The Burning (8 page)

“Julia, I feel so bad,” Hannah said with genuine feeling. “But you know how Father is, so headstrong and stubborn.”

Julia forced a smile. “Dinner parties make me so nervous. But perhaps I can be a success tonight. Perhaps I can force Father to change his mind about me.”

In the kitchen Mrs. MacKenzie continued to scold Lucy. “Be careful, my girl,” she warned. “You don't get many chances in this household.”

“I will. I promise,” Lucy replied meekly.

Mrs. MacKenzie handed the maid a long sheet of paper with several names scrawled on it. “Here, Lucy. You must sign the servants' list.”

Lucy hesitated. “But I cannot write, ma'am,” she said, blushing.

Mrs. MacKenzie took the paper from her. “Very well, then. Tell me your complete name, child, and I will scribble it for you.”

“My name is Lucy Goode,” the maid replied quietly.

Mrs. MacKenzie started to write, then stopped. Her eyes narrowed as she trained them on the girl. “Goode, did you say?”

Lucy nodded.

“Well, I wouldn't be repeating that name around here if I was you,” the old housekeeper advised. “Mr. Fear is always talking about some family named Goode that done him wrong. Keep the name to yourself, girl. If you wish to keep your job.”

“Don't worry,” Lucy replied, her eyes suddenly cold and hard. “I won't be telling a soul.”

As the guests arrived that evening, Hannah stood beside her father, her lively brown eyes reflecting her excitement. Her gown was made of delicate white lace over green satin. A hoop underneath made the wide skirt hold its shape. The skirt was three-tiered, the hem of each green tier trimmed with white lace.

Hannah wore short white lace gloves, and her gown had ruffled short sleeves. Her blond hair was tied to one side in a tight bun, held in place by a corsage of yellow and white flowers.

Julia's dress was simpler, white lace over pink velvet. The neckline dipped low, revealing her shoulders. Her shiny black hair, parted in the middle, fell gracefully in ringlets beside her face.

“You look wonderful tonight,” Hannah whispered to her sister. She could see that Julia had taken extra care with her appearance. “Father is sure to notice,” Hannah whispered, doing her best to encourage Julia.

Julia will never be a beauty, Hannah thought with some sadness. But when she dresses up, she looks quite lovely. If only she would smile more and not clasp her hands so tightly in front of her.

Wine was served in Simon's library; The large square room, furnished in dark wood furniture, with its four walls of bookshelves, seemed to be the
perfect setting for an evening devoted to discussing the Shadyside village library.

Working hard to be a good hostess, Hannah moved from guest to guest, her eyes sparkling, her smile warm and genuine. She chatted and joked with Harlan Claybourne. She even managed to get a smile from sour old Mayor Bradford.

A short while later Simon led everyone to see his new collection of weapons and uniforms from the War Between the States. Simon had been collecting swords and rifles from both the armies of the North and the South. After admiring Simon's collection, they were all summoned to the formal dining room for dinner. Simon led the way with Hannah on his arm.

The majestic room was lighted entirely by candles. Silver candelabras glowing with tall, slender candles were placed every few feet along the center of the white Irish linen tablecloth. The silver dinner plates and delicate wineglasses shone in the soft, flickering light.

“You set a fine table, Simon,” Harlan Claybourne declared grandly, taking his place next to Hannah.

“I have fine guests,” Simon replied graciously.

Father is certainly in a good mood tonight, Hannah thought gratefully. She had seen him become sullen and silent at parties that weren't going as planned.

I do wish Mother were here, Hannah thought. She is ill so often lately. She spends so much time
upstairs in her room that I am actually lonely for her.

Hannah watched as Julia helped the old mayor into his chair at the far end of the table. Then Julia took her lonely place beside him. The mayor immediately reached for the loaf of bread. He took a piece for himself, Hannah saw, and didn't even offer the bread to Julia.

Poor Julia, Hannah thought, lowering herself into her seat. Father can really be unfair at times.

She turned her attention to Mr. Claybourne and began chatting with him about his horses.

A few moments later Lucy entered in a starched black uniform with a lacy white apron over it, carrying a large china tureen of soup. Starting at the head of the table, she served Simon Fear first, dipping a long-handled silver ladle into the tureen and filling his bowl with the soup.

“Very good, Lucy,” Simon said approvingly. “That is a very big tureen. Are you sure you do not need help with it?”

“No, sir,” Lucy replied meekly. “Mrs. MacKenzie said I can do it on my own.”

She continued down the table, ladling the rich orangey-red soup into bowls.

“What
is
this marvelous soup? Is it tomato?” Mrs. Graham, the reverend's wife, asked as Lucy continued down the table.

“It is lobster bisque,” Hannah replied, “in a tomato base.”

“It certainly is hearty,” Reverend Graham remarked.

Hannah started to say something about the recipe but was interrupted by a high-pitched shriek from the end of the table.

It took Hannah a moment to realize that it was Julia who was screaming frantically at the top of her lungs.

“M
y shoulder! Ohhhhh, my shoulder!” Julia shrieked.

Several guests cried out as Julia leapt to her feet, sending her chair clattering to the floor.

“I'm so sorry, miss!” Lucy cried, struggling to hold on to the big soup tureen.

“Owww! My shoulder! And look at my dress!” Julia wailed.

“My arm was bumped. I didn't mean to spill it!” Lucy backed timidly against the sideboard.

Julia grabbed up her white linen napkin and began dabbing frantically at her shoulder and the neckline of her dress. “Ow, it burns!” A dark orange stain ran down the white lace shoulder of the gown onto the pink velvet bodice.

“Julia, dear, you may be excused to freshen
yourself up,” Simon called from the head of the table.

He intended to be understanding, Julia knew, but she heard only disapproval in his voice.

I have done something clumsy once again, Julia thought unhappily. Hannah would never have behaved so badly.

Hannah wouldn't have screamed and knocked her chair over, Julia knew. Hannah wouldn't have made such a commotion.

But what could she do? That steaming-hot soup really
burned!

“Are you hurt, sister? Do you need help?” Hannah called from the other end of the table.

“No, I do not need help,” Julia replied through clenched teeth. Disgusted with herself, she tossed the napkin onto the table, muttered “Excuse me,” and started for the door. She could feel her face burning and knew she was blushing.

She glanced at the doorway and stopped short when she saw the expression on Lucy's face.

Was that a smile? A pleased smile?

Late that night, after the guests had boarded their carriages and headed home, after the servants had cleaned up, Hannah and Julia met in the secret room only they knew about.

It was a long, narrow room without windows, hidden behind the second pantry. Heat from the kitchen stove on the other side of the wall kept the small room cozy and warm. A small gas lamp cast a dim light.

The two sisters had discovered the room when they were small children and had used it as a secret meeting place ever since. They had sneaked blankets and feather pillows in and sometimes pretended they were girls hiding in a faraway cave.

That night Julia did not feel like discussing “little girl” things. Her back resting on a pillow propped against the warm wall, her hands clasped tightly in the lap of her wool nightdress, Julia sighed unhappily.

Beside her, Hannah yawned and tugged at a strand of fine blond hair.

“Did you not see Lucy's expression?” Julia demanded in a low whisper. They always whispered in this secret room, even though no one could hear. “Did you not see the smile on the maid's face?”

Hannah shook her head thoughtfully. “My eyes were on you, sister. It took me a while to see what all the commotion was.”

“But afterward,” Julia insisted impatiently. “After I jumped up and knocked my chair over, did you not see Lucy smile as if she were pleased about what she had done to me?”

“No,” Hannah replied softly. “I only heard Lucy apologize.”

“I
saw
her smile!” Julia exclaimed, raising her voice angrily. “She spilled the soup on my bare shoulder
deliberately!”

“Why?” Hannah asked, gesturing for her sister to lower her voice. “I do not understand, Julia.
Why
would Lucy do such a thing? She has no reason to harm you.”

Julia ignored her sister's question. “First she broke my finest work of pottery. She apologized for that, too, as I recall,” Julia said bitterly. “And then she embarrassed me in front of Father, when I was trying so hard to … to act the way he wants me to. Did Father say anything to you? About
me?
About what happened?”

“He seemed displeased that there was a disturbance,” Hannah replied, yawning again. “But I think Father was very happy about the dinner.”

“Happy about
you,”
Julia muttered.

“Being hostess is such hard work,” Hannah said. “I thought my smile would freeze on my face.”

Lost in her own thoughts, Julia didn't appear to hear her.

“I am so tired,” Hannah said, sighing. “I think we had better go up to our rooms.”

“Yes,” Julia agreed.

The two sisters climbed to their feet, leaving the pillows against the wall. Silently they started toward the door.

In the dark, empty pantry Julia stopped and grabbed Hannah's hand. “Just heed my warning, sister. Keep an eye on the new maid. Something about Lucy is not right.”

Too tired to argue, Hannah muttered her agreement, and the two sisters proceeded up the dimly lit stairway to their rooms.

A single gaslight on the hallway wall provided the only light in the long corridor. As Hannah made her way to her bedroom, she saw Lucy silently slip out her door and vanish into the shadows.

How strange, Hannah thought, feeling chilled and afraid.

The servants have all retired. Why was Lucy in my room at such a late hour?

Curious, she stepped into the bedroom. Logs crackled pleasantly in the fireplace. Hannah's party dress had been removed from the chair on which she had tossed it. The bedclothes were neatly turned down.

How nice of Lucy, Hannah thought, sliding into the linen sheets. She felt a momentary pang of guilt for talking about the new girl with Julia.

I mustn't listen to Julia's wild accusations, she scolded herself.

Hannah pulled the goose-down comforter up over her shoulders and let her head sink into the pillow. Smiling to herself, she listened to the soothing crackle of the fire.

“Oh—!” she whispered when she felt something move against her bare leg.

It must be a wrinkle in the sheet, she told herself.

She shut her eyes again. She was so sleepy. She hoped she could fall asleep quickly.

“Oh-!” Hannah froze.

What was that?

Did something move? Is something in my bed?

She tried to cry out, but her voice caught in her throat as she felt something slither up her leg.

T
oo frightened to scream, Hannah felt the warm creature slide over her leg. She forced herself not to move. Not to breathe.

It curled itself around her ankle. Then she felt it uncoil.

“Ohhh.” She uttered a low, terrified moan and leapt from the bed.

In the flickering light from the dying fire she tossed back the bedclothes and searched the shadows of her bed.