Hatti guided her back to the house amid a torrent of detail and explanation. As they passed each bush or tree or structure there was some comment to be made about it. They entered the house and the old woman bustled about, painstakingly inspecting the immaculate neatness which the house staff had bestowed upon each room while her mistress struggled to stay beside her. It was some time later when they paused in the drawing room and Heather, with a laugh, sank into a chair.
“Oh, Hatti, I simply must rest. I’m afraid the long voyage did not prepare me for this activity.”
Hatti gestured to Mary who had remained close at hand and the young girl left to return shortly with a tall, cool pitcher of lemonade. She poured her mistress a glass and it was gratefully accepted. Heather insisted the other women have some.
“And, Hatti, please do sit down.”
Murmuring her thanks, the old woman accepted the glass from Mary and seated herself cautiously upon the edge of a chair. Heather leaned her head back and closed her eyes for a moment and sighed.
“Hatti, when I first met Brandon, I never dreamed that because of him I would be living in a house like this.” She opened her eyes and raised her head to look at the woman, a soft, thoughtful smile curving her lips. “And even when we were married I only knew him as a sea captain and thought I would spend the rest of my life in dingy waterfront rooms, but never this, never anything like this.”
Hatti chuckled. “Yes, ma’m, that’s Master Bran, he always likes to tease the people he loves the most.”
Heather grew restless after lunch and decided to explore the house for herself. Intrigued by the beauty of the ballroom, she returned again to it and paced once more the glistening oak floor and caressed the white silk moire that covered the walls. She admired the gilt trim and stood beneath one of the crystal chandeliers, looking up at it, dazzled by the myriad twinkling rainbows. When she opened the crystal-paned doors to the garden, the winter breeze set the chandeliers tinkling with a soft and gentle music. She stood for a long while listening to it, lost in thought. Sighing softly, she closed the doors and left the sweetly chiming room behind her. Seeking Brandon’s presence, she went to his study and found it in the heavy chair that sat before his massive walnut desk. Testing the chair, she found it hard and uncomfortable, as if it resented her imposing upon its masculine stature. She rose and gazed about the room and despite its lack of order, sensed that here was where the Birmingham men sought their ease. The room was neat and clean, yet the huge chairs seemed to stand where they had been last used and where they would again serve a manly mood. Books arrayed great shelves in no apparent order, simply replaced as they had been read. A tall rack held a score of guns whose well worn sheen spoke of common usage, and a great roebuck stared silently from above the fireplace. The only hint of a woman’s touch in the room was a large portrait of Catherine Birmingham hanging where the sunlight fell upon it, seeming to set the gentle figure aglow.
Her reverie was broken by a child’s voice shouting from the front. “The drummer’s come! The drummer’s come! He wants to speak to the mistress of the house.”
Heather was undecided for a moment, not knowing whether she should welcome the peddler or not, but when Hatti came through the house from the back, she followed the woman out onto the porch. The drummer greeted the Negress with familiarity and she responded in kind before turning to present her mistress.
“And Mister Bates, this is the new Mistress of Harthaven, Master Bran’s wife.”
The man doffed his hat and bowed gallantly. “Ah, Madam Birmingham, it is my most honored pleasure. I had heard rumors of a new wife in the family and may I say, madam, you do most splendidly confirm those rumors.”
She acknowledged his gracious comment with a smile.
“With your permission, Madam Birmingham, I should like to display for you my wares. I have a great many items of common need about the household and mayhaps you will find one or some of them to your liking.” At her nod of approval he hastened to fold back the canvas side of the wagon and lower a shelf. “First of all, madam, I’d like to display utensils for the kitchen. And I have, of course, many spices.”
As he said this he swung down a hinged cover with a bang, revealing a copious collection of the mentioned products. He hurried on, making a show of the sturdiness of his pots and pans and other wares. In these everyday items Heather showed little interest, but Hatti attended each display closely. He went through his hard wares and introduced them to scents purportedly from the Orient and fragrant soaps of which Hatti coyly selected several, asking her mistress if she desired any of these heady stuffs. Heather declined gently, not wishing to betray her lack of coin to the woman. Then Mr. Bates began displaying his materials and Hatti chose for herself a fine piece for Sunday wear while Heather watched, smiling. It was when the man brought out a deep green velvet that her interest grew, and she thought how handsome Brandon would look in the color. She gazed at it longingly before a sudden thought came to her. She begged a moment’s absence from them and hurried into the house and up the stairs to her room where she began tearing through her wardrobes for the gown she would barter. She found it at last and pulled it out and for a moment stared at it, remembering too well the history of this beige gown she had worn the night she met her husband. Too many other memories were associated with it for her to feel any dismay at trading it off. Pushing those discomforting thoughts from her mind, she clutched the dress to her and hastened from her room and down the stairs to the front porch.
“Are you open to barter, Mr. Bates?” she asked the drummer.
He nodded. “If the piece be worthy, madam, of course.”
She spread the gown before him and the man’s eyes widened and then gleamed in anticipation. She indicated the green velvet and asked to see a display of threads, braid and some light matching satin for the lining. As he climbed into the wagon to search out the requested items, Hatti sidled close and whispered softly.
“Miss Heather, don’t go trading that pretty dress off,” she pleaded. “The Master leaves money in the house for these things. I’ll show you where.”
“Thank you, Hatti,” Heather smiled. “But this is my surprise to him, and I prefer not to use his money unless he bids me so.”
The Negress drew back with a disapproving frown but gave no further objection. Heather turned again to the man as he came to her with the items she requested.
“The green velvet is an expensive piece, madam,” he said shrewdly. “I’ve carried it carefully as if it were gold, and as you can see, it is of the finest quality.”
She nodded graciously and went on to praise her item likewise. “The gown is worth far more, sir, than your materials.” She put her hand inside the gown and displayed the handiwork about the bodice, making the beading glisten in the afternoon sun. “It’s not everyday you should have the good fortune to come across a gown such as this in your trading. It is the latest fashion as you can see and many a woman would desire to have it.”
He complimented his cloth again but Heather was not to be outdone, and soon the bartering was completed with both participants content. The drummer gave Heather her goods and took the gown from her carefully and folded and wrapped it ever so gently. He put it away tenderly, then turned and doffed his hat again, and being a trader of the first cloth, spoke ruefully.
“My foolishness and your skilled tongue, Madam Birmingham, have no doubt ruined my profits for the entire day.”
Heather raised an eyebrow and chuckled as if in sympathy with his feigned injury. “Good sir, you know full well the value of such a delicate piece and have indeed rooked me into accepting these simple rags in exchange.”
They both laughed in mutual regard, and he bowed low before her.
“Madam, your beauty hath such charm that I shall soon return again and allow you to deplete my wares for another simple token in return.”
Hatti grunted sharply in abject displeasure, and Heather warned him gracefully.
“Should you, sir,
I beg you sharpen your wits, for never again will I be so pliable in allowing my great treasures to so easily slip away.”
He laughed and bid goodbye and she waved him off and began happily gathering the materials while Hatti shook her head and grumbled.
“I don’t know what’s got into you, Miss Heather, trading your pretty clothes off to that drummer. Master Brandon, he got money. He ain’t no poor white trash.”
“Hatti, don’t you dare say a word about what I’ve done when he comes home,” she warned softly. “I’m going to make him a Christmas gift out of this and I want it to be a surprise.”
“Yas’m,” Hatti mumbled and stomped along behind her into the house, thoroughly disgruntled.
Brandon returned from Charleston near midnight of the following night. The house was quiet and everyone asleep except for the butler, Joseph, who greeted him and George at the door. The three of them woke first Jeff, then Heather, carrying bags and chests upstairs to his room. Hearing voices from the other room and realizing her husband was home, Heather rose from bed and, donning robe and slippers, entered his bedroom to find the brothers and the two servants indulging in a midnight tipple. She smiled sleepily as Brandon came to her and leaned against him lightly as he gave her a husbandly peck upon the brow.
“We didn’t mean to wake you, sweet,” he murmured softly, slipping an arm around her.
“H’m,” she sighed drowsily. “I would have waited up if I had known you were coming home tonight. Have you finished your business on the ship?”
“Until after Christmas, pet, then we must get the Fleetwood ready and in top condition for her buyers. I’ll be taking her to New York when she’s done and selling her there.”
Heather lifted her head and met his gaze now with alert eyes. “You will be going to New York?” she asked slowly. “You will be gone a long time?”
He smiled down at her and smoothed her hair from her face. “Not too long, sweet. A month perhaps, a little less, a little more. I’m not certain. Now, you’d best go back to sleep. We’ll be rising early to go to church in the morning.”
He kissed her brow once more and watched her leave him and go to her room, and with a slight frown wrinkling his brow, he turned back to the other men and found both George and Jeff with their gazes fixed on him. The servant quickly averted his, but Jeff slowly shook his head as if in exasperation. Ignoring him, Brandon poured himself another brandy and drank it slowly.
Heather woke the next morning to find Mary poking up the fire in her room and she rose from bed shivering to go huddle before it. The wind whipped at the trees by her window and a chill possessed the room this December morning.
She dressed carefully for church, donning a gown of sapphire blue silk. It was the one Brandon had selected especially to compliment the color of her eyes, and when she stood arrayed in it before the mirror, the servant girl caught her breath.
“Oh Mrs. Birmin’ham, I ain’t never seen no one as pretty as you. I sure ain’t!”
Heather smiled at the girl then regarded her own reflection critically. She was exceedingly anxious to look her best this morning since she would be meeting many of Brandon’s friends, and she wanted so very much to make a good impression. Afraid that she wouldn’t, she chewed her lip nervously and left the room rather reluctantly, carrying a matching blue coat and silver fox muff. A hat of the same fur had been chosen and she worried with it as she hurried down the stairs and even thought of going back and changing it for a bonnet but time did not allow.
The men were waiting in the drawing room, a striking pair in their Sunday finery. As she entered their conversation stopped in mid sentence. They gazed at her in appreciation of her trim beauty until she grew uneasy under their stares. Sensing her discomfort, both brothers stepped forward at the same time and collided abruptly. With a chuckle, Jeff stood aside and allowed his brother to proceed.
“Am I suitably dressed?” she questioned Brandon worriedly, hoping that her appearance would do him credit with his friends and meet with his approval.
He smiled and helped her on with her coat. “My sweet, you needn’t worry. I assure you that you’ll be the loveliest to grace our church today.” He bent his head near her ear as he stood behind her and let his hands rest lightly on her shoulders. “You will no doubt set the men agog and the women’s tongues wagging.”
She smiled with pleasure and did not fear now having to face his friends.
As the landau rumbled to a halt before the church, those persons still remaining outside turned to watch the Birminghams descend from their carriage. Jeff stepped down first, then Brandon, and as he turned to assist his young wife, all eyes were glued to the door in curiosity. Heather appeared and a murmur ran through the crowd. A few sneers and derogatory remarks came from the still-single maidens and their mothers, and from the men a complimentary silence. Bonneted heads came hurriedly together as the women whispered back and forth and grins broke wide on male faces.
Jeff smiled in amusement. “I do believe our lovely lady has drawn everyone’s attention,” he commented to his brother.
Brandon glanced around and noticed as he did so several people turn rapidly away in embarrassment at having been caught gaping. The corner of his mouth lifted as he offered Heather his arm and those persons he passed on the way into church he nodded a greeting to and touched his hat.
Just inside, a matronly woman stood rudely gawking as her daughter peered over her shoulder at the new arrivals. Their attention was centered upon Heather, as they looked her up and down with anything but a friendly interest. The mother possessed broad, heavy hips and narrow shoulders and in other than dress and length of hair, she bore no resemblance to the gentler sex whatsoever. Her daughter was taller than she and fairly well proportioned, but her heavy-boned face with slightly protruding teeth spoiled the effect. Her skin was pale with freckles spattering it and her mousy brown hair was almost hidden under a rather ridiculous bonnet. Weak, grayish blue eyes were framed by steel-rimmed spectacles and she stared at Heather from behind their lenses. Both women’s gazes slid to her rounded stomach and in the daughter’s it could be said an envious glint shown. Brandon doffed his hat and acknowledged first the older then the younger woman.
“Mrs. Scott. Miss Sybil. Rather chilly day, isn’t it?”
The mother smiled stiffly and the daughter blushed and giggled and stuttered a reply.
“Yes. Yes, it surely is.”
Brandon passed them by and escorted Heather down the aisle toward the family pew near the front. The people already seated turned to look and smile a greeting. He stood aside with Heather at their pew to allow Jeff to enter first, and then they too took their places. The two tall, broad shouldered men flanked her slight figure, and as Brandon helped her off with her coat, Jeff leaned near her and spoke in a hushed whisper.
“You just had the pleasure of seeing Mrs. Scott, the water buffalo and her shy calf, Sybil,” he smiled. “The girl has been sweet on your husband for a long time and the mother, seeing the advantages of having a rich son-in-law, has done everything in her power to get them together. She has been disturbed because Bran has always ignored her darling. At the moment, I’d wager they’re staring a hole through your back. There are several other young maidens doing the same thing. You’d best sharpen your claws for the ordeal of meeting the rejected after church. They’re not a happy group, but quite numerous.”
She smiled her thanks for his warning and turned to gaze up at Brandon. He bent his head near as she leaned toward him.
“You didn’t tell me you had more than one fiancée,” she murmured, finding it maddening to think there might have been other women besides Louisa. “Which of these fine ladies here should I steer clear of? Is Sybil likely to lose control of herself? She looks to be a strong girl. I’d hate to find myself under attack by her, or perhaps by some other young girl here.”
Brandon’s narrowing eyes shifted to his brother but Jeff just grinned and shrugged.
“I assure you, mada
m,” he whispered irritably. “I have never crawled into bed with any of these ladies. They are not of my desiring. As for Sybil, you’re hardly the one to be calling her a girl since she’s ten years your senior.”
Sitting several pews behind them, Sybil and her mother watched the Birmingham couple together and were none too pleased when the young woman smiled at her husband and picked a small piece of lint from his otherwise immaculate coat and smoothed it familiarly. They seemed to all appearances to be a most loving couple.
When the services were over, the Birminghams passed through the doorway and greeting the minister, paused for a moment as Brandon introduced Heather to him, then continued down the steps. Jeff was hailed by a group of young couples who were apparently friends of his and excused himself to join them. Shortly afterward, several men approached Brandon as he made to give Heather his arm.
“You’re a good judge of horseflesh, Brandon,” one of them said with a grin. “How about coming over here and settling an argument.”
Two men took an arm each and dragged him away and having no other choice, Brandon laughed over his shoulder.
“I’ll be back in a moment, sweet.”
They took him to one side and when they were out of sight of the minister, Heather saw one of the men produce a small, brown jug from beneath his coattails. She smiled a little to herself as they passed it to Brandon and clapped him heartily upon the back. She was doubtful now that there were any great problems to be solved.
She stood undecided for a moment, watching groups of women gather about the churchyard, feeling a little lost without a familiar face in sight. Her attention was drawn by a well dressed elderly lady seeking a warm, protected spot in the lee of the church. The woman carried a long parasol which she used more as a cane than as shade. The footman from her carriage placed a chair for her, and she eased herself into it. She saw Heather and gestured imperiously for the young girl to join her. When Heather drew near, the elderly woman tapped the ground directly in front of her with the tip of her parasol.
The Flame and the Flower Page 28