Joy for Mourning. Dorothy Clark
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Tilly had joined in the drawing room. “Fitz, you and John carry these rugs outside and beat them clean. Tilly, dust and wax the furniture, then clean and polish the fireplace tools and fender. Sally, you clean the chandeliers.”
Grace Barnes placed her fisted hands on her hips and watched as the maid began climbing the ladder with flannel cleaning rags draped over her shoulder and a bucket dangling from her hand. “Did you add a good splash of vinegar to that water?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“All right, then. When you’re through with the chandeliers, do the glass doors on the corner cabinets, then wash the windows.” Grace Barnes headed for the door, then turned back again. “When you’ve finished your tasks in here, move on to the library and do the same.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The chorus of assent followed the housekeeper as she hurried out the door, across the large entrance hall and into the parlor. “You wished to see me, madam?”
“Yes.” Laina looked up from the paper in her hand. “The servants from Randolph Court are here. I sent them upstairs. Please go assign them their tasks.”
“Yes, madam.”
“And have one of them gather all the bed curtains, linens, testers and window drapery and take them to the Chinese laundry downtown. With all we have to do, even with the loan of my brother’s servants, we shall be overwhelmed if we do not make use of the laundry’s services.”
“Yes, madam. I’ll attend to it immediately.” The housekeeper turned to go and almost bumped into Elizabeth. “Good day, Mrs. Randolph.” She stepped aside to let Elizabeth pass, then hurried from the room.
“Elizabeth! I wasn’t expecting you to come over.” Laina smiled. “This must mean Sarah is feeling better.”
“Yes, she’s fine. I suspect her stomach upset was caused by too much candy.” Elizabeth shook her head and smiled. “And I’m certain I know the culprit. I shall have a talk with Justin tonight.” She laughed and looked around.
“How wonderful to see this room restored.” Elizabeth brushed her hand over the blue silk brocade fabric covering a couch placed at a right angle to the paneled wall graced by a marble fireplace at its center. The couch faced a pair of chairs with padded seats covered in blue, magenta and cream stripes. There was a piecrust tea table between the chairs. “I like the way you’ve placed the furniture. It’s very inviting.”
“Thank you. Would you care to sit down?” Laina laughed and looked about. “I’m afraid this is the only room at the moment where that is possible. And my abilities as a hostess are severely limited.” She gave Elizabeth a wry look. “I can offer you a cup of tea.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Don’t fuss, Laina. I didn’t come to be entertained. I came to see if there is anything more we can do to help. And to see the progress you’re making. I love this house. It’s exciting to watch it coming to life again.”
“Then would you care to join me on a short tour? I was about to take one myself.” Laina smiled. “If I’m to take Abigail’s place as the head of Philadelphia society everything must be perfect.” She led the way out into the entrance hall, turned right and walked a short way to the dining room. “Oh, they’ve finished!” She stepped through the doorway, then stopped at Elizabeth’s gasp.
“You’ve had it painted!”
“Yes. I love—”
“Color!”
Elizabeth finished the sentence for her, and both women burst into laughter.
“Do you like it?”
“It’s beautiful!” Elizabeth glanced from the tureen with Grecian figures and vine border sitting on the sideboard to the alcoves flanking the marble fireplace centered in a paneled wall. “The cranberry-colored alcoves are truly striking against the green of the paneling, Laina. And they match the color on your dishes perfectly.”
“Yes. It’s exactly what I wanted.” No. It would never be what she really wanted. Laina shoved the thought away and ran her hand along the edge of the large dining table. “I shall have lovely dinner parties here, just as Abigail did.” She looked at Elizabeth and smiled. “Shall we go on to the morning room?” She turned and led the way out the door.
“Sunshine walls and window shutters the color of spring leaves. It looks like summer!” Elizabeth stepped into the smaller room and turned in a slow circle. “What a lovely room to breakfast in on a cold, gray winter’s day. It would be impossible to be gloomy in this room.”
“I pray you’re right, for that was my intent.”
“Is there something you wish, Mrs. Brighton?”
Laina turned to face Beaumont, who was standing in the doorway of the butler’s pantry across the hall. “No, nothing.”
Her voice sounded flat and emotionless. She forced a smile and turned back to Elizabeth. “Would you like to see the music room and ballroom? They’ve finished painting them also.”
He was right! Cleanliness and fresh air in the sickroom were of great benefit. The tests run by Dr. Bettencourt and his associates continued to prove it. Excitement coursed through Thad. He read on. The theory of alcohol applied to wounds keeping infection at bay was proving out, as well. Hmm…
Thad folded the letter from Paris, placed it on the table beside the chair, then leaned back and plowed the fingers of both his hands through his thick, straight hair. The carefully groomed-down cowlick at his hairline sprang to life. He could feel the hair rise straight up at the roots, then flop over onto his forehead—the ends tickled the skin above his right eye. He brushed them back, to no avail.
Thad frowned and straightened in the chair. Alcohol. His eyes narrowed in speculation and his right knee began to jiggle up and down. If one could stop the infection in wounds…
He had to find a way to convince his fellow physicians at the Pennsylvania Hospital to try the new procedures. He simply had to. And what more could he do to convince his patients to let him try the unconventional methods of treatment? He’d explained, urged, cajoled and plain out begged, and still they clung to the old beliefs.
Thad jumped to his feet as someone thudded a fist against his front door.
“Doc? Open the door, Doc!” The slurred words were accompanied by more thudding. Thad pulled his watch from his pocket. They were starting early tonight. He flipped the rug in his small entrance back out of harm’s way and opened the door.
“Ya gotta help me mate, Doc. He got stuck.”
A tall, thin sailor stood on the stoop squinting at Thad through the blood streaming from a jagged cut over his right eye. He was supporting a burly man nearly twice his size by holding the man’s beefy arm across his shoulders. The bloodstain on the wounded man’s shirt was spreading.
“Bring him in.” Thad motioned for the sailor to follow, walked into his office and stepped over to the table he’d cleaned earlier. “Put him here.”
The sailor propped his semiconscious mate between himself and the table, then bent and hefted him up by placing his arms around the man’s knees.
“Ugh!” The wounded sailor’s eyes opened. He grabbed Thad’s arm and gave him a bleary-eyed glare. “Need a drink.”
Alcohol! Thad’s pulse picked up speed. “You need a good dose of common sense. Release my arm or you’ll get no help from me.” He waited till the drunken sailor complied, then lifted the blood-soaked shirt and stared at the deep slit just below the man’s rib cage. He frowned, picked up the two lengths of rope draped over a nearby chair and tossed them to the seaman standing on the other side of the table.
“Tie his hands together under the table and bind his feet to the legs.” Heart racing, Thad pulled the whiskey he used to help deaden pain from his doctor’s bag, splashed