Dawn's Prelude (9 page)

“A lifetime of nightmares,” Lydia whispered. “And now this. I haven’t been able to keep food down since we set sail. It was all just too much.”

“Well, it’s behind you now. I’ll take good care of you, and soon you’ll be up and running. You bring that violin of yours?”

Lydia was so exhausted that she’d not even given it much consideration. “I did. Can we ask Kjell to bring it in?”

“Of course.”

“There were times the violin was all that got me through the bad times. Floyd was so . . .” Her words trailed into silence.

Zerelda stroked her hair. “I know, and I’m so sorry. Had I any say in the matter, I would have convinced Zachary to send you to me rather than to sell you off in marriage.” She shook her head. “But despite the man’s poor judgment, I can’t believe he’s gone.”

“My father thought he was doing the best for the family, I’m sure. He wrote me a letter of apology before he died. I’m not entirely sure I forgive him, but I am happy to say he left me enough money to comfortably live out my years.”

Zerelda helped Lydia from her jacket and then unfastened the button on her skirt. “Doesn’t do a body any good to withhold forgiveness. The devil is the only one who stands to gain anything from that.”

“Then the devil gained a great deal in the Gray household. You’ve never met more vindictive people, and forgiveness isn’t a word in their vocabulary.”

“Your letters truly painted an ugly picture.” Zerelda went to the foot of the bed. “Take hold of the bed frame.”

Lydia did as she was instructed while Zerelda pulled her skirt off. Lydia barely had the strength to hold on to the iron post. The coolness that swept over her body made Lydia realize her condition. Lying there in her petticoats, chemise, and corset, she felt almost naked. What if that man Kjell returned?

As if reading her niece’s mind, Zerelda went to the door and closed it before retrieving a nightgown from the trunk at the foot of the bed. “This should be a great deal more comfortable.” Without asking Lydia’s permission, Zerelda unhooked her corset. Lydia tried to sit up, but dizziness washed over her anew.

“The room won’t stop spinning.”

“Sometimes it’s like that,” Zerelda said. “Some folks get what they call motion sick.”

She maneuvered the rest of Lydia’s clothes from her body, then placed the nightgown over her head. Lydia found she barely had the strength to put her arms through. She fell back against the pillow and sighed.

“Goodness, but you’re skin and bones. I’ll get some soup going for you as soon as I have you tucked into bed.”

“I can’t eat,” Lydia said, feeling sick at the thought.

“You’ll be able to take a little soup. I have a special recipe that helps with the nausea. Then I’ll give you some tea to help you sleep. You’ll see,” Zerelda said, straightening. “You’ll soon be right as rain.”

Lydia reached out. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get you the information about my arrival. Everything happened so fast.”

“Don’t fret about it. We can discuss it later.”

“But I’ve imposed myself upon you, and I never even gave you a chance to approve my coming.”

Zerelda laughed. “You are such a silly goose. Of course I approve your coming here. I wouldn’t have had it any other way. My employer is leaving for Germany at the end of the summer. His wife passed on a few months back. I think I told you about that.”

Lydia nodded.

“Well, I was seriously wondering what the Lord had for me next, but now I guess I know.” She offered Lydia a sweet smile. “I’m so glad you’ve come, Lydia. You are going to be a blessing to me.”

“I demand you tell us where Lydia has gone,” a red-faced Mitchell Gray declared.

Dwight Robinson merely shrugged. “I presume that if Mrs. Gray wanted you to know her whereabouts, she would have left a forwarding address.”

“So she has moved?” Marston eyed the lawyer closely. It was clear by his expression that he hadn’t meant to reveal even this much. The man quickly recovered, however.

“Well, she isn’t living at the mansion anymore, so don’t you imagine she has?” Robinson replied.

“And is she still in the city?” Mitchell asked. “Look, we have a business to run. There’s a guard there who tells us we are no longer needed. This is our family’s business, and we have a right to it.”

“Not according to the will.” Robinson looked at both of them before momentarily settling his gaze on Marston. “Sirs, I have no authority to share any information with you. Mrs. Gray has given me no instruction to share her whereabouts.”

“But what of the legal business that involves her?” Mitchell again pressed for answers.

Marston leaned back in his seat and held his temper in check. So Lydia had finally learned to stand up for herself. He almost smiled at the thought. He rather liked this new temperament. It made her more of a challenge.

“I assure you both I am quite capable of handling Mrs. Gray’s legal affairs. She has given me her full permission to see to her best interests.”

“Then you have her permission to share with us her current address,” Marston said with a smile.

Robinson shook his head and returned Marston’s stiff smile. “My dear sir, I think without saying anything more, we both know that giving you access to her whereabouts is not at all in keeping with her best interests.”

Marston narrowed his eyes. “You are playing a dangerous game, Robinson. We have strong allies.”

“You may have had at one time, but only because your father bullied everyone. Times are changing. The politics, the atmosphere of the city—it’s all transforming for the better. New laws will make it more difficult for people like you to harass and harm others.”

Mitchell slammed his fist on the arm of the chair. “That’s slander, I daresay.”

“Mrs. Gray endured a great deal at your father’s hand. As I understand it, there was much that was questionable in his actions.”

“No one cares about such things, and well you know it. She’s a woman,” Marston declared. “She was a wife, nothing more than my father’s property. When she refused to be obedient as she had pledged in her marriage contract, my father was forced to be heavy-handed at times.”

“All that to say, you would do well to remember that your father wasn’t the only one who knew how to utilize information,” Robinson replied. “If I were you, I would refrain from bringing too much attention to myself. Society may accept such matters, but I do not. I see nothing acceptable in beating women and children. A man must surely be a weakling if he has to take such actions.”

“I don’t recall asking for your opinion,” Marston said. He had received enough beatings at the hand of his father to completely agree with Robinson, but he wasn’t about to let him know.

“Very well.” Robinson glanced down at his papers. “At this point in time, Mrs. Gray is quite willing to make arrangements with the Gray family. However, should I feel that it is in her best interest to do otherwise, say should she seem under threat of harm, then I would not hesitate to dissuade her from her generous suggestions.”

Marston was no longer able to contain his rage. “Of all the underhanded threats . . . And you suggest that we are the ones who bully. You have not yet won this, Mr. Robinson. The will is still under consideration.”

“But I don’t believe it will be for long. I am confident it will be resolved within days.”

“Has someone given you information to suggest such a thing?” Marston asked.

“As a matter of fact, they have.” Robinson fixed Marston with a stern look. “I believe your lawyer will be receiving word of a meeting, even now.”

This wasn’t good news. Marston knew that if the judge had resolved the matter this quickly, it most likely would not go in favor of his family. He said nothing, however. There was no sense in letting Robinson see his distress.

“There’s no reason to remain,” Marston suddenly declared.

Mitchell looked at his brother in surprise. “But we haven’t yet learned of Lydia’s whereabouts.”

“Nor will we. Not here, at least.” Marston headed for the door. “I will say this, however.” He turned and gave Robinson what he knew to be his most disturbing glare. “You and Mrs. Gray would do well to remember that we will not take bad news without a challenge. You haven’t won yet, and if I have anything to say about it, you won’t win—ever.”

Zerelda pulled on gloves and gave Lydia a smile. “It’s a good day to work in the garden.” She worried about Lydia. Her complexion was still quite pale, and while she was finally able to keep food down, she was still so thin. “We have a beautiful sunny day, and in Sitka, you don’t get too many of those. You have to take advantage of them when you can.”

Lydia nodded. “I’m glad it’s turned out nice.”

“You don’t seem happy. Is there anything you want to talk about?”

The younger woman looked toward the dining room window with such longing that Zerelda had to look, as well. What was going through her mind? She acted as though there were prison bars keeping her in.

“This is really the first day I’ve felt strong enough to be up,” Lydia said. “But I still feel so very weak. Will I ever recover?”

“Of course you will. I hate being sick. I always wonder if I’ll ever get any better.” She pulled on a thin leather apron to cover her serviceable brown skirt and calico blouse. “Take heart, you will soon be back up on your feet. You’ll be out there hiking with me in the mountains.”

“I hope so.” Lydia’s voice was wistful.

“Look, why don’t you sit out on the porch for a time? We can bundle you up so you don’t catch a chill. I think the fresh air and change of scenery will do you good.”

Lydia seemed to perk up at this. “Do you truly think it would be all right?”

Zerelda laughed. “I’m the nurse here. Of course it will be all right. What I say goes.”

She helped Lydia to stand, then walked her slowly to the front door. To her surprise she found Kjell on the other side, just about to knock.

“That’s timely,” she told him. “I was just taking Lydia outside to enjoy a sit on the porch. Why don’t you help her to the rocking chair while I get some blankets?”

Kjell smiled and took hold of Lydia’s arm. She pulled back momentarily, then relaxed. He didn’t frown or otherwise acknowledge her action, which led Zerelda to believe he understood and knew more about her niece’s feelings toward men than most would. Kjell had always been the kind of man to notice things, however. Zerelda had come to truly appreciate the man’s kindness.

Bringing the blankets, Zerelda couldn’t help but laugh at the way Kjell fussed over Lydia. “She’s not broken, Kjell. Just a bit weathered.”

This actually made Lydia smile. “I’m a great deal weathered.”

“You look no worse for it,” Kjell said. “In fact, I was just going to comment that your color seems much better than when I saw you two days ago.”

Lydia said nothing, as if embarrassed at the compliment. Zerelda took that opportunity to tuck blankets around her niece and question Kjell about the events of the past couple of days.

“What’s the news?” she asked.

Kjell leaned back against the porch support. “Not a whole lot. The
Newbern
has finally unloaded all the supplies. That’s why I’ve come. There’s a load of goods for you out there.” He pointed and Zerelda noticed the wagon for the first time. “There’s more at the dock.”

“Mercy, did you bring all of that up here?”

Lydia nodded. “I didn’t know what you might need. I thought maybe I should bring a lot of food and such. I didn’t know what you’d already have, so I just purchased a little of everything.”

“Must have cost a fortune to ship,” Zerelda said, shaking her head. “But we’ll make use of it—don’t you worry.”

“Where’d ya like it, Zee?” Kjell asked in his singsong cadence. Sometimes his Swedish ancestry made itself very clear in his comments. Swedes had a way of almost bouncing their words up and down when they spoke. Zerelda had always enjoyed that about them.

“There ought to be room in the storage shed. We’ll put the food in the cache, then store anything else down below.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

Zerelda noticed that Lydia was watching him cautiously. She decided to put off the gardening for a few moments and talk to her niece. “You know, he’s a very good man. He’s not like what you’re used to. Not all men are that way, you know.”