Thursday's Child (Out of Time #5)

by Monique Martin

  Her cheeks flushed, but not from embarrassment. She'd long gotten over her surprise at being found attractive. Simon had made sure of that. The blush that stole down her neck was a reflection of his desire returned to him. He was just about to lean down and suggest they find an excuse to leave when Rose approached them.

  “Hello,” she said with a sad, discomfited smile. “I'm sorry the party is, well…”

  She shook her head and looked back at her sullen, silent guests. The dark mood inside mirrored the weather outside where a storm had broken. Rain pelted against the window glass and the occasional thunder and lightning pulsed.

  Simon felt for her. She seemed a kind and gentle woman. “Perhaps some entertainment?” he suggested.

  Rose brightened at the idea and turned to Elizabeth. “Do you play?” she asked indicating the piano. “I'm afraid I'm no good at all.”

  Women of the upper classes of the time were expected to be proficient in everything from literature to music, all the better hostesses to make. Elizabeth looked up at him in a panic. Other than singing, loudly and rather badly, in the shower, Elizabeth did not have a musical bone in her body.

  “May I?” Simon asked.

  Rose's face lit with pleasure. “Of course!”

  She shared a quick, impressed smile with Elizabeth before ushering him over to the grand piano in the corner of the large salon. He leafed through the sheet music, finding several pieces of Chopin and Beethoven with which he was well-acquainted. He did not consider himself skilled enough to play them as they deserved, but he doubted the guests would notice. It wasn't as if they listened to them every night. Perhaps at concerts in town on rare occasion, but in a still somewhat rural setting such as Natchez, music was more of a rarity than a regularity. Even the first phonograph was still twenty-five years away.

  Simon stretched his fingers; thankful he'd taken up the piano again after he and Elizabeth had returned from 1929 New York. He hadn't enjoyed playing as a child, but as a man, he found it quite relaxing. Of course, he realized as a small crowd gathered, that had been in the privacy of his home with only Elizabeth as his audience. Not that he had stage fright, he simply preferred the intimacy of playing only for her. However, duty called.

  Rose looked on hopefully and he let out a calming breath and began. The crowd listened attentively as he played “Für Elise”, offering a more than polite round of applause when he finished. He followed with one of Chopin's preludes before begging off and encouraging someone else to take a turn. It had had the desired effect, and while the party was not, nor should it have been, a light affair, the oppressive pall that had settled over the guests lifted somewhat.

  Simon searched for Elizabeth as he relinquished his role as the night's entertainment, but was caught by Rose, Eli at her side.

  “Thank you,” she said with sincere gratitude. “I would have rather canceled the party, but James was insistent. And now, I'm glad he was. Otherwise, I would never have had a chance to hear you play so beautifully.”

  “It was my pleasure,” Simon said with a slight bow. “Have you seen my wife? I seem to have misplaced her.”

  Rose smiled, but Eli did not. In fact, he did not try in the least to conceal his disgust.

  “I think I saw her—” Rose said, and then someone caught her attention. “I'm sorry, will you excuse me for a moment?”

  “Of course,” both men said in unison.

  Rose disappeared into the crowd leaving Simon and Eli alone together.

  Simon loathed being indebted to any man, but Elizabeth had told him the whole story of her ill-fated swim and regardless of his personal feelings toward Eli, the man had saved her life.

  Simon's honor provoked an acknowledgement of the debt and he turned to face Eli. “I want to apologize for earlier today,” Simon said, the words grinding out of him like grain between millstones. “I leapt to a hasty and erroneous assumption.”

  Eli's expression did not change.

  “It also seems,” Simon continued. “That I owe you a debt for saving Elizabeth's life. It is one I don't take lightly.”

  “Pretty words,” Eli said. “But your actions toward your wife speak far louder.”

  Simon gritted his teeth. That again. “Now, it is you who have made an assumption.”

  Eli's lip curled in disgust. His gaze traveled across the room and Simon turned to see him looking at Elizabeth who was talking to Rose and James.

  “She deserves better,” Eli said almost to himself.

  “No doubt,” Simon said. “Regardless of what you may think of me,” Simon continued, knowing that he could not explain away his visit to the brothel, “I love my wife and would never hurt her or any woman.”

  Eli arched an eyebrow. “And the bruises?”

  “I can only say that I was not the cause.”

  Eli folded his arms across his chest. “And why are you telling me this now? I hardly think a man like you cares what I think of him.”

  Simon glanced at Eli before finding Elizabeth in the crowd. “I don't. But I do care what you think of Elizabeth. She is no one's pawn, least of all mine. She deserves far greater respect than that.”

  Across the room, Elizabeth must have felt their eyes upon her. She smiled at them, and excused herself from her conversation to join them.

  She grinned charmingly as she approached. “And what are you two up to?” she asked as she slipped her arm around Simon's, leaning slightly into his side.

  “Your husband was just singing your praises. And,” Eli said with a quick glance at Simon, “they are well-deserved. Cross.” He bowed and slipped off into the crowd.

  “What was that all about?” Elizabeth asked.

  “The beginnings of détente, I hope.”

  “How to Make Friends and Influence People by Simon Cross? Who'd a thunk it?”

  Simon chuckled. “Who indeed.”

  ~~~

  Most of the guests had left by the time the constable arrived. He was a tall, gangly man in a dark blue wool uniform. He shook freshly fallen rain from his cap and followed James into his study. A few minutes later, both men emerged, but there was little news to be had or at least, Simon thought, little news James was willing to share.

  The last guests left and eventually Simon and Elizabeth made their way up to their room. As they undressed and prepared for bed, they shared their observations of the evening.

  “So Eli no longer thinks I'm under your thrall?” Elizabeth asked as she slipped under the covers.

  A fresh storm had come and rain pelted the glass of the window. “I don't think so. If you had been, you would not have wandered off alone nor stripped naked during a fox hunt.” Simon closed the window sash and unhooked the drapes to let them fall in front of it.

  “I thought you rode in the other direction.”

  Simon eyed her through the dim lamplight. “Fox hunts don't work like that.”

  “Well, I know that now,” she said with a lovely pout.

  Simon sighed and shucked off the rest of his clothes. He pulled on his nightshirt and found Elizabeth fighting a giggle. “What?”

  “Your knees are so…adorable.”

  Simon scowled and plucked at his long nightshirt. “I hate this thing.”

  Elizabeth tried again not to laugh.

  “It bunches up when I sleep,” Simon protested as he slid into bed next to her.

  Elizabeth lost her battle and a fit of giggles ensued. “I think it's cute.”

  “Do you?” he asked as he caressed her neck and jawline.

  The giggles disappeared under his touch and he leaned down to kiss her. He deepened the kiss and when he finally pulled away, he was gratified to see her eyes slightly glazed. She smiled up at him dreamily, all thoughts of his knobby knees gone.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Elizabeth rolled onto her side. She could only make out vague shapes in the darkness of their room and her head was too heavy with sleep to make sense of any of them. A flash of lightning sliced into the room through the
small opening at the edge of the thick drapes that hung over the window. She waited for the following clap of thunder, listening to the stillness of the night, but none came. Only the sound of the rain as it pelted against the glass of the window and…something else. She closed her eyes and listened. It was faint, somewhere outside of their room.

  Simon's arm had fallen across her waist in his sleep and she lifted it carefully and placed it on top of the covers as she slipped out from beneath it. Simon shifted slightly and she thought she might have awakened him. But his face was still slack with sleep and his breathing slow and deep.

  Softly, Elizabeth tiptoed across the creaky wooden floor to the door of their room. She eased it open and stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind her. The house was sleeping. The drapes were open at the large window at her end of the landing and the light from the storm flashed down the hall. The paned glass appeared as a stretched checkerboard on the floor with each burst of lightning. Elizabeth stood on the carpet and wrapped her arms around her middle to ward off the night's chill and listened.

  She heard the noise again, more clearly now than she had before. It sounded almost like a rocking chair rolling back and forth on a wooden floor. It seemed to be coming from Louisa's room at the far end of the hall.

  Elizabeth walked slowly down the hall, her own shadow stretching out in front of her, long and jagged. She tread softly as she passed the Harpers' rooms and neared Louisa's. The door to her room stood ajar and Elizabeth could hear the sound more clearly now.

  Elizabeth's heart began to race as she reached out and grasped the door handle. She eased the door open just a touch more and peered inside. The room was dark, but there was enough light for Elizabeth to see a small wooden cradle rocking back and forth of its own accord.

  A chill swept over Elizabeth, but she stepped inside. The room was empty, save for Louisa who slept soundly in her bed. Elizabeth checked behind the door, but there was no one there. No man or ghost.

  The rocking began to slow, carried only by its own momentum. Elizabeth padded over to check on Louisa. The child slept peacefully, one of her dolls cradled in her arms.

  Elizabeth walked over to the cradle. The doll Louisa had called Jammy was inside, tucked in like a baby. Elizabeth reached down and stopped the cradle from rocking. The still silence of night came again. With another glance at Louisa, Elizabeth made her way out of the room. She took care to put the door back exactly as it had been. Satisfied, she turned to head back to her own room.

  But at the end of the hall, stood a small silhouette against the large window. Elizabeth barely stifled a gasp. Mary. A flash of lightning came and Elizabeth could see now that the girl was facing away from her, looking out of the window. Something was different though. Mary turned and looked at Elizabeth over her shoulder. That's when Elizabeth realized what it was. Mary was there and yet, a little not there. Her body was almost translucent.

  Elizabeth glanced anxiously back at Louisa's room. “Mary,” she whispered as she turned back.

  But the girl was gone. Elizabeth hurried to where she'd been standing just seconds before. The stairway was empty, the hall still. Where had she gone?

  Elizabeth looked out of the window and saw Mary's small figure run across the lawn. Without thinking, Elizabeth hurried down the stairs after her. Why, she didn't know, but she ran down the hall toward the back of the house. She threw open the back door and walked out onto the veranda and looked into the garden where she and Rose had seen Mary earlier that day.

  There was no sign of her now, but Elizabeth could feel her close by and ran out into the rain. She could just make out the white of the girl's gown against the darkness. The little girl stopped her flight and turned back to Elizabeth. They stared at each other, the rain a blurry curtain between them. In that moment, Elizabeth felt her reaching out to her. It was a silent plea, and one Elizabeth could not refuse.

  Mary turned then and started to run again. Heedless of the rain or the cold, Elizabeth ran after her. The girl had disappeared into the garden and Elizabeth picked her way through the cold grass and muddy paths.

  “Mary?” she called out.

  Another burst of lightning illuminated the night. Elizabeth saw a flash of Mary's white gown through the trees and raced after her. Thunder rolled overhead, growing louder and getting closer like an oncoming train.

  Elizabeth searched the night for another glimpse of the child. The rain was heavy now and she had to wipe it from her eyes to see. Finally, she saw her again. Mary had stopped running and stood still, waiting for her, standing among the shadows.

  Elizabeth hurried toward her. It was only as she neared that she realized that the shadows were not shadows at all, but gravestones. Mary stood among them, silently urging Elizabeth to come to her.

  Elizabeth slowed as she neared the girl. “Mary?”

  The little girl looked at her and then down at the ground. Elizabeth inched closer. She could feel the child's pain radiating from her in waves. Loneliness, confusion and sadness surrounded her, emanated from her and grew more and more intense the closer Elizabeth got.

  The weight of it pressed down on her and Elizabeth fell to her knees in the soggy earth. Mary's despair wrapped around her. Every instinct in her wanted to comfort the child, to take her burden.

  Slowly, Elizabeth reached out. “I'm here.”

  A great flash of lightning came, so bright and so close, Elizabeth had to shield her eyes. An enormous clap of thunder followed almost immediately. It was so powerful, so loud, Elizabeth could feel its rumble deep inside her.

  When she opened her eyes again, Mary was gone. The loss of the connection was a shock. The feelings of anguish lifted, but left Elizabeth feeling lost. Her tears came unbidden and mixed with the rain. She slouched down, suddenly exhausted and the rain poured down upon her.

  She didn't know how long she'd stayed that way. Her body ached when she moved again. She stood and read the small ornate headstones that Mary had stood near. The graves of children. Rose's lost children.

  “Elizabeth!”

  Poor Mary. So lost, so lonely.

  “Elizabeth!”

  She looked up then and saw Simon hurrying toward her. He'd hastily pulled on his pants and boots, but hadn't taken the time to button his shirt. He held an overcoat over his head as a makeshift umbrella. The panic on his face ebbed when she started toward him.

  “Are you all right?” he asked as he pulled her into his arms.

  “I'm fine,” she said coming back to herself.

  Simon searched her face and then lifted the overcoat to protect them both against the storm.

  “You'll freeze to death,” Simon said. The anxiety in his voice was edged with irritation, but she knew it was worry in disguise. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

  “I'm sorry. I'm all right,” Elizabeth said as she leaned into his side. Her teeth chattered traitorously.

  As they emerged from the garden, the tall thin slave named Jacob appeared halfway across the lawn with a large umbrella. “All right, suh? You wants me to get someone?”

  He held out the umbrella and Simon took it, giving him the sodden overcoat in exchange. “Thank you, Jacob,” Simon said. “We're fine.”

  Jacob didn't seem to believe him, but nodded and followed them back to the house.

  Simon asked Jacob not to speak of what he'd seen and the poor man looked relieved to pretend he hadn't seen a crazy woman running in the rain. She and Simon made their way quietly back up to their room. Simon closed the door and lit one of the oil lamps. Even in the dim light she could see his fear and concern.

  “It was M-mary,” Elizabeth said, fighting a shivering chill.

  Simon nodded and looked around the room. He grabbed a quilt from the back of a chair and tossed it onto the bed.

  “She was in Louisa's room,” Elizabeth said, trying to recall what now felt like a dream.

  Simon frowned and she hurried to add, “She's all right. I think Mary was playing with one of her
dolls.”

  “Let's get this off you,” Simon said as he touched the fabric of her sodden nightgown.

  Elizabeth nodded and he pulled the cold, sopping wet shift over her head, leaving her naked and feeling a new chill. He grabbed the quilt from the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders.

  “Then she led me outside.”

  “You should have woken me,” Simon said sharply. Elizabeth pulled the quilt more tightly about her body.

  Simon sighed. “I'm sorry.” He pushed out another breath and closed his eyes for a moment to control his emotions. “I woke and you weren't there, and I feared—”

  “It all happened so fast. I was afraid she'd be gone if I came to get you.”

  Simon nodded and then grabbed the towel that sat next to the basin and pitcher.

  Elizabeth remembered how far she'd chased Mary into the garden and woods. “How did you find me?”

  Simon draped the towel over Elizabeth's wet hair and rubbed her head quickly to dry it. “Jacob was downstairs and heard you leave through the back door.”

  Simon stopped tousling her hair and urged Elizabeth to sit on the edge of the bed. “She wanted me to follow her,” Elizabeth said.

  Simon knelt and rubbed life back into her cold feet with the towel.

  “We ended up at the family cemetery. So many children,” she said sadly. “That's where she belongs, Simon. I know it.”

  Simon looked up at her and nodded thoughtfully. He took her hands in his and rubbed warmth into them. “Yes, I think I sensed that as well, but couldn't put a name to it.”

  “Poor thing,” Elizabeth said, remembering the feeling of sadness, of loss she'd felt in the girl's presence. And then she remembered something else. “She's fading, Simon.”

  “What do you mean fading?” He took the quilt off her shoulder and laid it on the bed. Then, he pulled back the covers.

  Elizabeth crawled under the sheets. “Remember what Old Nan said? That time wasn't on our side and that the ghosts can't stay here forever, eventually they fade away and are trapped in the world in between? Mary's disappearing, Simon. Slowly, but it's happening.”