Dulcie's Gift. Ruth Langan
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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?”
“Do you really believe He can keep track of so many of us, Miss Trenton?” Without waiting for a reply the older woman turned to her middle nephew. “Would you like to lead us in prayer, Barclay?”
“I’m out of practice,” he said as Dulcie and the others clasped hands beneath the tablecloth, “but I’ll do my best.” He paused. “Heavenly Father, bless this charming company, especially the two who have been given the strength to finally join us, and bless this fine food, which You have so generously provided.”
“Amen,” chimed in the others.
“I see your oratorical skills did not fail you,” Aunt Bessie said dryly. “Now if only you could pass them along to your brothers.” She turned to Cal. “How is the planting coming?”
“Slow.” He dragged his gaze from Dulcie, who had taken great pains to soothe the anxious little girl beside her. There was more going on here than met the eye. All of them were afraid of something or someone. He pulled his thoughts back to his aunt’s question. “The storm ruined one field of seedlings. That set us back about a week or more. Looks like another storm is brewing. If it hits, we’ll probably have another washout.”
“What we need are a dozen more field hands,” Barc said wryly. “Dar and I can’t keep up with Cal’s plowing. He’s like a man possessed, working from sunup to sundown. I believe he’d work through the night if he could.”
Nathaniel’s head came up. “I could help,” he said around a mouthful of sweet potatoes.
Barc’s eyes warmed with amusement. “You’re not quite what I had in mind, lad.”
“But I’m a good worker. Tell him, Dulcie,” the boy pleaded. “Tell him I could help.”
She studied his earnest expression a moment before saying softly, “Indeed you could, Nathaniel. In fact—” her voice rose with excitement “—we could all help with the planting.”
“It isn’t fit work for women and children,” Cal said sternly.
“But—” Dulcie began.