The Barefoot Bride

by Paisley, Rebecca

  Her hands trembling, Araminta took the cup but set it down. "Saxon, I demand you tell me what this is all about. This... rustic has been here all of fifteen minutes, and already there is dog spittle on my shoes, my cane is ruined, my sleeve is torn, and there is tea on the carpet! I do not know who this person—"

  "This person has every right to be here." Saxon crossed to Chickadee's side. "I have met the stipulations in your will. This beautiful girl is my wife, Keely Blackwell."

  Araminta grabbed at her brooch and swayed back into the settee. "Reckon yore my granny now too," Chickadee said. "You want I should call you Granny or Araminty? Yore a sight older'n I am, so I reckon it's yore right to tell me what you want me to call you." She bent and patted Araminta's trembling hand. "How old are you anyway? 'Bout a hunnerd?"

  Araminta's gaze hardened at Saxon's expression. "The marriage certificate," she snapped at him. "Produce it immediately."

  "Oh, we're married all right," Chickadee said. "Stepped offen the carpet in a real church with a real preacher-parson in front o' about fifteen folks. I had on the God-burnin'est purty dress you ever laid eyes on. Would a-weared it to this here city, but I spilt gravy on it. After that, I stepped on the hem whilst I was a-dancin' and ripped up the skirt real bad. Miz Mansfield tried to fix it fer me, but she couldn't do nothin' with it and finally throwed it away. We had the weddin' party at her house, and we was all a-laughin', a-wearin' the bells, and—"

  "I cannot begin to express how little I care." Araminta held out her skeletal hand. "Saxon, the document in question."

  He smiled, withdrew a cheroot from his pocket, and lit it, knowing the smell of the smoke irritated her. He deliberately blew it her way before he reached inside his coat and pulled out a sheet of paper. "Here's the pine forest report you wanted, too," he said, tossing a packet to the settee.

  Araminta ignored the report and took the document. Chickadee sat down beside her and pointed to a name on the certificate. "See that thar name? That's me. Keely McBride. But you can call me Chickadee. Ain't nobody calls me Keely but Saxon, and I been a-thankin' he's the onliest one I'll let call me that. That way, it'll be special."

  Araminta ignored her and continued to inspect the document, her eyes narrowing as she scanned it and verified its legality. The uncivilized girl who sat beside her was Mrs. Saxon Blackwell. The certificate fluttered to the floor. "I will have this mockery of a marriage annulled, Saxon."

  "On what grounds?" He walked to the fireplace and flicked ashes into it. "I'm aware that you have the planet's entire force of attorneys behind you, but Keely and I are both of marriageable age, there were witnesses at the wedding, you know the certificate is legal, and," he said, pausing to grin, "I assure you the marriage has most definitely been consummated."

  Araminta raised her hand. "Spare me the ghastly specifics." She rose, clutching her skirts tightly, her white fingers a frightening contrast to the midnight hue of her gown. "You have disappointed me, and for that you will be sorry. If you are entertaining the thought that you have bested me, you are woefully mistaken."

  "Really? And what, pray tell, will you do?"

  "The will. I'll change it if you do not divorce this—"

  Saxon laughed. "Change it again, and your reputation will be ruined, Grandmother. There are some who already think the first ultimatum you gave me was cruel, and if you alter the will to cause—heaven forbid!—a divorce, what will people think of your scandalous action?"

  Speechless with impotent anger, Araminta could only glare.

  Saxon turned away from the hatred in her eyes and forced down his haunting memories again. "I realize the bulk of the fortune will not be mine until your death, but you are required to provide me with a monthly sum of money now that I am married. I'll expect the funds due me as soon as possible. And lest you forget, Grandmother, let me remind you again of the damage your... uh, good name will suffer should you tamper with the will. I'll not hesitate an instant to make your vindictive actions known to all of Boston."

  Araminta's wrath exuded from every pore. The Boston Brahmins—the elite society of the city—would undoubtedly look down on her if she dared force Saxon to divorce his wife. Just as he'd said, an act of that kind would cause a horrible scandal. And if she disinherited him, as she had done with his father, that, too, would tear her reputation to threads, for Saxon had, indeed, met the will's stipulations to the very letter. Lightheaded with rage, she turned to leave.

  "Araminty?"

  The look Araminta gave the mountain girl could have turned the sun into a snowball. "My name is not Araminty. It is Araminta. Mrs. Blackwell to the likes of you."

  Chickadee wrinkled her freckled nose. "You and me's kinfolks, and I ain't gwine call you Miz Blackwell. It's either Araminty or Granny. What's yore druthers?"

  Araminta scowled at her and then bristled at the sound of Saxon's smug laughter. Surely there was some way to make this mountain person leave! Her eyes narrowed wickedly.

  Desdemona. The asylum! She would have her granddaughter committed and refuse to allow her release until the heathen was out of Saxon's life. Society wouldn't blame her for sending Desdemona to the institution for "treatment." Everyone would understand and sympathize. And she would vehemently deny any and all accusations Saxon might throw at her. No one would believe him anyway: all of Boston knew Desdemona was insane.

  She would make the arrangements secretly and without delay. The solution found, a smile replaced her frown as she looked at Chickadee. "It does not matter what you call me. I have no intention of being around you anyway."

  Chickadee sighed and pulled the raccoon tails from the waistband of her breeches, stroking them lovingly before she pressed them into Araminta's hand. "Had these here coon tails fer gwine on ten years, Araminty, but I'm gwine give 'em to you. Don't reckon you and me's ever gwine wash hands together, but thur still ain't no reason why we cain't at least be civil. These here perfectly matched tails can be the commencin' of peace betwixt us."

  Araminta dropped the tails as if they'd set her hand on fire. She whirled to leave the room, slowing as she passed Khan, who was chewing her ebony cane into splinters.

  "Araminty?"

  Araminta stopped but did not turn around.

  "Did it rile you when I asked iffen you was a hunnerd years old? Iffen it did, I'm sorry. You really don't look a day over ninety."

  Saxon's deep laughter echoed throughout the mansion, and a visible shudder shook Araminta's body as she disappeared through the door.

  *

  Saxon's bedroom of dark green and gold reminded Chickadee of her mountains in autumn. She thought it the most beautiful room she'd ever seen until she beheld Desdemona's a few hours later. Desdemona's room, decorated in peach and teal, was the Blue Ridge in springtime. Chickadee professed it to be as lovely as the silent girl who rarely left it.

  "Your waistcoat is being pressed as we speak, Mr. Blackwell," Candice, the young maid, nervously told Saxon as she laced a pink ribbon through Desdemona's hair. "And Miss Desdemona is ready. But sir, if I may be so bold... are you sure it's your wish to take her downstairs for dinner? Mrs. Blackwell instructed me to lay out only one place setting. And she has never allowed Miss Desdemona—"

  "I will take full responsibility for bringing my sister to the dining room, Candice." When the maid curtsied and left to get his coat, Saxon knelt by his sister and placed her hand on his cheek. "Desdemona, I'm home."

  Desdemona continued to stare at a miniature painting of her mother and father on her bedside table.

  Saxon felt that familiar sadness rise within him. But it faded instantly when he remembered who was standing beside him. "Desdemona, there's someone here I want you to meet. This is your new sister-in-law, Keely."

  Chickadee held out the pine-straw basket she'd made. When Desdemona made no move to take it, she sat down beside the quiet girl. "Made this fer you, Desdemona. It's fer a-totin' posies."

  "Keely is from North Carolina," Saxon explained. "I told you I'd bring you some
thing that would help you understand where I went, and there's no better way to describe the beauty and wonder of North Carolina than to show you its most remarkable native. I met Keely in the mountains when she saved me from a bear."

  Chickadee laughed and smoothed Desdemona's black curls. "Saxon warn't real smart. He left his shootin'-arn on Hagen's back, and the critter lit out with it. When I first met yore brother, he couldn't a-growed pole beans in a pile o' horse—"

  "Uh, Keely has been looking forward to meeting you, Desdemona." Saxon made a mental note to ask Chickadee to refrain from using strong language and just as quickly decided it would do no good.

  "And yore ever' bit as purty as Saxon said you was, Desi."

  Desdemona turned her head to stare at nothingness.

  "Stay with her for a moment while I see what's keeping Candice with my coat, Keely," Saxon said. "I'm anxious to confront Grandmother once and for all. I've done everything she demanded, and there's not a blessed thing she can do. I can't remember the last time I dined with Desdemona downstairs, and despite what Grandmother has to say, the meal we share tonight will be the first of many more."

  When he was gone Chickadee knelt and reached up to hold Desdemona's satin-encased arms. "Desi, darlin', you don't talk. Saxon said you don't even smile, and that ain't right. It's Araminty, ain't it?"

  Desdemona's eyes widened.

  "That ole spider woman prob'ly skeert the voice plumb outen you when she come to this here city. I know she's yore granny and all, but she's mean enough to pour water on a poor ole widder woman's kindlin. Now Desi? I know you cain't talk, but I suspicion thur ain't nothin' wrong with yore ears. You listen to me real good, sweet thang, and we'll see iffen you don't smile when I'm finished explainin' the way o' thangs to you."

  She patted the girl's hands and stood. "I ain't got it settled in my mind real good yet, but somehow I'm gwine larn ole Araminty some manners. This afternoon she was a-lookin' at me like I warn't worth dried spit. I'm a-tellin' you, she was nigh in a franzy that Saxon married me. I done already figgered it out that she was a-wantin' him to marry him a Boston girl. I had a mind to slap her down fer a-treatin' me the way she done, but my mama-woman raised me better'n that."

  Chickadee began to laugh. "You got to stretch out a snake real good afore you can measure it, darlin', and that's what I'm a-aimin' to do. Once I got that spider woman figgered out, her and me's gwine pass some words. She's right used to folks a-fallin' over back'ards fer her, but she ain't gwine play that thunder with me. And she's a-baitin' trouble by a-treatin' you the way she does, Desi. It's shameful her not a-lettin' you eat with her. And Lord only knows what else she does to you."

  She pulled Desdemona from the bed. "Saxon says he's gwine give her what fer ternight at supper. But I reckon he's been a-tryin' to handle that woman fer years. 'Pears to me he ain't done too good so fur. He thanks he's done winned the battle, but he ain't, Desi. Spider Woman'll bite back, shore and sartin. 'Sides that, he ain't allus gwine be 'round here no how. He's got them fancy offices to go to."

  She brought Desdemona into her embrace. "But I'll be here, Desi. I ain't gwine be here fer long, but I ain't gwine let ole Araminty hurt you whilst I'm here. I'm gwine stay with you. You and me's gwine be like sisters, and I swear I'll take up fer you. You done got yoresef a guardian angel, sweet thang. But this angel's got horns and a pitchfork along with her wangs."

  Saxon returned then, and though there was no smile on Desdemona's lips, he could have sworn there were two in her eyes.

  Chapter 10

  "Desdemona, go to your room." The crisp order delivered, Araminta seated herself at the head of the table.

  Desdemona turned toward the door, stiffening when Saxon caught the sash of her gown. "Come back here, little sister. You're a member of this family, and you'll eat with us from now on."

  Araminta watched with rising vexation. "Desdemona, you will do as I told you. Your brother has no say."

  "Why don't he?" Chickadee returned Araminta's glare with equal defiance. "He's the spear-side o' the family."

  "Saxon, if it is your sister's solitude that worries you, send your trollop upstairs to dine with her," Araminta suggested coldly. "As simple as they both are, I imagine they will get along famously."

  Chickadee's laughter drowned out Saxon's muttered curse. She snapped for Khan and walked to the table. She reached for a soft roll and fed it to the hungry wolf. "Me and Desi's got somethin' in common all right, Araminty. And that's the bad-mouthin' we take offen you. But you'd best be keerful lessen you want them ill words flanged back at you."

  Saxon, who had been about to join his mountain girl in her challenge, closed his mouth abruptly when Desdemona let go of his hand and joined Chickadee at the table. She too reached for a roll, intending to feed it to Khan as Chickadee had done.

  Araminta slapped her granddaughter's hand. Desdemona dropped the bread back into the silver basket and turned to flee. Again, Saxon caught her. Khan watched the scene briefly, then lifted his paws to the table and gobbled up every roll left in the silver bread basket.

  Araminta quivered with anger. "Thatcher, get that animal out of this house!"

  Which one? Thatcher wondered. He sniffed and started toward the wary wolf.

  "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Thatcher," Saxon said, pulling Desdemona back to the table. "Khan enjoyed that bread, but what he normally eats is raw meat."

  Araminta stood. "I will not tolerate this blatant disregard for propriety. Go for the authorities, Thatcher."

  "The authorities?" Saxon bent his head and grinned. "Now, Grandmother, calling in the authorities because of your own granddaughter-in-law would cause an uproar of the grandest kind. What would Mrs. Preston say?"

  "Who's Miz Preston?" Chickadee asked, wondering why the mere mention of the woman's name silenced Araminta.

  Saxon took a moment to seat Chickadee and Desdemona, making a great show of seeing to their comfort before he sat down in his own chair. "Tell Keely about Mrs. Preston, Grandmother."

  "You have made your point," Araminta snapped.

  Saxon acquiesced with a nod of his head, and then motioned for the serving girl to set three more places at the table. "Please bring more bread as well," he said to her.

  "What's this thang a-doin' down here?" Chickadee asked and held up the tablecloth to look at the small stool she had knocked over. "This whar you-uns hide furniture you don't want no more?"

  "The stools are placed under the table for the ladies' comfort, little one. You rest your feet on them."

  Law, these rich folks is somethin' else, Chickadee mused. "The way you-uns talk, this Miz Preston sounds like she's a queen. 'Pears to me—"

  "I, for one, do not care how anything appears to you," Araminta interrupted.

  "Grandmother, when Keely is introduced to society, she will certainly meet Mrs. Preston. Surely you don't want your new granddaughter-in-law to speak ill of you."

  Araminta wearily slithered back into her chair.

  "Mrs. Preston is the most highly respected woman in Boston society," Saxon explained. "Our local matriarch, wouldn't you agree, Grandmother?"

  Araminta realized he was taunting her and enjoying it immensely. He didn't care a whit about Eugenia Preston or the woman's opinion, but he knew very well that Araminta cared deeply. She pursed her lips in irritation.

  "Yes, well, as I was saying," Saxon continued merrily, "Mrs. Preston's fourth cousin is married to some English earl—"

  "It's her third cousin who is married to a fifth cousin of the royal family," Araminta corrected him haughtily.

  "How kind of you to set me straight, Grandmother," Saxon said and grinned. "Anyway, Keely, because of Mrs. Preston's... uh, ties with royalty, she is Boston's grande dame. Of course, her enormous fortune doesn't hurt her respectability either. You'll meet her soon, little one. I do think Keely should meet some other women, Grandmother. Having friends will help her adjust to Boston and also fill her time when I'm not here. I'll depend on you to help me with
that."

  Araminta choked on her wine. "You—unthinkable! If you believe I am going to assist you in any way with—"

  "Oh, but you will," Saxon said, attacking his oysters. "You will escort Keely to various ladies' activities, because if you do not, I will take her to them myself."

  "You wouldn't dare!" Araminta stood again.

  "Why wouldn't I? I've always wondered what you women do at all those get-togethers. I might enjoy attending them, now that I think of it. That way I could get all the latest gossip and not have to wait for the wind to carry it to the male socials. We men never know what's happening in the circles of the fair sex, and—"

  "You can be sure there will be gossip!" Araminta screeched. "It will be about you!"

  "And when have I ever given a damn about what people say about me?"

  "Saxon, I ain't gwine eat these thangs." Chickadee was paying no attention to the heated argument taking place in front of her. She was studying her oysters with confusion and disgust. "They don't look like they been cooked, and I don't eat no raw meat."

  At Saxon's nod, a serving girl removed Chickadee's plate of oysters and replaced it with a bowl of creamy soup. "Aren't you going to sit down and join us for dinner, Grandmother?" He hid his grin in a bite of brown bread.

  Araminta watched Chickadee pick up a dessert spoon and slurp up the soup. Her gaze then went to Desdemona, who, after looking at Chickadee, picked up her dessert spoon and began to swill down her soup in the same loud manner. "See what you have brought upon us all, Saxon. Think about it, because I assure you your punishment for the disrespect you have shown me will—"

  "I suggest, Grandmother, that if you find our company repulsive, you go eat in your room as you previously suggested we do. We have no intention of leaving the dining room, and will be taking all our meals here."

  "But... but look how they are eating!" Araminta returned, aghast as she pointed to Chickadee and Desdemona.

  Chickadee, who had finished her soup, was exasperated with her knife and fork. She put them aside and ate her roast mutton with her hands. "Saxon, tomorrer I'm gwine sharpen these here knifes fer you. Thur so dull you could ride 'em to mill and back withouten no blanket. Desi here give up on hers too, didn't you, darlin'?"