Ruth Langan - Dulcie's Gift

Barc pushed away from the table. “It’s time we got to work. By now, Cal has probably plowed another acre. Or five. He seems in an especially dark mood today. That always means more work than usual.”

Dar stood and followed him from the room without a word. For a moment Aunt Bessie watched them go with a look of sadness in her eyes. Then, as if pulling herself back from her thoughts, she faced the two young women.

“You may begin with Barclay’s room. I’ll send the children along to help after they’ve eaten their breakfast.” As Dulcie and Starlight got up from the table, she added, “But don’t bother with Calhoun’s room. He left word that he did not want anything disturbed.”

Barc’s room did indeed reek of cigar smoke. And whiskey. A crystal decanter of aged bourbon stood on the nightstand, along with an impressive array of legal tomes, which showed evidence of having been much read.

Dulcie and Starlight threw open the windows and stripped the bedding. At Dulcie’s insistence, Starlight was allowed to help only with lighter tasks, which would not tax her fragile strength.

With Robert’s help Dulcie hauled the feather mattress outside, where she beat it and left it in the sun to air. When the children had finished breakfast, they helped scrub the floors until they gleamed, under the stern, watchful eye of Aunt Bessie. Nathaniel again worked on the stones of the fireplace until all the soot had been removed.

In Dar’s room Dulcie and Starlight found a lantern still burning beside a pile of books on his night table.

“Absentminded,” Starlight muttered as she began to clean the blackened chimney of the lantern.

“Look at all the books!” Dulcie exclaimed.

There were history books stacked on the hearth. Books on astronomy, science, biology on a table near the window. Mathematics books, English textbooks, poetry peeking out from beneath his bed.

“Do you think anyone could read all these?” Starlight asked.

“Of course,” Dulcie replied. “Why else would they be here?”

Starlight seemed awestruck as she flipped through the pages. “So many things to read. To understand. To know. He must be…brilliant.”

Dulcie found herself agreeing, though she said nothing. The shy man who inhabited this room showed a curious, questing mind. It would seem, she thought as she and Starlight filled a pitcher with fresh water and returned clean rugs to the floor, that Dar Jermain was more complex than he appeared. Though the man said very little, he was obviously well versed on a variety of subjects.

Aunt Bessie’s room was a curious mix of neatness and clutter. Her huge four-poster was mounded with pillows.

“Seven,” Starlight exclaimed in surprise as she began removing them. “Imagine that. How can anyone use seven pillows?”

“Perhaps she’s a restless sleeper,” Dulcie said as she stripped the rest of the bedding.

Aunt Bessie’s armoire was a model of efficiency, her gowns hung in orderly rows, shoes set in pairs beneath, hats and gloves laid out on a shelf above. Her jewelry, on the other hand, carelessly spilled from a satin case and covered almost every inch of her dressing table. The mantel above the fireplace was crammed with more crystal figurines, heavy silver candlesticks, various bric-a-brac and souvenirs from Bessie’s world travels.

A chaise was pulled up in front of the fireplace. Tossed negligently over it was an ornate Oriental dressing gown.

“Dulcie,” Starlight called, tracing a finger over the patterns on the silk, “whatever are these?”

“They would appear to be Chinese characters,” Dulcie said.

“Do you think Aunt Bessie has been all the way to China?”

Dulcie smiled. “I wouldn’t be at all surprised.”

“Just think,” Starlight said with a sigh. “She has led such an exciting life, and I’ve never been anywhere except Charleston. And, of course, this island.”

Dulcie glanced out the window, her gaze drawn to the figures working in the distant field. “Papa used to say it doesn’t matter where you live. It’s how you live that counts.”

It was dinnertime. Upstairs in the hallway Clara clutched Dulcie’s hand so tightly her knuckles were white from the effort. She and Fiona were about to be presented to the household, and she was plainly nervous. Dulcie gave her a reassuring smile, and when Fiona and the others joined them, the group descended the stairs.

As they entered the dining room, Cal, Barc and Dar were standing to one side of the room talking among themselves. All three men had, as usual, changed from their work garb into white shirts and dark suits.

Aunt Bessie, already seated at the head of the table, wore a gown of black satin, with a rope of iridescent pearls that shimmered in the candlelight. Her hair had been swept up into an elegant knot secured with jeweled combs.

Dulcie led Fiona and Clara to her chair and said, “Aunt Bessie, this is my friend, Fiona O’Neil. And this,” she said, keeping her hands on the little girl’s shoulders to lend her courage, “is Clara.”

“At last we can be formally introduced,” Aunt Bessie said. “I am pleased you feel strong enough to join us.” She made an elegant, sweeping gesture with her hand. “May I present my nephews, Calhoun, Barclay and Darwin.”

The three men nodded stiffly.

“Come and sit,” Aunt Bessie invited. “Miss O’Neil, take the seat beside me. I should like to hear more about the adventure that caused your injury.”

Fiona shot a glance at Dulcie before taking the proffered chair. She was aware that the three men had suddenly taken a keen interest in her conversation as they seated themselves.

“Aye,” Fiona said softly, “’Twas indeed an adventure. When the storm broke above us, I thought we’d breathed our last. Imagine my surprise at waking up in a fine bed surrounded by such luxury.”

“Will your family not be worried?” Aunt Bessie asked sharply.

Fiona’s brogue thickened. “I’ve no family here in America. And no one to worry over the likes of me. Only Dulcie and Starlight and the children. We look out for one another.” Her loving gaze swept all of them.

The Jermain family saw that affection returned in the eyes of their guests.

Aunt Bessie summoned Robert, who entered carrying a silver tray. When he lifted the domed lid, the room was suddenly filled with the fragrance of roast turkey with sage dressing and wild rice.

“Robert can work wonders with wild game,” Aunt Bessie boasted as he circled the table.

Dulcie was grateful for his presence. Though she had warned Fiona and Clara about Aunt Bessie’s sharp tongue and keen powers of observation, she was not eager to see the little girl go through the same interrogation as Fiona. She was, in fact, determined to keep Clara as far away from Aunt Bessie as possible.

As if reading her mind, the older woman pinned Clara with a look and asked, “And how about you, child? Are you also without family?”

“This is my family,” Clara said solemnly. “Dulcie and Fiona and Starlight, and Emily and Belle and…Nathaniel.” The little boy’s name was spoken reluctantly, as though she regretted having to consider him family.

“And no one searches for any of you?”

“Searches…?” Clara turned wide eyes on Dulcie before lowering her head to stare at a spot on the table.

Robert chose that moment to pause beside Clara’s chair.

“Help yourself, little missy.”

When her hands began to tremble, Dulcie took the serving fork and filled Clara’s plate and then her own.

“Thank you, Robert,” she murmured. He would never know how grateful she was for that little interruption. Or had he done it deliberately?

As he took his seat at the table, Dulcie turned to Aunt Bessie. “I hope you don’t mind if we ask a blessing upon our food?”