Joy for Mourning

by Dorothy Clark

  “Mrs. Brighton?”

  Laina turned toward the doctor. He was winding a clean bandage around Billy’s head. The boy’s face was pale, his lips compressed. To keep from moaning? Nausea swirled in her stomach at the thought of the young boy’s pain. She swallowed hard. “Yes, Doctor?”

  He glanced up at her, then went back to his task. “I only wanted to remind you these children are not accustomed to eating large meals or rich foods. It would be best to keep Emma’s breakfast simple. Perhaps oatmeal, or toast with a bit of apple butter.”

  Laina’s shoulders sagged.

  “I want a cookie.”

  The doctor looked up at Emma and burst out laughing. He tied off the bandage, lowered Billy’s head gently to the feather pillow and straightened. “I stand corrected, Mrs. Brighton, at least as far as this one’s stomach is concerned. She may have oatmeal and a cookie.” He tapped the tip of Emma’s tiny nose. She giggled and ducked her head. He grinned and tickled her ear. “But Billy must have only a thin gruel. Nothing solid until his nausea subsides.”

  Laina nodded and looked up at him. “I understand, Doctor.” She gave Emma a hug, handed her to the doctor and went to answer the soft knock that announced her maid had answered her summons. She gave her orders for the children’s breakfasts as Dr. Allen had instructed, added another of eggs, ham and toast for him, then hurried to her room to prepare for the day.

  “Do hurry, Annette! I have to get back to the children before the doctor leaves.”

  “Oui, madame.” The maid slipped another silver hair comb into place to hold the thick knot of hair on top of Laina’s head and stepped back. “I am finished.”

  “At last!” The fabric of Laina’s apple-green dress rustled softly as she rose and started for the door. “Come along, Annette. And bring my hairbrush.”

  “Your hairbrush, madame?”

  “Yes, and that piece of white satin cording. You can use it for a bow in Emma’s hair.” Laina stopped by a chair to pick up the soft cotton undershirt and matching drawstring pantaloons the seamstress had made for Billy.

  “But madame. Surely you are not asking me to attend that—?”

  Laina straightened at the shocked, offended tone in her maid’s voice. “That is exactly what I am asking, Annette.” Her voice cooled. “Must I make it an order?”

  The maid’s body stiffened. “I am employed to be your maid, madame. Not to tend to street urchins. If I may inquire, how long are they to remain?”

  Laina fastened a cold gaze on her maid. “They are children, Annette. My children, not street urchins. This is their home now and for always.”

  The maid’s features hardened at the rebuke. “Then I wish to resign my position and return to New York, madame. I cannot stay in a house with thieves.”

  Laina stiffened. She walked back to the dressing table and picked up her hairbrush and the piece of satin cord while counting to ten and waiting for her temper to cool. “You’re right, Annette. You cannot stay in this house.”

  She hadn’t waited long enough—her voice was trembling with anger. She looked up at her maid’s shocked face. There was a hint of trepidation in Annette’s eyes. Had she thought she would throw the children out in order to keep her?

  Laina turned back toward the door. “Pack your things immediately, Annette. Carlson will take you to the Liberty Inn. You will find public conveyance for New York there.” She walked to the door and opened it. “I will leave the wages due you with Mrs. Barnes.”

  Laina closed the door with a satisfying yank and stormed down the hallway. Were there others in her employ who felt as Annette did? Fresh anger shot through her at the idea. She would have a meeting with Beaumont and Mrs. Barnes as soon as possible to find out. She wanted no such people in her home. She was still smoldering when she reached what she already thought of as Billy’s bedroom. She drew a calming breath and quietly opened the door.

  “So Dr. Simon let me take care of it all by myself. That little fox pup was my first patient. I kept him in a cage in the woodshed.”

  Laina stopped, staring at the tableau before her. Thaddeous Allen sat in the wood chair facing Billy, who rested back on pillows propped against the headboard. The boy’s eyes were closed, but there was an alertness about him that suggested he was listening to the doctor’s story. There was no doubt about Emma’s interest. She was perched on the doctor’s knees, staring up at him out of wide brown eyes, the fragment of a cookie in her small hand. They looked like a family.

  Laina’s anger dissolved before an onrush of such intense desire to have a family of her own that it left her shaking. She slipped back out into the hall through the still-open door and sagged against the wall, gulping back a lump in her throat that threatened to choke her.

  “Did ya make his paw get better?”

  “I sure did, Billy.”

  “I wanna see him.”

  Laina smiled through the tears blurring her vision and concentrated on the voices coming from the bedroom.

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible, Emma.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I found the wounded baby fox when I was only a lad, not much older than Billy is now. And when his paw was healed I took him back to the woods and let him go.”

  “Why?”

  Laina’s smile widened. She blinked the tears from her eyes. Why was one of Mary’s favorite words. It seemed Emma was very fond of it, as well. She took another deep breath and pushed away from the wall. She’d be all right now. She stepped to the door, listening to the doctor’s answer.

  “Because the fox was wild. He belonged in the forest with his fox family.”

  “I gots a family.”

  Laina’s heart stopped, then beat furiously. A family? Would she have to give up Billy and Emma? The thought was unbearable, even after this short time.

  “You do?”

  The doctor sounded surprised…wary. She held her breath, waiting for Emma’s answer.

  “Billy says we’re a family and we gots to take care of each other.”

  Laina’s breath came out in a gust of relief. She looked down at the undergarments crushed in her hand, shook them out and walked into the bedroom.

  “Billy’s right, Emma.” Dr. Allen smiled at the toddler on his lap. “It’s very important for family members to take care of one another.”

  The little girl beamed up at him. “You taked care of Billy.” She wiggled down off his lap and ran to Laina. “An’ you taked care of me.” She dashed back and scrambled up the bedside steps to look at her brother. “We gots lots of family now, Billy!”

  The boy’s eyes opened. “They ain’t family, Emma. It ain’t the same thing.”

  “It is so!”

  Billy blinked his eyes, then shut them tight. “No, it ain’t, Emma. You got to be born to family.” He grabbed her hand. “An’ that’s only you an’ me.”

  Laina’s chest tightened. Billy was trying to sound tough, but he only sounded lost and alone. She moved to the bed. “It doesn’t have to be that way, Billy. Sometimes people become a family in their hearts.”

  She didn’t dare say more. Couldn’t say more. There was another lump in her throat that wouldn’t permit the passage of words. When she could speak, she lifted her gaze to the doctor’s face. The approval in his eyes made her pulse quicken. She flushed with pleasure. At last she’d done something right! The heat in her cheeks increased as the doctor dropped his gaze to them. She thrust the undergarments she held toward him. “These are for Billy. Can you move him enough to put them on him?”

  “Yes, indeed.” The doctor’s gaze rose to meet hers for a moment, then dropped to her hands. He took the garments from her and began to undo the buttons at the shoulders of the shirt.

  Laina expelled the air in her lungs and held her hand out to Emma. “I have a pretty bow to put in your hair. Let’s go to the dressing room while the doctor gets Billy dressed and I’ll get you cleaned up and ready for the day.”

  What had she forgotten? Cook was informed
of the children’s special menu needs. The seamstress was installed in a third-floor bedroom making them clothes. Oh, there was so much left to do!

  Laina folded her hands and tapped her steepled forefingers together. The children needed so many things. Shoes and stockings. Books and drawing supplies. Paints! And toys. She closed her eyes and tried to picture the nursery at Randolph Court.

  The children needed their own rooms, with common space to play and a room for study. Yes! Laina opened her eyes and looked at the young boy asleep on the bed. Billy was old enough to begin lessons. She would have to arrange for a tutor. And a nanny for Emma. Not to mention a new lady’s maid for herself. A frown creased her forehead.

  Laina glanced over at the little girl, who was standing on tiptoe to look out the window. Emma must have a doll, and dishes for tea parties. Laina looked back at the bed and cast through her memory to the toys Justin had played with. Tin soldiers with horses and wagons. Balls and—

  Laina jumped at the soft knock on the door. At least it hadn’t wakened Billy. She hurried to open it.

  “Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am, but did you want me cleanin’ the room?”

  “Yes, Sally. But quietly, please. Billy’s injured and must rest.” Laina stepped aside.

  The young maid entered with her bucket of cleaning supplies and smiled down at the little girl, who rushed up and stopped in front of her. “And who are you, little miss?”

  “I’m Emma.” The toddler stared up at the maid. “Who are you?”

  “My name’s Sally, Miss Emma.” The maid walked a slow circle around the little girl. “My, aren’t you the fancy one, with your pretty yellow dress and a shiny white bow in your hair?”

  Emma nodded. “I gots a…a…this, too!” She lifted her dress to show off her chemise.

  “Ain’t I told ya to keep yer dress down, Emma!”

  “Billy! You must stay still.” Laina hurried to the bed as the boy flinched with pain.

  Emma’s lower lip quivered. She let her skirt drop into place. “I wanted her to see it, Billy.”

  Sally dropped onto her knees. “It’s a fine shift, Miss Emma. But a lady always keeps her dress down.”

  Emma’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

  “It’s good you have Billy to teach you things like that.” The maid rose and began dusting.

  “What are you doing?”

  Laina smiled. Emma’s questions were starting.

  “Making the room nice and clean.”

  “Why?”

  Laina listened for the maid’s response while she walked to the dressing room to get a facecloth wrung out in cold water. She’d heard a cold cloth helped headaches.

  “Because it makes the room prettier and nicer to live in.”

  “Oh.”

  Laina grinned. She could tell by Emma’s voice there was more to come. She got the facecloth and walked back to the bed.

  “Can I do it, too?”

  She glanced over as Sally shook her head. “No. That wouldn’t be right, Miss Emma. You’re a guest, and guests don’t clean.” The maid smiled at the crestfallen toddler. “Why don’t you play a game while I clean? Would you like that?”

  Emma gave a vigorous nod, ran over to the bed and climbed to the top of the bedside steps to look at her brother. “Let’s play pretend.” She looked up at Laina. “Do you want to play with us? You could be our pretend ma.”

  Laina nodded and cleared her throat. “I’d love to play pretend with you and Billy, Emma.”

  “I’m too tired to play.”

  Laina’s heart sank at Billy’s gruff words. She smiled at the disappointed little girl. “Perhaps when Billy is feeling better.” She folded the cloth and bent to place it on Billy’s head.

  He glared up at her. “Whatcha doin’? What’s that?”

  “It’s a cold cloth. It will help to make your head stop hurting.” She hoped that was the truth. She’d no experience of headaches. He watched, a wary look in his eyes, as she laid it on his forehead. At least he let her do it. She held back a sigh, pulled a light blanket over him and looked down at Emma. “Would you like me to tell you a story while Billy rests?”

  Emma nodded. Laina lifted her into her arms and seated herself in the chair. Why had she offered to tell her a story? Whatever would she say? Emma couldn’t relate to her childhood.

  The little girl squirmed into a comfortable position on her lap and looked expectantly at her. Laina searched her memory for an appropriate tale, but nothing came to mind. Panic set in. She’d have to make up something as she went along. She took a breath and began. “Once upon a time there was a little girl who had a big brother. They lived together…in a tree in the woods.”

  Where had that come from? Laina glanced over at Billy. He’d closed his eyes, but it was obvious from his expression he was listening. She took another breath and continued. “The little boy was brave and strong. He took very good care of his little sister.” She looked down as Emma nodded. Well, that was good. Now what? She glanced at the window. “One bright summer day the boy and girl went for a walk….”

  Thad yawned and closed his notebook. As always, he’d had a few successes and a few failures to record. And more questions than answers about procedures to jot down. Poor Mrs. Tibbins. There had to be something that would help her aches and pains, but the best he could advise was a cooked-onion poultice on the joints that hurt most. The moist warmth seemed to ease her discomfort a little.

  He frowned down at his desk, reached out and placed the stopper in the inkwell, laid his pen in its pewter box and closed the top. It had been a long day. He’d wait until tomorrow to write Dr. Bettencourt and inquire how he and the other doctors of the French Clinical School treated the disease that deformed joints and caused eventual crippling. Maybe he’d also ask how they felt about washing their hands before and after treating a patient. He was sure it helped prevent the spread of disease. At least, he’d found it so in his own practice. That’s why he bathed every night when he came home, even if he was so tired he could barely pump the pails of water.

  Thad scrubbed the end of the towel draped around his neck over his still-damp hair, then picked up his candle and headed for the stairs. He ought to look into getting water piped into his house the way it was in Twiggs Manor. He’d never seen anything so handy. But the cost…

  He shook his head, climbed to his bedroom, tossed the towel over the back of a chair to dry and blew out the candle. Moonlight poured in the window, highlighting his bed. His lonely bed.

  Thad scowled. Now, where had that thought come from? He’d long ago accepted the toll his profession exacted on his personal life. What else could he do? It was God’s will for him to be a doctor. Why else would God have provided him with his gifts? And there was little time, and even less money, in a doctor’s life to court a woman, let alone marry and raise a family. It wouldn’t be fair to them.

  Thad shrugged off the yearnings that never quite left his heart and flopped onto his bed. It was too bad there hadn’t been a candle burning in Billy’s bedroom when he’d driven past Twiggs Manor tonight. He’d wanted to check on the boy—though he was receiving excellent care.

  A grin spread his lips. Every time he thought of Laina Brighton, the image of her standing in the street calling down Henry Rhodes flashed into his mind. He pulled a cover sheet up to his bare chest, laced his hands behind his head and rested back against his pillow. He’d never seen anyone as pretty as Laina Brighton. Those beautiful dark blue eyes of hers fascinated him, the way they changed so quickly with her emotions. He’d seen them dull with sadness, bright with amusement, soft with compassion and flashing with sparks in anger. How would they look warmed by love?

  Thad jerked his mind from the thought, snapped his eyes open and turned onto his side to stare out the window. A scowl creased his forehead. He couldn’t afford to let his mind wander down that path. Even if it was harmless speculation, it was dangerous ground for a man destined to remain a bachelor.

  How could one feel tired,
inept and exhilarated at the same time? Laina shook her head, pulled the blanket over Emma’s exposed arm and went to curl up in the soft padded chair on the hearth.

  Moonlight streamed in the windows, adding a silver cast to the bayberry-white plastered walls and slate-blue paneling of the bedroom. She sat for a moment admiring its beauty, then smoothed the fabric of her long skirt over her legs and leaned her head against the padded draft protector, thinking back over the events of the day. Billy seemed to be relaxing a little. He was a tad less suspicious and wary of her every move, and he no longer frowned and flinched away when she changed the cold cloths on his forehead. He had even accepted her help when he became too tired to feed himself. She was definitely making progress with him.

  Laina glanced at the children asleep on the bed and smiled. The made-up story about a boy and girl living in the woods and a lady finding and caring for the little boy when he hurt himself falling out of a tree helped. She didn’t know where the sudden inspiration for the story had come from, but she was grateful for it. And for the improvement in Billy’s health. He was staying awake for longer stretches of time. That had to be a good sign.

  She sighed and closed her eyes. She wanted to ask Dr. Allen about that and a hundred other things. Why hadn’t he come to check on Billy tonight? Should she send for him in the morning? A smile curved her lips at thought of seeing him again.

  Laina frowned and opened her eyes. She mustn’t let herself become dependent on Dr. Allen. He was a very nice man—handsome, too, with his dark hair and brown eyes—but Billy was not his only patient. He had many others who depended on him, not to mention his own life to live. Even doctors had a life.

  That thought gave her pause. Laina gave a soft sigh and rose to walk over to the window. She hadn’t considered the doctor’s private life before. Did it include a wife and children?

  Chapter Nine

  “Laina! Owen told me I’d find you here in the nursery. I’m sorry I was out when you arrived.” Elizabeth hurried across the room and gave her a hug, then glanced down at the paper on the table. “What are you doing sitting here all alone? Didn’t Owen tell you the children are outside in the playhouse?”