When the Splendor Falls (44 page)

“What’re you doin’ now?” Jolie demanded, looking up from the pair of drawers she was washing.

“I promised Althea I would help her bathe and wash her hair today.”

“You sit down an’ rest a spell. You don’t know if you’re comin’ or goin’, missy, an’ I heard you up last night with lil’ Miss Lucinda, singin’ an’ croonin’ her back to sleep while she suckled on a sugar teat,” Jolie told her, frowning as Leigh never hesitated, continuing toward the far side of the kitchen, where the big, slipper-shaped metal tub had been pushed against the wall. A loud scraping noise sounded as Leigh pulled it across the brick flooring by one of its handles.

“I’m not tired, truly I’m not. I felt wonderful this morning watching Althea eat more than a biteful of food for a change. She seems so improved since just yesterday eve, don’t you think? You know how she has always hated anything dirty or soiled, and how particular she has always been about her toilette. She’ll feel much better with her hair clean. I don’t want to disappoint her. It will keep her spirits up, and she was talking about taking on the darning and mending chores. She can do that without tiring herself.”

“Just like her mama. Miss Beatrice Amelia was ever so tidy about herself an’ her fine linen chemises an’ petticoats. Such pretty things, she had, an’ always kept them so nice,” Jolie said, glancing down quickly. “Got soap in my eye,” she murmured, her eyes burning. “An’ you get that Steban to get that fire goin’ if it’s died down. Don’t want Miss Althea catchin’ her death of cold now that she’s on the mend,” Jolie warned. “It’d help us a lot, her doin’ the mendin’ too, after all, she’s a real fine needlewoman. An’ she can watch young Mister Steward an’ Miss Noelle, not that Miss Noelle ever causes us any trouble. Real sweet an’ quiet, she is,” Jolie said approvingly. “Not like some I could mention when they was that age,” she added, truly getting soap in her eye this time as she rubbed away the threatening tears when she thought of Guy Travers’s blindness. “You bring her down here. Wish Mister Guy would let us help him more, why, you would think I’d never seen his bare bottom before,” she said. “Only lets Steban help him with his bath,” she said, shaking her head disapprovingly, because in her eyes Guy Travers would always be the same little baby boy she had wet-nursed when the mistress hadn’t been able to feed him, not having enough milk of her own. Jolie’s look was tender as she remembered having plenty of milk for both Sweet John and the little chestnut-haired baby who’d been so demanding at her breast—a bond that could never be broken had been formed between them. It had been the same with Miss Leigh. She had suckled at her breast too, only that time, her own little girl baby had died, and she’d had too much milk to give to Beatrice Amelia’s little daughter, who had also received all of the love that Jolie had been unable to lavish on her own stillborn child.

“Nothin’ goin’ to happen to my little ones,” she muttered, plunging her arms deep into the water as she scrubbed the linens as if scouring the world of sin, and feeling her purpose in life, her dedication to Beatrice Amelia and the Travers family, stronger than it ever had been, and held inviolable by her love for them.

Leigh made her way upstairs, pausing midway to rest and catch her breath, then continued the rest of the way to Althea’s bedchamber. The room was warm, a fire burning brightly in the hearth.

Althea was sitting up in bed, Noelle next to her as she showed her several new stitches to try.

“Ready?” Leigh asked. “Haven’t forgotten, it’s washing day, for both people and linens.”

Althea smiled, pointing at the neat pile of underclothing she’d placed on the foot of the bed. “Yes, I’m ready,” she said, getting slowly to her feet, and leaning heavily against Leigh when she placed a supporting arm around her shoulders. “I was looking through my trunk, and I found a bar of soap. I’d forgotten I had it,” she said, her pale cheeks flushed with anticipation.

“Violet too,” Leigh said, recognizing the lavender paper sprigged with dark purple violets wrapped around the soap. “Your favorite.”

“Yes,” Althea said, remembering it had been Nathan’s favorite too.

Seeing the stricken look that had suddenly crossed Althea’s face, Leigh asked, “Where is Steward?”

“He’s with Guy in the study. I fear he is more interested in riding his noble steed than watching Noelle and me sew stitches. Already, the impatient little man,” she said, laughing softly, hoarsely, and it sounded strange to Leigh, startling her. She hadn’t heard her sister laugh in a long time.

“Better bundle up, we’ve got to go out to the kitchens,” Leigh reminded her, pulling a blanket from the chest at the foot of the bed and wrapping it around Althea, who was dressed in her nightdress and dressing gown.

Althea looked at her sister in dismay. “The kitchens? Whatever for?” she demanded, shocked by the thought as she glanced down at her dishabille.

“Without anyone to carry the buckets of water into the house, Jolie and I found it far easier to set up the tub in the kitchens,” Leigh explained, gently reminding Althea that Travers Hill was no longer a hive of activity.

“Oh,” Althea murmured, ashamed of her momentary forgetfulness.

But Leigh only laughed. “You should have seen Jolie and Stephen and me trying to get the tub downstairs and through the door. Stephen slipped, and the tub fell to the bottom, thumping like thunder all the way down, with Stephen trying to get out of the way in front of it, but he couldn’t, and it caught up to his flying feet on the last step and bumped him, knocking him into the tub. I’ve never heard Jolie laugh so hard,” Leigh said, seeing again Jolie’s thin shoulders shaking uncontrollably as she stood at the top of the stairs.

“It must have been amusing. But poor Stephen, he is so very dignified,” Althea said.

“He wouldn’t even talk to her for a week.”

Althea looked at her sister’s gown, and said, more sharply this time, “You’re not even wearing a shawl over your shoulders.”

“Strong as a horse,” her sister answered, guiding her toward the door. “But I don’t linger long between the kitchens and the big house.”

“Bye, Mama,” Noelle called out, returning the kiss her mother had blown to her as her aunt led her frail-looking mother from the room, her large brown eyes bright as she returned her attention to the beautiful stitching her mother had demonstrated for her earlier that morning. Glancing back up for a moment, she giggled, thinking of the handkerchief she was embroidering in secret for her aunt, hoping she would be pleased with the square of linen, and the delicate bluebells she was embroidering in the lace-edged corners.

“Mama would be horrified to think of us bathing in the kitchens,” Althea said as they walked along the hall and she saw the closed door of their mother’s bedchamber. “Papa, however,” Althea continued, a mischievous look in her eye, “would have enjoyed it. Within arm’s reach of the still,” she added, laughing.

“And he did end up out there on many an occasion,” Leigh said, “
because
he had been too close to the still. Remember when Mama wouldn’t let him in the house, because he could hardly stand up, having been sampling the latest batch from the still, and on his way down to the stables for a ride, he’d fallen into the manure field and had come back up to the house to change. She had him washed down in the laundry room like that grinning hound of Guy’s that liked to roll in cow dung. Papa was madder than an angry hornet and stood outside her window cursing. I thought she was going to make him stay out there all night long. I can still remember him, about an hour later, standing outside and calling up to her, and looking so forlorn as he stood there holding a bouquet of roses,” Leigh said, hurrying Althea across the covered walkway between the big house and the kitchens, their laughter trailing after them as they disappeared into the kitchens.

An hour later, Althea sat before the hearth, her golden hair bright and shining as she dried it before the fire. She sipped a cup of tea gratefully, and thirstily, even if it was made from willow and sage leaves, and other mysterious herbs Jolie gathered from the woodlands, rather than the fancy imported Chinese tea she was so fond of.

She sighed, and although still weak, she felt better than she had in a long time.

She glanced around the room, shaking her head in disbelief as her gaze lingered on the long rows of washing. She still couldn’t believe that Leigh and Jolie had washed all of the linens by themselves.

“Let me put a lil’ more honey in that tea, Miss Althea,” Jolie said, coming to stand beside her.

“Thank you, Jolie,” Althea murmured, wondering what life would have been like if Jolie and Stephen had left Travers Hill.

“Ah, such pretty hair. Jus’ like your mama’s. You want me to brush it till it crackles?” Jolie said, not waiting for Althea’s answer as she took the brush from Althea’s lap and began to brush the long strands, the same way she had Beatrice Amelia’s, and Althea’s, before she had married and moved to Richmond.

“Where is Leigh?” Althea asked drowsily, her head nodding back slightly.

“Now where you think, Miss Althea?” Jolie said, thinning her lips with disapproval. “With those animals of hers, that’s where. So tired, she is, she can hardly stand on her feet without falling, an’ now she’s back there in the laundry with those critters. Figure she’d have brought them into the parlor if I’d let her. But I told her it was either them, or me,” Jolie said, nodding her head emphatically. “Warned her I wasn’t a field hand to be sleepin’ with farm animals, much less cleanin’ up after them.”

“What animals?”

“The ones she’s got hidden away in the laundry. Turned it into a stable, she did, after the stables got broken into. Figured she could guard her animals better up here at the big house than down in the stables. ’Specially since she had to stay up night an’ day with that mare. Surprised it didn’t up an’ die, so poorly did it look.”

“What mare? We have lots of mares at Travers Hill,” Althea said, remembering another time.

“Nothin’ but rats out in the stables now, Miss Althea. Everything was taken, or stolen, till there was nothin’ left.”

“Nothing left,” Althea repeated, thinking now of Royal Bay.

“That’s why, honey, when that lil’ mare come home last month, Miss Leigh just ’bout fainted. A bag of bloodied bones, it was, draggin’ itself up the lane to the big house. Remembered, it did, that this was home. Thought Miss Leigh was goin’ to go wild, she was so happy. Then, she saw that wound on the mare’s back, an’ the deep spur marks on her side, an’ she was so angry she could’ve spat. Figured if that reb had been standin’ there she would’ve killed him with her bare hands. I’ve never seen such a look in her eye before, ’ceptin’ when she killed those looters.”

“Damascena?” Althea asked in amazement. “Someone stole her?”

“That’s the one. You know Miss Leigh has always been sweet on that mare, ’specially when she lost the lil’ cap’n to that no good Braedon fella. Thought her heart was goin’ to break that summer. An’ then again, when them rebs was nearby an’ they come onto Travers land an’ break into the stables. This one, an’ he was an officer, only he was no gentleman,” Jolie said with a sniff. “He takes Miss Leigh’s mare to ride into battle, only horse we got left at Travers Hill. This reb’s horse was shot out from under him. I didn’t know what we was goin’ to do, ’cause I knew Miss Leigh would be heartbroken, ’specially after all that’s happened ’round here. That mare was all she had left, an’ she loved it so.”

“Oh, no, poor Leigh,” Althea said quietly. “What happened?”

Jolie frowned. “Thought at first she was goin’ to shoot the man right out of the saddle, ’cause she had that gun with her, then, I don’t know what happened, ’cause she just stood there watchin’ them ride off. Never said a word ’bout it after that. Then, a month later, the mare shows up here,” Jolie said, giving a hoot of laughter. “Reckon someone else took a dislikin’ to that reb. ’Cause someone, or something, blew him outa his boots, cause they was still in the stirrups, along with his left big toe.”

Althea’s brown eyes opened wide for a moment in shock, then she closed them against the image as she wondered what her sister and the others had been through here at Travers Hill while she’d been delirious with fever, unaware of the war raging around them, unable to help.

“An’, of course, that nasty-faced pony is still here—”

“Pumpkin?” Althea said, smiling.

“That’s the one, an’ a meaner, an’ ornerier beast, I’ve never met. Figure that’s why no one bothered stealin’ him, more trouble than good he’d be. Didn’t know those critters lived so long. It’s because they’re so mean. But we got him doin’ his share. Miss Leigh an’ Steban hitch him up to the cart an’ take him with them when they go to fetch logs from the woods. An’, Miss Althea, you’re goin’ to be surprised, but we even got ourselves a cow,” Jolie said with a wide grin.

“
A
cow?” Althea said weakly, thinking of the herd that used to graze the meadowlands of Travers Hill.

“She’s not much to look at, an’ we don’t know where she came from, but she gives us good, sweet milk. Don’t know what we’d do if it wasn’t for her, ’cause lil’ Miss Lucinda has to have milk with no mama to suckle,” Jolie said with another sniff. “An’ Mister Steward does love his puddin’,” Jolie added, as if that was explanation enough.

And Althea, not knowing whether to cry or to laugh, began to laugh until the tears finally did fall.

“’Course, he only gets puddin’ when I can get my hands on that sneaky hen’s eggs. She’s goin’ to end up in the stew pot one of these days soon,” Jolie promised, smiling her approval as she refilled Althea’s cup of tea, thinking it was good to hear her laughter again.

Leigh was thinking the same thing as she heard Althea’s laughter coming through the narrow passageway that led from the pantry and scullery into the laundry, where she’d stabled her menagerie. And it made a very snug stable, indeed, Leigh thought as she looked around at the straw she’d spread across the brick flooring and the trough she’d filled with hay, and, occasionally, oats, when she could buy or barter them. Right now, the trough was woefully low, and the woebegone expressions she was receiving from the three pairs of big brown eyes were hard to ignore.