Read Ireland Rose Page 7


  “Chile you be up so long. And you with company comin’ in the mornin’” Portia followed her up the stairs. “We both best be gettin’ some sleepin’ done in dis heat or we ain’t gonna be nothin’ but wilted greens in da mornin’.”

  “You are right, as always.” She sighed and pushed the pad away.

  “See now, you done wore yoself out.” Portia unwound her hair and brushed through it, tying in the rags so her already wavy hair would be even more so by morning.

  “Thank you. You are so good to me. Captain Lovell will be home, if the winds are favorable for the journey. I shall go to sleep wondering what he might bring. Oh Portia, I know it’s not the gifts that count, but it’s knowing you have someone who cares for you.”

  “Chile, you need a good deal o’ takin’ care of.” She laughed heartily. “Now off to sleep. You don’t want that sandman throwing sand in yo eyes.”

  “Oh Portia, the things you say…”

  “Dat girl, she half sleep already…” Portia patted the child’s head. “Just like a tiny young’un o’my own.” She whispered. “Dem blue eyes the purtiest I ever saw…

  Chapter 15

  The knocker sounded at a quarter to eight.

  “Yo lady friend here, Miss Rose. And she early.” Portia knocked at Rose’s door then ran back downstairs and called for Lily.

  “You go on and set her in the front parlor and mind you don’t be starin’ you hear chile?” Portia scolded her granddaughter then scurried, as fast as her legs could carry her, up the stairs.

  Lily nodded and ran.

  “Dat girl run everywhere. She don’t know the first thing about walking like a lady.” Portia was swinging her head from side to side, chuckling as she worked with Rose’s hair.

  “That’s what a child does. They run freely -- as they should.” Rose said, wishing for Portia to hurry. “Nevermind, she’ll grow up and be a lady, you’ll see. I was the same way. Father allowed me to be a child. Mother made sure I grew up knowing how to manage myself.” She mused.

  “An lookee here where you’s at. Married to a fine man. Dis nice house, prettiest one as far as I can see wit these old eyes…dat’s fo sure.”

  “Yes, I know I should be more grateful.”

  Portia stopped. “You’s grateful child. Ain’t ya? Lord knows you cain’t get much finer than dis.” She waved her arms. “Heaven be better, but while’s you here, jus enjoy ever day, mind?”

  Rose exhaled with a smile and Portia announced her finished after pinning one more curl into submission.

  She hurried to the top stair then slowed, descending like the lady she was. It was time to practice since her husband would be home and they would be out in society again. Excitement jangled her nerves as she hurried to the parlor, slowed and entered.

  “Ireland Rose, have you changed a thing since Captain Lovell brought you here?” Ava gushed.

  Rose’s eyes grew large. Could the woman read her thoughts as well? “I have not.” She admitted with a gaze around the room. Why hadn’t she noticed before? The furnishings were so formal as to be almost impossible to sit upon comfortably.

  “Then it is time. See here, these colors were popular ten years ago. You must go lighter. Dark colors make a room appear too hot, especially at this time of year.” Ava wiped her brow with her handkerchief. “All the best homes have the light colors.”

  “As it is, I was considering…”

  Ava interrupted. “Shall we make a job for ourselves, then? We can talk while we work. And I know the best designers in town.”

  Rose knew Ava must have money to throw about, but she herself was more reserved, she was sure, than Mrs. McGuire. But she dare not be too reserved else it may reflect upon her husband’s respectability. She would not be lukewarm, but would take a risk. She prayed that Providence would guide her.

  Rose knew she had to be forthright at the outset or she would lose control. “I should like to change the living room and the drawing room. There are many months when my husband is in London and I can move through the house changing décor as he affords me the funds.”

  “Oh, Ireland Rose, I should think your husband has not a care for money. He is very well established from what I hear.” Ava’s perfectly shaped dark eyebrows lifted slightly.

  She has no idea about our financials. Rose worried and quickly changed the topic.

  “I have drawings in my husband’s office. “

  “Come, let’s see what ideas you have.” Ava took Rose’s arm.

  An hour passed without notice. There was much musing, nodding, and head leanings as the ladies decided upon the formal living room, to begin their task.

  “The fireplace is key to the design in the living room. It is elegant in size…however it needs to be more stylish…” Ava’s musical voice continued…”We must start with an idea and build from there. Your windows are especially narrow and long, so there will be much sewing to be accomplished.” Her finger tapped at her chin.

  Rose, with paper in hand made notes. Draperies, upholstery changes of chairs and settees would make the most impact, Ava informed her. With several project designs and colors decided, it was time for tea.

  “Mrs. McGuire . . . may I call you Ava?” Rose asked quietly as Portia carried the tea on the tray and set it on a side table.

  “If I may call you Rose…or do you prefer Ireland?”

  “Oh definitely Rose.”

  “Rose it is.”

  Ava lifted her cup and sipped with ladylike precision, her back straight.

  Rose noted her slow, gentle movements that were typical of Southern-bred ladies. She rather liked the laid-back atmosphere in most of the drawing rooms here in Charleston. Baltimore ladies were interested in education and bettering themselves and their children. Here in rice country, the people were more defined by the inheritance, the family name and estates. She knew she should adapt herself for the sake of her husband. They were not likely to leave Charleston.

  “You are serious today, Rose.” Ava’s dark eyes sparkled. “Have you misgivings?” She inquired, gazing over her teacup.

  “No. I do not.” Rose stood. “I am glad you are here. Shall we roll up our sleeves and make our plans?”

  “Indeed we shall.”

  Rose saw Ava’s cup teeter in the saucer as she stood and did the most amazing thing.

  The formal Mrs. McGuire disengaged herself from her light jacket and actually rolled up the sleeves of her elegant day dress. Sprigs of green decorated the skirt, while the bodice of spring green shone in the sunlight as Ava threw open the dark draperies.

  Rose smiled.

  Chapter 16

  A quick rain rattled at the windows again two hours later while Rose and Ava decided on a new furniture arrangement. Emmanuel and Thomas were engaged several times to either move or carry off assorted pieces. The built-in cabinets in the living room were exquisite and Eva proclaimed they were “staying.”

  Rose, secretly glad, for she could not even think of what Captain Lovell would say should they begin destructing. In fact after the furniture was changed into a new pattern, both fell into the settee, now facing the windows for the view of myrtle outside, and fanned themselves, declaring the end of the day. The sun had come out again.

  “I declare it’s half past three.” Ava jumped up and hurried for her jacket. “Theodore is due home and I haven’t informed the servants what he shall have for dinner. Really I must go. It would not do for dinner to be late. My husband is severe when it comes to protocol and timeliness of daily duties.” She called over her shoulder.

  Rose lifted her tired body and saw her guest to the door. “Thank you for coming by today. I have had such a pleasant time, and,” she turned to gaze at the living room, “it looks so much better with the new arrangement.”

  “Isn’t it fun?” Ava declared grabbing her lacy umbrella. “It’s good that the rain has stopped, else I should have to call for my carriage.”

  “Really?” Rose said before she put her thoughts in ord
er. “Do you not like walking after a warm rain, especially looking for rainbows when the sun peeps through the clouds?”

  Ava turned serious eyes on her. “I have no idea why one should do such a thing. I cannot. My husband, you know. It wouldn’t do for me to be seen walking about in the rain in such a fashion.” She declared.

  “I will call for Emmanuel to drive you.” Rose smiled, with a bit of sorrow for her friend’s inability to enjoy the simple things of life. Rose thought of her father, who taught her to notice everything around her, be grateful for it all, and enjoy whatever moments there were to be had in this world. She missed him.

  The moment the door was opened, she felt a slight breeze catch at her skirts. “It seems we have a bit of wind today. Will your parasol hold up?”

  Ava stepped onto the porch and walked to the wide steps, leaned forward and looked upward, sticking her hand out. “The rain has stopped completely and the wind is quite refreshing, for I am warmed from the activity. I believe I shall walk home.”

  “Thank you Ava.” Rose called out once again, sorry to see her visitor go. There would be an entire evening to while away. Slowly she turned toward the screen door and entered with a last look. Her friend had tipped her parasol and was looking upward to the clouds. Perhaps Ava was looking for rainbows. Rose smiled.

  “Miz Rose, you be wantin’ some lemonade? We done been to the market to get fresh lemons. Two ships came in just this last hour with ‘em.” Lily beamed.

  “That sounds absolutely divine.”

  “Divine? You be thinkin’ on God when I speak o’them lemons?” Lily wanted to know.

  “Oh no. Divine has two meanings. One means wonderful. The other having to do with God. “I was saying that lemonade sounds wonderful.”

  Lily looked at her a long moment, shrugged and ran off.

  Rose washed her face in the basin near the kitchen and pushed her hair, curly from the rain and sun, out of her face. She had no desire to mess with it this afternoon. No calling cards lay on the tray, and it was past calling time for the ladies, so she wandered into her husband’s office.

  Days seemed so long while she was waiting. It seemed she had spent two years waiting. Sighing, she checked the calendar her husband kept on his desk. While he was gone, it was hers to fill. Glad for the upcoming meeting with the ladies to make more plans for the orphanage, she decided, after lemonade of course, to head up to the attic and search for … what? She didn’t know, but a sense of melancholy settled heavy on her heart.

  She mentally checked her emotions. She was married to a good man, living in a beautiful house in a grand city, and had everything she needed. Why wasn’t it enough?

  Remembering her mother’s words, she lifted her chin, straightened her shoulders and headed for the garden where the sun would not be so hot with all the summer green branches hanging heavy above her head. She settled onto the bench and pulled in all the flowery scents that hung in the rain-washed air. Colors filled her eyes, pink and red roses, dark pink and white azalea, white daisies, their tops waving in the breeze. Myriad shades of green adorned her garden. Honeysuckle, the fragrance strong sent her mind fleeing to her childhood. She closed her eyes and drew in a long breath. Funny how a single moment can be recaptured by something so simple as a fragrance. Wisteria climbed nearby. Strong yet fragile. Just like her.

  Lily appeared in an instant, interrupting her reverie.

  “Miz Rose, you gonna die with the taste ‘o these fresh lemons.” She handed her a large glass, the soft yellow drink with a fragrance of its own.

  “Thank you Lily. Will you have a glass with me?” She patted the seat beside her.

  “Yes’m I shore will. I’s gonna run back right now and tell Granmama you said I could.”

  Rose chuckled as Lily ran off, kicking up dirt behind her. What a good thing to be a young girl and feel such freedom of movement and mind. For some odd reason, thoughts of Ireland came to her. She shut her eyes, remembering her mother and father’s visions of the country they were born in and how they stumbled over the rocky green wavy hills, as water came down from the rocks, causing their eyes to blink at its brightness. The water was so fresh from the run down the hills, when the sun glinted against it; mother said there was no greater sight in all of Ireland.

  Lily came back with her own glass, sipping before she sat down. “You want me to pick you one o’them nosegays you like Miz Rose?” she offered.

  “I would love that. Why don’t we do it together?”

  Lily’s brown eyes got large. “You don’t want me to do it fer ya? All by myself?”

  “Would you mind much if I helped you today?”

  “No. That ain’t for me to say. I just wants to know if you don’t like the way I do it, that’s all.”

  Rose laughed lightly, caught Lily’s innocent eyes. “I love the way you twist the vines around the stems like you do. I’ve learned to do that from you. But I think it might be fun if we make two of them. One for the house, one for your Granmama. It’s her birthday today, you know.”

  “Tis? We never talks ‘bout birthdays. Sometimes we don’t know for sure what day we was borned.” She paused. “How’d you know?”

  “Well, I have her papers. And she knows her birthday. It’s July 13th 1832. She was born in Jackson, Mississippi.”

  “She never done tole me any o’that.” Lily sipped again, thinking. “How we get on over here in Charleston, den?”

  Rose decided, she had said too much. And not knowing what Portia intended to share with her granddaughter, she changed the topic. “I’m finished. Shall we get started?”

  “Yep.” Lily put the glasses on a side table, making sure they sat dead center so they would not get knocked off. “Granmama tole me not to break these fine glasses. She was mad ‘cause I took one o’em for my lemonade.”

  “They’re just glasses, Lily, but thank you for being so careful.”

  “I knows where the knife is.” She ran for the knife stuck in the ground for such purposes. “You be wantin’ them scissors you like to use?”

  “I’ll get them.” Rose hurried away. When she came back, Lily was rooted to the same spot.

  “You don’t haf to be gettin’ yo own scissors. I’m to be doin’ dat. Granmama says so.”

  “I’m sorry, Lily. It’s okay if I do some of my own getting.” She laughed. “I was just giving you a rest.” She gave herself a few moments and then said, “You and your family are free. You’re not slaves anymore.”

  “I knows that. Den you be wantin’ us to go Miz Rose?”

  Rose saw the fear in her eyes.

  “Of course not. You’re my paid staff.”

  “Well ain’t we sposed to get what you need then?”

  Rose laughed. “Yes.” And left it at that.

  Lily expressed her relief with a huge smile. “We best get goin’. Granmama goin’ to be calling me to help with suppuh any minute now.”

  “Well, then let’s go.”

  “What you want first?”

  How about that vine over there.” Rose pointed. “It’s perfect for tying up the bouquet. What colors does Portia like?”

  “She like blue. She love blue. Everthin’ she got in the cabin out back is blue.” Lily spit out.

  “You don’t like blue?”

  “I likes yellow. Like the sun.”

  “Me, too. And greens and pinks…and the white…” Rose stopped when she glanced at Lily.

  “You likes ‘em all Mis Rose.” She laughed out loud.

  Rose’s heart pitched in her chest. She loved Lily for her truthfulness, her ability to run about freely and enjoy everything she put her hands to. Perhaps that was why Lily wanted to be here.

  “You can choose your Granmama’s flowers, and make the nosegay.”

  “I can?”

  “Yes.”

  Lily’s smile was enough. “I’s gonna make her yellow. When she take ‘em home and put ‘em on that old table with the blue cloth on it….they’re going to shine like the sun
on top o’the water.”

  “Very good idea! Just think how bright they will make the table look.”

  Lily was too busy to note her last sentence. She was scurrying around the garden, cutting every yellow flower, with a few white ones added here and there while the bouquet was forming in her smooth brown hands.

  Rose watched and without Lily’s notice, she went behind choosing the same arrangement. When they were ready to tie the stems with the vine, Lily’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head.

  “You done just like I done!”

  “Yes, I did. I like what you made, so I chose the very same flowers.” Rose announced.

  Chapter 17

  The birthday flowers delivered and Portia freed from her duties for the evening, Rose ate leftover ham with bread and cheese, much to Portia’s dismay.

  “Miz Rose, it ain’t right you eaten them leftovers from yesterday. Birthdays don’t mean much to us colored folk.”

  “You’re free, remember?”

  “Yes’m. I ain’t trying to say nothin’ unkind, but you’s know xactly what I mean, right Miz Rose?”

  Rose had told her a dozen times that she was free. Captain Lovell had seen to that right after the Proclamation, but Portia could not imagine herself anywhere but serving the Captain and his young wife.

  “I do, Portia. I do. Could we count it then that you are free this evening to do anything you wish?”

  “Chile you knows I ain’t happy less I’m doing for ya. Fact, you and Captain Lovell been good to me and Emmanuel and taking in Lily and Thomas like you did…well, we thanks you.”

  Rose felt uncomfortable. “I’m so happy you are with us, Portia. I don’t know what I’d do without all of you. I’d be here alone.”

  “Chile you know we ain’t leavin’ ya…you be like a newborn babe without yo parents, and the Cap’n gone all the time like he is. But you stand up straight and do your duty and you’s love us like family. We ain’t a’goin’ nowhere. You tell me to take the evenin’ off we’s doing it! Me and Emmanuel’ll sit on the porch out back o’ the cabin and drink lemonade, if that’s all right wit you.”

  Rose smiled and looked into Portia’s dark eyes. “I’m so thankful for you. Enjoy your time with Emmanuel. Take that pitcher of lemonade with you. And don’t forget your flowers.”