The Prize. Brenda Joyce
Читать онлайн книгу.
The other young ladies were filing out of the dormitory while she continued to wash her hands. Early morning light was filtering through the dormitory’s skylights. From the corner of her eye, Virginia watched the last of the young ladies leaving the long, rectangular room. Miss Fern paused at the door. “Miss Hughes? Are you unwell?”
Virginia managed a weak smile. “I’m sorry, Miss Fern, but I am so dizzy and light-headed today.” She hung on to the bureau beside the washstand.
Miss Fern returned to her, touching her forehead lightly. “Well, you do not have a fever. But I suppose you should go to Dr. Mills directly.”
“I think you are right. I must be coming down with influenza. I need a moment, please,” Virginia said, sitting down on the edge of her narrow bed.
“Take a moment, then.” Miss Fern smiled, walked down the aisle between the twenty beds and finally left the room.
Virginia waited, silently counting, “One-two-three,” then she leapt to her feet. She hurried across the aisle to the fourth bed. She went right to the bureau there and began rummaging through contents that did not belong to her. Guilt assailed her, but she ignored it.
Sarah Lewis always had pin money, and Virginia quickly found twelve dollars and thirty-five cents. She took every penny, leaving an unsigned note instead. In it, she explained that she would pay the sum back as soon as possible. Still, it felt terrible being reduced to thievery and she could almost feel her mother’s disapproval as she watched over her daughter from heaven.
“I will pay Sarah back, Mama, every darned penny,” she whispered guiltily. But there was just no choice. She needed fare for a coach and an inn. As brave as she was, she didn’t think she could walk the entire eighty miles to Sweet Briar without several nights’ rest and a few good meals.
Virginia then reached under her bunk. In her cloak—despite the spring weather, the nights remained cool—she had wrapped her few precious personal belongings: her mother’s cameo necklace, her father’s pipe and a horsehair bracelet Tillie had made for her when she was eight. She also had an extra shirtwaist, gloves and bonnet. The entire cloak was bundled up and tied with string. Virginia went to a window at one end of the room, heaved it open and dropped the bundle to the sidewalk below.
Virginia somehow slowed her eager legs and walked demurely downstairs, passing two of the school’s staff as she did so. Finally she reached the end of the hall. Ahead lay the gracious, high-ceilinged foyer of the building. There, marble floors vied with dark wood columns and even darker wood paneling. The front door wasn’t kept locked during the day, as no student ever walked out. Virginia looked carefully around. This was her chance to escape, but if someone saw her now, it was over before her journey had even begun.
Footsteps sounded from a different hall. Virginia darted back around the corner, not daring to breathe, hearing two voices and recognizing them as belonging to the music master and the French professor. She assumed they would cross the foyer and come her way—all of the classrooms lay behind her. Virginia looked around and slipped into the janitor’s closet.
The pair of instructors passed.
Virginia was sweating. She had also lost all patience. She cracked open the door and saw that the hallway was empty. She slipped out, peered into the foyer and found that empty, too. She inhaled hard for courage and rushed across, flinging open the huge and heavy front door. She stepped outside into bright spring sunlight and she smelled and even tasted freedom. God, it was good!
She ran down the walk and out the wrought-iron front gates, down the public sidewalk, around the corner, and found her bundled cloak. Virginia seized it and ran again.
“I’M SO HAPPY WE COULD see you most of your way, my dear,” Mrs. Cantwell said, smiling and clasping Virginia’s hands.
Three days had passed. Virginia had spent most of the first morning on foot until she had left the bustling city of Richmond behind. At a country inn she had eaten a hearty lunch, famished from her long walk. There, she had stumbled across the Cantwell family.
A matronly wife, three proper children, a plump, bespectacled husband—all traveling in a pretty private coach. Virginia had overheard their conversation, learning that they had been to Richmond to visit the husband’s ailing parents. Now they were on their way home to Norfolk. Which meant they would pass within miles of Sweet Briar.
Virginia had helped one of the small children blow his nose and had quickly become the interest of Mrs. Cantwell. She had lied about her age and marital status, claiming that she was returning home to her husband after visiting her ailing mother in Richmond. She had quickly slipped her mother’s ring to her left hand to corroborate her story. Mrs. Cantwell, upon learning of her destination, had quickly offered her a ride, clearly desperate for company and help with the children.
Now Virginia hardly heard the pleasant lady. They were at a crossroads, one sign reading Norfolk, the other reading Land’s End, Four Corners and Sweet Briar. Her heart beat so hard that she felt faint. Five miles down the road was her home. Five simple miles…
“You must miss your husband so much,” Mrs. Cantwell added.
Virginia came to life. She turned and clasped the blond woman’s hands. “Thank you so much for the ride, Lilly. I cannot thank you enough.”
“You have been so wonderful with the children!” Lilly Cantwell exclaimed. “And if we weren’t so close to home, I would insist we take you all the way to Sweet Briar so we might meet your wonderful husband.”
Virginia flushed with guilt—she’d become an adept liar as well as a thief in a very short time, and how she hated it! “May I write you?” she asked impulsively. She instantly decided she would write Lilly Cantwell and tell her the entire truth, while thanking her once again for her kindness.
“I should love to hear from you and remain friends,” Lilly cried, beaming.
The two women hugged. Virginia then hugged tiny Charlotte, tugged Master William’s ear and winked at little Thomas. She thanked Mr. Cantwell as well, and as their carriage pulled away, she thought she heard him remarking, “There’s something odd about that young lady and I still don’t think she’s old enough to be married!”
Virginia grinned. Then she spread her arms wide and laughed loudly, spinning around and around, until her feet hurt and her ankle twisted and she was so dizzy she had to drop to the ground. Lying there, she laughed again. She was home!
She quickly got up, adjusted her bundle and began running down the dirt road. The five miles passed endlessly, but every gentle field, every spring-green hill, every gushing stream only made her hurry even more. She was breathless and hot when she first spied the beautifully engraved wood sign hanging between two stately brick pillars: SWEET BRIAR. A long dirt drive wound from the entrance up a hill all the way to the house, and surrounding it were the red curing barns, the whitewashed slave quarters and the fields and fields of rich brown sandy earth.
Her heart hammered like a drum. Virginia dropped her bundle and lifted her skirts and ran up the dirt drive. “Tillie!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “Tillie! Tillie! Tillie! It’s me, I’m home, Tillie!”
Frank, Tillie’s husband, was hitching up a wagon not far from the front of the house and he saw her first. His mouth dropped open and he gaped. “Miz Virginia? Is that you?”
Behind him, his little twin boys were wide-eyed. Then, from the corner of her eye, Virginia saw the front door of the house open as Tillie stepped onto the veranda. But it was too late, she was already in Frank’s arms. “Have you lost your wits?” she cried, hugging him so hard he choked. “Of course it’s me! Who else would it be!” She stepped back, laughing up at the big young man.
“God Almighty, that fine an’ fancy school sure ain’t made you a lady,” Frank said, grinning, his teeth stunningly white against his dark skin.
“You do mean ‘thank God,’ don’t you?” Virginia teased. “Rufus, Ray, get over here and give me hugs, or don’t you remember your mistress?”
The