Joy for Mourning

by Dorothy Clark

  “You’ve had it painted!”

  “Yes. I love—”

  “Color!”

  Elizabeth finished the sentence for her, and both women burst into laughter.

  “Do you like it?”

  “It’s beautiful!” Elizabeth glanced from the tureen with Grecian figures and vine border sitting on the sideboard to the alcoves flanking the marble fireplace centered in a paneled wall. “The cranberry-colored alcoves are truly striking against the green of the paneling, Laina. And they match the color on your dishes perfectly.”

  “Yes. It’s exactly what I wanted.” No. It would never be what she really wanted. Laina shoved the thought away and ran her hand along the edge of the large dining table. “I shall have lovely dinner parties here, just as Abigail did.” She looked at Elizabeth and smiled. “Shall we go on to the morning room?” She turned and led the way out the door.

  “Sunshine walls and window shutters the color of spring leaves. It looks like summer!” Elizabeth stepped into the smaller room and turned in a slow circle. “What a lovely room to breakfast in on a cold, gray winter’s day. It would be impossible to be gloomy in this room.”

  “I pray you’re right, for that was my intent.”

  “Is there something you wish, Mrs. Brighton?”

  Laina turned to face Beaumont, who was standing in the doorway of the butler’s pantry across the hall. “No, nothing.”

  Her voice sounded flat and emotionless. She forced a smile and turned back to Elizabeth. “Would you like to see the music room and ballroom? They’ve finished painting them also.”

  He was right! Cleanliness and fresh air in the sickroom were of great benefit. The tests run by Dr. Bettencourt and his associates continued to prove it. Excitement coursed through Thad. He read on. The theory of alcohol applied to wounds keeping infection at bay was proving out, as well. Hmm…

  Thad folded the letter from Paris, placed it on the table beside the chair, then leaned back and plowed the fingers of both his hands through his thick, straight hair. The carefully groomed-down cowlick at his hairline sprang to life. He could feel the hair rise straight up at the roots, then flop over onto his forehead—the ends tickled the skin above his right eye. He brushed them back, to no avail.

  Thad frowned and straightened in the chair. Alcohol. His eyes narrowed in speculation and his right knee began to jiggle up and down. If one could stop the infection in wounds…

  He had to find a way to convince his fellow physicians at the Pennsylvania Hospital to try the new procedures. He simply had to. And what more could he do to convince his patients to let him try the unconventional methods of treatment? He’d explained, urged, cajoled and plain out begged, and still they clung to the old beliefs.

  Thad jumped to his feet as someone thudded a fist against his front door.

  “Doc? Open the door, Doc!” The slurred words were accompanied by more thudding. Thad pulled his watch from his pocket. They were starting early tonight. He flipped the rug in his small entrance back out of harm’s way and opened the door.

  “Ya gotta help me mate, Doc. He got stuck.”

  A tall, thin sailor stood on the stoop squinting at Thad through the blood streaming from a jagged cut over his right eye. He was supporting a burly man nearly twice his size by holding the man’s beefy arm across his shoulders. The bloodstain on the wounded man’s shirt was spreading.

  “Bring him in.” Thad motioned for the sailor to follow, walked into his office and stepped over to the table he’d cleaned earlier. “Put him here.”

  The sailor propped his semiconscious mate between himself and the table, then bent and hefted him up by placing his arms around the man’s knees.

  “Ugh!” The wounded sailor’s eyes opened. He grabbed Thad’s arm and gave him a bleary-eyed glare. “Need a drink.”

  Alcohol! Thad’s pulse picked up speed. “You need a good dose of common sense. Release my arm or you’ll get no help from me.” He waited till the drunken sailor complied, then lifted the blood-soaked shirt and stared at the deep slit just below the man’s rib cage. He frowned, picked up the two lengths of rope draped over a nearby chair and tossed them to the seaman standing on the other side of the table.

  “Tie his hands together under the table and bind his feet to the legs.” Heart racing, Thad pulled the whiskey he used to help deaden pain from his doctor’s bag, splashed some into a small bowl, then pulled a coil of suturing thread from his bag and dropped it into the bowl. A needle followed. He glanced at the sailor trussing his mate like a slain deer. “Tie him snug, mind you. If he moves he could do himself serious harm.”

  “Ain’t gonna move. Been sewed up before.” The sailor muttered the words without opening his eyes.

  “It’s not the sewing. I’m going to apply whiskey to your wound. Are you ready?” Thad positioned the bottle over the wound.

  “No.” The sailor opened one eye. ’S a waste o’ whiskey, Doc. Lemme drink it ’stead. Arrrgh!” The seaman’s body went rigid as the whiskey hit the raw flesh. His head slumped to one side.

  Thad stared down at the unconscious man. Seamen were a tough lot. Whiskey poured into a wound must hurt more than he thought it would. It was something to remember. He filed the knowledge away and picked up the needle. There was a thumping at the door. He glanced over at the sailor slumped on the settle against the wall. “Open the door, please, before they break it down.”

  Thad glanced up from his sewing as the sailor returned with two other seamen in tow. One of them had a broken arm dangling uselessly at his side, and the other had a deep gash on his face and was missing part of an ear. He frowned and went back to his stitching. It was going to be a long and profitable night.

  “Well, tomorrow you move into your new home, Laina.” Justin glanced over, met his sister’s gaze and smiled. “And tomorrow night you can walk in your own gardens.”

  “Yes.” Alone. Laina blocked the thought from her mind and returned his smile. “And soon after, I shall have a wonderful party in those gardens. Elizabeth is helping me with the invitation list, and Madame Duval is making me a beautiful gown for the occasion.” She stepped close, threaded her hand through his arm and looked up at him. “You will be very proud of me. It will be my first effort to take Abigail’s place as hostess extraordinaire of Philadelphia society.”

  “Well, don’t take on her astringent personality. You are enough of a challenge to me as you are.”

  Laina laughed and squeezed his arm. “Surely you’re not calling me difficult?”

  Justin grinned down at her. “There is no safe answer to that question. I shall ignore it.” She wrinkled her nose at him. He laughed and patted her hand. “I have good news.”

  “Oh? What is it?”

  “I had a letter from Judge today. Your house in New York has sold. You received an excellent price for it.” He guided her to the left. “Since you’ve no immediate need of it, if you wish, I will invest the money for you.”

  Laina nodded. “I think that is wise. Do you have an investment in mind?”

  “No. There are several to consider before making a final decision.”

  “I see.” She tipped her head back and looked up at him. “Would the new waterworks be one of them? I am so favorably impressed with the running water in the kitchen and dressing rooms at Twiggs Manor. Surely others would be as taken with the idea.” She frowned as Justin chuckled. “You find my thoughts amusing?”

  He quieted and looked down at her. “No, indeed. I find them impressive. Very impressive. I didn’t know my older sister had such an astute business instinct.”

  Laina stopped walking and studied his face. “Truly?”

  “Yes, truly.” Justin started walking again. “One of my basic requirements for a good investment is that the product or service be one that people either need or want. The waterworks is both.”

  “I see.” She gave him a saucy smile. “Let’s keep my business instincts a secret, shall we? I don’t want anything to tarnish my society-leade
r image. But I do want the money invested in the waterworks. And equal portions of it in the new railroad company and the new freight line I’ve heard you speak of.”

  “Again, very wise investments. Expansion to the west is increasing in leaps and bounds.” Justin laughed and shook his head as they climbed the steps to the back porch. “You amaze me, Laina. It shall be as you wish. I am yours to command.”

  “Thank you, dearheart. You take good care of me.”

  He shot her a sidelong look. “I thought so, but now I’m not so certain.”

  Laina gave him a pat on his cheek and walked through the door he held open for her.

  Chapter Six

  “Thank you, Carlson.” Laina took her driver’s hand and climbed from the chaise. “Come back for us in an hour.” She glanced over her shoulder at her maid as the driver climbed back to his seat and drove away. “This way, Annette.”

  “Stop, you rapscallion!” A portly man charged around the corner and lunged for a small boy, who whirled and darted across the walk in front of her. Laina jolted to a stop.

  A carriage whipped around the corner and raced down the street toward them.

  “No, little boy! Stop!”

  He paid no heed to her frantic cry. Looking over his shoulder at the man chasing him, the boy dashed into the road. The driver of the carriage hauled back on the reins, but it was too late.

  A scream ripped from Laina’s throat as the horse knocked the boy down and the carriage wheels, locked by the applied brake, skidded over him. She stood, frozen with horror, staring at the small inert body as the carriage came to a halt.

  “Good enough for the little thief!” The man who was chasing the boy turned and walked away.

  The callous words shocked Laina out of her paralysis. She ran into the street, her long skirts billowing out around her as she knelt beside the small figure. The boy wasn’t moving. Oh, God, don’t let him be dead. Please don’t let him be dead! Her hand trembled as she placed it on the filthy, tattered shirt covering the child’s narrow chest. His heart was beating! She released her held breath in a gust of relief.

  “What’s going on here, Jefferson! Did you strike down this woman?”

  Laina looked up as a scowling, richly garbed man climbed from the carriage and came to stand beside his driver. “I am not injured, sir. It is the boy your carriage struck down.” She looked back down at the child. She could see no signs of injury. Why didn’t he wake up?

  The man snorted. “Another thieving brat of the streets, no doubt. Get back to the carriage, Jefferson. We’re wasting time. I’ve a meeting to attend.” The man started around the horse pulling the carriage that had stopped behind his.

  He was going to leave? Anger surged through Laina. She shot to her feet. “Sir?” The man turned to look at her. She swallowed back the anger and forced a reasonable tone into her voice. “The boy doesn’t wake. He must be seriously hurt. Surely you do not intend to leave him lying here in the street?”

  “That’s exactly what I intend, madam.” The man flicked a glance at the unconscious boy at her feet. “He’s nothing to me.”

  Laina went stiff as a ramrod. “He’s a child, sir! And your carriage struck him down. The least you can do is provide for his care.”

  “His care?”

  The man looked astounded. Laina clenched her hands into fists and took a deep breath. “Yes, his care. Put him in your carriage and take him to a doctor.”

  “Put that—that thing in my carriage!” Fury rippled across the man’s face. “I’ll do no such thing.” He pointed a rigid finger at her. “And you, madam, would do well to mind your own business. You’re an interfering busybody!”

  Laina’s chin jutted into the air. “And you, sir, are a compassionless pygmy of a man with no honor!”

  “No honor!”

  Laina ignored the enraged roar and waved her hand in regal dismissal. “Be on your way, sir! I shall care for the child.”

  The man’s mouth gaped open. His face turned purple. Laina turned her back on him and darted a look at the man climbing from the stopped carriage. At least his vehicle would protect the boy from being run over again. She dropped to her knees on the cobblestones. Would it be safe to move the boy out of the street?

  “If you will permit me?” The man from the carriage knelt on the other side of the boy and took the small wrist into his hand.

  Laina skimmed her gaze over the man’s dark brown hair and black suit. He was neat and clean, though slightly out of fashion. “And who might you be?” She felt a flush spread across her cheeks as the man turned his head to look at her. She hadn’t meant to sound challenging. At least the man had a modicum of compassion!

  “I’m Dr. Allen.” Thad locked his gaze with the woman’s and spoke calmly. “Dr. Thaddeous Allen of Pennsylvania Hospital.” The combative look left the woman’s eyes.

  “Doctor?”

  There was relief in her voice. Thad nodded. “Yes, doctor.” He turned his attention back to the boy. “His pulse is strong.” He gently probed along the small, skinny neck and, finding no sign of injury, lifted the boy’s head. There was blood pooled in the valley between the cobblestones beneath.

  There was a soft gasp. Thad looked over at the woman. She’d gone quite pale. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. Pay me no mind. Help the boy.”

  The words were strong, but her voice quavered. Thad frowned. Judging from the woman’s demeanor, she’d probably never seen blood before. He’d have another bashed head to deal with if she swooned. He dipped his head toward the black leather satchel on the road beside him. “Open my bag, please. You’ll find a pile of clean cloths in there. Get me one to rest the boy’s head on while I examine him for further injuries.”

  There, that should distract her. Thad swept his gaze over the boy’s body while the woman complied. There was a roll clutched in one small hand, another smashed on the road beside him. He made a disgusted sound in his throat and jerked his head up.

  “What is it? Is something broken?” The woman’s voice was hushed with fear. She handed him the cloth.

  “No. There’s another problem.” Thad gestured in the direction of the boy’s hands. “These children seldom steal more than they need to survive, and this boy took two rolls.” He shook his head and set to bandaging the boy’s wound. “I’d guess he isn’t alone. He probably has a brother or sister he’s taking care of. Most likely they’re sick or crippled, or…”

  “Younger?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, my.”

  Thad looked up. The woman’s hand was pressed against her chest at the base of her throat. She was staring across the street. He swept his gaze over the area, but saw nothing. “What is it?”

  “A little girl was peeking at us from behind that rain barrel. She ducked back when I looked her way.” The woman’s gaze sought his. “Do you suppose…?”

  Thad’s face tightened. He bound the clean pad to the back of the boy’s head with another cloth. “If she hid when you looked at her, she’s probably the one. Chances are—” He stopped. There was no sense in saying more. He was talking to the air. The woman was already on her way across the street. Help her find the girl, Lord. These children can disappear even when you know their tricks. And this woman…

  Thad shook his head. He hadn’t time for lengthy prayer—he had a boy to help. He ran his hands over the skinny arms and legs looking for further injury. The right ankle was swelling. Poor starving lad. He couldn’t be more than five or six years old. He lifted the boy into his arms and headed for his buggy.

  “Hello.” Laina smiled and squatted down. The little girl squeezed back as far as she could go into the crevice formed by the barrel and the storefront. Her brown eyes were wide with fear. Tears rolled down her cheeks and quiet, indrawn sobs shook her tiny body.

  Laina’s eyes filled. The little girl didn’t look much older than Mary. She blinked the tears away. “Please don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you. I’ve come to take you to—” she
took a chance “—your brother.” She rose and held out her hand. “Will you come with me? Your brother wants to see you.”

  The little girl’s lips quivered. She stared up at her for a long moment, then gave a brave little nod and scooted forward. Laina wanted so much to scoop her up into her arms, but she didn’t dare. She reached for the tiny hand.

  “Madame! You should not touch the child! The filth! The lice! The disease!”

  The toddler scrunched back in her corner. Laina spun on her maid. “Now you’ve frightened her. Go away, Annette!”

  “Madame!”

  “Go!” Laina turned back as her outraged maid hurried off. The little girl had curled into a tight ball. “It’s all right. I’ve sent the lady away. I’ll not let anyone harm you.” Her childhood oath popped into her mind. “Heart’s promise.” She smiled. “You can never break a ‘heart’s promise.’ Now, shall we go see your brother?”

  Laina held her breath as the little girl studied her face. At last the toddler crawled from behind the barrel and took her hand. Her heart squeezed painfully. The poor baby was so thin! Her hair, face and clothes were filthy, her dirty feet bare.

  Anger spurted through Laina. Who cared for these children? How could she find out? If she knew their name… She looked down at the little girl walking by her side. Maybe…? It was worth a try. She took a breath. “I know how important brothers are, because I have a brother, too. His name is Justin.” The toddler looked up at her. Would she be as limited in her vocabulary as Mary? “What’s your brother’s name?”

  “Billy.”

  The word was little more than a whisper, but at least the little girl could talk. Excitement shot through Laina. Encouraged by her success, she tried again. “That’s a lovely name. But I’ll bet yours is prettier. What’s your name?”

  “Emma.”

  “Oh, that is lovely!” Laina led the child to the buggy, glanced at the still form on the seat, then shot a panicked glance at the doctor. “Dr. Allen, I’d like you to meet Emma. She’s come to see her brother, Billy.”