Laina grinned.
Audrey darted a look up at her, then stretched out one small, delicately formed hand and touched the smooth bronze sateen fabric she’d exposed. In the next instant she lifted the dress out of the paper and held it against her, looking in the mirror. “This is for me?” Her voice was hushed, doubtful.
Laina nodded. “It is. I hope it fits. I had Madame Duval’s seamstress take the measurements from your old dress that first night when I sent it to be mended. Do you like it?” It was a ridiculous question. Audrey’s eyes were shining with pleasure.
“It’s beautiful!” The girl ran her fingers along the brown satin piping that trimmed the collar and sleeves. “May I wear it to supper tonight?”
“I’ll be very disappointed if you don’t.” Laina’s long skirts rustled softly as she headed for the door. “I’m going to my room to dress for supper now. I’ll send Cora to do your hair as soon as she finishes mine. When you’re ready, please come down to the drawing room. I’ll be waiting for you.” She opened the door and hurried toward her bedroom, carrying the sight of Audrey’s happy smile in her heart.
The faint scent of roses clinging to Laina’s skin and hair formed an aura about her as she donned her chemise and corselet and stepped out of the dressing room. “I’ve changed my mind, Cora. I don’t want the lavender silk dress—I’ll wear the green linen.” She started for her dressing table, paused and glanced at her maid. “No, the blue-and-white-striped satin.”
“Yes, madam.”
Laina frowned. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she make up her mind? She tugged the front lacing of her corselet taut, then glanced up and shook her head as Cora pulled the striped dress from the wardrobe. “No, no. That’s much too fussy. I can’t imagine what I was thinking of, letting Madame Duval put those swags around the bottom of the skirt. And that stand-up lace collar…” She shuddered. “I want something soft, but elegant.”
“Perhaps the gold watered-silk taffeta, madam? The new lower waistline style is most flattering to your slender figure. And the soft fabric drapes beautifully.” Cora put the striped dress back and pulled the gold one from the wardrobe.
“Oh, I’d forgotten about that one.” Laina swept her gaze over the dress. “Yes. It will be perfect.” She continued to her dressing table and looked in the mirror. “Now, about my hair…” She sat on the bench seat and lifted the thick mass of still damp, softly curling brown hair off her neck and shoulders. “No dangling curls tonight. I want to wear it all up…I think.”
Laina walked around the dining-room table, checking each place setting, making sure the flowers in the centerpiece were perfect. Everything was as it should be. She heaved a sigh and headed for the drawing room. Why was she so nervous? She’d given hundreds of dinner parties. Of course, it had been over a year. She hadn’t even attended a dinner party since Stanford’s passing. Still, this wasn’t really a dinner party. The guests were all family, except for Thad.
Laina resisted a sudden temptation to go to the gilt-framed mirror on the wall of the entrance hall to check her hair, and entered the drawing room. The scent of fresh flowers greeted her. Flowers from her own gardens. She smiled and moved to the fireplace, checking the large bouquet on the mantel.
“Here I am, Mrs. Brighton.”
Laina turned. “Audrey, you look lovely!” The girl’s face flushed with pleasure. Laina smiled and made a small circle with her hand. “Turn about.” The girl obliged. Light rippled over her thick, straight auburn hair caught back at her nape with a bow of the bronze sateen before flowing free to her waist. “You have beautiful hair, Audrey.”
The girl finished her slow pirouette, looked at her and smiled, a true smile of pure pleasure that curved her lips and made her eyes shine. “Thank you, Mrs. Brighton. And thank you for the new dress. It’s so pretty.” Her delicate hands brushed the fabric of the skirt.
The smile transformed Audrey’s face. Laina had never seen such a sweet smile—it brought a lump to her throat. How could anyone mistreat this child? She shook off the sour thought and turned to walk through the door beside the fireplace. “Come with me, please, Audrey. I’ve something to show you.”
Laina’s heart beat with excitement as the girl followed her into the music room. She picked up the violin she’d placed on the chair earlier and turned, holding it out in front of her. “I borrowed this from my brother. I hope it will suit until I can purchase one.”
Audrey stood frozen, her gaze locked on the violin, her mouth forming a little O from which not a sound escaped.
“Audrey?”
The girl lifted her gaze, met Laina’s, then collapsed onto her knees on the floor, covering her face with her hands.
“Audrey!” Laina put the violin back on the chair and knelt in front of the sobbing child, pulling her into her arms, holding her tight, stunned by the force of Audrey’s reaction. “What’s wrong, dear? Audrey, please don’t cry. If it’s not the right sort of violin I’ll get another.”
The girl began to laugh, hiccup and cry all at the same time. “It’s a St-Strada-v-vari, like m-my father’s.” She rocked back on her heels and looked up, her eyes swimming with tears. “I never thought I would p-play one again.”
Her father’s? Altman. Laina’s memory jolted. “Audrey, was your father Andrew Altman?”
Audrey wiped the tears from her cheeks. A smile quivered on her lips. “Yes.” Hope flared in her eyes. “Did you know him?”
Laina hated to disappoint her. She shook her head. “No, I didn’t know him. But I did hear him play once at a friend’s house. He’d come home to collect his inheritance when his father died and was returning to Europe the following week.” She covered Audrey’s hand with hers. “I heard his ship was lost in a storm. I’m sorry.”
Audrey nodded. “I don’t really remember him. I was too young. I only know what my mother told me about him.” She drew a shaky breath. “Mother gave me his violin, his Stradivari, and I took lessons, and then…well…” Her lips quivered. She looked down at her hands, drew another breath. “I feel close to my father when I play.” Tears welled into her eyes again. She lifted her gaze to the instrument in the chair. “Thank you for borrowing the violin for me, Mrs. Brighton, but I know you didn’t realize it’s very valuable. You’d better return it.”
Laina looked at the sadness in Audrey’s eyes and shook her head. “I’ll discuss it with my brother later. He and his wife are coming to supper tonight. Meanwhile, if it’s possible—I don’t know about such things—would you play for us tonight?”
Audrey caught her breath. Her gaze shifted back to the violin. “I haven’t practiced for a very long time, but—but yes. It would be an honor.” She burst into tears again.
Laina pulled her into her arms and held her close, her own eyes filling as Audrey’s arms slid about her neck.
Thad whistled as he tied his silk cravat around his neck, pulled on his vest of gold-striped silk and shrugged into his black wool cutaway suit coat. They were his Sunday clothes, slightly out of fashion, but the best he had. At least he had trousers to wear instead of breeches. He frowned and reached for his watch. Perfect. The few minutes remaining would give him time to walk to Twiggs Manor. He started whistling again, tucked the watch into his pocket and stepped into his shoes.
“Doc! Are ya in there, Doc?” The muffled shout was accompanied by a pounding on his door. “Doc?”
Thad charged out of the bedroom and raced down the steps to open the door to a tall, wild-eyed man with straggly hair. “What is it?”
“My wife’s been birthin’ since early mornin’ an’ things ain’t goin’ right. The baby ain’t comin’, an’ she’s gettin’ awful weak. Ya gotta come help her, Doc.”
Thad nodded. “Start hitching my horse and buggy. I’ll get my bag.” He ran back upstairs to change his clothes as the man sprinted for the barn.
The last notes faded away. Laina stared at Audrey, her throat aching with the beauty of the music the young girl had coaxed from the violin sh
e still held in her hand. She’d had the same reaction the one and only time she’d heard Andrew Altman play. Audrey’s father. The thought broke the enchantment of the music.
Laina rose and rushed to the young girl. “I don’t know what to say, Audrey. I haven’t enough musical knowledge to comment intelligently on your playing. I only know what I felt in my heart. The beauty of your music made me want to cry.” She smiled and cupped Audrey’s cheek in her hand. “It was the same as I felt when I heard your father play. He would be so very proud of you.”
Audrey nodded and blinked tears from her eyes.
“I’m also at a loss for words, Audrey.” Elizabeth smiled as she and Justin joined them. “I can only repeat what Laina said. I, too, felt your music in my heart. It was absolutely beautiful!”
Audrey smiled at Elizabeth. “Thank you, Mrs. Randolph.”
“That leaves me, young lady.” Audrey moved closer to Elizabeth as Justin spoke. “I’m no music expert, either, but I doubt that violin has ever been played as well as you played it tonight. Your music does go straight to the heart.” He lifted his gaze to Laina. “I think we shall have to look into lessons for this young lady. I’ll make some inquiries about suitable teachers tomorrow.”
Audrey gasped.
Laina laughed and hugged her, then went on tiptoe and kissed Justin’s cheek. “Thank you, dearheart.”
He winked at her and returned her kiss. “Time to go.”
“Mr. Randolph?” Audrey straightened to her full height and held out the violin to Justin. “Thank you for your offer of lessons for me.” Tears shimmered in her eyes, but she smiled up at him. “And most of all, thank you for loaning me your Stradivari to play tonight. It was a great kindness.”
Justin cleared his throat. He reached out and closed his hand over Audrey’s small one grasping the fingerboard and placed his other hand on her shoulder. “My dear child, you keep the violin. I can’t imagine putting it back in that cupboard after hearing you play it.” He smiled at her gasp. “I think it will be much happier in your hands. Now, good night.” He tapped the tip of her small, finely molded nose, put his arm about Elizabeth and walked out of the music room.
Laina rose from the chair, walked to the window and looked outside. She couldn’t see the road—couldn’t see anything beyond the golden pool of light cast by the lamps beside the front door. She sighed, went back to the chair, then jumped up and hurried out of the parlor into the entrance hall.
The clock struck ten. Three hours late. He must be with a patient. Laina started for the library to get a book to read, and a moment later found herself standing at the front door. She gave in to her restlessness, pulled the door open and slipped outside.
So many stars! The sky was agleam with them. Laina moved down the porch steps, across the stone sweep and walked along the gravel drive. It had been a wonderful evening. Her lips rose in a happy smile at thought of the hug Audrey had given her when she went to her bedroom to tell her good-night. The girl was beside herself with happiness over playing the violin again—and so excited at the prospect of lessons. Audrey couldn’t say enough good things about Justin. She’d been over-whelmed by his generosity in giving her the Stradivari. She treated the instrument as if it were made of the most fragile china.
Laina’s smile widened. And then there were the warm, enthusiastic good-night hugs and kisses exchanged with Billy and Emma. A little worm of worry wiggled through her happy thoughts. She pursed her lips. What of tomorrow night? The carpenters, plasterers and painters were finally done, the cabinetmakers finished. The third floor had been transformed into a nursery. It was time to move Billy and Emma into rooms of their own, but they’d never been apart. How would they accept the move?
Laina frowned, pulled a leaf from a bush and absently shredded it with her fingers. She had tried to prepare them by moving Emma out of the bed onto the chaise, and by taking them to see the rooms that would be theirs as the work on them progressed. She would know tomorrow night if it had worked.
Laina sighed and glanced up, staring at the pillars at the end of the drive. She had walked all the way out to the street. She lifted her gaze and looked both directions. Empty. But of course it would be. It was getting late for people to be out and about. She should go inside. She tamped down her rising sense of disappointment, gave another quick glance up and down the street, then turned and started back for the house.
Why was she feeling so restless tonight? So…so…dissatisfied when things had gone so well? Laina looked up at the starry sky again, then lowered her gaze to the house. The lamps beside the door threw welcoming light across the porch. The downstairs windows glowed with candlelight. She smiled and quickened her steps. The house had come to life again. And so had she. Maybe that was why she felt these odd stirrings and vague discontentments.
The faint clop of a horse’s hooves and the distant rumble of buggy wheels floated toward her on the warm night air. Laina turned back toward the street, listening. The sounds grew louder. The buggy was coming toward Twiggs Manor. Her pulse fluttered.
Thad. He was the reason she had come outside. She was looking for him. He was the reason she felt so— Oh, no!
Laina closed her eyes, willing away the knowledge of the truth that had just burst upon her. The buggy turned into the drive, the light from its sidelamps gleaming against her closed eyelids. She took a deep breath and stepped back to the edge of the drive.
“Hello.”
Thad was only a dark form beyond the arc of light. Laina lifted her hand to shield her eyes and forced a smile. “You’re late.”
“I was with a patient.”
She nodded. “I thought as mu—”
“Laina, forgive me for interrupting, but I have an injured boy in the buggy. May I take him inside?”
His voice made her shiver. “Of course.” He nodded and urged his horse forward. She caught up to him as he stopped the buggy by the front steps.
Thad climbed down and handed her his black bag. “Will you carry this, please? I need both hands.” He gathered a limp body into his arms and turned toward the house.
Laina gasped as the porch light fell on the boy in Thad’s arms. He was bruised and swollen and bloody.
“He’s been beaten.”
Laina jerked her gaze to Thad’s face. She had never heard him sound angry. Never seen his face taut with fury, as it was now. But she understood. She looked down at the young boy’s cut, misshapen face and oddly bent arm and rage knotted her stomach and tightened her throat. She nodded, then hurried ahead to open the door.
Laina grabbed a clean towel, tossed the rag into the washbowl full of cold water and carried it back to the bed. “Here it is.” She set the bowl on the nightstand.
“Good. I’ve finished stitching the cuts. A cold rag on his forehead will help with the swelling.”
Laina looked at the little boy on the bed, at the stitches over his swollen black eye and on his puffed, purple cheek. Her stomach turned over. She swallowed hard and squeezed the excess water out of the cloth.
“Don’t let the cloth touch the cuts. I cleaned them with alcohol.” Thad put the needle and suturing thread back in his bag and looked up at her. “There’s a theory that alcohol stops infection, and I’m finding it to be true. But you can’t let anything that hasn’t been washed in alcohol touch a wound once it’s been cleansed.”
Laina nodded. “I’ll be careful.” She leaned over, brushed the boy’s soft, straight black hair out of the way and laid the cloth on his forehead. Tears threatened again. She’d been fighting them back with every new bruise and injury Thad discovered. And he’d discovered many after he’d bathed the boy.
She glanced at the bandage holding splints in place on the small broken arm, and anger drove the tears away. There was another splint on the boy’s broken leg, covered now by a pair of Billy’s soft cotton pantaloons. One of Billy’s undershirts hid the cloth strips wound around the boy’s bruised—probably broken—ribs. She would never understand how someone coul
d be so cruel, especially to a defenseless child. She took his small hand in hers. “How old do you think he is?”
“It’s hard to say. These children don’t eat enough to grow normally. I’d guess six, maybe seven.”
“The same as Billy.”
“A little older, I think. I’m sure Billy’s no more than six.” Thad looked at her, closed his bag and walked around to the other side of the bed.
“When do you think he will wake up?”
“It depends on how badly his head is injured.”
Laina looked down and brushed the fingers of her free hand through the boy’s hair. “So it’s the same as it was with Billy. We can only wait.”
“Yes.” Thad pulled a chair up beside the bed, then lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck. “Look, I’m staying until he wakes up. Why don’t you go on to bed? It’s late. You should get some sleep.”
Laina shook her head. “No. I’m staying. I want to be here when he wakes up.” She looked up. “Have you eaten?”
“No. I was busy delivering twin boys at suppertime.” He glanced at her, then looked down and pulled a blanket up over the boy. “I’m used to going without meals, but I’m sorry I missed supper tonight. I was looking forward to it.”
“As was I.” Laina’s cheeks warmed. She turned and gave the bellpull hanging at the head of the bed two quick yanks, giving her cheeks time to cool. She mustn’t let him guess how disappointed she’d been that he wasn’t there. “Audrey looked beautiful in her new dress. And she seemed different. I think the stained, mended appearance of her old dress is one of the reasons she stayed in her room. And when she played— I haven’t had a chance to tell you about that.”
Laina spun around and surprised Thad’s gaze on her. The look in his eyes closed her throat on her words. Her knees went weak. She groped for the support of the nightstand.
“Oh!” Laina yanked her hand out of the cold water in the washbowl and grabbed the towel to wipe it dry, staring down at her hands as if they fascinated her, too disconcerted, embarrassed and horrified to look up at Thad. Had he guessed how she felt about him? Is that what that look was about? Hot blood flooded into her cheeks again. At least he was too polite to laugh at her. There was a soft knock on the door.
Joy for Mourning Page 15
