by Diane Ashley
“See the mercantile?” Pa pointed at a two-story building on his left. “You need to go one block past it and then turn down the next street to the right.”
“There it is.” She clapped her hands, excited to have recognized the tall windows and portico of Dolly Quinn’s three-story brick home. Then her spirits plunged. “Everything is so different from home.”
“You’ll be fine, honey.” He winked at her and drew back on Bessie’s reins, bringing the wagon to a halt. A young boy ran up and offered to hold the horse. Pa hesitated only a moment before nodding. Then he climbed down and helped her alight from the hard seat.
Rebekah pushed the folds of her cloak back and shifted her weight from one foot to another as she waited for someone to open the front door in response to her pa’s knock.
The door creaked on its hinges, revealing a shocking sight. Gone was Aunt Dolly’s elegantly appointed entry hall. Family portraits hung askew, and a mop leaned against one wall. The rug was bunched haphazardly under a window. Dust could be seen on every surface, from the floor to the furniture to the windows. She even spied a cobweb swaying gently in one corner of the hall. “Oh, my. I believe Aunt Dolly does need my help.”
The black woman who had opened the door looked as rumpled as the rug behind her. There were dark circles under her eyes, her cap was askew, and her apron was covered with stains. “Oh, thank the Lord you’re here, Mr. William.”
“Hello. . .Harriet, isn’t it?” Pa had the oddest expression on his face. Like he wanted to run away from the chaos inside Aunt Dolly’s house.
For a brief moment, Rebekah wanted to run away, too. Could she take care of her aunt and see to the house at the same time?
Harriet curtsied and waved them inside. “I know it looks bad, but since Maude moved with her husband to Knoxville and left me with all the work, I’m a little behind. Now that you and your daughter are here, I’m sure we can get everything back in order.”
Rebekah followed Harriet toward the parlor, her eyes taking in the general air of neglect. But after the first shock, she realized things weren’t as bad as they initially appeared to be. With a bucket of water and some rags, this room could look pristine in an afternoon. The thought gave her courage.
She turned to reassure her father and realized he was still in the hallway. “Pa?”
“I’d better get your stuff from the wagon.”
Harriet reached back to untie the strings of her apron. “I can help.”
“No, no. There’s not much to unload. You take Rebekah upstairs to see her aunt. Tell Dolly I’ll be up in a minute to visit with her before I go back home.”
Harriet’s smile was a broad, white slash that eased the worry from her face. She nodded and led the way upstairs. “It’s good that you’re here. Your aunt will rest easier and recover her health faster.”
Rebekah followed her reluctantly. She would much prefer to stay on the first floor and delay seeing her ailing aunt. It would be hard to see a loved one so weak. But that was the reason she was here, so she raised her chin and stiffened her resolve. Everyone was counting on her—she would not let them down.
Harriet opened Aunt Dolly’s door and led the way into a seemingly cavernous room. Draperies covered every window, leaving the bedchamber dark and gloomy even at midday. A large rice bed stood in the center of the room, its tall, thin posts drawing Rebekah’s gaze upward to the ornate carvings on the ceiling. Anyone lying down could spend hours looking at the fascinating patterns above.
A series of hacking coughs indicated her aunt’s presence in the large bed. “What is it? Who’s there?”
“It’s me, and look who has arrived.” Harriet plumped a pillow and helped Dolly to a sitting position. “It’s your niece, Miss Rebekah. And Mr. William will be up after unloading her things.”
Another fit of coughing ensued, and Rebekah wondered what to do.
“Come. . .closer. . .child.” Each word was punctuated by another cough.
“Don’t speak, Aunt Dolly. You need to rest.” She bent over and placed a quick peck on the older woman’s cheek.
“That’s right.” Harriet added her support as she smoothed the quilt covering Aunt Dolly. “You’re going to get better soon now. Just you wait and see.”
Rebekah sent up a fervent prayer that Harriet’s words would come true and, after a quick glance around, that God would give her strength to tackle all that lay ahead.
❧
Rebekah ran loving fingers across the oak dining table. Her brown eyes stared back at her from its rich surface. She noticed a spot of dirt on her nose and rubbed at it impatiently, turning it into a streak. Her wheat-colored hair, drawn back with a ribbon, had pulled loose from its binding. It would be nice to cut it short like a boy’s instead of having to deal with the tangles. But Asher might not like that. If Asher ever returned.
She looked around the room, satisfied with its appearance. After several weeks, Aunt Dolly’s house sparkled with cleanliness. She had interviewed and engaged another maid, making it possible to get caught up with all of the household tasks. But the greatest blessing of all was Aunt Dolly’s returning health. Her chronic cough had finally yielded to the broths and teas Rebekah and Harriet had concocted, as well as to the many prayers they sent heavenward. Rebekah knew that had been the true cure.
A knock on the front door interrupted her musings. Rebekah was glad to hear it. While Aunt Dolly was not fully recovered, she was able to come downstairs and have short visits with the guests who came by to check on her. Seeing her friends always seemed to cheer her up.
From the dining room, Rebekah could not see who was at the front door, but she could hear Harriet’s booming tones and a feminine voice answering. After a minute, she heard Harriet climbing the stairs to fetch Aunt Dolly.
Rebekah decided she’d stay hidden in the dining room as long as possible. She didn’t want anyone to see her with her hair all messed up. It was hard enough making conversation with strangers when she was tidy. The time passed slowly while she waited. When she judged it safe, she slipped out of the room. . .and ran into Aunt Dolly and her guest in the hallway.
“Oh, good. There you are.” Her aunt put a hand on Rebekah’s arm and turned to the dark-haired woman next to her. “I have someone you’ll enjoy meeting, Rachel. This is my sister’s oldest daughter, Rebekah. Rebekah,” she continued, “this is Rachel Jackson, the wife of our illustrious military commander, General Andrew Jackson.”
Rebekah could not believe her ears. She’d expected a famous personage like Andrew Jackson to be married to a stunning beauty—not a short, matronly woman dressed in a plain calico dress. She looked like she’d be at home on Pa’s farm.
“I’ve heard good things about you, my dear.”
Rebekah blushed. She didn’t deserve any praise, given her unchristian attention to Mrs. Jackson’s looks rather than her heart. She bobbed a quick curtsy, her eyes on the floor. She hoped God would forgive her for her earlier thoughts.
“She’s a wonderful help.” Aunt Dolly patted her arm. “Not only does she supervise Harriet and the maids, but she also reads and sings to me, and she has even prepared several medicaments that have made my recovery possible.”
Rebekah’s cheeks grew even hotter as the praise continued. She was so unworthy. She’d not known how to do much of anything when she arrived. Harriet knew more about running the household than Rebekah. She’d have been overwhelmed without any help.
“Rebekah.” Dolly’s tone sounded different, like she had a wonderful secret to impart. “I mentioned your young man to Mrs. Jackson. She hears from Andrew quite regularly, so she’s going to ask him for a report on Asher. Won’t that be lovely?”
Rebekah’s heart stuttered. She looked toward Rachel. “C–Could you?”
“I’d love to do that for you, Rebekah. I know how worried you must be.” She patted Rebekah’s hot cheek. “I’m certain he’s fine, but we all know how men sometimes don’t have a mind to do as they ought.”
“Thank you so much.
I’ll be forever in your debt.” Tears pricked at the edges of Rebekah’s eyes.
“It’s not any trouble.” Rachel turned back to Dolly. “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear something.”
Rebekah sent a quick prayer upward that Rachel would hear good news and hear it very soon.
Three
“I insist, my dear.” Aunt Dolly’s voice gained a slight edge.
Six months of living in her aunt’s home had taught Rebekah that it was best to acquiesce when that raspy edge appeared. Failure to do so could result in a relapse or a fainting spell. Once, her aunt had been so distraught, that she had taken to her bed for a week, refusing to eat or allow anyone to visit her.
Rebekah nodded and took the dress her aunt proffered. “You’re too generous, Aunt Dolly.”
“Now, now. Do remember to call me Dolly. There is no reason to remind others of my advancing age.”
Rebekah smiled. “No one would think you’re a day over twenty, Au—Dolly. You are full of energy now that you’ve recovered your health. And your complexion. How do you keep it so clear and smooth? I’m always fighting freckles.”
Dolly sighed and patted her cheek. “You’re such a sweet thing. I don’t know how I ever managed without you here.” She shooed Rebekah toward the door. “Go on. You must try on the dress. I have the feeling we’ll need to make some alterations.”
Rebekah hurried down the wide hall to her bedroom, which never failed to cheer her with its pink beribboned drapes and four-poster bed. The canopy that topped it made the bed seem like her special refuge. Double doors on the far wall opened out onto a small balcony overlooking the street. When she’d first arrived, the noise from the street often woke her at night, but now she was used to it.
She laid the dress on her bed, its pale yellow fabric reminding her of spring daisies in the meadow back home. She sighed. It was not that she was unhappy staying with Aunt Dolly. . .no. . .Dolly. She really needed to remember not to call her Aunt. Even though her father had come to check on them a couple of times, she missed her family. She hadn’t seen her mother and siblings since spring. Little Donny was probably through teething, and there was no telling how much Eleanor had grown between March and June. Rebekah knew this was a busy time on the farm. She wondered how well they were getting along without her help.
A wave of homesickness swept over her, but Rebekah refused to give in to the melancholy. She had much too much to be thankful for. Including the gorgeous dress lying on her bed. Used to homemade dresses woven from cotton or wool and often handed down from her ma, Rebekah had never owned anything half so beautiful. Her fingers traced the delicate lace outlining the neck and sleeves of the dress. The bodice was high, accentuated by a golden length of ribbon that would fall gracefully toward the wearer’s ankles after it was tied in the back. The skirt was quite narrow and looked too revealing to Rebekah’s eyes. There was not much room to wear petticoats or pantaloons beneath the dress. It would almost certainly reveal a lady’s limbs if she had need to hurry across a room. She was sure it was the latest fashion and just as sure Pa would frown on her wearing it.
What would Asher think if he saw her in such attire? Would his eyes light up with admiration, or would he be shocked? Her eyes closed as she imagined the scene. A dress like this would be worn for a fancy party. Asher would be wearing formal clothes, his thick chestnut hair falling just so against his brow. His broad shoulders and proud bearing would be shown off to advantage in his evening dress, and his boots would gleam in the candlelight as he walked across the room to greet her. All of the other ladies in the room would follow his progress with hope, and they would be filled with envy when he stopped at her side. He would bow, and she would curtsy. And he would take her hand in his, maybe even press a kiss against it in the European manner. . . .
Her aunt fluttered into the bedroom, ending her daydream. “Whatever are you doing, Rebekah? Are you not anxious to see how the gown looks?”
“I’m sorry, Dolly. I was—”
“I know. You were daydreaming again. Really, you have got to rid yourself of that habit. What if you were attacked by a bear or Indians?” Dolly paused and shivered. “When you begin daydreaming, you lose any awareness of your surroundings. You would not recognize the danger until it was too late.”
Rebekah hung her head in shame. It was true. She did spend too much time imagining the future. It would be better to spend her time dealing with the present.
A knock at the bedroom door interrupted the women, and they turned to see Harriet peeking at them. “Excuse me, ma’am. You have a guest.”
Dolly brushed the skirt of her day dress, smoothing the blue material with practiced fingers. “Who is it?”
“Mrs. Jackson.”
“Oh, my.” Dolly clapped her hands and turned to Rebekah. “Perhaps we should leave the dress for now. We’ll adjust it later. Let’s go find out what news Rachel has of the fighting.”
Rebekah wanted to leap over her aunt to get downstairs and hear the news, but she forced herself to take her time and mimic Dolly’s tiny steps. Her aunt always appeared to float into a room, a technique Rebekah would like to acquire so she could impress Asher once he returned home. Wouldn’t he be surprised at her cosmopolitan polish when she approached him, resplendent in her new yellow dress?
“Good morning, Rachel,” Dolly’s warm tones welcomed her friend.
Rachel’s smile was wide, transforming her face from plain to angelic. Her expression was a reflection of her disposition—gentle and sweet. There might be some in Nashville who would condemn her for her past, but not Rebekah or Dolly. Rebekah didn’t understand the complaint people made against Rachel and Andrew Jackson. Something about Rachel having been married before.
The two older ladies chitchatted about the weather and the latest Indian sighting while they waited for Harriet to serve refreshments.
Rebekah had learned many rules that were observed in the city, but today she could have cried with frustration as they exchanged social niceties. She would have much preferred the country way of going straight to the point. Clenching her teeth, Rebekah balanced on the edge of Dolly’s settee and picked up the embroidery she had been working on for the past week. It would give her hands something to do besides twist themselves into a knot.
Harriet brought in the silver service, and Dolly handed round, delicate china cups filled with tea. Rachel helped herself to one of the maple cookies that were piled on a china plate, but Rebekah shook her head. There was no way she could choke anything down right now. Not until she knew the reason for Mrs. Jackson’s unannounced visit.
“I have very important news, ladies. And I knew you would want to learn of it as soon as possible.”
Dolly dismissed Harriet with a nod. “Whatever can it be?”
“Ouch.” Rebekah jerked her thumb from the needle that had pierced it, dropped her handwork, and quickly wrapped a handkerchief around the tiny wound.
Dolly and Rachel looked toward her.
“I’m all right. I’m just anxious. Please go ahead and tell us your news.”
Rachel opened her reticule and pulled a sheet of stationery from it. “Andrew has sent for me to join him in New Orleans at the beginning of the year. And I want the two of you to travel with me.”
Rebekah squealed, then caught herself and coughed. She would get to see Asher! She could wear the yellow dress! She could almost hear his voice greeting her, his surprise overtaken with joy as they were reunited. Oh, how romantic! Her mind’s eye revised the scene she had created earlier, putting Asher in his dashing uniform instead of evening wear.
Aunt Dolly was saying something about plans and dangers, but Rebekah pushed those aside. She had six long weeks in which to convince her aunt and her parents that she should go. She wanted to hug Rachel Jackson, who was beaming at both of them. She would allow absolutely nothing to prevent her from making this trip. If the men could not return to Nashville, why shouldn’t their ladies go to them?
❧
&
nbsp; Asher strode under the graceful, wrought facades supported by cast-iron columns. This part of New Orleans had been carefully laid out, its streets forming squares within squares. He had to admit that the uniformity of its design made the area very easy to navigate. Much easier than navigating the political situation of the city.
He had nothing but the greatest admiration for General Jackson, even though he might not agree with every decision the man made. Like trusting the Baratarian pirates. There was no telling if they wouldn’t decide to switch sides in the middle of the looming battle.
His musings were interrupted by a feminine scream that seemed to issue from within a knot of soldiers ahead of him. Putting a hand on his pistol, Asher quickened his pace. “What’s going on here?”
A man he didn’t recognize answered the question. “We wasn’t doing nothin’.”
“Stand aside. I distinctly heard a lady.”
“Oh, please, kind sir. Save me from these ruffians. They’ve trapped me.”
Asher’s anger soared. How dare they accost a woman in the streets in broad daylight? “You should be ashamed of yourselves.” He drew himself to his full height and met each man’s gaze separately. Only one of them seemed disposed to challenge Asher’s authority, but one of his buddies pulled on his arm, and they all drifted away.
Once they had disappeared around the corner, Asher turned his attention to the young woman he had rescued. She was slender, with hair as dark as coal. From her expensive clothing, he guessed she was from a wealthy family. “Where is your attendant?”
She looked up at him, her brows drawn together over eyes that shone like glass. She was so frightened he could see her shoulders shaking. “I shouldn’t have come alone. It’s just that my slave, Jemma, has yellow fever. And the day was so pretty. I thought I would walk to the Place d’Armes and watch the soldiers march. I didn’t think it would be. . .dangerous.”
Asher let his frown deepen. The girl had probably learned her lesson, but he would not condone her actions. He shivered to think of Rebekah doing anything so precipitous. But that was foolish, as his Rebekah was a model of modest behavior. She would never go out alone in a big city, especially not on the eve of battle.