The Dollmaker's Daughter, page 11
Simon took her hand and brought her back around to face him. “Amity.”
She turned her face toward him. He could see her question in the weak candlelight of the parlor window.
“I’m sorry I nearly kissed you last night.”
“You are?”
“We said we were friends, and I nearly trespassed—I guess I got carried away.”
A deep sigh escaped her lips. “It’s all right, Simon. It was almost like we were home again.”
“The years fell away, and I felt…”
She took a step back. “Let’s not talk about it—there is no need to analyze everything to death.” Her hand swiped the air in between them wiping away the momentum building to a second attempt to capture those soft red lips. “Shall we continue our walk?”
He offered his arm. Amity took it lightly and still a spark jolted through him. He could not feel it, for the necessary arm was engaged, but he wondered if the stone was glowing in his pocket. It certainly didn’t feel any warmer than it had earlier, but he couldn’t be sure since his entire self continued to react to her closeness. “Would you say the world is a magical place?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you, I was thinking about that house and the family in the window.”
“What about them?”
“I hope she is his wife and that those three or four heads were their children.”
“Do you?” A smile came up from somewhere deep inside. Perhaps the Amity he’d known so many years ago wasn’t that far gone after all.
15
Amity arrived back in her room to find her aunt asleep by the fire. The volume of Mrs. Peabody’s Adventure in Scotland sat open on her chest. Too flustered to sleep, and too cold to sit at the small desk provided, Amity retrieved her lap desk from her case and sat on the opposite side of the fire hoping her aunt would waken. Not that she knew what she would say. She couldn’t very well be disappointed that the man she flatly refused by reason of unsuitability wouldn’t kiss her. That the laughter they’d shared the night before melted the years away and her heart reacted to him as it did when she was fifteen. It was dangerous to think this way. Especially since his heart may truly belong to another.
“His heart doesn’t belong to another.” Clementine croaked.
“I didn’t realize I spoke aloud.”
“Simon Morgan has no more interest in Winifred Blackstoke than you do.”
“Blackstone.”
“What?”
“Her name is Winifred Blackstone.”
“It doesn’t matter what her name is, he isn’t interested.” Clementine continued to croak over a parched throat. “Give me some coffee, will you?”
Amity refilled her aunt’s dish from the pot on the table between them.
“How do you know that? She is beyond beautiful, and she has a scientific mind. I would never read about electricity unless I absolutely had to, and I pray I never shall.”
“Dear child, men do not look to supply themselves with what they already have.”
“He told me tonight he was sorry he nearly kissed me—not kissed me—just that he nearly kissed me.” Tears threatened. “I can’t believe I told you that.”
Clementine chuckled. “Child, you do remind me of your father, but the boldness—that comes from your mother.”
Amity wiped her eyes.
Her aunt pointed at her. “You may trust me in this. Simon Morgan is biding his time.”
“For what?”
“Did you not tell me that you refused him, went so far as to tell him that you thought you wouldn’t suit?”
Amity cast her gaze to the fire. “I did.”
“That is why he’s biding his time. When the time is right, and he is sure of you, then you will hear from him again. Until then, he’ll play it safe. Can you blame him?”
“I guess not.”
“And listen to me. You must let him move in his own time. Don’t do anything. He has to do this for himself or he’ll never be sure.”
“Sure of what?”
“That he did the right thing. He must believe in himself. And he must know that you believe in him too.”
~*~
Thomas stepped into Winfred Blackstone’s and closed the door behind him. “I’ve brought the men, Freddie, but you are making a mistake.”
She pointed at him. “Don’t you presume to tell me—”
“They are bad men, Freddie.”
“Good.” Her smile trembled a bit, so she shut her lips. “That’s what I need.”
“But—”
“Save your breath. I will do what I must to save Wilfred.”
“Freddie—”
“Leave.”
He turned, placed a hand on the lintel as though he would say more. Took a deep breath. Dropped his hand and left the room. He wouldn’t waver, not when it came right down to it. Whatever it was, she’d always been able to count on Thomas Burns. The only man since Charlie who wouldn’t cheat her. When this was over, she’d have to think of a way to thank him.
When this was over, she was going to sell the tavern and take Wilfred far away. They’d go wherever he wanted. Somewhere from the picture books he loved. She would spare no expense. And she’d give Thomas enough to make a new life for himself as well. It was a good plan.
Boot-steps scraped the stairs.
She opened the drawer of her desk to make her loaded pistol easy to grab and steeled herself to meet her enablers. “Thomas!”
He popped his head in the door.
“Send them in.”
One tall, the other short. They didn’t smell for all they looked like dirt clods. The tall one talked. The short one leered.
Thomas left the door half open.
“Him outside says ye be wanting our services.”
The short one revealed a mouthful of blackened teeth and placed one foot closer. “What kind o’ service might you be wanting, lady?”
Winifred recoiled.
The tall one put a hand on the chest of his partner.
Thomas stepped into the room.
Winifred straightened. “I should like you to retrieve an item from a gentleman who will arrive here tomorrow evening or possibly the next night.”
“And just what might that be?”
Winifred described the stone. “He keeps the stone with him at all times, so you will have to take it from him somewhere. Not here. I do not want any of this to take place here. Do you understand?”
The tall man took affront to her tone. “We understand, lady. We wouldn’ta got where we are today if we didn’t understand our business.”
The short one showed his teeth again.
“Thomas will send you word when the gentleman has arrived.” She placed a small bag of coins on the table. “The first half. Second half when I have the stone.”
The short one retrieved the bag and weighed it in his hand. “Feels about right,” And handed it off to the tall one.
The man poured the gold into his palm. “This’ll do.”
“Thomas will send word.”
“We’ll be around.”
“Not here.”
He made a fist around the coin. “I said we understood.”
“This way, gentlemen.” Thomas waved them toward the door and closed it behind them.
Winifred dropped into her chair to let the trembling dissipate. Then she went to her son’s room and climbed into bed.
16
Long journeys make normally embarrassing things less so. The morning meal at Port Royal had been generous, and Amity and Clementine had indulged in an extra dish of coffee. Amity felt not a pang of red face when she required the driver to stop an hour and a half into their journey.
Once again, they travelled on a narrow road lined with dense woods on either side. She and Clementine picked their way through the woods on the right side of the carriage. Simon and the male servants took the left side. A warmer day than the couple they’d spent at Tappahannock, Amity was glad to be out to stretch her legs.
Once safely out of direct site of the carriage Clementine leaned against a tree. Amity went a little off to the left to seek privacy for herself and give her aunt a little as well. Amity righted her skirts and walked back the way she came.
“Amity! Run!” Clementine’s screech reached her as she made her way around the large tree that separated them. Clementine stood in front of a large bear. Stiff and moving groggily on all fours, it looked as though it had recently awakened. Behind her Lucy’s footsteps cracked twigs.
“Lucy, run!”
Amity ran toward Clementine. There was no way the older woman could outrun a bear. Dear Lord, don’t let it have cubs.
She reached Clementine as the bear stood on its hind legs. Clementine stuck out her left arm to shield Amity while pushing her with her right hand. The bear swiped. A loud crack burst through the trees. The bear reeled back toppling onto all fours. Another burst and the bear crumpled.
Clementine slipped to the earth. Blood pooled in her lap where she rested her wounded arm.
Simon handed Amity his rifle. He lifted Clementine into his arms and strode quickly through the woods.
“Find brandy and bandages.” He called to George, who had been driving the wagon of provisions.
“Stop fussing. I’m all right.”
“Place her in the wagon. It’s too dark in the carriage.” Amity commanded.
Clementine rested against the side boards of the wagon. Amity knelt on the floor. Once in position so she would not touch her aunt needlessly, she gently peeled away the remnants of the cotton print clinging to shredded skin.
“You’ve got three deep gashes and a fourth that’s not as deep. “Amity did not turn to look at Simon standing behind her. “We’d better get going. The sooner we get to a doctor the better.”
“Are you sure you are up to it, Mrs. Foster?”
“Yes.”
Amity poured water over the gashes.
While they waited for the brandy, Clementine broke out in tremors. Amity covered her with blankets from the carriage. Clementine closed her eyes. Lines of laughter deepened in her pain made the strong face fragile. Amity finger brushed escaped strands from the dear face. After what seemed like three hours, but was probably five minutes, Lucy stood by with strips of clean cloth and a bottle of brandy.
“Are you ready?”
Clementine opened her eyes. Fear sat in the deep recesses of hazel brown gaze, and then firmed into courage. Clementine nodded her head.
Amity nodded back. “I’ve got you.”
“Miss Clementine, I’m coming up there.” Clementine’s gaze flew to Lucy. She climbed up and over Clementine in a flash, tucked herself in behind the older lady, and nodded. Lucy took her free hand in hers.
Amity uncorked the brandy and got a further nod from Clementine.
Clementine clenched as the brandy hit her wounds and muted a cry. Amity poured one more time for good measure and gingerly wrapped the wounds. Clementine resumed shaking. Simon carried her to the carriage. Amity climbed in first and had Clementine placed in her lap. It was only way she could think to keep her warm and reduce the shaking.
Clementine opened her eyes again. “Mr. Morgan?”
He stopped and looked back at her.
“Thank you.”
“You are very welcome. Let’s hope this is the last adversity on this trip.”
Clementine gave him a shaky grin. “Agreed.”
“Simon.” Amity hoped her voice was calm.
He turned.
“Perhaps you should ride ahead and make sure a doctor is available when we arrive.”
“Not yet,” he snapped.
“We’ll be all right,” She snapped back. “Trust me; no one will get me out of this carriage before we arrive in Fredericksburg.”
He rolled his eyes. “We are too far out, Amity. Nothing is to be gained for me to arrive three hours before you do.”
Clementine patted her hand. “Let’s just go. We are staying at Charlie Blackstone’s Tavern.”
The bottom went out of Amity’s stomach. Blackstone’s Tavern? Could it be the same Blackstone? It must be. Mrs. Blackstone came from Fredericksburg, and she’d heard the woman owned a tavern.
“It’s the best one in town. My William always stayed there.”
Amity squelched her dismay and brushed her fingers over her aunt’s forehead. “Don’t worry about a thing, Aunt Clementine, rest.” Amity faced the window and prayed for health for her aunt and wisdom for herself. A sojourn with Simon and Mrs. Blackstone was the least of her worries. She had plenty to keep her occupied tending her aunt. But she didn’t relish the idea one bit.
~*~
Blackstone’s did look like the nicest tavern in town. It compared favorably to the large residences they passed as they made their way through the square grid of Fredericksburg. Mr. Burns, a tall man with a sleek figure and black hair tied neatly back in a queue, met their carriage. After hearing about Aunt Clementine’s mishap, he sent a boy to get the doctor.
Aunt Clementine opened her eyes as Amity was introduced.
Simon carried Aunt Clementine and followed Mr. Burns to her room.
As they were getting Aunt Clementine settled, the doctor arrived. Quick introductions and a recounting of their adventure took place. The doctor nodded as he listened. After uncorking a bottle, Dr. Solomon gave Clementine a small draft. “This will help with the pain.”
In a very few moments, Clementine slackened into the bed. Relief relaxed rigid muscles.
The doctor straightened the arm and removed the bandages. “You have done an admirable job of cleaning the wound, Miss Archer.” He worked methodically re-cleaning and stitching each laceration. Dr. Solomon didn’t look up until he’d finished. “There is always a risk that she could lose the arm. Your quick action may have saved her that.”
“How long will it take before she’s better?”
“You should expect to stay here at least a week, maybe ten days.”
He left her with a small bottle containing a physic that Clementine could take to sleep. While she still slept, Amity slipped to her own room to retrieve her writing desk. She must write to her father and make him aware of the attack and her aunt’s condition. It might be wise for them to turn back once Clementine healed. She couldn’t imagine that Clementine would wish to continue after such an ordeal.
The room was as Clementine promised, clean with a warm fire. They were the only guests, so Clementine and Amity had separate rooms. Tonight she would spend next to her aunt, and every night until she knew she was out of danger.
She slipped back into Clementine’s room to compose her letters by a small window overlooking the street. A red sunset set her paper aglow before she’d finished her missives.
They were disturbed only by a maid bearing dinner of beef stew and bread. Clementine sipped broth from the stew but wanted nothing heavier.
Amity found her mouth-watering at the aroma and tucked away all her stew and a good slice of bread and butter.
~*~
Simon followed the maid as she went to collect the dinner tray from Clementine’s room. Amity was seated by the window.
“How is she?” he asked.
“Mr. Morgan, it would behoove you to practice whispering, I could hear you all the way over here.” Amity’s aunt opened her eyes.
“My apologies, Mrs. Foster. I thought I was whispering.”
“To answer your question, I’m doing as well as can be expected. Dr. Solomon says I may still lose my arm, but he thinks probably not. We can expect to stay here at least a week.”
Concern never left Amity’s countenance.
“Now I wish you both to leave me so that I may get some sleep.”
“Go ahead Simon. I’ll stay with my aunt tonight.”
“Leave me, my dear. I’ll call if I need you.”
“I will stay while you sleep.”
“No. I can’t sleep with you staring at me. I’m not dying. Go away.” She flicked her good hand in dismissal.
Amity gawked.
“I’ll see you in the morning. If I need you before then I’ll call.”
“Promise.”
“I promise.”
Amity gathered her desk and followed Simon out of the room pulling the door closed.
“What if I can’t hear her?”
“Amity!”
She dashed into the room.
“There. You can hear me. Now, go away.” Clementine winked.
Amity’s breath rushed out and with it the anxiety that had kept her rigid all day.
“Would you care to take a walk? Stretch your legs?” Simon asked.
“Yes, she would.” Clementine called from her bed. “Lucy!”
Lucy walked into the room. “Listen for me, will you, so Amity can go for a walk?” Lucy nodded her agreement. “And I heard your aunt. Now, for the last time, go away.”
The last strands of red sunset threaded through wispy lines of rising fog. Simon offered his arm because he could not gather her into his embrace. When she linked her arm with his, he placed his hand over hers and closed the distance between them. Relieved she didn’t resist the closer contact, he led her toward the moonrise over the river. “I look forward to our walks at the end of the day.”
“I do too.” She turned her face toward him, her lips slightly upturned. “There is something good about being out here in God’s world after being in a carriage all day.” Her plaintive tone was not like her usual garrulous manner. She didn’t tease or cajole.
Beyond the warehouses on Sophia Street, across the Rappahannock River, a great brick house adorned a small hillock. Its silver-tipped fields waited for spring. A pang for his own fields tugged his chest. “Are you missing home?”
“Maybe a little.”
“Are you quite sure you’re all right?”
They walked a few steps more past a smaller warehouse. She said nothing but stepped off the street and paused next to a tree to stare out at the river. “I am tired. I am worried for my aunt. But I, myself, am doing well.” She paused and took an audible breath before continuing. “When I saw the bear—it is the second time you’ve come to our rescue on this trip.”
The image of the bear rising above her razored through him. Hands on her shoulders he turned her to face him. “When I saw the bear towering over you…”
