He brought the small trunk indoors and placed it next to the steps. “Would you like me to carry it up for you?” he spoke from the doorway.
“Please, if you would be so kind.” Rose came away from the window that she now stood staring out. “I’ll show you the way.” She watched him muscle the small trunk onto his shoulders and hurried to lead the way. When you get to the top go right, all the way to the end of the hall, the last door on the left.” She stood aside unwilling to walk him down. She waited at the top of the stairs.
When he returned, she noted the bruises were barely visible and the scratches had healed altogether. But she wondered about his heart. He was stiff and she sensed anger lived just beneath the surface. She could feel its presence.
“Do you have any concerns while I’m gone?” He asked pointedly as he followed her down, noting her curly red-blond hair turned darker during the winter months.
“Oh I almost forgot … “ he paused at the bottom of the stairs. “I have this for you. Your monthly allowance. Remember?”
Rose nodded slightly which was an absolute lie because she did not remember the reading of the will as she should have. “Thank you.”
“Your key to the strong box.” He fished in a side pocket and handed her the key. “It’s the only one.”
“I will take care of it.” She said and pocketed it immediately.
“And the fees for Miss Ginter for the months I am away.” He pulled yet another envelope from his pockets.
She smiled.
He frowned.
“I was just wondering if you had a rabbit hiding in your pocket.”
Rose saw the slightest hint of a smile and then it was gone.
“If all is well, then I shall be about my business. We leave at first light tomorrow morning.”
“You don’t want to say goodbye to Miss Ginter?”
“Uh…of course.” He tangled his hands in his hat that he has just snatched off the newel post.
Rose didn’t say a word, but was shocked that he didn’t want to tell his beloved goodbye. What was wrong with the man? She scurried away, sad for Matilda Jane. What kind of man would leave his woman with child and without even a proper goodbye. Mr. Wyatt came down another notch in her estimation.
She brought Matilda Jane and immediately excused herself. “I’ll be out back in my garden.” She said quickly.
Barely five minutes had passed. Rose just put on her garden gloves and was about to dig out a weed when she noticed shadows above her. Two of them.
“Why Mr. Wyatt.” She stood embarrassed to the roots of her hair. “I thought . . . “
She clamped her lips shut when she noted his discomfort.
“Well then…” she heard her voice go out into the air and for the first time no sensible thought came into her mind.
“I’ll be off. Miss Ginter here will be fine. I will see both of you when I return. Remember what I told you?” He gave Miss Ginter a nod as they exchanged private glances.
“Yes.” She said quietly coloring to the tip of her nose.
His boots clomped across the square cobblestones that formed the sidewalk she had created with her own hands.
“Well, I’ll be.” She said, gloved hands on her hips.
Matilda Jane dashed off, asking if she might muck out the stables with Thomas and Emmanuel, explaining that she had once lived on a farm and loved the work.
Rose went back to work, too many thoughts buzzing like flies in her head.
Chapter 34
The next morning the foghorns sounded before daylight signaling the two ships were sailing out to sea. She prayed for each captain, that they would guide the ships over safely. It was rare to make a crossing this time of the year. She knew for a fact. Charleston weather was agreeable until one went northward and found the temperatures were extremely low and the waters much more dangerous.
Actually, she was quite excited about adding a tiny infant to the household. It wouldn’t seem so lonely. It gave her something to think about and she decided today she would take up thread and needle after sketching a little hat and gowns to sew. Her knitting needles would be busy too, especially in the cooler weather.
Rose wondered if she might suggest to Matilda Jane that she be more careful, now that she was getting on. Rose had stopped the girl in the midst of her busyness a few days ago and suggested perhaps she should not work so hard, and with the girl’s eyes staring at the floor and red-faced found out the child was expected sometime in late June. “Captain Wyatt told me to tell you that I was not to be seen in public. And the only person you should speak to is Mrs. Shevington. She…she knows everything.”
The girl was so distraught, Rose dropped any more questions and showed her the little booties she had knitted. Matilda Jane smiled politely but dashed away as though she didn’t want to think about such things. Rose felt certain there was more than the girl was telling her, but decided now was not the time.
Rose’s duty to Captain Wyatt was to house her, feed her and see she was well cared for. She poked her finger and drew a drop of blood, sucked it and went back to the tiny stitches she was making in the little muslin gown.
Hadn’t Captain Wyatt a brain in his head? She wondered aloud. He left a young girl in dire straights with hardly a care. But, to his one credit, he had left money for her.
Sitting allowed her too much time to think and soon she was feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. She hoped Mr. Dalton did not come calling with any problems. That was one thing she missed now that Captain Wyatt was gone. He’d never mentioned it, but she knew the captain disliked Mr. Dalton, too. She could hear it in his voice every time he spoke the man’s name. That was one thing they agreed on.
Nevertheless, after two hours, she set aside another pair of booties, thinking about the little feet that would wear them. And suddenly she felt old. There was yet time for her to remarry and have children, but that idea seemed far-fetched right now. What she needed was a good brisk walk. And she had the best view of the river point, why not enjoy the sun? she spoke outloud.
She stood, stretched and found her warmest shawl. No hat today. She wanted the sun shining directly on her head. Puff with the worrisome expectations and the absurd fear of a hatless woman seen walking about. Portia was informed that she would be about a walk and did not expect to be at lunch. The sunny day was welcome after so many dark, rainy ones. Her hand on the large clear glass doorknob, she paused, grabbed a hat and hung the tied ribbons over her wrist. In the end she was still a bit concerned to go out hatless. She sighed.
Rose let herself out and stood at the top of the wide stairs, the finest ones in the neighborhood, Portia said, and looked out over White Point Gardens noting lots of walkers today. Everyone had been inside too long; she set out to take her turn about the park. A fence lined the sidewalk on one side, keeping people safe from falling down the slight decline into the river. She walked along beside the fence and kept her eyes out on the water. The sunsparkled view was so bright it hurt her eyes. She put a gloved hand up to shade her face when she heard someone behind her.
“Ladies wear their hats in public instead of carrying them.”
She knew that voice and a shiver ran down her spine. There was nothing to do but acknowledge him.
“Mr. Dalton. Good day to you.” She did not offer her hand.
“See, your eyes are watering, Mrs. Lovell. You should protect them and put on your hat.”
She smiled slightly, but made no move to obey him. He spoke as though she were a child and he had just chastised her for her unbecoming behavior.
“Have a good day sir.”
He bowed at the neck and she clamped her lips together and forced a tight smile. She continued her walk trying not to hurry away. That man was going to be her death. On to other thoughts, she told herself.
A full half hour later she realized no one else had stopped or spoken. She loved the view and wondered if she would miss it should she choose to live in Ireland, s
o made a point of memorizing it. A sketch and water color frame would keep the memory alive. Suddenly a thought flew her head. When had she decided she was going back to Ireland?
Fear crept up into her throat -- a hand went to rest over her quickened heartbeat -- to slow it down. Realization that she had no friends here in Charleston hit her hard. There was no reason to stay. Her husband’s life had been here, not hers. But, she knew it was yet too soon to decide. Setting her thoughts away, she stopped to put on her hat to shade her eyes from the sun. It was straight up and actually warm for this time of year.
Not ten steps later, she heard another familiar voice and turned. Ava McGuire. Rose carried herself with genteel movements. Mr. McGuire was in attendance and he had a dark look on his face. Ava’s voice was strained too.
“Good day.” Rose kept her voice low, her hands at her waist. “It’s quite a beautiful day is it not?”
Ava smiled with her lips but Rose saw there was sadness in those handsome eyes. She noted Captain Wyatt and his sister were alike in their mannerisms. One knew their state of mind very quickly when in their presence. Both seemed to have a seriousness that constrained them.
“You are out so soon.” Ava said quietly.
Rose didn’t know how to answer. It had been several weeks since her husband’s death. But she had been used to living alone most of the time. Her life hadn’t really changed that much. Still, there were unspoken rules about how long one should be out of sight when one lost a family member.
“It’s good for body, mind and soul to be out in the sunlight.”
“Yes.” Ava agreed weakly while Mr. McGuire stared off into the distance.
“Well, it is time to return. I will be on my way. Stop for tea Ava?” she made sure her voice was low. She had no idea if her husband knew of their visits.
Ava nodded but did not say she would come.
“Good day to you both, then.” She said and quickly made herself scarce, saying a quick prayer for the two of them. Something was amiss.
With a faster pace she headed home, hoping to keep the visuals planted firmly in her head so she could sketch what she’d seen earlier. Since her husband’s passing she felt more expressive in the arts of late and wondered why the two would mesh.
Before she knew it, she was walking up her own steps. It had been good to receive fresh air into her lungs and a long, slow walk along the rivers. It was almost February now so more days would be sunny.
Straightaway she went to her husband’s office, tossed off her hat and shawl and began to draw. Lightly at first to give form to the view she held in her head. Then filling in heavier lines. There was nothing to do but finish it….she ran above stairs for her paint apron and tied the sash around her waist and prepared her paints and water. Brushes were refreshed with a dry cloth and she set the flat easel up near the window to get full light and finished her work.
Satisfied, she stood back, head cocked to one side and viewed it with a critical eye. It needed a bit more yellow…so she dashed a slice right through the blue clouds and tossed the brush down. Done. She must not add another thing. It looked right. She left it where it was in full sunlight so it could dry.
Happier than she’d been in days, she wandered to the back kitchen and found Portia cooking dinner. Her hands were busy stirring three pots.
“Chile it be time you got yoself home. You know them ladies gonna be thinking you out and about so soon after yo husband done passed.”
“Oh, ‘tis true Portia. For I heard it already…” she mused.
“You been out der all dis time?” Portia’s hands rested on her hips.
“No.” Rose heard a giggle escape. “I’ve been inside. Painting.”
“You have? Now…then … you be doing your paintin’ again? I ain’t seen you do that since you got here, a little chile-woman.”
“I know.” Rose smiled and gazed at a nearby ivy climbing the red chipped brick wall “You know that is a beautiful scene right there.”
“Dem old ivy leaves climbin’ up on dat nasty wall?” Portia shook her head. “Girl, I think you done gone daft.” She laughed heartily.
“You know, it’s the views that are right in front of us that are special. Not everyone sees what we see. Up in Baltimore winters are dark and gray and brown. Everything is brown. Dirty snow lines the streets making spring such a welcome sight.”
“Chile you musin’ now. Ain’t that what you call it?”
Portia’s huge smile warmed her heart so much, she planted a kiss on her cheek.
“Well, now ain’t that sumpin’?” Portia exclaimed and laughed out loud. “You be like my very own baby.”
Tears popped into their eyes and Rose walked into those soft, caressing arms and rested there for a while. “What would I do without you Portia?”
“Girl-chile, you know you done just fine before…and you do just fine again. You got God and dat’s all that matters.”
“You are right. But it takes you to remind me.”
“Chile you knows I ain’t gonna let anything happen to ya. Go on now…” She pushed her away and swiped at tears. “I ain’t gonna get nothin’ done, you making me cry like a baby…” She swiped again.
Rose smiled and satisfied, moseyed back into the house and knew one thing. She was loved.
Chapter 35
Two weeks later Rose’s stack of infant clothes grew taller. And several water color canvases lay across her husband’s desk. She let inspiration take over. Each painting was better than the last. Portia accepted one painting of her choice but only after much fussing. And Matilda Jane was growing larger but seemed to ignore that fact.
Still Ava had not called on her, nor Stella, for that matter. How she missed those two! Had she made some faux pas? It was very unlike her friends to care one whit about such things.
Today, midweek, Rose decided to get out of the house and enjoy the day. It was not exactly the best of weather. It was overcast but she didn’t care. She also knew her Bible said, if you want a friend, you have to be a friend. She’d read that just this morning. And she definitely missed her friends.
While she was at it, she decided quickly, she would stop by and see Mrs. Shevington at the Whitegate Orphanage. Determined to learn about the other orphanage, she could inquire at Ava’s or Stella’s, if either happened to be home. She knew very well that she should send Thomas out with her calling cards at least a day early, but threw that idea out. She was going, cards or no.
They would either accept her visit or they would know she was thinking of them. Rose ran to the office and prepared two small paper cards to leave with the servants in the event they were not at home. With a quick sketch on the front of each, she carefully folded them square and grabbed two envelopes to wrap them in. A charcoal pencil tucked in her reticule would do.
Emmanuel had already been informed of her plans earlier in the day. Glad to have any of the animals out and exercised, he pulled the one-horse buggy up out front and waited. Rose could see his smile as he pulled on the reins keeping the horse in place. She’d best hurry. And glad she was there would be a tarp apron over their heads for as soon as she walked out the door, she heard the first plip-plops of rain.
Emmanuel dare not leave the horse by itself, so she hooked her foot up on the high step and pulled herself up.
“You settled?” Emmanuel held the reins tight. “We gonna be bustin’ out of here when I let loose of these reins.” He laughed. “Hold on tight now.”
Rose grabbed the railing with her right hand, her hat with the left and prepared herself.
Indeed Ready took off like a shot. Both her and Emmanuel let out a laugh. “You named this horse perfectly.” Rose laughed.
“He’ll slow once he’s run a bit.” Her man said quietly. “I’ll let him have the lead for a few blocks and then pull ‘im in onc’t we get near Miss Stella’s place. Wouldn’t look good, us running down folks.”
“Oh my no.” Rose laughed again. “Not good. Why Emmanuel we’d h
ave to stay low for a long time to stop all the talk.”
He chuckled.
By the time they arrived at Stella’s, Emmanuel had Ready under control.
“The door is shut tight against the rain, but I think there are lights lit inside.” Rose hoped as she peered under the wide brim of her hat.
“I’ll wave from the door if she’s in. Then come back in an hour. Take Ready out for a run once you get out of town.” She smiled. “He’ll like that. Maybe it’ll get some of that orneryness out of him.”
“Yes ma’am.” Emmanuel said with a laugh. “I be thinkin’ you got a bit o’that orneryness yo’self today.” He slid her a side glance.
“I believe I do.” She said and with great care, managed to get off the conveyance without falling into the street.
Because it wasn’t proper, she did not look back, but heard Emmanuel trying to keep Ready calm until they could get out of town. That horse knew he was going to run free. Rose was sure of it.
Her heart beat excitedly in her chest as she lifted the knocker and hit it twice. She saw movement behind the colors of the oval cut glass as she stood on the verandah. Rose turned and waved to Emmanuel and stepped inside, glad to be out of what was now a pouring rain.
“Oh Rose, I am so glad you see you. I have meant to call on you but Foster and I have been moving furniture from Savannah. It has taken months to clear out father’s house.” She gushed and grabbed Rose’s elbow. Everyone is upstairs rearranging every room.
“Oh I am sorry, you haven’t even removed your hat…and here I am dragging you off for tea.” She apologized. “It seems to me whenever you are around I end up breaking some rule of etiquette.”
The two of them broke out into laughter.
“See, I knew there was a reason why I have come. To ruin you entirely.” Rose laughed.
“I am so sorry about your husband and so ashamed I have not come to see you.”
“I received your very kind note, Stella. And was thankful for it. I talked to Mr. Perry and he told me of your dilemma. And you are only just back.”
“Oh, I am so glad you are not like the others. It is refreshing to . . . as they say, let your hair down. Come tell me everything.” Stella pulled her arm.