Lavinia's Window

by Michelle Weisen

  “Of course, Miss Lavinia. So, you are twelve years old already? Time does fly. Why it seems like only yesterday that you were the sweetest baby there ever was. I never heard an ill-tempered peep from our own little angel, just smiles and sunshine.” Nancy prattled on as she expertly parted Lavinia’s hair in the middle, combed it back and began to plait a section. “It’s a busy day today. The family will be coming from Philadelphia this afternoon for the celebration. I’ll bring your dress around later, and I do believe that Mrs. Constance is going to let you wear your hair up for the dinner party tonight. You’ll be a proper lady.” Nancy tied a pink silk bow at the end of each braid. “Well, that’s done. Off you go.”

  “Thank you, Nancy.” Lavinia picked up Bubbles and descended the wide staircase. She entered the dining room to find Constance and the General already seated at the table. Two Irish wolfhounds lounged in front of the fireplace. Lavinia was surprised to find the General wearing his officer’s fatigue blouse and cavalry forage cap.

  Constance passed Lavinia a meaningful look.

  Edward Randolph, the General, was two years older than Constance. He was a large man who carried himself in a dignified manner, and incorporated much of his military experience into his daily routine. Taller than his sister by six inches, he had the same silver blond hair and piercing blue eyes. His beard and mustache resembled the style of Ulysses S. Grant, his personal hero, and he still wore his hair shoulder length. Edward and John Spencer, Constance’s late husband, had attended West Point and then returned to their family businesses. When the war broke out between the states, they both enlisted in the Union Army. The General had served with distinction in several battles until he was seriously wounded at Cedar Creek in October 1864. He barely survived the amputation of his left leg below the knee and currently used a wooden prosthesis. He had also sustained a head injury, which accounted for some rather odd behavior at times. The war had taken its toll and, like many veterans, the General exhibited signs of “Soldier’s Heart.” Rather than remain a memory of the past, the episodes of war often surfaced to disturb his daily life, leaving him sad and depressed. His military aide, Timothy, had accompanied him home from the Civil War and tended to the General’s day to day needs, but it was his sister Constance who assumed the responsibility of running Millstone Manor for him.

  “Soldier! You’re late!” Lavinia snapped to attention. “Sorry, Sir. It won’t happen again.”

  “See that it doesn’t. What is that thing you’re carrying?”

  “My dog, Sir.”

  “Dog? It looks like a rodent. Constance, who gave permission to allow such a homely creature into this house? Why, it’s got no snout!” demanded the General, pounding his fist on the table.

  “General, Lavinia’s father sent the puppy as a Christmas gift. He’s a Chinese pug and very sweet. Surely, you remember Bubbles.”

  “Bubbles! What kind of name is that? Nothing patriotic there. Are we not proud Americans? George! Martha! Come!” The two large wolfhounds lumbered over to the table. Edward dug deep into his jacket and produced two biscuits. The animals wiggled in ecstasy at the anticipated treat. “These are the most magnificent beasts that God has ever created. Sit!” The wolfhounds obeyed immediately. Edward placed a biscuit on each of their noses. “Stay!”

  “Edward, you’re torturing the poor creatures. Let them eat their treats.”

  “Nonsense. They thrive on discipline.” He clapped his hands and both dogs wolfed down their biscuits, wagging their tails enthusiastically. “Go,” he ordered and the wolfhounds retreated to the fireplace. “Now that is what I call a proper dog. Permission to sit, Soldier.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” Lavinia slid into her chair and placed the pug on cushions atop the chair next to her. Bubbles put his chin on the table, staring mournfully at the General.

  “Face only a mother could love, that one,” said Edward. “So, let us discuss this morning’s business. It has come to my attention that you are twelve today. You know what that means, don’t you, Soldier?”

  “I’m not sure, General. I know that I am growing up.” “Growing up very well by the looks of you. Are you strong and healthy?” “Yes, I am.”

  “Good. I can’t abide weak, silly girls. We take pride in the strong, intelligent women of our family. Why, Constance could outrace us all at twelve—barefoot. She ran like the devil was chasing her. We used to call her Swifty Randolph. Isn’t that so?”

  “My goodness, that was a long time ago,” said Constance patting Edward’s hand. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

  “And our sister Marjorie—she was a wild cat. No one tangled with that one unless they were prepared to fight to the finish. She beat up more boys than I did.”

  “Edward! You make us sound as though we were a pack of savages, which we most certainly were not. Marjorie was far too headstrong for her own good.”

  “She still is, but I never saw anyone enjoy life more, except for Claire, maybe.”

  “What about me?” Claire Spencer, a diminutive young woman with wiry auburn hair and brilliant blue eyes swept into the room. Her massive curls trailed from a haphazard top knot, the tendrils curling around her shoulders. She stopped to hug the General and kissed Constance on the cheek. “Morning, Mother.” She came around to embrace Lavinia, and give her a tussie-mussie. “Good morning, Birthday Girl.”

  Lavinia smiled and touched the delicate nosegay. “Thank you, Claire. How beautiful. I adore it.”

  “Much can be conveyed through the language of flowers, sweetheart. Can you tell me the message of your tussie-mussie?” asked Claire.

  “Well, the white lily is for purity and sweetness, the violets are for modesty, thyme is for happiness, and sage is for health.”

  “Well done, Lavinia. I see that you have been studying Flora’s Dictionary.”

  Claire kissed Bubbles on the head, and stooped to rub George’s and Martha’s bellies. She sat down beside her mother and poured a cup of coffee.

  At that point, Mrs. Lawson came in carrying a huge platter of blueberry pancakes, followed by two kitchen girls bearing sausages and scrambled eggs. “Happy Birthday Lavinia,” sang Mrs. Lawson as she set a plate of pancakes before Lavinia.

  “Oh, my favorite! Thank you.” Lavinia beamed with pleasure. “Where did you get the blueberries?”

  “That is my secret. Enjoy your breakfast.”

  The General prepared two plates of pancakes and sausage. He called the wolfhounds over and set the plates on the floor. He took another plate and cut up half a sausage and slid it over to Bubbles. Next, he filled his own plate.

  “I am sure that I would be wasting my breath if I insisted that the dogs not eat at the table,” said Constance.

  “I dare say that you could not be in finer company than you are right now,” replied the General. “Don’t you agree Lavinia?”

  “I most certainly do agree,” giggled Lavinia as she watched Bubbles slide half the sausage off the plate in his haste to eat.

  “So, Uncle, what were you saying about me before I walked in?” asked Claire.

  “Ah, I was saying that you are someone who thoroughly enjoys life. Most people are too intimidated to venture far from proper channels of social practices. You, on the other hand, found your calling in something you love, and turned your talents into a successful business.” Edward turned to Lavinia. “Your aunt has passion and drive. She’s smart as a whip, and makes most men look like amateurs.”

  Claire laughed. “Thanks for the compliment, but there are many who say that a twenty-seven-year-old unmarried woman is an old maid – lonely and miserable. They believe that happiness outside of marriage and family doesn’t exist for women, and my professional ambitions are peculiar. Most of my friends feel sorry for me, but some secretly envy my freedom. I know the truth. Every day is a gift. I live my life on my own terms and I love it. I’m not missing anything.”

  “You are still young, Claire,” said Constance. “I know that you embrace women’s rights a
nd seek opportunities that weren’t available to me, but don’t overlook tradition either. Loving your life is one thing, but loving someone else and sharing your life is quite another. Don’t look at me that way. I’m not suggesting that you give up your business. What I am saying is that I loved your father with all my heart, and you and Julia were my blessings. When your father went off to war, I held you and Julia close to me, as though keeping you safe would keep him safe. Later, when your father died and then Julia died, leaving us our dear little Lavinia, you were my strength to keep going. I’m not so sure that your work carries the same weight.”

  “Such sad talk on Lavinia’s happy day, Mother. You are a true romantic and I love you for it, but the man who attracts my attention is going to have to be someone very special. End of discussion. Uncle, have you told Lavinia what being twelve means yet?”

  “Adventure!” shouted the General, startling the wolfhounds, who began running around the table at top speed. Bubbles yapped and turned circles on his cushions.

  “Adventure!” echoed Claire, clapping her hands.

  “Adventure?” Lavinia looked at Constance bewildered. “Halt,” admonished the General, and peace returned to the room as the dogs settled down.

  Constance smiled. “Well, I survived both of my daughters’ grand adventures. I am sure that I can manage one more.”

  “What kind of an adventure?”

  “Constance gave you the journal, didn’t she?” asked the General. Lavinia nodded. “No point in learning about virtues if you’ve nothing to apply them to. You’ve got to do something worth writing about.”

  “Within reason, of course,” countered Constance.

  “What did you do, Claire?” asked Lavinia.

  “Got herself into a heap of trouble, that’s what she did,” chortled the General.

  “True, but my adventure wasn’t planned,” said Claire. “When I was twelve I fancied myself to be quite an artist, and I decided that I wanted to paint a landscape of Millstone Pond for Father’s birthday. It really was a labor of love. I would leave early in the morning with my binoculars slung around my neck, and carry a little lunch packed by Mrs. Lawson. I’d paint all day and trudge home. I spent weeks working on it.”

  “How did you get into trouble, Claire?”

  “Well, I wasn’t always very careful, and I laid my painting supplies on the same table where Father had placed some important company documents. When I gathered up my things for the day, I didn’t realize that I had also picked up the documents. Worse, I mixed my paints on the folder and ruined a shipping receipt for an important order of textiles.”

  “What happened?”

  “Well, Father was furious, of course.”

  “Blew his top,” reminisced the General. “Not only because Claire did it, but she wouldn’t tell John why. He thought she was just doodling around. Stubborn girl. She didn’t want to ruin the surprise, which made it all the worse for her.”

  “Oh my, yes,” said Constance. “John decided to teach Claire a lesson. He took Claire to the warehouse and the two of them worked all night to reinventory the shipment. It was a major undertaking.”

  “That sounds awful,” said Lavinia.

  “Actually, it was wonderful,” replied Claire. “Father was a busy man, and I had never spent any length of time with him. We talked all night long. He told me how he started the company, and what it meant to him. He was very patient and showed me how to inventory stock. We worked side by side. Father trusted me to do things right, and I was careful not to make mistakes. I loved the beautiful fabrics that he imported, and I learned how he came by them, and where they went from there. That night changed my life. I became very close to my father, and I knew that I wanted to learn as much as I could about the business. More importantly, I learned to be mindful of my actions as they could potentially impact others.”

  “Did you ever finish the picture?”

  “Oh yes, the infamous painting that started my career. Father treated it like a masterpiece, and hung it in his office while he was alive. It hangs in my office in Philadelphia now.”

  “That is a wonderful story, Claire. I wonder what my adventure will be?” “Perhaps your adventure will find you, just as mine did,” suggested Claire.

  The General stood up and took his cane from the back of his chair. “In any circumstance, a true course of action begins with a strong set of values, Soldier. Remember that. George! Martha! Come!”

  “Edward, what do you have planned for today?” asked Constance.

  “Timothy and I will be patrolling the south side.”

  “I see. Please be back in time for Lavinia’s party at six.”

  “I shall try my best, depending upon the current state of affairs.” The General saluted Lavinia, who returned the salute. He limped out of the room with George and Martha at his heels.

  “Oh dear,” said Constance. “The last time the General went on patrol, he and Timothy staked out Knobb Hill for three days from Warren Purdy’s hayloft.”

  “Mother, I’ll find Timothy and see if he can’t convince Uncle that Lavinia’s party requires a military presence.” Claire took a last sip of coffee, “I’m off to the stables.”

  “Well, we can hope,” sighed Constance. “Lavinia, what do you have planned for this morning?”

  “Bubbles and I are going to take a long walk, and then I am going to write in my new journal. Would you like to come with us?”

  “It’s a beautiful morning and I’d dearly love to walk with you, but I’m expecting the rest of the family this afternoon. Enjoy yourself and don’t go too far.”

  “I won’t.” Lavinia picked up Bubbles and turned to Constance, “Grandmama, do you think Papa will remember my birthday this year? I know that he hasn’t remembered it before, but I thought maybe since I was twelve, he might.”

  Constance rose and put her arms around Lavinia. “I am so sorry, my dear. Alex travels extensively. He is generous financially, but unfortunately knows nothing about the true role of a father. You can look forward to receiving a gift at Christmas. Don’t let it spoil your day.”

  “We won’t, will we Bubbles?” Bubbles put his paws on Lavinia’s chest and licked Lavinia’s nose. Lavinia buried her face in Bubbles’ neck.

  Constance watched Lavinia leave, noting the downward slope of her little shoulders. She took a deep breath in an attempt to smooth out the anger and resentment she felt towards Lavinia’s father.

  “Mrs. Spencer.”

  Constance turned, “Yes, Mrs. Lawson.”

  “My heart breaks for that child. I curse the day that our Julia ever laid eyes on that man! Her dying in childbirth, and where was he? Not here, that’s what!”

  “I know,” sighed Constance. “but we must not speak so harshly, no matter what we think. It would only hurt Lavinia more than she suffers already.”

  “True,” Mrs. Lawson dabbed at her eyes with her apron.

  “Are we ready for the family?”

  “We are, but the General’s in the kitchen demanding a week’s provisions for his patrol. He’s got those hounds with him, and one has already taken a bite out of Lavinia’s special cake. I don’t hold with animals in the kitchen, and I’m going after them with the chopper if something’s not done.”

  “Where is Timothy?”

  “I haven’t seen hide nor hair of that Irishman, and if I catch him flirting with another one of my kitchen maids, I’ll take the chopper to him too!”

  “I’ll be right in, Mrs. Lawson.” Constance shook her head, and marveled at the dynamics of running a smooth household. “And Claire insists that she’s not missing anything,” she murmured as she headed into the kitchen.

  Cinquefoil -“Beloved Daughter”

  Chapter 2

  Lavinia ran upstairs with Bubbles. “I don’t know why I said that about Papa. Of course we’re not going to hear from him today.” Lavinia studied her face in the mirror. “I do believe that I look older and more serious. Therefore, I must be much more realist
ic. Today is my birthday, and I intend to make every moment count. Bubbles, we’re going to Millstone Pond and sketch, just like Claire.”

  Lavinia put a sketch pad and colored pencils into a small rucksack along with Flora’s Dictionary and her journal. She threw a light gray mantelet over her shoulders and picked up her straw hat. “Let’s go.”

  Bubbles trailed her downstairs, snuffling here and there, investigating stray pieces of paper, thread, and other mysterious items. As they neared the kitchen, it was evident that Constance was attempting to restore order to Mrs. Lawson’s domain. George and Martha were banished from the house for the rest of the day, which deeply offended the General.

  “Most inconsiderate, I should say,” said the General indignantly. “George and Martha are better behaved than most people.”

  “Most people don’t chew on other people’s birthday cakes,” stated Mrs. Lawson firmly, jaw set. “No animals in the kitchen!” She crossed her arms and glared at the General.

  “I say what’s what in this house, Constance! George and Martha go where I go!” The General pounded his cane on the floor for emphasis.

  “Well, Edward, then it appears that you will also spend the day outdoors.”

  “It’s a sorry state of affairs when a man’s not welcome in his own home!” shouted the General.

  At that moment Claire breezed in. “Uncle, Timothy has saddled the horses. I want you to escort me over to Jessie Wendover’s place. I haven’t seen her in ages.” She hooked her arm in the General’s and led him outdoors. “Come along, we’ll take George and Martha with us. They need the exercise.”

  “Well, we have some time to ourselves Mrs. Lawson,” remarked Constance. “Let’s make the most of it.”

  “That we will. Why, here’s Miss Lavinia!”

  “Mrs. Lawson, Bubbles and I are going up to Millstone Pond to sketch and we hoped to pack a little lunch.”

  “Are you following in Claire’s footsteps, dear? I am sure that you will find much inspiration in such a beautiful setting,” said Constance affectionately.