The Barefoot Bride

by Paisley, Rebecca

  Bunny bent her head and noticed the warts on her hand were showing. She pulled her sleeve down over them and then stared blankly at her sewing. Exasperation had nothing to do with the fact that Cynthia hated her. It was her large size that kept Cynthia from liking her. Cynthia had even said she'd rather die than be seen anywhere with her, and true to her word, she only accompanied Bunny to social gatherings when she was forced.

  Bunny squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to control her tears. But one solitary drop rolled down her round cheek, splashing onto the cloth she held.

  Chickadee watched the tear until it was absorbed into the fabric, her insides lurching with both pity and anger. Finally, her eyes the only part of her that moved, Chickadee looked up at Araminta, barely noticing that every woman in the room was leaning forward expectantly.

  Araminta's hostile look withered into one of apprehension.

  Chickadee stood.

  Araminta's fingers trembled on the arm of her chair.

  Chickadee took a step forward.

  Araminta's needlepoint fell to the floor.

  "Refreshments," the butler announced as he wheeled a large cart into the room. "Shall I serve, Mrs. Rush?"

  "No. That will be all, Wells," Thelma replied, annoyed at the interruption. "Ladies, we shall dispense with formalities and serve ourselves."

  Bunny was the first in line. She piled her small plate high with buttered bread and then reached for the spoon in the large honey pot, drowning the food with the sweet syrup. She dropped four sugar lumps into her tea and selected a fruit tart before she plodded back to her seat.

  Chickadee watched her closely, and then, with a heavy sigh, she went back to her chair and began to stitch her tattered squares together.

  "Chickadee," Bunny whispered, and pulled her sleeve down over her warts again, "what were you going to do to Mrs. Blackwell before the butler came?" While waiting for the answer, Bunny made quick work of her tart.

  Chickadee noticed Bunny barely chewed her food. "Don't rightly know fer shore, but it warn't gwine be somethin' she'da liked much. I couldn't jist set here and let her rip inter you. It ain't right to let friends git hurt."

  Bunny's eyes sparkled with undisguised emotion. "Thank you. No one has ever done that for me before. I mean, I've never had any real friends."

  Chickadee smiled. "Bunny, you—"

  Her words were cut off by the butler's frantic shouting. "I heard something at the door, and when I opened it, the beast just ran in! I couldn't catch him!"

  Thelma paled as Khan bolted toward her. "Oh dear God, he's going to eat me!"

  The hysical women ran into each other as they attempted to remove themselves from Khan's path. Their plates of honeyed bread flew into the air, dropped into elaborate hairdos, slid down faces, and smeared down elegant skirts. But they paid no mind to the spilled food and scurried about the room to get away from the vicious animal who'd come to attack them.

  Khan paid no attention to the panicked women and ran straight to Chickadee. She tried to grab him, but Khan decided it was time to play and took hold of the saddlebag. He scampered into the middle of the room, shaking the satchel from side to side. Chickadee hurried to him. "Khan, give me that bag, you ornery thang!"

  But Khan escaped her again and ran around the room, still swinging the bag vigorously.

  And then the chaos he'd caused intensified.

  Feathers, thousands of them, came floating out of the opening of the saddlebag, feathers Chickadee had intended to use in the quilt she was making. Like thick snow, they blew up and then down, drifting every which way as the terrified women ran through them.

  "Ladies, he will not harm you!" Araminta shouted. She rushed to Chickadee and took hold of her arm. "Get him out of here immediately, you horrible little fool. How dare you allow him to create such havoc!"

  Chickadee did not remove Araminta's hand from her arm. She simply stood there and waited for what she knew would happen in seconds.

  And happen it did. Khan, whose game with the bag was not as important as his mistress's safety, sped toward Araminta, his momentum and strength knocking her away from Chickadee. Araminta, taken by surprise by the wolf's speedy actions, was unable to catch her balance and fell to the floor, her skirts billowing over her head to expose her fine underwear to anyone who cared to see it.

  Chickadee snapped her fingers, and Khan obediently sat by her heels. With his paw, he swiped a feather off his wet nose and then looked up at his mistress. "Khan, you shouldn't orter a-follered me here, boy. 'Pears to me we're in the deepest kind o' trouble."

  The women, who had ceased their frenzied running, stood in shock, rivulets of honey dripping from each of them.

  And to the sticky fluid stuck Chickadee's quilt feathers.

  Silence, tight and hostile, weighted down the very air. The expressions on the outraged women's faces fairly shouted what words could never have expressed. Finally, Araminta staggered to her feet. "I am mortified to the very marrow of my bones, ladies, that this has happened."

  "You have done the unforgivable, Araminta!" Millicent barked as she removed a feather from her eyelashes. "To allow this heathen granddaughter-in-law to bring her... her savage beast to our—"

  "I knew nothing of it!" Araminta returned. "I—"

  "But you knew what kind of person Saxon married," Sarah charged, picking feathers off her neck. "You should have warned us all!"

  "I agree wholeheartedly," Eleanor broke in. She wiped honey from her cheek. "It is unfortunate for you that this hill person is a part of the Blackwell family now, but we should not be made to suffer as well!"

  Thelma's hand trembled over the mess of feathers that stuck to the bodice of her fine gown. "Eleanor is absolutely right. I accept full responsibility for inviting Saxon's wife, but I will not be blamed for what has happened here today. As Sarah pointed out, it was your duty to warn us about her, Araminta. You failed to do so."

  "No one is to be blamed for any of this," Bunny said, padding her way to Chickadee. "Chickadee's dog followed her here, and she had no way of knowing. Mrs. Blackwell was only doing what Saxon requested—"

  "I do not need you to come to my defense, Bunny," Araminta bit out. Sedately, she gathered her sewing and her new cane, and turned toward the group of women once more. "I have no control over this crude girl. I refuse to accept blame for what she and her feral creature have done." With that, she marched out of the room, failing to see Eugenia who was still hidden behind the door.

  "It pains me somethin' awful to agree with Araminty," Chickadee said when the woman was gone, "but ain't nary a bit o' this her fault. I ain't agin' a-gittin' plumb franzied over thangs that are real bad, but you-uns is the yarnin'est bunch o' fritter-minded womenfolks I ever knowed. I promised Saxon I was gwine do my God-burnin'est best to be as couthy as I know how, but you-uns didn't never give me no chance a'tall. When I first set foot in here, I warn't offered no greetin' or no char. If it warn't fer Bunny here, I reckon I might still be a-standin' over yonder in that door. And you-uns even laid inter her fer a-bein' thoughty to me."

  She collected what was left of her sewing. "When I was growin' up in the Blue Ridge, I allus wondered what it'd be like to be fine-haired like you-uns, but I ain't gwine wonder no more. Yore heads is swolt up with highfalutin' idees that yore better'n anybody else, and a-tryin' to git along with you's about as easy as a-tryin' to stretch a gnat's ass over a washtub."

  Thelma frowned. "Inform Saxon he will receive the bill for the damage your beast has caused to my furnishings."

  "And he will also pay for our ruined gowns," Evelyn and Hester chorused.

  "You'll git yore money. But what you-uns is a-hurtin' fer the mostest is somethin' all the money in the world cain't never buy. And that's a warm heart. Yore all so dang biggety that when you strut around, it's like you was a-balancin' yore family trees on yore noses.

  "And even though it 'pears yore all a mite riled, thur ain't nary a doubt in my mind that yore all gwine light outen here as fast as y
er pegs can carry you to spread the word about me and Khan. Yore gwine say you was shocked speechless, only ain't none o' you gwine be speechless when you commence a-gossipin'. You'll be a-slangin' dirt faster'n a gravedigger in a few hours, and it's all I can do not to meller each and ever' one o' you-uns right here and now in this day and time!"

  "I have no idea what meller means," Millicent spat, "but if it is some kind of threat—"

  "Oh, it's a threat all right," Chickadee flared. "It means punch. Beat. Thrash. Bang. Whip, and any other hittin' word that strikes yore fancy."

  "I think we have heard quite enough," Eleanor chimed in. "You—"

  "Shet up, lady. I got one more thang to say afore I leave, and I'm gwine say it."

  Thelma nodded at Wells, and the butler took a step toward Chickadee. Khan growled. Chickadee continued smoothly. "Iffen I hear one bad thang said about Saxon over any o' this, I'll come after ever' one o' you-uns like all wrath. Shame his name, and I'll disremember my manners and—"

  The loud gasp that came from each of the women in the room cut Chickadee's warning short. She turned to see another woman standing behind her. With a heavily jeweled hand, the elderly lady gently nudged Chickadee aside and looked into the room, her gleaming gray eyes taking in each detail. Under her sharp scrutiny, the bedraggled matrons reddened and shivered.

  "It would appear my tardiness has caused me to miss something more than mere time spent with all of you," Eugenia stated, her voice quivering with restrained laughter.

  The women, all at once, tried to explain what had happened. They were silenced immediately by the same jeweled hand.

  At the woman's haughty gesture, Chickadee rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Another Boston queen. "Go on in thar," she said, pushing the woman further into the room. "Set yoresef down and let them cats tell you what all went on. Listen real keerful-like so's you can git it all straight, lady. But like I done tole all them already? Well, when you go to spread all the gwines-on, iffen you slur Saxon's name jist once, you can be God-burn sartin I'll throw a hissy-fit the likes o' which you ain't never seed!"

  Eugenia regarded her with a warm smile. "You are Chickadee Blackwell. Please sit down. I would like to talk to you."

  Chickadee laughed. "Lady, the feelin's a-flyin' around this here room is hot enough to roast the devil." She pointed to the other women. "Look at 'em all. Thur anger's a-makin' 'em shake harder'n a dog a-passin' peach seeds. I'd have to be plumb bereft to stay here a second longer."

  She left quickly, Khan trotting behind her. Bunny, after an apologetic look at the group of women, followed them out.

  "Eugenia!" all the women cried in unison.

  "Lames, please! I haven't had my tea yet." Biting back a smile, she made her way to a desk, sank into the chair in front of it, and accepted the tea Thelma handed to her.

  The women drew up their chairs, and one by one explained in great detail what havoc Chickadee had caused. Nothing was left out in their explicit account, and with each women who had her turn at telling it, the story grew more fantastic.

  "So you see, Eugenia," Millicent said, plucking another feather off her face, "the Blackwell family must be ostracized. That Chickadee heathen for obvious reasons, Saxon for ever wedding her, and Araminta—"

  "Millicent is right," Sarah agreed, failing in her attempts to remove the honey from her skirts. "We simply cannot allow them to ever—"

  "It was horrible," Eleanor added. "That dog—"

  "Of course, you were only with her a few moments, Eugenia," Thelma said. "You cannot possibly know how utterly crude she is."

  "Cares nothing at all for decorum," Hester panted. "Nothing at all for—"

  "Oh, Eugenia, thank God you were late today," Evelyn gushed, and started off another spree of gossip.

  As the ladies continued slandering the Blackwell name, Eugenia's thoughts turned to Chickadee. The girl was marvelous, she thought to herself. Outrageously spirited and wonderfully open. She was the exact medicine Boston needed to rid itself of the malady called boredom—an affliction from which Eugenia had suffered for years.

  "Eugenia?" Millicent said. "Did you hear what—"

  "I've heard enough." She reached into her bag and withdrew paper and writing utensils. "I believe we were going to discuss the grand ball today."

  "We were going to draw up a guest list, weren't we?" Hester asked.

  "Remarkable memory you have, Hester," Eugenia returned sarcastically. "No doubt it often serves you well. Now, about the guest list: I've exciting news. Lord Gilford Cavendish, Duke of Amherst, will be coming from England to visit our fair city during the time our ball will be held, and his presence will certainly make it all the more grand."

  "The Duke of Amherst!" Eleanor gasped. "Imagine!"

  "We'll take great pains with details," Millicent said. "Heaven forbid anything go wrong with the duke there!"

  "Every single thing must be arranged with the utmost concern," Sarah agreed. "Especially the guest list!"

  The ladies began chattering and giggling again. Eugenia watched them all with her sharp eyes. Finally, she bent her head, looked at the blank piece of paper on the desk, and began the list.

  With fluid and beautiful strokes, one hand hiding what she was writing, the first name she wrote was Chickadee Blackwell.

  Chapter 14

  Saxon got out of bed and closed the bedroom windows; the breeze that blew through them was so strong it swept his black curls off his forehead. Chickadee waited until he'd returned to bed and then got up and let the wind back in. Turning toward her husband, she folded her arms across her naked breasts.

  "I jist cain't abide them women, Saxon! Next to thur heads, the biggest bones in thur bodies is thur jaws! I mean to tell you—"

  "You don't have to tell me," Saxon interrupted with a chuckle. "Those women have been jawin' about it all over town. But Keely, what happened at the sewing meeting wasn't your fault. Forget about it. There will be other socials, and—"

  "Other socials? Saxon, you beat all. Yore so slow-minded tonight, you'd pick up a snake and hit a stick! I'm a-tryin' to tell you I ain't gwine to no more o' them dang-blasted git-togethers!"

  "No one forced you to attend the sewing meeting. It was your own idea to go. But you did meet Bunny, and you said you liked her. If you hadn't joined the sewing circle, you wouldn't have met her. And Bunny can introduce you to younger women. Ladies closer to your own age."

  She sighed. She was the only friend Bunny had, so how could Bunny introduce her to other women? And more than that, she thought, if the younger women didn't accept Bunny as their friend, that made them just as fritter-minded as the old ones.

  "Keely, please shut the windows."

  She lifted both an auburn eyebrow and her chin. "No. I cain't stand it when thur's no air in here. It ain't healthy to be withouten air. And I warn't a-talkin' about no winders. I want to tell you what them biddies—"

  "To hell with them. The only reason I suggested you become acquainted with society is because I don't want you to be lonesome. But if you'd rather not attend any affairs for a while, that's fine. You might feel differently later on, and then you may do whatever you wish."

  She saw an unspoken plea in his eyes and knew he was hoping she would make another attempt with society. Her first impulse was to tell him she hated the very thought. But he'd brought up the subject of her having friends many times recently. It somehow seemed very important to him. But didn't he understand she didn't need them? She had Khan, Desdemona, that sweet maid Candice, and now Bunny. Why look for more friends when she already had four wonderful ones?

  Saxon saw the battle going on in her mind by watching her bright eyes. "I'll never force you to do something you don't like, little one. You've no need to worry about that."

  Lord o' mercy, she thought. When he looked at her like that, she couldn't think of anything in the world she wouldn't try to do for him. "Well..."

  Her voice trailed off, and he knew she was considering his suggestion. He did indeed ho
pe she would give society another chance: besides wanting her to make friends, he thought that getting her together with other women was the best way to show her how things were done in Boston. After all, he rationalized, surely if she were exposed to gentlewomen long enough, she would begin to imitate some of their feminine mannerisms. It seemed like such a gentle way for her to learn.

  But, as he'd promised, he wouldn't force her. Instead, he would give her news he suspected would delight her. "Keely, close the windows, and I'll tell you something about your father."

  Her breath quickened. "Y'know whar he is?"

  "The windows, if you please."

  She shut them so forcefully the room shuddered, and then she ran to him, leaping and flying toward the bed when she was still several feet away.

  Saxon caught her as she sailed over him. Women had hurried to his bed before, but no one had ever flown into it. There was no woman on earth like Chickadee.

  God, he was going to miss her.

  "Saxon," she gasped, twisting in his embrace, "whar is he? Did you take all his money? Is he a beggar now?"

  Her hauntingly beautiful eyes pulled him into their emerald depths. He tried to find his way to the surface of those bottomless pools, but only sank deeper. Drowning. He was drowning in them with no hope of salvation.

  "Saxon, I'm gwine take a snit iffen you don't tell me about Barton!"

  The information he had about her father was already at the back of his throat. All he had to do was get it to his lips and put sound to it. He's in New York, he explained silently. A little over eighteen years ago, he sold your mother's gold nuggets, invested the money, and made a fortune on Wall Street.

  "Saxon?"

  He'd wrestled with the decision to tell her the news all day, guilt at wanting to keep it from her gnawing at him like a termite at a piece of rotting wood. And now he felt himself wavering again. If he told her the truth, how long would it be before she left? That question sickened him with dread.