She donned the dress and was buttoned up in no time. Portia made her sit for a full three minutes, while she straightened her hair.
“Now lookee there. Ain’t that a sight better, yo hair off’n your neck? I declare chile yo hair done looks like little pig’s tails when it get too moist out der in that sun.”
“It does have a tendency to curl in this heat.”
“Go on now…if you ain’t gonna sit still no longer, get on down dem stairs….” Portia shook her head, smiling.
“I have news.” Stella said as soon as Rose appeared in the drawing room. “Sit down. I couldn’t think straight out there in that heat. I nearly forgot the reason I came.” She fanned herself.
Rose sat on the blue damask chair and put her hands in her lap. She felt flushed in the face. She must have been in the sun longer than she realized. She was famished, of a sudden.
“My husband has secured a fitting for me in Savannah. And I am here to ask you to attend with me. We can take the train.”
Rose sat up straighter, her hunger forgotten. “Savannah. I’ve yet to visit there, but I hear it is beautiful. I haven’t been on a train since I left Baltimore.”
“You’ll love the city. I was born there.” Stella lifted her chin.
“I didn’t know that!” Rose laughed. “You have a fitting you say?”
“Yes week after next. I wanted to give you plenty of time to prepare. Foster is not available to come along and will not let me go alone. So you see, you must say yes.”
“I am not hindered. As you know my husband is detained with illness in London and I have been a bit lonely since I heard the news.” Rose so wanted to tell Stella she thought she’d made a mistake signing Mr. Dalton’s papers, but she could not bring herself to mention it.
“Excellent. I have family there I wish you to meet. You will see the house of my birth and meet my two sisters. My father is quite well known there. He is a member of the city council and oversees an orphanage and preaches at the Methodist Church when the pastor is away.”
“My goodness.” Was all Rose could think to say. She was very interested in meeting the parents who raised a sweet and free-spirited Southern girl like Stella.
Tea arrived and the two made plans, Stella exacting promises to stay away an entire week, if Rose could manage it. Rose downed her tea cakes and rang for more.
Stella laughed out loud at Rose’s appetite. “You’ll never get into your corset again if you eat like that.” She whooped out.
Rose giggled with the young woman who, even though married to an upstanding Charleston banker, still held onto her own personality and exuded confidence. Indeed Rose would learn all she could and make her husband proud. She was a woman after all, young or not.
Chapter 8
Dashing to the side table, Rose grabbed the last tea cake and Stella laughed loudly as they made their way to her husband’s office. Stella stared at the drawings Rose had done that rainy day.
“Oh you must never let these be found laying about.” Stella was laughing uncontrollably, holding her side. “These are good. Really good, Rose. Old Dalton’s tweed suit reminds me of a big Diamondback rattler’s skin. And look at Miss Bertram, her parasol stuck in the tree with her Paris shoes getting all wet.”
Suddenly there was noises from the foyer. Rose hadn’t heard the door knocker. Before she could stop laughing, Captain Wyatt walked straight into the room. Portia right behind him her eyes dark and angry.
“May I speak with Mrs. Lovell. Alone.” He stared at Stella like she was the enemy.
Stella put her hand over her mouth, and strangely, she scurried out without a word. Rose thought sure she’d tell Mr. Wyatt to wait in the library like a gentleman.
Portia stood aside as Stella walked past and then backed out shutting the double doors. The room became close and warm of a sudden. Rose still seated, stood, and found her knees knocking together.
“You signed papers with Mr. Dalton?” He questioned her, black eyes staring into hers, his hair disheveled, chin unshaven and dark.
“I thought…I tried to reach you…”
She was rudely interrupted. “Why didn’t you send a currier?”
Rose hated being questioned. She needed time to think so turned her back and walked to the window.
“I sent a currier.” She turned to face him.
“And what of it? I would have come had I received word from you.” He stated, effectively calling her a liar.
“Thomas came back with word, only this morning with news that you were…were…”
“Speak up.” He demanded.
Rose looked him in the eye. “He said you were drunk and with a woman. Your crew knew not where to look for you.” There, he wanted truth, he had it.
This time, he turned his back to her seeking the other window. He stared out for so long, Rose wondered what his next move would be.
“Aye. It is true. I was drunk. And I am to blame.”
Rose couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He’d taken the wind out of her sails.
“Had I taken the papers to the solicitor the day you signed them, Captain Lovell would not be in this situation.” He said firmly and turned to face her. “As it is, Mr. Dalton got word that your husband was ill and had made you owner of his fortune and made his way here. Had I done my duty, he would not be…”
“What?” Rose wondered.
Running his hand through his hair, mussing it even more, if that were possible, he actually looked…ashamed. “I will be in your husband’s debt until the day I die. And servant to a man I despise.” He said quietly.
Rose stared at him. She understood nothing.
The man looked up at her. She took a step back. His darkness, hair, eyes, even his sun- browned skin made him a sinister view. But his eyes were sad, hurt.
“You have done nothing wrong.” He stated staring over her shoulder, hands stuffed in his back pockets. “It is I who am to blame.”
“What blame is there?” She knew her voice cracked.
“The papers you signed give Mr. Dalton full reign over your husband’s fortune should he be deceased. You signed off as owner. I have just come from his office.”
“I read the papers. They didn’t seem to say that.” Rose caught her breath and felt her heart sink.
“The papers were all in order. But Dalton slipped in an extra sheet, effectively making himself your overseer and Captain Lovell is now fifty thousand dollars deeper in dept.”
Rose wanted to sob. She put her fingertips over her lips. “What can be done?” She whispered.
“Nothing can be done. Had I filed the papers with the solicitor when I was supposed to this would not have happened. As it is, I will report to Captain Lovell my failure to do my duty.”
Rose felt sorry for the man. “It’s my fault, too. I had no idea…”
“You are a child. I knew better.” His voice deepened. “It was not your fault.”
“I am not a child.” She suddenly felt the pang of regret at always being called a child.
Captain William Ashton Wyatt knew she wasn’t any longer. For she had just learned her first real life lesson. Never trust a drunk. And never trust a banker.
Chapter 9
Rose listened to Captain Wyatt’s apology.
“Mrs. Lovell, I have injured your husband’s affairs, but I will not scurry away like a scullery rat. I will do my duty to him and to you. I am forever sorry for what I have done.”
She opened her mouth but nothing came out. All she could do was try to catch his eye to let him know without words, that she didn’t blame him.
Captain Wyatt bowed slightly and turned his back, his shoulders slumped and walked away.
There was nothing, absolutely nothing she could do. God why? I thought you heard my prayer for direction.
Rose fell into a chair, unable to think.
Stella came in and saw her distress. “Did that man hurt you?” Her fists balled at her sides.
“No.” Ros
e said quietly. “He hurt himself.”
“But it affects you. I can see it on your face.”
“Oh Stella, you are going to be so ashamed of me…” She sobbed into her hands now.
Stella knelt and Rose told her the whole sordid story. Her friend had warned her against Mr. Dalton and now the whole town would know. How could she have been so naïve?
“There now. I’ll speak to Foster. We’ll talk it over. There’s nothing to be done now. Charleston ladies have lived through a Civil War for goodness’ sake. We will get through this.” Stella said firmly.
Rose knew she was right. But it wouldn’t change the fact that she, a mere child, just like everyone said, had made a terrible blunder concerning her husband’s business and now his reputation.
“Get up, Ireland Rose Lovell.” Stella ordered. “We are going straightaway to my house. You will be with me when Foster comes home and we will discuss the matter. Surely there is something to be done.”
Rose stood as ordered.
“Call Portia and tell her you won’t be needing supper this evening. You’ll dine with us.”
Rose did.
“We’ll walk. How long have you been cooped up here in this house…and the gardens?”
Rose didn’t answer.
“Come now, get your wrap, the evening air will be cooler.”
Fifteen minutes later they were strolling down the Battery gazing out at the Ashley River, the fragrance of white gardenia and pink magnolia lifting on the air. They passed through White Point Garden park. Then walked down near the shipyard, the smell of fish wafting on the air.
Rose looked at the Emerald Star rocking on the water and knew the pain of loss. It was evident that the crew was getting ready to sail. She wanted to get on the vessel and run to her husband, to take care of him, to say she was sorry for all that had happened.
But Stella knew what she was thinking. “Now don’t you think about it. You’re safe. Here, where your husband wants you. He has Yellow Fever. You cannot go to him.”
Rose looked at her friend and tears popped into her eyes and then Stella’s. She looked away out to the ocean and wished she could go to Ireland where she belonged.
They walked in silence for a very long time, the evening coming upon them. “Time to go to my house. Foster will be home soon and I do not want him to find me gone.”
Rose followed alongside her friend, glad for the company. She had never been to Stella’s home.
When they stopped Rose looked up and saw a stately house with pink magnolia hanging over the balcony, the round colonnade pillars wrapped in yellow-green ivy. It was in a nice part of town and it looked so welcoming, Rose wanted to weep.
“Come inside dearie. We’ll have tea. You ate too many tea cakes.”
Rose ran her hand along the smooth wood of a rocker on the verandah and sat. She just couldn’t go inside.
“That’s right sit there. It’s cooler in the shade. I will be around in a few minutes. You relax and take care to put your feet up on that basket there.” Stella pointed.
Rose lay her head back and rocked, the white chair creaking on the white painted wooden planks beneath her. The sound was familiar and sweet. She was a little girl in Baltimore, waiting for her father to come home for the evening.
Later, Stella came with little brown-bread cucumber sandwiches and they ate at the small white wicker table. Rose ate her food and swallowed several times before a sob could escape.
After some time Foster joined them. She knew Stella had already talked with him privately before bringing him out to her. And for that she was grateful.
“Foster, this is my friend Ireland Rose Lovell. My husband Foster John Perry.”
Rose wondered why Stella was so formal. Perhaps it had been her proper Savannah upbringing.
“Mr. Perry.” Rose stood and greeted him quietly.
“Stella has told me of your concerns.” He pulled a chair out and after the ladies took their seats, joined them at the table. “It is useless to spend any time worrying. I will look into the matter and see if something can be done…” He offered.
“Thank you Mr. Perry. I know nothing can be done, but I thank you just the same. My signature, Captain Wyatt informed me, is all that was needed.”
“I’m sorry to say that Mr. Dalton is of questionable character but we know that God himself sees to people like that.”
Rose found a smile creep to her lips. “Thank you for reminding me.” She whispered.
The topic turned to other subjects, mostly gardening, weather and upcoming events of the summer season.
Grateful, Rose’s nerves settled. Soon, Foster and Stella walked her back home, offering the use of their small carriage, which Rose refused. “Thank you for your time and your concerns. I will be all right.” She assured them and knew somehow she would be.
When they left, Rose took up her embroidery and disallowed any thoughts of the day’s events. After some time she had a hankering for a cup of tea and walked through the back to the separate kitchen where she found sad faces everywhere.
“What is the matter?” She asked Portia.
Portia shooed Thomas and Lily to their duties and without making eye contact said, “We all doing our duty to ya, Miz Rose. Don’t you worry none.”
Portia paused and added. “Lily done heerd all you said. I was gonna whoop dat gal but I jus didn’t have the heart. Was she tellin’ the truth?”
“I’m afraid she was, if she told you Mr. Dalton has been dishonest.”
Rose’s heart sank. They all knew what had happened, it was clear. She had not considered that her and her husband’s demise might mean theirs as well. “That’s all right. I would have told you anyway.”
“Now don’t worry none. The Lord has ways of fixin’ these things mind you…”
“Portia.” Rose began, catching her brown eyes. “I will see to you all. I promise.” The words meaningful and soft, gave her a sense of confidence. “We will be all right.”
Portia nipped her apron to her eye and poked there. “Yes, Miz Rose.”
And for the first time Rose saw her duty to her servants as they saw their duty to her.
“We are all God’s children.” Rose said quietly and left Portia to her work knowing Portia did not show her weaknesses often.
Rose realized for the first time how much she had to learn. Tomorrow was Sunday church at St. Michael’s and Rose intended to be there.
Chapter 10
Church services at St. Michael’s was the spiritual medicine she needed. Rose wore her best blue cotton cambric dress and bonnet. Emmanuel brought the carriage. Even though it was several blocks away, it was not fashionable to be seen walking about in one’s Sunday best.
Foster and Stella join her in the four-person pew. She was glad they were near the front, for she would not like to see Mr. Dalton today. Christian duties required certain boundaries, she knew. One should not be staring bitterly into the face of another they disliked and well she knew it. It was better to be polite and distant.
As well as she loved St. Michael’s, she missed her small church on the side streets of Baltimore. Her parents had lived well enough, grateful for every meal, for every dollar earned and for the fact that they survived and thrived in America. They knew what it was to be hungry and without warm clothing out on the windy hills of Ireland, neighbors starving for lack of food.
Because they were acquainted with these pains they possessed a watchfulness for those who needed food and clothing. Thus Ireland Rose learned many ways of sharing. St. Michael’s served Charleston’s elite and so there were many occasions for helping the poor. Mostly with money rather than service, Rose noted.
She had fallen into the same thinking; generous with her pocketbook but not involved. Today she resolved to draw closer to those who could teach her as well as learn from her. With that in mind, she raised her hand when the Reverend called for those who would be interested in feeding the children at Jamison’s Orphanage. That particular
one was underfunded because of its African population. The white orphanage was well endowed when many more raised their hand to assist there. There were two hands raised for Jamison’s Rose noted, hers and one other. Stella’s.
Satisfied with new purpose, she had a few words with Foster and Stella before Emmanuel carried her back home. Within the hour she and Portia sat at the table and discussed what Monday would bring. Tomorrow her new work would begin.
* * *
After breakfast Lily and Thomas joined their grandmother Portia in the attic and carried down the servant’s stairs small items that might be of use to the orphanage. By noon, the pantry had been invaded and two small crates of fresh garden vegetables sat at the ready. Two side tables, a bench, and a child’s desk were loaded into the old carriage and carried off.
The second trip Rose insisted on going along.
“You gonna go ain’t ya? I can see it in yo eyes chile.” Portia wagged her head. “Them ladies see you there at the Negra orphanage, you best be set for a bunch o’talk.”
Rose hurried to get her small string handbag, stuffing some bills from her husband’s cash drawer. Once she made up her mind, she went head over tails, she knew. But what did it matter? What one had could be swept away like beach sand on a windy day. And then what?
Besides she’d been taught everyone was more alike than different. Thanks to her frugal parents, she knew that hunger was hunger, no matter where you came from and clothing was needed for every body not just a few. Which reminded her. She had several dresses that might fit a young woman there.
Hurrying abovestairs, she went through her bureau and collected several items. Then rifled through her underthings and nightclothes. She had an armful and met Portia halfway down.
“I’s got some things, too.” She said proudly.
“Portia, how kind of you.” Rose’s face was flushed.
“Lily ain’t got no use for these. She done growed up on them long legs.” Portia belly-laughed. “Just like her Granmama.”
Rose’s eyes met Portia’s thanking her.
“Come. Let’s get these out to Emmanuel before he draws the wagon away from the curb.”
“Portia you sit up front with Emmanuel.” Rose ordered.
“Chile you don’t mean sich a thing. I ain’t havin’ you ridin’ in de back like ‘at for all Charleston to see, mind you.” She had her hands on her hips. “Even I knows that ain’t right.”