Thursday's Child (Out of Time #5) (7 page)

“There was no other family?” Elizabeth asked. “Aunts or uncles…”

Catherine shook her head. “Hard to say. The mother was gone and the girl was ill when she came to us.” She reached over to a shelf and picked up a daguerreotype photograph that had several colorful ribbons hanging over the frame. She lifted the ribbons and then pointed at a girl in the photo. “Here, that's Mary.”

Mrs. Nolan and about a dozen children were in the photo, some blurry, as they couldn't stand still for the long exposure. Mary sat in a chair, her legs primly together, her hands clasped on her lap. Elizabeth noticed a ribbon tied to her wrist. “What are the ribbons for?”

Catherine ran the loose ribbons through her fingers that hung from the frame. “It's just a little thing I give the girls to make them feel special. I remember Mary chose blue to match her eyes. That one foot of silk ribbon and her doll were all that child had in the world.”

“That poor girl,” Rose said, distressed. “Do you have any children, Mrs. Cross?”

“No,” Elizabeth said. She looked over to where Simon stood with the other men in the far parlor before turning back. “We…not yet.”

“If I could, I would have the house filled to the rafters with children,” Rose said her lovely face slightly drawn. “To think of our Louisa in such a place…”

James cleared his throat. “I'm afraid this subject is distressing my wife.”

“I'm all right,” Rose protested, but James took hold of her arm.

“You mustn't upset yourself, my dear,” he said in a tone that made Elizabeth cringe. Rose looked as though she might protest, but glanced quickly at Elizabeth, then smiled at her husband, and subserviently lowered her eyes.

The little exchange was not lost on Catherine who arched an eyebrow. James looked at her challengingly until Eli stepped in. “Who needs a drink? I think now's a good time for one. Or two. Cat?” Eli added as he lifted a nearby decanter.

Catherine looked ready to loose a salvo over James' bow when her father called for her from across the room.

“Catherine?” the Colonel called out. “Would you?” he said as he waved her over.

After a beseeching look from Eli, Catherine didn't argue and put the photo back. “We can talk more after dinner,” she said to Elizabeth and then excused herself and joined her father.

James and Rose declined Eli's offer for a drink, and as much as she could use one, Elizabeth demurred. Eli shrugged and poured one for himself.

“Tell me, Mrs. Cross, are you and your husband planning to stay in Natchez?” James said, forcibly changing the topic of conversation.

Elizabeth was ready for this. She and Simon had practiced their backstory. She shook her head sadly. “No, not for too long, although it is nice to rest. Simon and I have been traveling for months. England to New York to Ohio and then down the river to Natchez. We were going to stop at New Orleans, but I just had to spend some time on dry land.”

“To our great pleasure,” Eli said as he raised his glass in her honor. “I do hope you'll come visit us at River Run while you're here.”

“River Run?”

“Our plantation,” James said. “We're just on the bluff above the river about six miles upstream.”

Elizabeth didn't want to seem too eager, but this was exactly what they'd been hoping for — a chance to mingle with the mighty. “I've never actually seen a plantation.”

“Then you must come visit us at River Run,” Rose said as she put her hand on Elizabeth's forearm. “There is no more beautiful place on God's earth.”

When the servant announced that dinner was ready, the dozen guests gathered in the hall. Catherine took Elizabeth's hand and led her over to Colonel Stanton's side, whose eyes shined brightly with bourbon.

He frowned at them both.

“Papa, since Mrs. Archer and her son,” she added with a hint of contempt in her voice, “couldn't make it this evening, why not have the Crosses take their places as guests of honor?”

Elizabeth felt for Catherine. Pulling out of an invitation, especially one where you were the guest of honor, was a big old kick in the social pants. On the other hand, Catherine didn't seem the least bit bothered, and having a chance to be the guests of honor at a hoity-toity dinner would all but ensure their spot at future swanky dinners. She smiled up at the Colonel hoping to find the perfect mixture of humility and flattery.

The Colonel frowned more deeply than ever, but recognized that he'd been cleverly maneuvered and had no option but to gracefully accede. He held out his arm stiffly and led Elizabeth to the head of the table and to the seat to his right. She barely managed to remember not to pull out her own chair. She did, however, manage to step in front of the Colonel forcing an awkward do-se-do that only ended when he stepped back and glowered at her. Couple after couple joined them in the elegant dining room.

“Hello again,” Eli said as he took his place behind the chair on Elizabeth's right.

The ladies took their seats and the men remained standing, until Catherine and Simon came in. He held out her chair and then sat to her right, catty-corner across the long table from Elizabeth.

Like the other rooms, this one had a warm fire-lit glow to it. A large chandelier hung above the table, the light from the candles catching the crystals that hung beneath them. Dozens of candles and a few oil lamps lined the side tables and a low fire burned in the fireplace behind her. Elizabeth thought it was lovely, but couldn't help wondering if they had fire insurance back then.

Eli noticed her looking at the fireplace. “If it gets too warm for you, I'll have them move the screen over.” He indicated a needlepoint tapestry held in a wooden frame, almost like a mid-sized freestanding mirror. Elizabeth had read about them. Some women wore beeswax-based make-up and the heat from the fireplace would melt it away. These tapestry screens helped keep their faces in the right place.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said glad she'd worn only a little lip rouge.

Eli smiled and then turned his attention to the man on his right. Elizabeth smiled at the Colonel. He smiled back, but looked more like a man with a gallstone than a guest.

“Beautiful table,” Elizabeth said, hoping to start a pleasant, innocuous conversation mending whatever fence she'd apparently busted. “Are these plates French?”

The Colonel grunted, mumbled a yes and then turned and joined a conversation with Mrs. Goode to his left. Elizabeth floundered for a moment. Each guest at the table was involved in a conversation with a partner or two except for her. She fiddled with her water glass

“And that is why I can no longer have Claret,” Mrs. Goode intoned. “And I do so love it. My one vice, you understand.”

Eli offered his condolences to Mrs. Goode for her brave fight against gout and gave Elizabeth a wink.

As was Victorian custom it seemed, dinner was an endless affair of soup, salad, fish, mutton, and roast chicken. House slaves in spotless liveries brought the food out on silver chargers in wave after wave. It took Elizabeth a few times of twisting awkwardly the wrong way, but she finally got the hang of serve-from-the-left and remove-from-the-right.

Elizabeth made a few more attempts to engage Colonel Stanton and each one floated like a pricked balloon to the floor. That was until she remembered some of the stories Gerald had told her when she and Simon had stayed with the Eldridges in 1906 San Francisco. Before Gerald had been rescued by Evan Eldridge, he'd served with the 21st Infantry Regiment in the Battle of Stoney Creek during the War of 1812. Elizabeth dropped a few details and must have asked the right questions, because the Colonel actually responded with more than a grunt.

By the time their last course had been taken away, Elizabeth's corset was feeling decidedly smaller than it had at the start. What she wouldn't give for some comfort clothes right now. Sadly, her lucky sweatpants were a thousand miles and one hundred and fifty years away.

The men and women split into groups each retiring to their own adjoining parlor. The ladies were offered cordials and brandy. Mrs. Goode declined sadly, but took out a small snuffbox and inhaled half of it.

Two of the women Elizabeth hadn't had a chance to talk to much during dinner were happily gossiping about the next entertainment that was going to arrive in town and how it had to be an improvement over Tom Thumb, who
was
shockingly small, but bereft of much other talent.

Rose told Elizabeth about River Run and Catherine offered stories about young Eli that made Rose blush. Whatever Catherine's proclivity to get a rise out of everyone whose path she crossed, she had a genuine affection for Rose. Although she hadn't known Rose for long, Elizabeth couldn't help but feel the same way, as if she were a small china doll that needed protecting.

After an hour the gentlemen joined them in their parlor. Eli slipped next to her on the small sofa forcing Simon to sit opposite. Simon arched an eyebrow, but didn't force the issue.

When a discussion on politics broke out, everyone including Mrs. Goode had an opinion to offer, everyone except Simon and Elizabeth, who remained as silent as possible on all topics. When a serious argument between Dr. Parish and Mr. Cobb erupted over whether Stephen Douglas or James Buchanan should receive the Democratic nomination for the presidency, Elizabeth knew they'd been wise to stay on the sidelines. The names might have changed, but little else about politics had.

Elizabeth caught Simon's eye. He smiled and subtly raised his glass to her. She did the same and took a sip of her port. Her eyes dipped down to her glass briefly before flicking back to Simon.

But it wasn't Simon that grabbed her attention. Standing just beside his chair was a pale little girl, the little girl from the woods. The little girl in the white dress with the ribbon tied around her wrist. Mary.

~~~

Elizabeth gasped, but so softly only Eli, who was sitting right next to her, heard. He turned and asked her if she was all right. Elizabeth blinked and caught her breath, turning to him. “I'm fine.”

When Elizabeth turned back to look at Simon, the little girl was gone. It was clear no one else had seen her. She was pretty sure if anyone else had they'd be using smelling salts right about now. Heck, she could use a whiff herself.

“There aren't any children here tonight, are there?” she asked Eli.

“No,” he said drawing out the word in that way people did when they thought the questioner was half-nutty.

Elizabeth smiled and rubbed her temple. She glanced around the room. She'd only glanced away for a moment; there was no way a child could have gotten out of the room so quickly. It was Mary. She was sure of it. It was definitely the girl from the photograph Catherine had shown her. Why was she here? And why was she staring at Simon?

“Are you sure you're all right,” Eli asked.

Honestly, she wasn't sure, but announcing that she'd just seen a freakin' ghost probably wasn't the best idea. “Just tired, I think. All the travel.”

Eli nodded, concerned.

“Perhaps I should call it an evening?” Elizabeth stood and Eli reflexively followed suit.

Simon caught her eye as she approached and rose from his seat, his face full of worry. She smiled, but there was no way she could hide the fact that she'd been shaken, not from him.

“What's wrong? Are you unwell?”

“I think perhaps we should go.”

“Elizabeth—”

“Now,” she said quietly and very insistently. “I'm afraid the day is catching up with me,” she said for the benefit of the rest of the room.

They begged off citing the fatigue of travel and so much good wine and food and politely, but quickly, made their goodnights. Rose Harper reminded them of their promise to visit River Run tomorrow and a groom was dispatched to bring their buggy around.

“What is going on,” Simon said, tense and worried.

Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder. “Not until we're away from here.”

She could hear Simon grinding his teeth, but he kept his questions to himself.

Once they were a few blocks away from Cypress Hill Elizabeth let out a shudder and a deep breath. “Oh, boy.”

“Are you going to tell me what happened or should I just let my imagination continue to run wild?”

Elizabeth took a bracing breath and shifted in her seat to face Simon, fighting the urge to look for the ghost at every turn. “I saw Mary tonight.”

His eyes shot to hers. “In a photograph or—”

“Well, yeah, but that's not the only place I saw her.”

“Elizabeth—”

“She was
there
in the parlor,” Elizabeth said almost afraid to let the words out.

Simon's hands tightened on the reins. “What?”

She couldn't help but feel a chill creep up her spine and nervously looked around expecting to see the child floating along beside them. “Mary Stewart was standing in the parlor right next to you.”

Elizabeth expected some remark about her corset perhaps being too tight, but instead Simon asked, “What did she look like?”

“She was pale, ghosty pale. About this tall,” she said holding her hand about three and a half feet high. “With big blue eyes and a round little face. She had on a white dress and a little ribbon—”

“Blue ribbon tied to her wrist,” Simon finished.

Elizabeth's goosebumps got goosebumps. “How did you know that?”

Simon shook his head. “I didn't think anything of it at the time. I thought she was just another one of the girls at the orphanage.”

Elizabeth felt a chill grip her stomach. “You mean you saw Mary there?”

“Apparently.”

Elizabeth pulled on her gloved fingers nervously. “I guess I should mention that I probably saw her in the woods at the cemetery too,” Elizabeth added and cut off Simon before he could chide her, “I wasn't sure; it was dark and I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. I promise though, if I see anything else, you'll be the first to know.”

“How can you be sure the child we've seen is Mary?” Simon asked. She told him about the photograph Catherine showed her.

“And no one else saw her?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No, I don't think so. It all happened so fast though. She was there one minute and poof the next.”