The gowns that Grandmother pulled from the armoire were made of expensive silks and taffeta and her fingers itched to touch them. But she would not take something that was not hers. She lifted her chin and regarded her grandmother. “I’ll not take Miss Lilly’s things.”
Grandmother laughed. “Who do you think bought her all these dresses? Besides, the ones I’m offering are ones she’s never worn, or didn’t like.”
Annabelle stood stiffly by the dressing table, Lilly’s personal hair combs and perfume bottles lined neatly across the top, and shook her head again. “All the same, Grandmother, I do not feel right taking her things without her permission.”
Instead of growing irritated, Grandmother simply smiled. “Of course. If it makes you feel any better, I will call for her.”
Annabelle blanched. She didn’t want to be caught in the middle of this. She wasn’t sure about the nature of her grandmother’s relationship with Lilly, but the woman must be a ward of some sort. She would likely do whatever Grandmother asked, whether she truly wanted to or not, but Annabelle did not want to put the woman out, nor gain her resentment.
Grandmother stepped over to a long golden rope dangling by the door and tugged it three times and then turned back to Annabelle. “We will have the seamstress come and get your measurements, but for the time being, I’m certain Lilly will not mind loaning you some of her dresses.”
Not knowing what else to say, Annabelle dipped her chin. “Yes, ma’am.”
Grandmother picked up the dress she had laid over the bed when she’d gone to ring the bell and fingered the fine embroidery that edged the zouave jacket. “I always liked this one. It’s the height of fashion, but Lilly’s never worn it. She prefers plainer day dresses, no matter how hard I try.”
Annabelle thought about the shimmering golden-yellow dress Lilly had worn last night and the blue silk she’d seen Lilly in at breakfast and wondered if Grandmother understood what plain meant. Grandmother dressed in black, as was appropriate for a widow, but her gowns were elaborate cuts, decorated with velvet trims and ribbons. Her current dress was silk, detailed with golden embroidery around the collar and cuffs.
The door opened and the young blonde woman who had served Matthew coffee stepped inside. “You sent for someone, Frau Smith?”
“Yes, Anka. Do you know where Lilly is?”
The young woman bobbed her curls. “She was polishing the silver last I saw her, Frau.”
Grandmother waved her hand. “Go fetch her for me, if you please.”
Anka dipped into a small curtsy and then hurried to do Grandmother’s bidding. Annabelle tried to keep the confusion from her face, but Grandmother was sharp, and her keen eyes missed little.
“You are wondering why Lilly is polishing silver?”
Annabelle twisted her hands in front of her. “Well, yes. I mean, I am confused on her place here, I suppose.”
Grandmother walked over to the window and gazed at the manicured lawn below. “Lilly came here with the Underground Railroad.”
Annabelle withheld her gasp. She’d heard tales of secret lines of abolitionist homes that would grant safety and travel means for slaves escaping the South, but she had never believed they were actually true.
Grandmother continued talking, her gaze not leaving the window. “The sickness came while I was still looking for placements for that last group. We were an end-point, and it was my job to find paying positions for as many as I could, or get safe passage to another if I could not.”
She grew silent, and Annabelle waited. Moments passed, and Annabelle had begun to think she would say no more when she finally spoke again. “It took all of them,” she said softly, with a crack in her voice. “That awful fever took four women, including Lilly’s mother, seven children, and two men.”
Annabelle’s heart clenched. She was familiar with the pain that wracked Grandmother’s tone. Pain brought on by being unable to save those under her care. “That is terrible Grandmother, I am sorry to hear it,” she said gently.
Grandmother did not seem as though she had heard Annabelle at all. Her eyes had a faraway look, and Annabelle knew she was seeing something other than the view from the window. “Then it came for my Franklin,” she said, her voice distant. “It’s my fault he’s gone.”
Annabelle’s heart wrenched and she crossed the lush carpets to place a hand on her Grandmother’s shoulder. “Oh, Grandmother. You cannot help that sickness struck.”
The older woman turned glistening eyes on her. “Oh, I know that, I do. But, if I had not had them in the house…”
“If you had not accepted people into your home, then how many others would not have found a new life?”
Grandmother gave a sad smile and patted Annabelle’s arm. “You are a sweet girl. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Lilly and I were the only ones who didn’t take the sickness. Well, except for the German bunch, but I made sure to keep them out of the house while the worst of it raged. It was Lilly who helped me care for them all, even though she was nigh on bursting with child. No matter how harshly I tried to send her away, she was always there, her hands in the middle of it all.” Annabelle smiled at the admiration in Grandmother’s voice, but her tone soon turned sad again. “When it was done, and the last one gone to be buried, I asked Lilly to stay on with me.”
Annabelle nodded, having a new respect for the quiet young woman.
“She and the boy have been here ever since. That was two winters ago.”
“So, Lilly has a son?” Annabelle asked, imagining how hard it would have been to be swollen with child as she tended the sick.
“I do,” a female voice said from behind them. Annabelle whirled to see Lilly standing in the doorway, and she could immediately feel her cheeks coloring.
Lilly must have noticed, because she offered a comforting smile. “It’s fine. I don’t mind Mrs. Smith sharin’—”
“Sharing,” Grandmother interrupted.
“Sharing,” Lilly corrected, unfazed. “How I came to work here. She has been very good to me and little Franklin.” She smiled at Annabelle’s confused expression, answering the question even as it sprang to her lips. “Frankie stays in the kitchens with Sue most of the day. It’s warm in there, and she lets him play with dough and his tin soldiers on the floor. Keeps him from breaking any of the fine things here in the house.”
Grandmother snorted. “I’ve told you he is fine in the house.” She looked at Annabelle. “He usually eats with us, but he was already abed last night when you arrived and Lilly took him straight to the kitchen first thing this morning.”
“I didn’t want him disturbing your company,” Lilly said with a look that seemed to challenge Grandmother to protest.
Grandmother merely smirked. “Well, I didn’t call you up here for that. I wanted to see if Annabelle could borrow some of your dresses until I can have some proper ones made for her.”
“Course. Take any you fancy.”
“The term is of course, though certainly would have been the better choice.” Grandmother gently chided.
Lilly kept her gaze on Annabelle. “Your grandmother has insisted I learn to speak a lady’s English.”
“Certainly. If I wish to find you a proper husband, you can’t go around sounding like a milk maid.”
Lilly gave Grandmother a flat look. “And as I’ve told you, I am happy to work here. You’ve given a good life to Frankie and me, and I don’t need no man.”
Annabelle clasped her hands behind her back, her gaze darting between the two women. They suddenly seemed to remember she was in the room, and Grandmother waved her hand. “A discussion for another time. I’ll leave you girls to your dresses.”
She swept out of the room and left the two young women staring after her. Lilly let out a giggle. “She means well. She’s not really as overbearing as she seems.”
Away from the others, Lilly seemed more relaxed, freely speaking her mind and a quick smile playing about her lips. Annabelle couldn’t help but like her. “You
don’t have to give me your dresses, Lilly. I am fine with what I have.”
Lilly rolled her eyes and grabbed Annabelle’s wrist, pulling her over to the overflowing armoire. “Don’t be silly. I have more dresses than I could ever wear. Mrs. Smith is always getting me new ones, even though I wouldn’t need another for years if I got to all the ones already stuffed in here.” She glanced at Annabelle. “Good thing you’re here. She can dote on you instead.”
“Oh, no, I will be going home soon.”
Lilly looked at her funny, but then merely shrugged. “Well, you better pick out a couple of these anyway, or neither one of us will get a moment of peace until you do. Believe me, she won’t let you go about in a dress that shows any wear.”
“As I’ve discovered,” Annabelle replied. “Very well. But you just pick out the ones you don’t like or you are ready to hand down. I don’t want to take anything you are fond of, and I promise to return them as soon as we are ready to leave.”
Lilly gave a tinkling laugh. “Oh, Miss Ross, if you think Mrs. Smith is going to let you leave here with nothing but the gown you came with, you don’t know her at all!”
Annabelle drew her lip between her teeth and Lilly gasped.
“Oh, Miss Ross! I’m very sorry. I spoke out of place.” The smooth mask of formality she had worn when they’d first arrived slipped back over Lilly’s face and Annabelle felt a pang. It had been so long since she’d had a young woman her age to talk to.
“Please, just call me Annabelle. And you don’t need to apologize. It is true I don’t know my grandmother very well, but that’s all right. I am here now, and even after I return home, I plan to write her often and visit as much as I can. We’ve lost a lot of time, but I hope to make up for it as much as possible.”
Lilly touched her briefly on the shoulder. “That would mean a great deal to her.”
“And to me.”
The two women looked at each other for a moment, then Lilly turned back to the array of brightly colored fabrics in the closet. She selected a deep burgundy and held it up against Annabelle. Then she shook her head. “No, you are much too pale for this one. It makes you look like you’ve got skin the warm color of snow.”
Annabelle crinkled her brow. Back home, women tried to keep their skin as light as possible. It was a mark of beauty. She tilted her head. “Where did you come from, Lilly, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Lilly put away the dark dress and pulled a pale green one out instead. She held it up to Annabelle. “Oh, yes. Much better.” She went over to the bed and tossed the gown across the floral quilts, apparently ignoring Annabelle’s question. She returned and stuck her head back in the armoire. “I came from New Orleans, before we made the run,” she said, her voice muffled.
Annabelle thought on that. She’d not been to Louisiana, but she’d assumed they had the same ideas on a lady’s ivory skin. Perhaps it was just Lilly. The woman seemed confident in her appearance, and Annabelle admired her for it.
She couldn’t imagine why a lady would have been traveling with slaves, but she didn’t feel it was her place to ask, so she said nothing. Lilly pulled out two other dresses and held them up to Annabelle, selecting one and putting back the other. “Now, where did I put that one with all that stitching…?”
“The zouave?” Annabelle offered.
Lilly pulled her head back out of the armoire. “I think that’s what it’s called. I can’t keep up with all the stuff in those fashion periodicals Mrs. Smith is always pointing at.”
“It’s on the bed under the others. Grandmother had pulled it out.”
“Must have missed it,” Lilly said, shifting through the pile of dresses. She held it up. “Yes. This one will look wonderful on you, I think. The style doesn’t suit me, and I won’t wear it.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your generosity.”
Lilly turned to go back to the armoire. “It’s nothing. Let’s see what else….”
“No, please. These are plenty.”
Lilly studied her a moment, then nodded. “All right. You go ahead and try them on, then. I need to be gettin’ back to work, anyway.”
Annabelle hated to see the carefree time end, but understood the other woman had responsibilities. She gathered the dresses in her arms and followed Lilly out the door. “If you need anything, petticoats or something, I can have Anka pick it up from town. She goes with her papa to town when we need women things.” She offered a conspirator’s grin. “Unless you want to let Mrs. Smith take you shopping in New York City.”
Annabelle laughed. “Oh, no. I don’t have time for that. I will let you know if I find I need something from town.”
Lilly smiled and headed toward the servants’ stairs at the end of the hall, and Annabelle clutched her new treasures to her chest. It took a great deal of effort to keep a steady pace and not dash to her room to try them on.
“No news yet received from Booth. I do not understand this. What can he be doing?”
John Surratt
Smith house
New York
March 30, 1865
Matthew entered the stables, the familiar smells of horse and leather surrounding him as he stepped through the barn doors. He shook off the morning chill and fingered the wool overcoat over his arm, wondering if he would really need to use it on his ride. It had begun to warm considerably, though the early mornings still brought with them the northern winter’s bite.
The last two weeks he’d enjoyed spending time visiting with his brother and seeing the light return to George’s eyes and some health return to his features. It had been a most welcomed time of rest and recovery, but they had not set foot out of the house except to take afternoon tea in the gardens since they had first arrived. Being cooped up in doors for so long had begun to make him antsy.
“Need something, Mister?” Pete asked as Matthew closed the barn doors behind him.
Matthew smiled at the youth who carried the firewood and tended his horses. “I thought I might go for a ride before the midday meal, if that’s all right.”
The boy laughed, slapping his polishing rag across his leg. “What are you asking me for? It’s your horse!”
A voice came from a side room. “Pete! Don’t you be talking to the elders like that!”
The boy’s eyes widened. “Sorry, Papa!” He cast Matthew an apologetic look just as an older, bulkier version of the boy stepped from the side room. The man was shorter than Matthew, though not by as much as most men, but the shoulders under his suspenders were equally as wide. The boy’s father wiped his hands on a dirty cloth, his thick forearms extending from underneath rolled up sleeves.
“I make apology for the boy, mister,” the man said. “Sometimes he forgets the manners for his betters.”
Matthew shook his head. “No harm done. He seems like a fine youth.”
Pride swelled the burly man’s chest. “He came so many of the years after Anka, we thought his ma would never have the son.”
“Anka is your daughter,” Matthew realized. The entire family must work for the Smith house.
“Yes, yes. My eldest child. Came with us from the homeland. But the boy, he was birthed here, in the new land.”
The man seemed rather proud of that fact and Matthew smiled.
He grinned in return, then seemed to remember his manners. “Oh! Your pardon. My name’s Günter.”
Matthew grasped the extended hand and gave it a firm squeeze. “Matthew.”
A few moments later, Pete appeared with one of the mares, saddled and ready to go. “Thank you, Pete,” Matthew said, taking the reins.
“Sure thing, mister,” the boy said, then hurried to return to his saddle polishing. The boy’s father shook his head and looked back to Matthew. “When you are done with the ride, my boy will put the horse up again for you.”
Matthew nodded his thanks and took the horse into the morning sun. It was still cold enough that his breath turned to mist in the air. He looked down at the blue coat on his arm, l
oathing the thought of dressing as a Yank. But, he knew his brother’s Union frock would be warmer than his own gray shell jacket, and both warmer still than the civilian coat he’d thus far endured.
He fingered the blue wool. Besides, he was already a deserter; wearing blue couldn’t make him any more of a traitor to his country. Matthew pulled on the coat, surprised that it fit quite well, and swung up into the saddle.
He laid the reins across the mare’s neck and turned her to the left. They set out at a slow walk, going around the side of the large stable and toward the long narrow lake that was said to be out behind the house. A flash of movement caught his eye.
A shadow ducked around the back of the barn before Matthew could get a good look at it. His pulse quickening, he dug his heels into the horse’s flanks, startling the animal forward. He rounded the edge of the barn just as a man dashed across the lawn.
Matthew narrowed his eyes, driving his heels into the horse’s sides. The animal darted forward, her powerful legs quickly outpacing the runner. The man glanced over his shoulder, and Matthew was close enough now to see the fear written all over his familiar face. Harry!
Harry nearly dove into the cover of the trees at the edge of the lawn, stumbling over the underbrush but quickly regaining his feet. Matthew’s horse plunged into the trees, her hooves crunching leaves and fallen sticks. Harry ran desperately through the tangle of vines and tree limbs, but he was no match for the horse’s stride. In a matter of moments, Matthew overtook him.
Matthew launched himself from the saddle and slammed into the man’s back, bearing him to the ground. The horse snorted and pranced as the two men rolled across the damp leaves. Harry struggled to free himself from his grasp, but Matthew was stronger and he soon had the scoundrel turned over and the man’s shoulders pinned beneath his knees. “You!” he said with a growl, “What are you doing here?”
The Liberator Series Box Set: Christian Historical Civil War Novels Page 44
