Joy for Mourning

by Dorothy Clark

  The little girl pressed back against her brother’s legs and reached for her sister’s hand. “Heidi.”

  “Ohhh, that’s a lovely name.” Laina smiled. “Would you like to sit on the bed beside your mother, Heidi?” The toddler nodded. Laina rose, scooped the child into her arms, put her on the bed, then smiled down at the other little girl. Big, fear-filled blue eyes stared up at her. “And what’s your name?”

  The young girl glanced at her mother, then bobbed a curtsy. “My name is Louise. Louise Mae Chandler.” Her voice trembled.

  “How lovely! Louise is one of my favorite names.” Laina shifted her glance to the boy. He straightened and gave her a polite bow.

  “My name is Edward. Edward Tobias Chandler.” He glanced at his mother, who smiled her approval.

  “Well, I’m pleased to meet you, Edward.” Laina turned and shoved the bed steps closer to the children. “You may climb up beside your mother if you wish.” She turned at the knock on the door. “Come in.”

  Beaumont entered carrying a large tray holding a soup tureen surrounded with covered dishes. There was a maid, laden with a smaller lap tray, on his heels. He crossed to the tea table, put his burden down, then took the lap tray from Sally and dismissed her.

  Laina glanced at the children. They watched with wide-eyed gazes as Beaumont set out dishes and flatware, filled the bowls with steaming soup from the tureen, placed a sandwich on each of the plates, then poured small glasses of cider. They tracked his every movement as he picked up the smaller tray, carried it to the bed and settled it over their mother’s lap. Their eyes went wider still as he turned to them and bowed. “Your dinner is served. If you will permit me, miss?” He held out his arms to Heidi.

  They all gaped up at him.

  Laina fought back a grin. Beaumont was an imposing figure with his erect posture and impressive butler’s livery.

  “It’s all right, Heidi. You go with the kind man.” Mrs. Chandler kissed her youngest child on the cheek, then glanced at the other two. “Help Heidi, Edward. And both of you mind your manners.”

  “Yes, Mama.” Edward and Louise answered in unison, then followed Beaumont to the tea table, where he placed a folded pillow under Heidi to make her tall enough to reach her dishes.

  “I—I don’t know how to thank you for your kindness, Mrs. Brighton. I didn’t expect—” Mrs. Chandler dragged her gaze from her children and lifted it to meet Laina’s. “The children…I thought—” Her voice broke. She covered her face with her hands, sobbing softly. “God bless you.”

  The whispered words lodged in Laina’s heart. She placed a comforting hand on the woman’s bony shoulder. “Everything will be fine, Mrs. Chandler. Now, please stop crying. You’ll upset your children. You don’t want to ruin their dinner, do you?”

  It worked. Laina smiled as the woman shook her head, took a deep breath and wiped the tears from her face. “That’s better. Now, why don’t you eat your soup before it cools? We’ll talk when you’ve finished.” She walked over and sat on the window seat, her pulse picking up speed as she searched the street for a certain tall, dark-haired doctor.

  “And then the step broke and I fell and hurt my back. I haven’t been able to do the laundry work since.” The woman looked up at Thad. Her lips were quivering. “I was dismissed from my employment, Doctor. I—I haven’t any money to pay you.”

  “There’s no charge, Mrs. Chandler.” Thad blew out a breath and rubbed the back of his neck. His right knee began to jiggle. “As you’re able to walk with assistance, even though it is very painful and at times impossible, I do not believe your back is broken.” He frowned and plowed his fingers through his hair. Laina’s hand itched to smooth back the lock of hair that fell onto his forehead. “Still, judging from the severe pain and the numbness you describe in your left limb, the vertebra could be cracked or damaged. However, a few weeks of bed rest should improve that.”

  “Bed rest.” The words were soft, bitter. “I have no bed, Dr. Allen. I have no place to live since I was dismissed.” Her voice trembling, she looked over at Laina, who was standing on the other side of the bed. “That’s why I brought my children to you, Mrs. Brighton.” She blinked tears from her eyes. “I know they’re not truly orphans, but they are homeless. I can’t work and provide for them any longer.” Tears spilled down her gaunt cheeks. “Please take them. Please. I—I can’t even feed my babies.” She covered her face with her hands, her frail body shaking with sobs.

  Laina swallowed hard and blinked away her own tears. “I certainly will not take your children from you, Mrs. Chandler!” She placed a comforting hand on the woman’s arm as she sobbed harder. “However, they will remain here with you.”

  The sobs lessened. Doreen Chandler lowered her hands and stared up at her. “I-I don’t understand.”

  Laina smiled. “It’s quite simple, Mrs. Chandler. You and your children will have a home here. That way they won’t have to be separated from you.”

  The woman’s eyes widened with shock. “But—but I have no money to pay. And I can’t work!”

  “So you have explained.” Laina patted her arm. “We shall come to some arrangement. Now, let me bring the children in so you may tell them the good news.” She smiled and started for the door, pausing as her gaze fell on the writing desk sitting against the wall. Her smile widened. She spun back around. “Do you read, and write a good hand, Mrs. Chandler?”

  Puzzlement spread across the pinched features. “Why, yes. I did the Stantons’ accounts until the son…well, when he expressed unseemly interest I had to leave their employ without references. That’s when I began to take in washing.”

  “Perfect!” Laina clasped her hands in front of her chest and glanced up at Thad. The look in his eyes almost made her forget what she was about to ask him. The look was quickly masked. He picked up his bag and started for the door.

  Laina ignored the hurt spreading through her and forced a businesslike tone into her voice. “And may Mrs. Chandler write on a tray while she recuperates in bed, Doctor? Or would that be harmful to her?”

  He turned and looked at her. “I see no harm in it.”

  She nodded and looked back at the woman on the bed. “Then if you agree, Mrs. Chandler, I will employ you as record keeper for the orphanage.” Her smile returned at the woman’s astonished look. “Room and board for yourself and your children will be included in your wage. But we can discuss that later.” She kept her smile firmly in place as the door closed behind Thad.

  The woman simply stared at her. She seemed to be rendered speechless. Laina turned and headed for the door to get the children. Surely their happy faces, when they heard the news, would chase this hollow feeling away.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Is everything all right, Laina?”

  “Why, yes. Why do you ask?” Laina gave Elizabeth an absent smile and stared after the wet nurse carrying baby James to the house. She would never hire a wet nurse. If she had a baby she would feed it herself. She would never willingly give up one precious moment with—

  “I don’t know. These past few weeks you seem quiet. Tired.”

  Laina forced a laugh. “Not surprising. I have forty-seven children now.”

  “Forty-seven?”

  Laina nodded and focused her attention on Elizabeth. “Four more came in this week.”

  “I see.” Elizabeth placed a careful stitch in the piece of needlepoint she was working on. “Where did Dr. Allen find these orphans?”

  “Tha—Dr. Allen didn’t bring them to me.”

  Elizabeth looked up at her and Laina suddenly felt as transparent as a window. As if the yearning sadness that filled her whenever she thought of Thad was clearly visible. She turned and reached over the gazebo railing, plucking a leaf from a lilac bush and shredding it into small strips with her thumbnail.

  “Constable Peters brought them to me. He has a heart for the street children. He has eight children of his own.” That should distract Elizabeth. She tossed the mangled leaf awa
y and brushed her hands together to rid them of any clinging particles.

  Elizabeth set her needlework aside. “Laina, is there a problem between you and Dr. Allen? Do you want to talk about it?”

  So much for distracting her. Laina shook her head and reached for another leaf. “Wherever did you get such a notion, Elizabeth? There’s nothing between Dr. Allen and I.” That was the truth. Thad didn’t even come around anymore except to tend one of the children. She held back the sigh that wanted to release the pressure in her chest.

  “Then what is wrong?” Elizabeth came to stand beside her. “Are you working too hard?”

  “Not at all.” She slivered the leaf. “If anything, I haven’t enough to do.”

  “With forty-seven children?” Elizabeth shook her head. “You’ll forgive me if I find that hard to believe.”

  Laina laughed at her skeptical tone. “Nonetheless, it’s true. Doreen has taken over all the record keeping and, since she has been up and about these last few weeks, manages all the special activities, like the children’s music lessons. She does a wonderful job of it.” She threw down the leaf. “And Mrs. Barnes and Beaumont keep the household running smoothly. He even oversees the gardeners. And then, of course, the tutors and nannies teach and care for the children all day.”

  She sighed and crossed her arms over her abdomen. “I seldom see the children, except in passing, until suppertime. There are so many now, not even Abigail’s dining room can accommodate them all at once. I eat with one group and have dessert with the other.”

  “I see.” Elizabeth studied her face for a moment, then glanced down. “It must be hard to feel really close to the children when there are so many.”

  She always knew! Laina unfolded her arms, which covered the emptiness she felt inside. “Yes. I thought…” She laughed at her own naiveté. “I thought it would all be like it was with Billy and Emma and Audrey. But the children come so rapidly now—sometimes two or three at a time—that I hardly know them. I try, but…well…it’s difficult.” She shot a look at Elizabeth. “I love them all. I just don’t know them all.”

  “I understand.”

  That’s what she was afraid of. Her sister-in-law was far too astute and understanding. If she didn’t move away from her she’d most likely throw herself in Elizabeth’s arms and blubber out the truth of her loneliness, of the horrible hollow place inside that nothing filled. Not even Billy and Emma and Audrey.

  Laina headed for the table to pour herself another cup of tea she didn’t want. Her first effort at distracting Elizabeth hadn’t worked—she’d have to try another. “Speaking of Doreen and Beaumont…” She glanced over her shoulder. “Would you like more tea, Elizabeth?”

  “All right.” Elizabeth came and resumed her seat. She gave Laina one penetrating look, then picked up her needlepoint. “What about Beaumont and Mrs. Chandler?”

  “I think they’re in love.”

  “What?” Elizabeth gaped up at her. “Beaumont?”

  Laina giggled and nodded. “Staid, proper Beaumont is acting like a love-smitten boy!”

  Elizabeth laughed. “Well, I never! Tell me about it.”

  Laina started for home in the gathering dusk of the balmy late-summer evening, pausing as a yellowing leaf from the overhanging branch of a maple tree floated to the walk ahead of her. She stared at it for a moment, then moved forward and picked it up, turning it over in her hand. Autumn was approaching.

  She tossed the leaf to the ground and walked on, then stopped and went back to pick it up. Autumn. That time of year when there was a last chance for flowers to bloom, for fruit to be produced. Laina twirled the leaf between her thumb and finger, studying it. She was at the edge of the autumn of her life. She had turned thirty a few weeks ago. Is that why she felt this way?

  She sighed and turned onto Walnut Street, glancing at the wrought-iron fence that stretched along the edge of the walk. How angry she’d been that first day she walked here from Randolph Court and saw Abigail’s house all closed up, cold and lifeless.

  Laina glanced up, and a smile touched her lips. It wasn’t lifeless now. Twiggs Manor Orphanage. The discreet, tasteful brass sign was attached to one of the brick lantern posts at the end of the gravel drive. A sense of satisfaction swept through her as she looked at it. It was done. The homeless children of Philadelphia had a place where they would be loved and cared for. The dream had come true. All she had set out to do had been accomplished. So why did she still feel unfulfilled?

  Laina walked on toward the house, its windows ablaze with welcoming candlelight. Justin wanted her to name it Brighton Manor Orphanage, but she couldn’t. It wasn’t her home—she only lived here, like one of the orphans she cared for. Of course, she couldn’t tell anyone she felt that way.

  What had happened? In the beginning, that day on Market Street when she and Thad had rescued Billy and Emma…

  Thad. A wave of desolation washed over her. The leaf was crushed as Laina clenched her hands against the loneliness, the ceaseless ache in her heart. She tried not to think about Thad. It made the emptiness inside unbearable. She paused at the bottom of the porch steps. It was here she’d crashed into him, had felt for the first time the breathlessness his touch caused in her. It was here she—

  Laina slammed the door on her traitorous thoughts. She needed to submit to her fate. To grow up and stop railing against the inevitable. Why couldn’t she simply be grateful for the children, for the opportunity to know how it felt to love a man, even if it was hopeless? Why did she have to fight everything?

  She gave a disgusted sigh and threw the mangled leaf to the ground. She was a thirty-year-old barren widow. This was her life. And she had come to believe, as Elizabeth had said, it was God’s will for her. It was time she accepted it.

  Laina took a deep breath and looked up at the dusky evening sky. “Forgive me, heavenly Father, for being so ungracious and willful. For always wanting more than I have. I do love the children. And I am so very thankful for them. And I know Thad deserves a whole woman, one who can give him children. So please take away this longing, this love I have for Thad. Take away this endless yearning and help me to be content with the life You have chosen to give me. I ask it in the holy name of Your Son. Amen.”

  Laina squared her shoulders, climbed the steps and crossed the porch to the front door. She could hear the beautiful sound of violin music as she went inside. Audrey was playing. Audrey, whose talent was beyond the capabilities of the local teachers.

  A bittersweet joy flowed through Laina. In three days Audrey would be leaving to study in Europe. The arrangements had all been made. Audrey would travel on the Cormorant under Captain Darby’s protection, with Justin’s neighbor, Mrs. Springfield, to chaperone her. She was happy for Audrey, but she would miss her. Laina sighed, pushed aside the twinge of sadness and hurried toward the music room to listen.

  Laina opened her eyes and lifted her head off her pillow, listening. The soft tap-tap on her door came again. Her stomach flopped. Something was wrong. She threw back the covers, slid from her bed and hurried to open the door. Nanny Tobin stood in the hall in her nightgown, her worried face lit by the candle in her hand. “Yes? What is it?”

  “I’m sorry to wake you, madam, but it’s the new girl, Anne, who we put in Emma and Heidi’s room. She’s complaining of her head hurting, and she feels quite warm to the touch.”

  “I’ll be right with you.”

  Laina donned her slippers and dressing gown, fastening its ties as she followed the nanny up the stairs to the third floor. Candles burning in wall sconces at either end of the long corridor gave off dim light. She heard a child crying as they turned left into the young girl’s section, and she quickened her steps.

  What should she do? Should she send for Thad? Laina stared down at the flushed face of the little girl on the bed, wishing she had more experience at this sort of thing. She brushed back the russet curls clinging to the child’s damp forehead, and heat from the girl’s skin warmed her hand. Th
e child definitely had a fever. That couldn’t be good.

  The child coughed, winced, coughed again. Tears spilled from the overly bright brown eyes staring up at her. “Does your throat hurt, Anne?”

  “My h-head hurts.”

  “I know, dear. Nanny Tobin told me.”

  “I want my m-mama.”

  The words ended on a mournful wail that broke Laina’s heart. Anne’s mother had died three days ago—that’s why Anne was here. She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the little girl into her arms. “I know, Anne. I know. But your mama’s in heaven with Jesus.” Her arms tightened around the sick, feverish child. She laid her cheek against the perspiration-dampened hair and rocked back and forth. “But I’m here, Anne. And I’m going to take care of you. Heart’s promise.”

  There was a patter of footsteps. Emma appeared, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She scrambled up onto the bed, placed her cheek against Anne’s and patted her back with a small hand. “You don’t gots to be afraid, Anne, honest. Mama will make you better.”

  That decided her. Laina kissed Emma’s cheek. “Thank you, precious. I’m sure you make Anne feel better, but you need to go back to bed. I’m sorry if I woke you.” She looked up at the nanny. “Tuck Emma back in bed, please.” She smiled as the sleepy, softhearted daughter of her heart was carried off to bed, then pulled the coverlet closer around the small shivering body in her arms and rose.

  Nanny Tobin glanced at her. Laina nodded toward the nightstand. “Bring the candle please. I’m taking Anne to my room, where I can care for her without disturbing the other children.” She started for the door.

  “You rang, madam?”

  Laina peeked at Beaumont around the edge of her partially opened door, her eyes widening with shock. Her impeccably groomed butler’s hair was mussed from sleep and the tails of his long nightshirt hung below his hastily donned jacket, stopping just above bony ankles leading to bare feet shoved into a pair of old, well-worn felt slippers. She fought back a grin. “Yes. Anne, the little girl who came in yesterday, is ill. Please send someone for Dr. Allen. Tell him she’s fevered, her head hurts and she has a cough. Ask him to come immediately. Oh, and bring him here to my room. I have the child with me.”