Joy for Mourning

by Dorothy Clark

The grumbled, reluctant words were fairly dripping with saliva. Thad choked back a chuckle. Poor Sam—Betsy didn’t by so much as word or deed betray that she even heard him. She went right on as if he hadn’t spoken. “No matter, Doctor, we’ll have both.” She put a second crock on the table, then moved back to the stove, folded the hem of her blue apron and used it to lift an oblong crockery dish from the oven.

  Thad’s stomach tightened at sight of the dark juices bubbling their way through a delicately browned crust. Blackberry cobbler! He took a long sniff of the heady aroma riding on the rising steam.

  The cobbler proved too much for Sam. He jerked forward, staring at the dessert. “I ’low as how a bath—oncet—might be a good thing.”

  Betsy Monroe nodded and smoothed her apron back in place. “The tub is in there.” She pointed to a small room that jutted out onto the back porch. “Go strip down to your altogether and climb in. Arthur will fetch you hot water and soap. I’ll set by dinner till you’ve finished. And mind you clean your hair and scrub behind your ears.”

  She stared after Sam as he trudged to the little room. “Poor young’un, seems like he ain’t never had a mite of love or lookin’ after, but we’ll soon take care of that.” She looked up and gave him a radiant smile. “May the Lord bless you for the work you’ve done this day, Dr. Allen. Now, take your ease—I need to go fetch some of Ben’s old clothes.” She swiped at her eyes with her apron and hurried from the room.

  Thad pulled out one of the plank-bottom chairs surrounding the table, lowered his tall, lean body onto it and directed his attention toward the sound of wildly splashing water accompanied by grunts and groans of protest coming from the little room. A grin tugged at his lips. Sounds as if Arthur has his hands full.

  “I ain’t gettin’ my hair wet! You can’t make—”

  Thad burst into laughter at the glubbing, choking sounds that followed Sam’s pronouncement. That boy was learning about cleanliness the hard way. He rose to his feet as Betsy came rushing back into the kitchen, her arms full of clothes.

  There was a flurry of splashing.

  “Mercy! Sounds as if there’s quite a struggle goin’ on in there. I’m not sure my berry cobbler can overcome this.” Betsy’s cheeks dimpled as she smiled up at him.

  Thad chuckled. “I think that cobbler can win out over anything. And I’m pretty sure Arthur will prove victorious in this particular battle.” He nodded toward the clothes. “Why don’t you give me those. I’ll take them in to Sam and—” He jerked his head around as a howl of sheer fury came from the other room.

  “I ain’t usin’ no soap, you jolt-headed, da—!” There was more splashing, choking, coughing, followed by Arthur’s calm voice. “We don’t use them words in this house. Here’s the soap.”

  Betsy grinned and handed him the clothes. “Sounds like Sam’s having a hard time—poor tyke.” Her grin turned into laughter. “I’d better give him a double serving.” She turned to the stove. Thad’s mouth watered as she picked up the long fork and poked around in the iron pot again. He pivoted on his heel and headed for the little room. He’d been so busy, he hadn’t eaten for twenty-four hours and he’d be horsewhipped if he wouldn’t scrub Sam himself for a plate of Betsy’s pot roast!

  Chapter Three

  “Why, Trudy, it’s lovely.”

  Elizabeth’s maid smiled. “I’m pleased you like it, mum. Will there be anything else?”

  “No. That’s all for now.”

  “Very good, mum.” Trudy put the hairbrush down on the dressing table, bobbed an awkward curtsy and left the bedroom.

  Laina turned her head from side to side, studying her new hairdo in the mirror. It looked wonderful. Whoever would have thought that clumsy young woman possessed such a talent? Annette could take instruction from Trudy. Laina laughed at the thought of her French maid’s reaction to that scenario and lifted her hand to touch the dark brown curls that tumbled from the knot of hair at the crown of her head to her shoulders. The style would take some getting used to, but it was definitely flattering.

  Laina pursed her lips and leaned closer to the mirror. Without the fringe of bangs Annette had insisted were all the rage, her face looked more…more what? Dramatic? Yes, that was it. Her eyes seemed larger, more luminous, their dark blue color striking, their long, thick lashes arresting. And her high cheekbones appeared more pronounced. Her full lips more noticeable. Oh, dear, that wasn’t good!

  Laina frowned and rose to her feet. Her mouth was too wide, and with the natural wine color of her lips it looked enormous! She sighed, snuffed the candles and headed for the door. At least she had good teeth. She was thankful for that. And for the borrowed dress. She smiled and brushed her hand over the pale green velvet fabric that whispered softly as she walked. Today she would choose the fabrics and patterns for her new gowns. After she visited with the children.

  “And who is this?” Laina stared down at the huge black dog looking up at her. The monster’s white-tipped tail wagged back and forth like a metronome.

  “My dog—Mr. Buffy.” Sarah wrapped her arms about the animal’s neck.

  The wagging tail increased speed. Laina laughed. “How do you do, Mr. Buffy? I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  The dog gave one short bark and sat down. Sarah plopped down beside him, giggling as he licked her cheek. “Mr. Buffy loves me.”

  “I can see that.”

  “Doggy.” Mary toddled over and patted Mr. Buffy’s neck, then giggled and stuck her finger in his ear. The dog gave a shake of his great head, toppling her to the floor. She let out a startled cry and lifted her arms.

  Laina scooped her up. “You’re all right, Mary.”

  “Doggy.” Mary’s lower lip pouted out and she pointed an accusing, pudgy little finger at the big black brute looking up at them.

  Laina laughed and squeezed her tight. “Mr. Buffy didn’t mean to knock you down, precious. You tickled his ear…like this.” She feathered her finger along the toddler’s tiny ear. Mary giggled and ducked her head, sliding her little arms around Laina’s neck as far as they could reach and holding on tight. Laina’s heart swelled with longing.

  “Tory.”

  “Tory?” Laina shot Elizabeth a wordless plea for help.

  “She wants you to read her a story.” Elizabeth laughed and shook her head. “The little extortionist asks for one whenever she thinks someone feels sorry for her.”

  “Oh.” Laina grinned down at the toddler in her arms. “Aren’t you the clever one?”

  “They all are.” Elizabeth rose from the rocking chair, handed her sleeping son to Anna Hammerfield and took Mary into her arms. “No story now, Mary. We have an appointment at the dressmaker’s. We’ll read a story later.” She nuzzled the ticklish spot at the base of the toddler’s neck.

  Mary giggled and squirmed. “Mama.” She hugged Elizabeth’s neck, then twisted around and pointed down. “Doggy.”

  “All right.” Elizabeth put the toddler down. “Watch her, Mr. Buffy.”

  The dog barked once and turned his massive head toward Mary. Laina felt a tug on her hand and looked down. “What is it, Sarah?”

  “Do you like licorice?”

  “Licorice? Why, yes, I do.” The little girl beamed. Laina laughed and looked at Elizabeth. “Let me guess—a polite extortionist?”

  “Exactly.” Elizabeth grinned and reached down to rest her hand on Sarah’s hair.

  Laina went down on her knees and took hold of the little girl’s hands. “I think I shall bring some licorice home. We could share it. Would you like that?”

  Sarah nodded, gave her a shy smile, then turned and buried her face in Elizabeth’s long skirt.

  The afternoon sun was trying its best, but there was still a decided chill in the March air. Laina shivered. The blue velvet coat and matching “jockey’s hat” bonnet she’d borrowed from Elizabeth didn’t fully protect her from the cold.

  “I hope you aren’t overdoing it, Laina.” Elizabeth’s brow creased with concern. “P
erhaps we should have listened to Justin and had Madame Duval come to the house. Shall I tell Daniel to return home? We—”

  “No, no, Elizabeth!” Laina turned toward her sister-in-law. “It was only a momentary chill. I’m fine. And it’s so wonderful to be going out among people again it’s well worth a few shivers.”

  Elizabeth laughed at Laina’s vehemence. “As you wish.”

  “Oh, look.” Laina leaned closer to the carriage window as they rode by Twiggs Manor. “Abigail’s house looks so lonely and…and sad.”

  Elizabeth glanced at the stately, three-story brick mansion. “It is sad. Justin hasn’t decided what to do with it. He can’t bring himself to sell it to strangers, so it sits empty.”

  “What a shame. It’s a beautiful house. And the furnishings are wonderful. Abigail had impeccable taste.”

  “Yes, she did.” Elizabeth leaned back and blinked tears from her eyes. “I still find it hard to believe she’s gone from us. She was such a strong personality, the memory of it lingers.”

  “Strong?” Laina shot a sidelong look at Elizabeth and smiled. “Don’t you mean acerbic?”

  Elizabeth laughed at Laina’s dry tone. “Abigail would be pleased by that description. But she was also kind, generous and very wise.”

  Laina recognized the sorrow in Elizabeth’s voice too well. “You miss her.”

  “Yes…very much. I only knew her a short time, but Abigail was the best friend I’ve ever had. She believed in me when your brother thought me an adulteress and murderer.”

  Laina shook her head. “To see you and Justin together today, one would never think your relationship had such a stormy beginning.”

  “It was stormy, all right. Justin went around looking like a thundercloud most of the time, and I shivered and shook, waiting for lightning to strike.” Elizabeth’s smile died. “And then it did strike—in the form of Reginald Burton-Smythe.”

  She shuddered, then looked at Laina. Her smile returned. “But God turned what Reginald meant for evil to good—exactly as His word promises.”

  Laina held back a frown at the mention of God and changed the subject. “And now you have James Justin.”

  “Yes. Now we have James Justin. Another blessing from the Lord.”

  The smile Elizabeth gave her radiated happiness. Laina forced aside the envy that flooded through her. “And Sarah talks.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe she’s improved so rapidly she no longer speaks with a lisp. And Mary blackmails everyone. Justin’s stepdaughters, well, rather, your new daughters are a delightful handful.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “I’m afraid so. Mary is a bit like Abigail in her personality. She’s very strong-minded and does not like to be thwarted.” She glanced out the window as the carriage rolled to a halt. “Here we are.” She smiled at Laina. “Prepare yourself. Madame Duval, also, is strong-minded.”

  Laina looked down at the velvet gown she had borrowed from Elizabeth. “No matter. Her designs are lovely. I shall look forward to the challenge.”

  “Elizabeth, look at these fabrics!” Laina followed Madame Duval into a large room and stopped dead, gazing at the bolts of cloth filling the shelves along the side walls. She glanced at her sister-in-law and laughed. “I feel like a starving man released at a feast. I don’t know what to choose first.” She moved forward, touching the materials, feeling the cool smoothness of satins, the softness of velveteens. But it was the colors, the wonderful splash of varied colors that enchanted her.

  “Oh, I must have this one!” She paused in front of a soft sateen in a deep shade of bronze that seemed to glow with light. “And this!” She stepped to the next shelf. “Look, Elizabeth, it’s the very color of spring.” She pointed at the apple-green pongee in front of her and moved on to choose a midnight-blue linen as the shopgirl following in her wake placed the indicated fabrics on a large table sitting in the middle of the room.

  “An’ theees, Madame Brighton?”

  Laina gave a soft gasp of pleasure and hurried forward at sight of the cherry-red watered-silk fabric Madame Duval pulled from a cupboard standing against the back wall.

  “I have been saving theees for the right woman.” The modiste looked down and ran her hand over the shimmering fabric. “Theees must be worn by a woman of style…of verve…of élan!” She tipped her head to one side and smiled up at Laina. “You, Madame Brighton, are such a woman. You wish a gown of theees fabric, oui?”

  Laina smiled. Judging by the gleam in the modiste’s eye, the gown would cost her a small fortune, but she didn’t care. The fabric was food for her beauty-starved soul. “Oui, Madame Duval.”

  “Bon! And now we talk the designs for your new gowns. If you will be pleased to come with me?”

  The little woman had turned all business, her fake accent evaporating, as well. Laina exchanged a wry glance with Elizabeth, then gave an eloquent shrug as they turned and followed the designer into another room.

  “Would you ladies care to join me in the library for an after-dinner game of checkers?”

  Laina followed Elizabeth through the dining-room doorway and glanced back at her brother. “There’s no one to make a fourth.”

  Justin grinned and joined them in the hall. “We don’t need a fourth player. I shall gain the victory over one, then take on the other.”

  “You believe so?”

  His grin widened. “I do.”

  Laina grinned right back. Justin knew very well she wouldn’t refuse such a challenge—they had been adamant checkers adversaries since childhood. She glanced over at Elizabeth, who had taken Justin’s arm. “What is your wish, Elizabeth?”

  Her sister-in-law smiled and gave her husband a saucy glance. “I wish to give this overly confident gentleman a sound drubbing.”

  Justin threw his head back and laughed. Laina drank in the wonderful sound, storing it in her heart to cheer her when she returned to the loneliness of her home in New York.

  “And how did you find Philadelphia, Laina?”

  “Different, yet much the same.”

  Justin smiled as he held chairs for her and Elizabeth at the game table. “Now, there’s a remark I’m unable to follow. Would you care to explain?” He pulled the checkerboard from the drawer, took his own seat and grinned at them. “Which of you ladies wishes to be my first victim?”

  “That would be Laina.” Elizabeth laughed. “I fall prey to your skill far too often.”

  Justin rubbed the palms of his hands together and waggled his eyebrows, giving Laina what was supposed to be a diabolical look. “So be it! Prepare to meet your fate at my hands, fair damsel!”

  Laina laughed and picked up one of the small cloth bags holding the checkers. “Do not expect me to swoon in terror at your threats, good sir. My fate rests in my own hands—prepare thyself!” She returned his challenge with a cheeky smile and placed her checkers on the board.

  Justin chuckled and did the same.

  “But to answer your query, dearheart, there are many new shops in Philadelphia. It’s quite exciting to see how much the city has grown in the ten years I’ve been gone. But it’s much the same in its cleanliness and friendly atmosphere.” She wrinkled her nose. “New York does not clean its streets daily as you do here. It can become most unpleasant, especially in the heat of summer.”

  Justin nodded agreement. “Your move.”

  Laina slid a checker forward.

  He countered her move. “And what is your opinion of Madame Duval?” His gaze shifted to Elizabeth and he chuckled. “My wife found her a little avaricious on their first encounter.”

  Laina laughed and moved another checker. “I can well understand that. There is a definite gleam in Madame’s eyes. And that French accent she puts on! I’m so thankful Elizabeth warned me, or I know I would have laughed.”

  Laina looked down to hide the gleam she was afraid shone in her own eyes as Justin moved his piece exactly where she wanted him to. “But there’s nothing fake about the designs Madame Duval creates. And the fabrics sh
e imports are simply beautiful.” She moved her sacrifice checker into place, then glanced at her brother. “It was so sad driving by Twiggs Manor today. It looks woebegone. Elizabeth said you’ve not decided what to do with it.”

  Justin nodded and made the forced jump. “I will sell it eventually—it’s too fine a house to sit empty—but not yet. I’m not ready to face strangers living in Abigail’s home.”

  “I quite understand.” Laina looked away from the sorrow that clouded her brother’s eyes—she saw enough of it in her own eyes every time she looked in a mirror. She shook off the gloom threatening to overtake her, jumped two of his checkers and smiled across the table at Elizabeth as Justin growled low in his throat and countered her move. “He’s running from me, Elizabeth, but it will do him no good.”

  She moved her next checker into place and grinned when Justin groaned. “Methinks someone has walked into a trap.”

  Elizabeth giggled. “And straight into a drubbing!”

  Thad halted the horse and stared into the darkness. Had a child run behind that building or not? He drew in a breath, then frowned and drove on. There was no sense in calling—the poor hapless children of the night were too frightened of people to answer. They either crouched silent and still in a hiding place, or crept away in the dark.

  He shook his head and guided the horse onto Spruce Street. “Well, Lord, I’m sure You have a solution for this problem, but I can’t for the life of me figure what it might be. The merchants are so angry over the constant theft of their wares they’ve little sympathy left for the children, who are only stealing what they need to stay alive. And the town council says all the available funds are going into the development of the new waterworks, so—”

  “Doc! Doc!”

  Thad stopped the horse and sighed as a young boy raced toward his buggy. He’d almost made it home. He caught a look at the boy’s frightened face and guilt smote him. Forgive me my selfishness, Lord. “What is it, Tommy?”

  “Ma’s birthin’, Doc. Jenny sent me to fetch you. She said Ma’s in a bad way an’ they need you. She said come fast.”