When the Splendor Falls

by Laurie McBain

  Leigh looked heavenward. If only she had reached her room before Jolie had spied her, but no one yet had ever gotten into Travers Hill without Jolie somehow knowing about it, and if she didn’t like what she saw, then she was hot on the miscreant’s heels.

  “Jolie.”

  Turning around with one of her sweetest smiles, her dark blue eyes full of entreaty, Leigh met the topaz-eyed stare of Jolie, the leather pouch now held protectively behind her back. Behind her smile Leigh was fuming, but against herself, for her only mistake had been in not slamming shut her bedchamber door. Unable to resist discovering what was concealed inside the pouch that had bruised her derriere, she had momentarily, and foolishly, forgotten Jolie.

  “Now, Jolie, you know I’ve been out blackberry picking with Blythe and Julia, and we found such big, juicy berries. That cobbler is going to be the finest one this whole summer. And we had such a nice picnic. Julia especially enjoyed your pâté and buttermilk biscuits. I declare there isn’t even a crumb left. And we don’t have any stains on our hands at all. Mama will be so pleased. How can you possibly believe that I’ve—” Leigh began, wondering how she would extricate herself from this latest predicament.

  “Don’t you go all mealymouthed on me, miss. I know exactly where you should’ve been an’ what you should’ve been doin’, so how you got yer hands on a pair of buckskin breeches, I want to know.”

  “Jolie, please—”

  “An’ no amount of sweet-talkin’ is goin’ to budge me from this spot till I know what’s goin’ on. Look at yerself. Why, I was thinkin’ that I saw some thief sneakin’ in the back door. What if the neighbors was to see you standin’ here barefoot, yer gown an’ petticoats damp, an’ yer hair hangin’ down yer back like poor white trash that doesn’t have even a lil’ ribbon. Yer poor mama would never recover from the shame. Lucky ol’ Jolie can tiptoe as soft as lil’ Miss Leigh here, or yer mama’d be in here right this instant. An’ lucky ol’ Jolie knows that butter won’t melt in this lil’ child’s mouth, so after I have that first answer, I’m goin’ to know how come ye’re standin’ here in wet drawers.”

  “I don’t have to tell you a thing, Jolie,” Leigh brazened, unwilling to admit to her crime, or meet Jolie’s fiery eye for much longer.

  “Oh, we’ll see about that, missy,” Jolie warned, thinking Miss Leigh had gotten a trifle too big for her breeches since going away to Charleston, and on that thought she remembered the reason for the argument, her fingers itching to grab hold of a bit of that buckskin Leigh was keeping just out of reach. “I don’t s’pose lil’ Miss Lucy or Miss Julia will be so tight-lipped about what happened. Of course, once I start askin’ questions of Miss Julia, there’s no way we’re goin’ to keep it quiet. An’ then Miss Effie is goin’ to hear about this, an’ you know she can’t keep a secret any better than her daughter. So you might as well be tellin’ yer Aunt Maribel Lu too.”

  “Go ahead, but they don’t know a thing about those buckskins,” Leigh admitted, pretending unconcern, but the last thing she wanted was for Blythe, and especially Julia, to find out and start asking nosy questions and giggling and gossiping about a naked stranger—then her mother would surely hear and she would never hear the end of it.

  “We’re goin’ to see about that,” Jolie said, her arms folded across her thin bosom as she turned around, prepared to track down the other two, and Leigh knew it was hopeless, for Jolie never gave up.

  “Oh, all right, I’ll tell you.” Leigh gave in with a sigh, just as Jolie had suspected she would. “But you have to promise you won’t breathe a word of this to anyone, Jolie. Especially not to Mama. Promise!” Leigh pleaded, reaching out her hand to grasp Jolie’s arm.

  “I’m goin’ to do no promisin’, missy, till I know what you’ve gone and done,” Jolie responded, standing firm now that she had her miss cornered and had captured the slender hand that had grasped her arm. Now she would have her confession, for Miss Leigh wasn’t going anywhere.

  But even Jolie wasn’t prepared for the admission that followed, and Leigh began to think her actions sounded even worse now than they had seemed at the time. She could certainly understand the expression of disbelief on Jolie’s usually impassive face, which convinced Leigh more than anything else could have of the magnitude of her crime.

  “Oh, Lord help me,” Jolie murmured. “I’m not goin’ to live to see any more gray hairs on this poor head of mine,” she muttered, her eyes shuttered and showing none of the concern and affection she felt as she stared down at Leigh’s chestnut head, bent slightly now as if she were indeed repentant of her actions. Jolie sighed, unable to stay angry at her, for next to Guy, Miss Leigh Alexandra had always been her favorite—even if she and her brother had caused the most trouble in the family. It came of having the same colored hair as their papa, who was a hell-raiser if she’d ever met one. She’d had more than her fair share of sleepless nights since her sweet Miss Beatrice Amelia married into this family.

  “Hmmmph!” Jolie muttered, and although she still had a tight hold on Leigh’s hand, she patted it soothingly. She never could look into those dark blue eyes without being reminded of Miss Beatrice Amelia at that tender young age. Although Miss Beatrice Amelia had never caused her the worry that this young miss had.

  “This man of yers is no gentleman, honey,” she said, repeating Jassy’s astute observation of only minutes before. “I saw those buckskins you gave Jassy, an’ I haven’t seen that kind of beadwork since my papa’s kin come down out of the mountains backcountry way in Georgia,” she said, a worried frown forming on her wide brow. Holding out her hand, she added, “What have you got behind yer back, honey?”

  “He can’t be a Cherokee, Jolie. He has golden hair, that’s why I mistook him for Adam Braedon,” Leigh responded, ignoring Jolie’s request. She had no intention of giving up her prize without finding out what it was first.

  “What’ve you got, child?” Jolie asked again, determined there would be no secrets from her.

  Leigh sighed. Slowly, she revealed the leather pouch she’d been hiding behind her back. Jolie reached out to grab it, but Leigh was quicker than Jolie and, since it was her find, she folded back the flap and reached inside before Jolie could take it from her. “What is this?” Leigh asked in surprise.

  “Now don’t you go openin’ that, Miss Leigh, it’s none of yer business an’ what’s inside best be left a mystery to gently bred folks,” Jolie advised, but her warning came too late, for Leigh had already emptied part of the contents of the pouch into her outstretched palm.

  “Oh, you’ve done it now, missy,” Jolie said, taking a quick step back when Leigh held up a single feather, then an arrowhead, pieces of flint and steel, tobacco, a curl of black hair woven into a tight braid and decorated with colorful beads, some reddish dirt, a tiny pine cone, a small switch of something that looked suspiciously like horsehair, and lastly, an animal’s yellowed fang.

  Leigh glanced at Jolie in surprise. She’d never seen her frightened, but the look in her eyes was definitely one of fear, or perhaps dread. Shrugging, Leigh felt inside the pouch and found one last item—but it captured all of her attention and praise.

  “Oh, look, Jolie,” Leigh breathed, holding up a delicately wrought silver dagger. “Ouch!”

  “What have you done, honey child? Bless me,” Jolie said, shaking her head as if banishing what had just happened. With a look of genuine concern on her face, she said, “I knew this wasn’t goin’ to bring any good. Jus’ knew it! Felt it in my ol’ bones this mornin’ an’ I warned that Steban. No good’s goin’ to come of this day,” Jolie said repeating her warning of earlier. “But all that Steban’s been worryin’ ’bout is if he’s got enough mint fer the juleps. Sometimes that man doesn’t see past that turned-up nose of his. He’s as fussy as an ol’ maid. Oh, lil’ honey, I just don’t know what we’re to do now. Reckon by nightfall we’re goin’ to have thunder. Spirits get awfully angry when they’ve been disturbed, an’ then they start cursin’ somebody.”
>
  “Cursed?” Leigh squeaked in surprise, looking up from the blood seeping from the scratch where one of the sharp-pointed, ornate rays of a sun on the hilt of the small dagger had cut into the soft flesh of her palm.

  “This man of yers must be a savage. An’ to think my sweet lil’ honey child was alone with this man. I don’t want to think what might of happened if he’d gotten his hands on you. Might have scalped you,” Jolie crooned, her thin hand gently smoothing Leigh’s long chestnut braid.

  “Oh, Jolie, we’re in Virginia,” Leigh said, laughing, but there was a slight trembling in her hands as she put the stranger’s possessions back inside the pouch she had stolen. She’d been around Jolie her whole life, and was concerned enough to heed at least some of what Jolie said. “What is it, Jolie?” she asked timidly.

  “That’s juju, honey,” Jolie said in an even softer voice than Leigh’s, her eyes closed as if in prayer. “It’s meant to protect this man from evil spirits. It’s his totem, his charms fer calling the spirits to help him when he’s in trouble. It’s not good fer us to be seein’ these charms of his. He’s goin’ to be mighty angry. No one’s s’posed to see them. Warriors wear them into battle.”

  “They do? Around their necks? Like some people wear crosses, or a locket of hair from a loved one?”

  “That’s right. Sometimes they wear it ’round their neck, but most wear it from the waist. It dangles down beneath their breechcloth. Warriors figure it’s mighty safe there, good medicine next to his, well, where his—” Jolie tried to explain, her coppery cheeks becoming brighter as she met Leigh’s curious gaze.

  “I don’t know if my voodoo’ll be strong enough to protect you, lil’ honey. Jus’ knew today was goin’ to be a bad one. All the signs have been there.”

  “Jolie, you are a Christian,” Leigh reminded her, eyeing the pouch with distaste as she thought of where it had been.

  Jolie sniffed. “I am, missy. I’ve been baptized. But it’s never wise to mock the powers that be. An’ I know there be plenty out there that civ’lized folk don’t know about. An’ it’s a good thing they don’t, those that’s God-fearin’, ’cause it’d scare them senseless, but they’re out there. Now, let’s get you out of these wet underthings. Then I need to help your mama in the kitchens. I jus’ hope you don’t catch yer death of cold.”

  “Not if those angry spirits get me first,” Leigh jested, wincing when Jolie jerked on her laces. “You aren’t going to tell her, are you, Jolie?” Leigh said, her voice muffled as Jolie pulled the damp chemise over her head.

  “I haven’t decided. Figure we’ll jus’ have to wait an’ see what happens.”

  “I’m going to return those buckskins and this pouch tomorrow,” Leigh promised.

  “No you’re not.”

  “I am, Jolie, I have to,” Leigh insisted, her chin set in stubborn lines.

  “You get one of the gardeners or grooms to. Won’t matter if they get scalped. But you’re not goin’.”

  “I’m the only one who knows where I found the buckskins and where to put them back,” Leigh said, determined she would do this herself, although she wasn’t quite certain why. “It is my responsibility.”

  “You’re not steppin’ foot from this house!”

  “I’ll take Sweet John. No one, not even these spirits of yours, will bother me then,” Leigh said, for Jolie and Stephen’s son stood tall and broad, and although he had a gentle hand with a horse, there was no one who could beat him in wrestling or boxing.

  Jolie frowned. “I don’t know,” she muttered, not liking to have her plans changed, but Leigh had already hidden the pouch deep beneath several comforters in the blanket chest.

  “If I return the buckskins and the pouch, then no one will ever need to know, especially Mama. You know how upset she would become. And it might appease the spirits I’ve angered,” she added, the corners of her lips curving upward in a smile.

  “Ssssh, girl. Don’t you mock them,” Jolie whispered, looking around nervously. Then she sighed as if in resignation. “All right, but I don’t like it. An’ you can take that smug, cat’s that licked the cream smile off yer face, missy, ’cause I’m goin’ to be watchin’ you like a fox,” Jolie warned. “An’ don’t you run off. Goin’ to put somethin’ on that scratch,” she said, thinking it would be just as well if Miss Beatrice Amelia never found out about this, and it wouldn’t hurt to do a little conjuring of her own this evening when certain other folks were safe in their beds.

  Whatever conjuring Jolie had in mind, it wasn’t strong enough to silence the thunder that rolled across Travers Hill just before dawn and awakened Leigh from a sound sleep.

  Five

  The wild hawk stood with the down on his beak,

  And stared, with his foot on the prey.

  Alfred, Lord Tennyson

  “Did you hear the thunder last night, Stephen?” Leigh asked, startling him when she entered the dining room, her step so light that he hadn’t heard it.

  “Miss Leigh! You gave me such a scare, sneakin’ up on me like you were Creepin’ Fox. An’ why’re you up so early? Ol’ rooster still in bed, why aren’t you?” he asked, lifting the cover from one of the silver chafing dishes on the sideboard, the aromatic steam rising tantalizingly as he gave the contents a professional stir.

  “I’ve something I must do this morning, and I am afraid it cannot wait,” Leigh said with a self-assurance she wasn’t feeling as she tucked two apples she’d snatched from the centerpiece into the pocket of her gown.

  “Hmmm, don’t I know that, Miss Leigh,” he replied, the looking glass over the sideboard mirroring his perceptive glance.

  Leigh looked up in surprise. “You do?” she demanded, thinking Jolie couldn’t keep anything to herself anymore.

  “Goin’ down to the stables to see to ol’ Rambler. I told Sweet John that young Miss Leigh wouldn’t be able to stay away once she heard ’bout Mister Guy’s tryin’ to jump that fence again, but Sweet John, he just smiles. Yer papa sure was angry with that boy of his. But Mister Stuart’s real proud of him anyway.”

  Leigh breathed a sigh of relief as she walked over to the elaborate, domed birdcage sitting on a table between the two windows that overlooked the veranda. “I see Mama’s songbirds are up early,” Leigh commented as she watched the colorful birds flitting from perch to perch inside their gilded cage, their melodic song filling the room with a pleasant cheerfulness.

  “Ever since yer mama was a child, she likes to hear those little chirp, chirpins in the mornin’. Colonel Leigh, now, he hated those little birds, an’ threatened to pluck every last one of them of their tiny feathers, but the mistress, yer gran’mama, she did love them so, just like Miss Beatrice Amelia. An’ even if I’m not hearin’ good as I was, I’m not completely blind yet, Miss Leigh,” Stephen said, gesturing to the faded blue gown she was wearing. “Knew you wasn’t plannin’ on callin’ on those uppity Canby girls.”

  Leigh glanced down ruefully at the pale blue calico gown that was sadly bereft of any trimmings, and woefully shorter than when she had first worn it three years ago. With her white-stockinged ankles showing, and her long, chestnut hair flowing loose over her shoulder and tied with a blue ribbon, she could have been that fifteen-year-old of three summers before—except that the blue gown now hugged the gentle roundness of her breasts and left no doubt that she was indeed a young woman.

  Her favorite mauve-striped muslin would have to wait until after she’d completed her errands of the morning. She had left it hanging on the door of the clothes press, along with a lace-trimmed petticoat and fine pair of silk stockings folded across a chair. When she had tiptoed out of her bedchamber, Blythe and Julia had still been sleeping peacefully. Not wanting to disturb them, she had taken little time with her toilette, having to be satisfied with brushing her hair and splashing lilac water on her arms and face. And if all went as she planned, then she would be back in her bedchamber before either Blythe or Julia had awakened. “Doesn’t anything happen around h
ere without you and Jolie knowing it?” Leigh asked with a curious look at Stephen, wondering at all of the family secrets he must know.

  “Well, we sure try not to let that ever happen,” he said ruminatively, thinking the young miss was up to something. He’d seen that mischievous look in her eyes far too often not to be concerned now. “Don’t know what this household would come to if somebody didn’t sleep with one eye open ’round here. But I’m slowin’ down, Miss Leigh. Didn’t hear you come in just now. Of course, you were walkin’ like you didn’t want any one to hear yer step.”

  “I didn’t see Mama when I came down,” Leigh said, hiding a guilty look as she stared down at her oldest pair of slippers, the soles so thin it was almost as if she were walking in her stockinged feet. Jolie had threatened to throw the slippers out just the day before, declaring that even a scullery maid would have more pride than to be caught wearing such a scuffed pair of shoes. “I’ve never known Mama to sleep past dawn. Papa’s still asleep. I heard his snores coming from the nursery when I came down the hall. She isn’t ill, is she? Is that why Papa is sleeping in the nursery? I didn’t see Jolie, either.”

  “Mister Stuart was sittin’ up late with Mister Nathan, an’ you know how yer papa is when he gets to talkin’ an’ drinkin’, an’ he can’t hold his liquor like he used to, not that anyone can tell him so, ’specially when he’s drinkin’ with Mister Nathan, he’s such a big gentleman, I don’t think there’s enough corn whiskey in this county to put him under the table. So Mister Nathan, still steady on his feet, helped me put Mister Stuart, singin’ sad songs, in the nursery so he wouldn’t disturb Miss Beatrice Amelia. She an’ Jolie went out back mighty early. There’re some sick who need tendin’. Jolie says she reckons it was that Jassy gettin’ sick from eatin’ too much catfish an’ cracklin’ bread last night. She’s a giddy-headed goose—” Stephen paused, and censoring himself, he continued, “an’ thunder always scares her into a fit an’ then she gets everyone’s hair standin’ on end. Never heard such a commotion with all the wailin’ an’ moanin’ goin’ on. Reckon a fox sneakin’ into the hen house couldn’t have caused more noise.”