Gossamer

by Rebecca Hagan Lee

  Will was right. Not everyone was brought up with a working knowledge of infants. This morning Elizabeth hadn’t known how to diaper a baby or how to feed and burp one, but then, three and a half years ago, neither had he. James steepled his fingers, propped his chin on his index fingers, and nodded. “I’d forgotten,” he admitted to Will. “Ruby has been a part of my life for so long now, it’s hard for me to remember what my life was like before diapers and bottles and governesses.”

  “Is it really so hard to remember, Jamie?”

  “No,” James answered truthfully. “Sometimes it seems like yesterday. I wake up in a cold sweat and I remember …” His voice broke for a second before he regained his composure. “I remember what life was like before Ruby. And then I find myself standing in the doorway of the nursery in the middle of the night just watching her sleep. I’ll never forget. I can’t forget.”

  “I know, Jamie.” Will straightened, took his feet off the desk, then reached out in a show of emotion and clapped James on the shoulder. “I know.”

  They sat quietly for a moment, each lost in his own thoughts until Will broke the silence. “Will tomorrow morning be soon enough? Or would you like me to leave after the meeting this afternoon?”

  “You just got back from the mining camp,” James reminded him.

  “So? You just returned from San Francisco,” Will retorted. “Besides, if I’m going to be digging for information that’s weeks or even months old, I’d best get started before the trail gets much colder.”

  “Do you still have that friend at the Chronicle?” James asked.

  “Yes,” Will answered. “And he likes to entertain the ladies, but he doesn’t usually have two copper pennies to rub together. I figure this will cost me a few theater tickets, a few bottles of good brandy, and some champagne.”

  James threw open his arms. “My wine cellar is yours. And I’ll be more than happy to reimburse you for theater tickets, hotel rooms, whatever …”

  Will winked at him. “I’ll remember that.”

  James shook his head, then grinned at Will. “I owe you an apology, Will, for my behavior this morning. I don’t know what came over me.”

  Will laughed. “I do. It reminds me of old times, except that this time, she’s about five feet, eight inches tall, with streaky golden brown hair, extraordinary blue-green eyes, and an independent spirit.”

  “Not my usual type.” James’s smile was sadder this time. “I don’t understand it.”

  “You’ve suffered enough, Jamie, and more than paid for any imagined sins,” Will said. “Perhaps it’s time for a change.”

  Nineteen

  IT WAS TIME for a change. Elizabeth took a clean diaper from the stack on the bureau and positioned it in the center of the thin cotton pillow atop it. She opened the lid on the tin of talcum powder in preparation and placed it, along with a damp facecloth, within easy reach, then approached the newborn lying in her crib with equal measures of determination and trepidation.

  “Need any help, miss?” Delia called from the playroom where she was wiping down the small round table and setting out the bowls and spoons in preparation for the luncheon of chicken and rice Mrs. G. was sending up to the nursery for the Treasures.

  Help? She didn’t need help. She needed rescuing. But she wasn’t about to let Delia know that. Instead of handing over the diaper, the facecloth, and the talcum powder as any normal obviously-out-of-her-depths woman would do, Elizabeth called back, “No, thank you, Delia. You finish the lunch preparations. I’ll take care of Diamond.” She leaned over the crib and lifted Diamond out of her little bed, carefully supporting the baby’s head as she had watched James do, and carried her over to the bureau. “We can do this, can’t we Diamond?” Elizabeth flattened her lips into a thin, determined line and prepared for battle. “We can do this.”

  To Elizabeth’s immense surprise and satisfaction, Diamond seemed to agree. She demonstrated her cooperation by quietly submitting to the procedure, enduring Elizabeth’s awkwardness and inexperience with grace and patience.

  When Diamond’s fresh undergarment was pinned firmly into place, Elizabeth, feeling the first flush of renewed confidence, gently eased the baby’s arms out of the sleeves of her nightgown, then pulled the damp garment over Diamond’s head and replaced it with another white cotton gown. She lifted Diamond from the cotton padding and held her cradled securely in the crook of her left arm, while she deftly gathered the dirty garments and facecloth and deposited them into the laundry pail. Wanting to share her victory with someone, Elizabeth hummed beneath her breath and rocked Diamond to and fro in her arm as she reentered the playroom.

  “That was fast, miss,” Delia commented when she looked up and saw Elizabeth standing near the doorway with Diamond in her arms.

  “Yes, it was.” Elizabeth’s voice fairly crackled with triumph. “I changed her diaper and she slept right through it.”

  “You’re lucky, miss,” Delia said. “Some babies ain’t so accommodating. My mam always says she ain’t going to risk bothering a peaceful baby just to change a nappy.” She circled the table, setting a small wooden bowl and spoon in front of three chairs. “Besides it’s a waste to change ’em every few minutes when they’re just going to need another changing soon as they suckle or wake up from a nap. Lots of times my mam doesn’t even bother with a nappy on the little ones.”

  “They go without clothing?” Elizabeth was shocked. “Inside the house?”

  “Of course, inside the house,” Delia told her. “The little ones are too small to be outside yet. Letting ’em go without saves on laundry.” She shrugged her shoulders once again as if having naked children running around a cottage soiling themselves was an accepted part of life. And indeed it was, for children less fortunate than James Cameron Craig’s precious Treasures.

  “What about their beds? Doesn’t letting them go without a diaper ruin the bedding?” Not to mention the unsanitary conditions in the house and the smell and the mess.

  Delia shook her head. “Nah. The little ones don’t sleep in beds like these. My mam spreads layers of newspaper on the floor in the corner of our house and the little ones sleep there.”

  “How many little ones are there?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Well,” Delia paused. “There’s Mam and eight of us. One older than me and six younger. And my cousin, Rose, and her little one lives with us.”

  Elizabeth gasped. She couldn’t imagine eight children, nine if you counted Cousin Rose’s child, in one family. Nor could she imagine the responsibilities Delia, who couldn’t be a day over fourteen, as the second oldest had had to bear. “What about your father?”

  “He died two winters ago, miss. He took the sniffles and died.” Delia shivered at the memory. “Imagine a big strong man like that dying of the sniffles after traversing the prairie building the railroad out from Missouri. I tell you my mam still ain’t got over it. Him up and dying and leaving us alone in Coryville. If he was gonna die of the sniffles, he could’ve done that back in Ireland. Not come all the way to the promised land to do it.” She turned away from the table to look at Elizabeth. “I already rang the bell for lunch. Annie should be up here with it any minute now.”

  “Will Annie be bringing up Diamond’s bottle as well?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Not yet, miss,” Delia told her. “She brings it after lunch when the Treasures go down for their naps. Little Di there usually sleeps right through her sisters’ lunch and wakes in time for a bottle while the others are napping. But you know how babies are.” She shrugged her shoulders. “If she wakes up fussy, you can take her down to the big kitchen and Mrs. G. will fix her up with a bottle quick as a flash. Is she waking early?”

  “Oh, no,” Elizabeth assured the housemaid. “She’s sleeping like an angel.”

  Delia smiled. “She’s a good one, Di is. Cheery and quiet most of the time. Not like the Queen Bee over there.” Delia nodded toward Ruby, who was arguing loudly with Garnet over a set of wooden building blocks,
then walked over to the small sink in the kitchen alcove, turned on the tap, and ran her dishcloth under the water. She turned the tap on and off several times, staring in fascination at the flow of running water.

  “How long have you worked here?” Elizabeth asked.

  “A couple of weeks,” Delia told her. “Mr. Craig hired me to help the last governess.”

  “Mr. Craig hired you?”

  “Yes,” Delia said. “He didn’t want to. He said I was too young to go to work, but my mam convinced him that we needed the money.”

  “Why didn’t Mr. Craig hire your mother as governess? Why doesn’t she work?” Elizabeth asked.

  “My mam does work,” Delia said. “She does the washing and ironing for us here at Craig House and several other fine families in Coryville. She and Rose wash and iron and take care of all the little ones. And if Mam was governess here who would take care of her little ones? Okay, girls,” Delia called to Treasures. “Time to wash up and eat.”

  Not yet ready to part with Diamond, yet knowing she would have to help Delia with the Treasures’ lunch, Elizabeth took Diamond into the bedroom, placed her down gently in the small wooden cradle, then carried the cradle back into the playroom and set it on the floor far enough from the table to be safely out of range of dropped food and spilled juice, yet close enough for Elizabeth to reach if necessary.

  “You’ll be lucky if she sleeps through this,” Delia commented as she took Ruby by the hand and prepared to wash her face with the dishcloth.

  “Wait!” Elizabeth hurried over to the sink.

  “What is it, miss?”

  Elizabeth took a clean dishcloth out of a drawer, wet it under the taps, and handed it to Delia. “Use this one.”

  “What for?”

  “You used the other one to scrub the table,” Elizabeth explained.

  “So?”

  “The cloth you used to scrub the table is dirty.”

  “Well,” Delia protested, “Miss Ruby’s face is dirty.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “I know. But I think it would be best if you used one cloth for wiping food and spills from tables and chairs and floors and another separate clean cloth for the Treasures’ faces and hands.” She held out her hand for the dirty dishcloth and Delia reluctantly handed it over.

  “Seems like a waste to me,” Delia grumbled, wiping Ruby’s face and hands. “Dirty is dirty. And your way will mean a lot more laundry for Mam and Rose to wash.”

  Elizabeth pulled another cloth from the drawer, wet it, and called Garnet and Emerald over to the sink. “From now on, we’ll use separate dishcloths and facecloths and,” Elizabeth added, thinking about how uncomfortable she had been this morning in her soiled nightgown and how eager she had been to bathe and change into her favorite blue-striped morning gown, “we’ll change dirty clothes and wet and soiled diapers as soon as we realize they need changing. I won’t have the Treasures walking or crawling or lying around in filth. As my grandmother is so fond of saying, ‘cleanliness is next to godliness.’ ”

  “Well, begging your pardon, miss,” Delia replied un-charitably, eyeing the fine fabric of Elizabeth’s morning dress and her soft white hands. “But your grandmother probably had hot and cold running water. And she probably hired somebody like my mam to do her washing.”

  Elizabeth paused for a moment. “Then, look at it this way, Delia, the more laundry we dirty, the more money your mother and Rose will make washing it.”

  Delia frowned. “It don’t work that way, miss. Mam and Rose get paid the same every week no matter how much laundry they wash.”

  Elizabeth snapped her fingers in the air and grinned. “Then I’ll just have to talk to Mr. Craig about paying your mother and Rose an additional nursery bonus.”

  “Really, miss?” Delia’s brown eyes widened in something akin to awe as she stared at Elizabeth.

  “Of course,” Elizabeth assured her, bending down and following Delia’s lead by washing Garnet and Emerald’s faces and hands. “Children dirty more clothes than anyone else, so it makes perfect sense that laundresses should be paid a nursery bonus for the additional wash.”

  “Oh, miss,” Delia breathed, “if you can do that for me and Mam, I’ll be glad to change more diapers and dirty more dishcloths.”

  “Fair enough,” Elizabeth said. “I’ll hold up my end of the bargain, and I will expect you to do the same.” And if James Cameron Craig didn’t agree to supplement Delia’s mother’s and her cousin’s income, Elizabeth would request an advance against her salary for expenses and pay the supplement herself.

  ELIZABETH SIGHED. SHE pulled the empty baby bottle out of Diamond’s mouth and set it on the table near the rocking chair. She eased the sleeping infant out of the crook of her arm and carefully patted Diamond on the back until she heard her burp, then Elizabeth stood and carried the baby to her crib and carefully placed her on her side in the bed. Elizabeth stood for a moment and watched Diamond sleeping, then pulled herself up to her full height, lifting her arms high above her head to stretch the tired muscles in her lower back.

  All the Treasures were fast asleep at last.

  Elizabeth gave a satisfied smile. The hours since breakfast seemed to have flown by. So far, Elizabeth had accomplished everything on James’s list: six A.M.—breakfast; eight-thirty A.M.—supervised play; ten A.M.—lessons—lessons that had consisted of singing the alphabet song and several remembered counting and color songs. She smiled when she remembered the exuberance with which Garnet and Emerald and even at times, Ruby, had filled the nursery with song. Ruby. Elizabeth reached into the crib and pulled the light cotton sheet up over Diamond’s back and shoulders and gently tucked it into place. Ruby. It hadn’t escaped her notice that Ruby was reluctant to join in the singing games or to do anything Elizabeth wanted to do. Ruby was standoffish. She kept her distance from Elizabeth. Ruby didn’t want to follow, she wanted to lead. Elizabeth wrinkled her brow and frowned. Ruby didn’t like her. And unless Ruby learned to like and trust her, the nursery would be torn between its two rulers and Garnet and Emerald would follow Ruby just as often as they would follow her.

  Elizabeth gave Diamond one last pat on the back and brushed the soft curls on the back of her head. She tiptoed back to the rocking chair and picked up the infant feeding bottle. She carried the bottle with her as she tiptoed across the nursery bedroom, through the open connecting door, and into the kitchen alcove. She placed the feeding bottle in the tiny sink, then eased open the door that connected the alcove to her bedroom. She listened, for a moment, to the satisfying sounds of the children snoring before she pulled the bedroom door almost closed, leaving it slightly ajar so that she could hear the Treasures should any one of them call out for her. She had done it. She had survived her first morning on the job. All of the Treasures were fast asleep. And Elizabeth had earned a much needed two-hour break.

  Quietly leaving the nursery, Elizabeth entered her bedroom and resumed the task of unpacking she had begun the night before. She folded the remaining stack of lingerie and placed it in the top drawer of the armoire, then leaned into the deep trunk and removed her last precious belonging from the bottom. Portia. How could she have forgotten Portia? Elizabeth held her breath as she unwrapped several layers of cotton batting and unrolled the protective length of cotton fabric until a delicately painted bisque face and startling blue-green eyes stared back at her. Elizabeth tossed the cotton fabric aside and cradled Portia in her arm. She anxiously scanned Portia’s face and ran her fingertips over the painted features, feeling for cracks and chips in the porcelain. Finding none, Elizabeth hugged Portia to her chest, feeling the same rush of warmth and love for the doll she had felt the morning her father had presented Portia to her as a boon to help soothe her ruffled feathers at finding herself presented with a baby brother. And although she’d never really been allowed to play with her because she was such an expensive doll, Elizabeth had loved Portia instantly. Elizabeth thought they were twins. They had the same color hair, the same mouth and chin,
and the same color eyes—even if Portia’s were painted—and Elizabeth knew instinctively that her father had chosen the doll because Portia looked like her. Portia had been her closest friend and dearest confidante, even though she’d never left the bedroom shelf until the day Elizabeth’s grandmother had disowned her and Elizabeth had moved out of the house on Hemlock Street. Elizabeth lovingly smoothed back the locks of tawny brownish-blond hair that had escaped from Portia’s elaborate coiffeur. She’d spent the most important hours of her childhood talking to Portia, confiding her deepest desires and secrets to her, and as she fingered the creases in the doll’s blue velvet gown, and checked to make sure both of her matching blue velvet slippers were still on her feet, Elizabeth realized that, other than her clothes, Portia was the only personal item she’d taken with her when she left her grandmother Sadler’s house.

  Elizabeth breathed a heartfelt sigh. Portia had endured the journey across country and arrived in California without so much as a new nick or scratch. She hugged me doll to her chest again, then carefully settled Portia against the headboard and on the pillows in the center of her bed. Elizabeth looked down at the gold watch pinned on her own bodice. If she were lucky, she’d have time to take a brief nap herself before her charges woke up.

  “Miss?”

  The knock on her bedroom door and the sound of Delia’s voice startled her. Elizabeth walked over and opened the door, “Yes?”

  “I finished my meal and Mrs. G. sent me up to mind the nursery while you go down to the kitchen and have your lunch.”

  “The Treasures are napping,” Elizabeth answered, swallowing a yawn.

  “Yes, miss, I know. But Mr. Craig doesn’t like the Treasures to be left alone. I’ll just sit in the nursery and work on this basket of mending until the little girls wake up. You go eat. Mrs. G. is expecting you.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “Thank you, Delia, but I’m not very hungry.” She eyed the bed longingly. “I think I’ll just skip lunch and take a short nap.”