret of some kind, and everyone knew about it but her. Callie was jittery and looked peaked. Even Lena said she looked peaked. Her mother looked flushed, and her eyes were too bright. Both signs of sickness. If they were sick, why was she the one in bed waiting for a doctor to come? Everyone thought because she was a little girl she was dumb and didn’t know what was going on. Children should be seen and not heard. But she had seen, and she had heard. Was that why her mother was treating her so . . . so . . . meanly?