The Color of Dust

by Claire Rooney

  Lilly smiled in her direction, but it was slim and unconvincing.

  “What better use is there for a poor relation? Besides, it’s not whalebone but the new steel bands. It’s the very latest thing.” Her slim smile turned mischievous. “You know that only the very best will do for the torturing of Miss Celia Covington.” She snapped the gloves sharply across her palm.

  Carrie looked at the gloves and then again at the soft sensual mouth, the corners twitching almost into a grin. “Tell me again…how close a relation?”

  Lilly rolled her eyes. “Third cousins four times removed,” she said in a tired monotone. “Which was close enough for me to appeal to your father, but not close enough to be family. Ergo, I’m the servant, handmaiden to the heir apparent.” Lilly stepped toward Carrie, grabbed her hand and curtsied over it in mock reverence. Her eyes cut to the library doors. She placed a quick hard kiss on the back of Carrie’s hand and then dropped it. Carrie looked at her hand. The touch of her lips sent tingles running up her arm, not only for the sake of the kiss, but also for the chance Lilly took. The same chance she wasn’t willing to allow her to take. Lilly tucked the gloves into the waistband of her skirt and then busied herself brushing invisible specks off Carrie’s dress, rearranging the pleats and folds, plucking at the sleeves. “I don’t know why you keep making me repeat that. It’s not like I’ve ever forgotten my place.”

  “You know that’s not the reason.” Carrie knew it wasn’t the reason, but she couldn’t remember what the reason was. She thought hard, but her mind still felt jumbled.

  They both jumped when the library doors swung open with a bang. A man strode in with quick precise steps. His snow-white beard brushed the front of his gray gold-buttoned coat. Intricate braiding sparkled on his sleeves. A sword hung at his side. He was a tall man, although he had probably been taller once, the slight stoop of his shoulders seemed to take an inch from his height and from his pride. Carrie stared. It was her father, but this man was nothing like her own father. But he was her father and she knew that she should go over to him and kiss him on the cheek. She halfway remembered doing that countless times before. His beard would be scratchy and stiff and he would smile down at her, tolerant and patient, a little patronizing. Carrie was too confused to move.

  He looked her over, turned and frowned at Lilly as she fussed with the dress. Lilly saw his frown and stepped back a pace. She ducked her head and bobbed a curtsy.

  “Isn’t she ready yet? Lord God, what do you women have to do that takes three hours?”

  “She had another one of her spells, Colonel Covington. She got a little woozy, but she’s fine now. Aren’t you, Miss Celia? You feel fine now, don’t you?” Lilly poked her in the back. Carrie opened her mouth but couldn’t think of what to say.

  “Don’t you dare, Celia!” Colonel Covington lifted his chin, his beard lifting off his coat. “There will be none of your games today. You will attend to your guests. You will get engaged. You will marry young Robert Burgess, and damn it, you will be happy. That’s an order!”

  Carrie stared at this man who was her father and who was not her father as Lilly poked at her back and pulled on her arm. She swayed a little, and Lilly put a steadying hand on her shoulder. She was confused, a little frightened and did not feel at all well. Lilly’s grip tightened as the Colonel’s beard bristled over reddening cheeks.

  “Say, yes, sir,” Lilly whispered at her, shaking her shoulder just a little.

  “Yes, sir,” Carrie said, and tried to stand a little straighter.

  If she held herself a certain way, almost as if she were falling forward, the dress didn’t pinch so much, but she felt the strain of it on her back, and nothing she did made her stomach feel any better.

  The Colonel nodded at her gruffly and then his face softened.

  “I wish your mother could see you now. You look lovely, my dear. Robert’s a good man and I know he’s very fond of you. You’ll be happy, Celia, I know you will.”

  “Yes, sir.” Carrie didn’t know what else to say.

  The Colonel harrumphed in a wet, misty-eyed way. He came over to her, placed a scratchy kiss on her cheek and threaded her arm through his. Lilly let go of her shoulder, and Carrie felt it as a loss. She wanted Lilly touching her. It steadied her somehow.

  She leaned heavily on the man’s…her father’s arm as he led her out of the library.

  Musicians were playing in the parlor. Men in white shirts and bow ties sat in a corner playing a badly tuned upright piano, a large violin and something long and flute-like. The music they made was tinny and trilling. The Colonel steered Carrie past the parlor and out the front door where they stood on the porch in the warm summer air. Carriages were arriving, their wheels rumbling down the cobbled drive, circling the fountain that gurgled and splashed. The water flowed cleanly from overflowing urns while the bright stone cherubs spread their wings and smiled as they poured.

  Carrie stood next to the Colonel, and Lilly stood just behind her. She felt Lilly’s hand pressed against the small of her back. It was a comfort and a prop. People descended from their carriages and walked slowly up the porch steps. Men in long-tailed coats and top hats, women in stiff, pinched dresses of soft muted colors. The Colonel shook the men’s hands, pumping heartily, and bowed over the ladies hands with a gallant flourish. Carrie couldn’t remember the right words to say. She tried to smile, but it was hard. Her head hurt, her breath came short, her stomach churned. She was still unsteady on her feet.

  A young woman stood in front of her chattering, her fan fluttering under her chin. She stopped and looked at Carrie expectantly.

  “Say, thank you for coming,” Lilly whispered in her ear.

  “Thank you for coming. We’re so pleased you could join us.” Carrie wasn’t sure where those words came from, but they sounded all right.

  The young woman looked pleased. “Well, of course we wouldn’t have missed it for the world. You were so kind to Geoffrey and myself on the occasions of our little wedding. We just had to return the favor.” Her fan fluttered faster as she bobbed her head and went inside. A young man bowed to her briefly and went in without saying anything. Carrie turned to greet the next woman standing in line wearing a pinched dress and fluttering her fan.

  The last lady in the line pressed her hand and went inside.

  Carrie was tired and still short of breath. Her legs felt shaky and she wanted to sit, but the Colonel kept a firm hand on her elbow and a sharp eye on the drive. His hand relaxed a little when a young man on horseback came galloping over the cobbles at a reckless pace with one hand on his hat and coattails flying out behind him. He skidded around the fountain, pulled the horse up sharp and jumped down. An old black man came forward and took the reins with an almost disapproving look at the horse’s foam-flecked mouth and trembling flanks. The young man didn’t look at him as he handed the horse off.

  Carrie did. She looked at the old man’s wrinkled face and grizzled hair, the slope of his shoulders and his downcast eyes. His name, she knew, was Samuel. She thought of the name with some affection and a great deal of sadness that she didn’t understand.

  The young man swept his hat off his head and bounded up the stairs without a backward glance, his muttonchop whiskers bristling out the sides of his face. The Colonel shook his hand warmly and thumped him on the back.

  “I’m sorry I’m late, Colonel Covington,” the young man said with a slight bow. “Agnes Westmore’s youngest has the croup. I had to stay until the danger was past.”

  The Colonel smiled broadly. “A physician’s time is never his own. Why, back in the War one of our surgeons missed his own funeral because he was busy setting a leg.”

  The young man smiled back, shy but proud. “I haven’t heard that one, Colonel. You’ll have to tell me about it.”

  “Indeed, my boy. I certainly will.” The Colonel pounded a fist against his shoulder. The young man staggered slightly under the blow. He turned to Carrie, covered his heart with his hat and bowed lo
w.

  “Thank you for coming,” Carrie said to him. “We’re so pleased you could join us.”

  His face broke into a grin and he grabbed Carrie’s hand. “I’m sorry I’m late, Celia, my love. Do please forgive me and say that the engagement is still on.” He bent his head and touched his lips to the back of her hand. His whiskers tickled her knuckles.

  Carrie’s hand suddenly felt naked under the damp press of his mouth, and she wished for her gloves.

  “Of course it is, Robert, my boy. Of course it is.” The Colonel slapped a hand against Robert’s back. Robert’s breath whooshed from his lungs and he dropped Carrie’s hand. “And now that you’ve arrived, we’ll go inside and start the festivities.” He laid a hand on Robert’s shoulder, gave it a hearty shake, turned him around a pointed him toward the front doors.

  The young man offered Carrie his elbow. She stared at it until Lilly poked her with a finger. She took his arm and he seemed to stand taller, puff chested and proud. They all walked into the parlor with Lilly one step behind.

  There was loud laughter and thick cigar smoke, yellow electric lights behind stained glass shades. The furniture in the parlor was exactly as she remembered it, the couches and chairs, end tables and tea tables, arrayed in the same pattern, though the colors were brighter, the polish shinier. People were talking to her as if they knew her well. Some looked at her strangely and others with eyes full of pity. The older ladies in dark somber colors, in dresses that looked more comfortable than her dress, shook their heads and clucked their tongues.

  She felt a familiarity at some of the different faces but couldn’t quite recall anyone’s name. Someone would shake her hand or kiss her cheek and their name would feel like it was hovering in the back of her mind, but she couldn’t break through her own mistiness to lay a finger on it. The rest of the faces flashed by in a hazy stream, as if she were still looking through the wrong side of the library mirror.

  “Everyone, your attention, please.” The Colonel stood in the middle of the room with Robert at his side, Carrie on his arm, Lilly standing behind them. “We’ve asked you here today to witness the promising of my dear daughter, Celia Covington, to this fine young man, Doctor Robert Daniel Burgess. Robert, what pledge have you?”

  Robert pulled himself up and stood even taller. He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a ring. He held it up high. “I pledge this ring that was my mother’s given to her on the occasion of her marriage to my father. I give it to you, Celia Covington, on your pledge to be my wife.”

  Carrie’s ears buzzed and she felt weak. Her knees trembled as Robert took her hand and slipped the ring onto her pinky finger.

  It was a small ring of plain gold. Cheers and clapping sounded distant and distorted. The music started again, tinny and trilling, as people moved together to dance or gathered around her and Robert. Men shook Robert’s hand and bowed to her. Women bobbed their heads, clasped her hand or touched their cheeks to hers. Carrie looked over her shoulder at Lilly. Her face was pinched and strained with a sick half-smile plastered on her lips.

  The gloves still dangled from her waistband.

  Someone put a glass of something into Carrie’s hand. It was warm, sweet and strong. She tilted her head back and drained half the glass. The drink burned its way down her throat. Lilly gave her a disapproving glare and took the glass away from her before she could gulp the rest. Still, it was enough for a slow warmth to begin spreading into her limbs. The warmth would have been pleasant if her stomach hadn’t started to churn in an alarming way.

  The room grew gray and hazy as cigar smoke filled it faster than the open windows could carry it away. It was getter harder to draw a clear breath. She swayed a little. Her lungs began to burn as the fumes filled her head.

  “Celia, my darling, are you all right? Can I get you anything?”

  Robert’s voice sounded solicitously in her ear, his large hand hot against the small of her back.

  Lilly stepped in between them. “I think she needs some air. I’ll take her out onto the porch.” Lilly slipped her arm through Carrie’s elbow and turned her toward the foyer.

  Robert put his hand on Carrie’s other elbow and stopped them. “There’s no need for you to get exercised, Miss Lillian. I’ll see to her.” Robert tugged at Carrie’s arm and started to guide her to the door. Lilly didn’t let go of her other arm and came with them. Robert frowned at her. “I can take care of my own wife, Miss Lilly.”

  “She’s not your wife yet, Dr. Burgess. I would be remiss in my duties as a companion and a chaperone if I were to let her accompany you alone.”

  Robert stiffened. “There will come a time when your services will no longer be needed.”

  “Yes, sir, there will,” Lilly said with a short sharp nod. “But that time has not yet come.”

  They both tugged at Carrie’s arms and not exactly in the same direction. Carrie felt pushed and pulled between them. The warmth from her drink turned sour in her stomach and rose to sting the back of her throat. She yanked her arms away from them both and walked quickly out to the porch. She gathered her skirts and sat on the bench, her back forced ramrod straight, the dress pinching at her hips. Robert and Lilly both sat with her, pressing in close on either side. It was too hot for that and she still couldn’t breathe. The sour sting in her throat rose higher to touch the back of her tongue.

  Robert moved in closer, glaring over her head. “Perhaps Miss Lilly could go get you something cold to drink, Celia, my dear.”

  Lilly pushed in from the other side. “I rather think a restorative tonic would be just the thing. Miss Celia, would you like Dr. Burgess to go fetch his bag?”

  Carrie’s head swam. “Please. Both of you. Stop. Really, I don’t feel well. I think I need to lie down.”

  “A short nap might be just what you need.” Lilly stood, pulling Carrie up with her.

  “The party is just starting, dearest.” Robert grabbed her hand and pulled her back down. “Please don’t retire so soon.”

  The heat of the late afternoon, the buzz of the flies, the push and pull of their anger rose in a swirl of red fog. Carrie got up from the bench, leaned over the balustrade and threw up.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Carrie’s mouth felt puckered. The powder she brushed onto her teeth tasted almost as bad as the bile that burned the back of her throat.

  “Here, Celia, wash your mouth out with this.”

  Lilly handed her a glass of whiskey and poured another for herself. Carrie swished, gargled and spat into the porcelain bowl then rubbed her teeth again with the powder and the silver handled toothbrush. She rinsed, spat again and then drained the rest of the whiskey. Lilly poured her another as she held out her glass. She sipped at it, swishing it slowly around in her mouth before she swallowed.

  She made a sour face as the whiskey burned away the bile.

  “Where did you get that? It’s awful.”

  Lilly smiled as she stoppered the bottle. The mischievous twinkle was back in her eyes. “I’ve been keeping it by. For medicinal purposes, of course. You know what your Robert says. The worse it tastes the better it is for you.” Her smile faded into seriousness. “Are you feeling better?”

  “A little bit. Yes, thank you.” Music drifted up through the floor of the small washroom, faint and dissonant, as the engagement party moved on without her. She took her glass and followed Lilly into the bedroom of the mistress suite. These rooms had been hers ever since she was old enough to leave the nursery, but it was Lilly who had redecorated them so beautifully.

  She arranged the furniture, sewed the curtains and picked out the wallpaper, large red flowers with bright green leaves. It was lovely and everything matched so well. Lilly was always better at such things than she was. Carrie blinked at her glass. Those weren’t her thoughts, but then…they were.

  “That was a truly disgraceful performance,” Lilly said reproachfully. The whiskey bottle was nowhere in sight.

  Carrie felt her face flush. “I didn’t
do it on purpose.”

  “I wonder.” Lilly gave her a sharp look and then her mouth began twitching at the corners. “At least you had sense enough not to get any on your dress.”

  Carrie tugged at her skirts. “I guess that’s something. Can I take it off now? Please. I can’t breathe.”

  “Of course.” Lilly beckoned with her hand. “Come over here and I’ll untie you.”

  Carrie drank the rest of the whiskey in her glass. The warm brush of it curled in her stomach, making her head even lighter than it already was. She put the glass on the dressing table and walked over to Lilly with legs that were still a little weak and wobbly.

  “What am I going to do with you?” Lilly asked as she turned her around. She put her hands on Carrie’s shoulders and rubbed.

  “The dress, Lilly. Please.”

  “Yes, Miss Celia.”

  Lilly began to undo the buttons. Carrie sighed at the sarcasm, but she kept her back turned. Fingers fluttered against her neck as Lilly pushed each button through. The fluttering moved in a slow line down her spine. Too slow, but finally the dress slipped off her shoulders. Carrie stepped out of it and Lilly laid it aside.

  She began to untie the laces of the corset. As each stay loosened, Carrie’s ribs were able to expand a little more. She took a deep breath and almost cried with relief as her internal organs moved back into their right places. Lilly untied the last lace and Carrie shimmied out of the hateful thing.

  She held the corset out, feeling its stiff heaviness. She looked at the window and then back at the corset. Lilly tsked at her and grabbed it out of her hands before she could take the first step toward the window. Carrie watched Lilly fold it carefully and put it in the clothes press. She rubbed at the soreness under her breasts.

  “I swear to heaven that I’ll be damned before I ever wear that thing again.”

  “Be careful what you wish for.”

  “That’s not a wish. That’s a vow.”

  “You’ll have to wear it again if you want to fit into your wedding gown.”