Doves Migration (6 page)

Nodding knowingly at Michael, Joshua wrapped his arms tighter
around the slight figure so close to him and allowed himself to drift off to
sleep while holding Elise protectively

As the weary travelers finally arrived at the Honeycutt’s mansion, it
was clear that Michael was not himself. His mood was far more sullen than
Sarah had ever seen in the three years they had been married. The closer he
approached his family home, the edgier he became. And it wasn’t just
Sarah and Elise who noticed his abrupt attitude change. Judging by the way
the others looked away--embarrassed as Michael snapped at Sarah, when
she harmlessly commented on how different the three story brick homes
were from those in Fairfax.

“Well, they might not be as quaint as Doves Landing, but there’s
something to be said for orderly tradition.”
Sarah was so hurt by her husband’s comment she only smiled her reply.
Seeing the shocked look on Elise’s face, Sarah shook her head as if
pleading with her daughter not to say anything.
By the time the tired group had stepped through the Honeycutt’s front
door, Michael immediately started barking orders to the butler.
“Jerome, where are my parents and son?” Michael snarled, not
allowing the butler an opportunity to properly welcome him home, or greet
the other guests. Then without consulting anyone, Michael decided the
women should rest while he visited his family, ordering the butler to
freshen their gowns and bring them a tray. After determining that Elise was
going to meet Joshua’s parents that evening, Michael insisted they all meet
for dinner the following night.
As if there was nothing further to discuss, Michael then made it clear
he was anxious to be alone with his family and every one hastily bid their
farewells.
“Right this way, Mrs. Honeycutt.”
Stunned, Sarah nodded politely at the servant, while glancing at Elise
and Miranda, who had not said a word since their arrival. “Come along
girls, let’s not keep Michael any longer from his family.”
Once Michael was well out of overhearing them, Elise whispered to
her mother, “Have you ever seen a house like this in all your life?”
Sarah frowned and motioned to the butler ahead of them. Clearly, she
wanted Elise to wait until they were alone, before commenting on the
Honeycutt’s home. As the three of them silently followed Jerome, Miranda
pointed out things to the wide-eyed Elise, all the way up the long staircase.
After Jerome had politely excused himself showing Elise and Sarah
their rooms, he looked at Miranda, asking, “Miss Brown, shall I expect
your father as well?”
“No, Jerome. Father has remained in Washington,” Miranda said sadly.
“Well then, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get a tray for all of you. Is there
anything special you would like?” Jerome, out of respect, directed his
attention to the senior woman.
Sarah smiling politely, said, “Some coffee with cream and sugar would
be most welcoming.” Glancing at Elise and Miranda, she asked, “What
about you, girls?”
“Jerome, has cook prepared her famous strudel?” Miranda smiled
affectionately.
“Of course. Apple or cherry?” he said affectionately with a trace of a
glimmer in his eyes.
With a devilish grin she looked at Sarah and Elise, and said, “Why
both of course,” snickering fondly back at the butler. “You know me. I just
love Hilda’s strudel.”
“I remember, Miss Brown.” Then risking appearing improper by being
too familiar, he added hastily, “Welcome back miss, we’ve missed you.”
“And I’ve missed you. Have you heard word from your sister
recently?”
The butler looked nervously over at Sarah and Elise. “No Miss.”
Seeing the butler’s concern, Miranda reassuringly said, “Don’t fret,
Jerome. Mrs. Honeycutt and Elise are old friends of mine, and your secret
is safe with them.”
Nodding politely, he heartily welcomed them both, which Sarah and
Elise responded to warmly.
“Well, then if you’ll excuse me, I’ll see to it that a welcoming tray is
sent up immediately.”
“Oh thank you kindly, Jerome. And I promise to have our guests
changed into something of mine and their gowns ready for Beatrice.”
“Thank you, Miss.” With that, the butler bowed politely, dismissing
himself.
“Miranda dear, it would appear that you’ve adjusted well to your
surroundings since we saw you last. It’s clear that Jerome is very fond of
you,” Sarah exclaimed.
“Oh he’s a nice man. Most of the staff here at the Honeycutt’s are in
fact. Once they discover you can be trusted, they will warm up to you too.
Mrs. Honeycutt expects perfection and a certain aloofness from her hired
staff. This, as I’ve found out, is exactly how most of those in the North
treat their hired help. Not at all the relationship we had with Bessie and
Chester at Glenbrook or you with Mammy Tess.”
“I see. Well, I will definitely keep that in mind, my dear.” Sarah made a
mental note, realizing that not only were the homes different from what she
had been used to and where she was going to be now living, but so were
the attitudes.
Looking around the heavy decorated room, which she had taken an
instant dislike to, Sarah asked, “Not that I’m criticizing mind you, but
Miranda dear, I was wondering, are all the homes in the North so . . .”
“
So
in excess?” Miranda chuckled, adding. “Why heavens no.
Mrs. Honeycutt tends to favor a little grandeur, is all.”
Sarah sighed, taking in the bits and pieces she had gathered about her
mother-in-law, saying apprehensively, “Ah I see . . .”
Her daughter was not so delicate and reacted by bursting out laughing,
saying, “A little? Why in all my born days, I’ve never seen anything like
this house before. Nothing like flaunting your wealth.”
“Elise, how unkind of you.” Sarah scolded. “Why I’ve taught you
better manners than that. We are a guest in Michael’s parent’s home and I
forbid you to say or do anything that will dishonor him.”
“Yes, Mama. But from Michael’s outburst earlier and the way he acted
when we arrived, I’d say anything we did would be upsetting to him.”
“Please, Elise. I know you mean well, but you are not helping the
situation. Obviously, Michael is already upset about something, so out of
regard to him and as difficult as it might be, we must be certain to do
nothing that will further add to his burdens. Promise me, Elise, that you
will do nothing to upset him further.”
“I promise Mama.”
Smiling at her daughter wearily, Sarah said, “Good. Well, if we are to
be changed, before the servant comes back, I would suggest we do so
now.”
Immediately Miranda went to her wardrobe and selected silk robes for
Sarah and Elise to change into. Moaning, Elise marveled at all the lovely
suits and gowns Miranda had.
“Mama come look,” she exclaimed, “Why I’ve never seen such
beautiful things in all my life.”
“Tomorrow we will go shopping, so don’t fret. While you admire
Miranda’s gowns, I’ll take my leave. Just do me a favor dear, as you
convince Miranda to loan you a gown, please choose wisely. Nothing too
fancy, mind you. Soft and alluring, but sensible too. Miranda dear, do you
have something like that in your magnificent collection?”
“Why certainly, Mrs. Honeycutt,” she responded eagerly. Turning to
Elise, she enthusiastically began showing off her gowns. “Look at this one
Elise . . .”
“Oh Miranda, I adore it. How chic and elegant. Joshua won’t be able to
keep his eyes off me . . .”
Shaking her head while smiling, watching her daughter’s excitement,
Sarah commented, “Darlin’, I said sensible. As lovely as that gown is,
perhaps it is a bit revealing. Do keep in mind, you are meeting his mother
as well.”
Frowning, Elise reluctantly handed back the dress, mumbling, “Oh
pooh! Surely Mrs. Carmidy doesn’t expect her son to marry a frump.”
Seeing the disappointment in Elise’s eyes, Miranda began looking for
another gown more suitable. “Don’t fret Elise, there are others.”
Just then, a soft knock at the door alerted them that the maid had come,
and Miranda called out, “Come on in Beatrice.” Sarah smiled at the fiery
red-haired woman who had let herself in, carrying a tray.
“Hello, Beatrice is it? I’m Sarah Honeycutt, Michael’s wife, and if it
wouldn’t be too much trouble, could I have my tray sent to Micha . . .
er . . . Mr. Honeycutt’s room?” She suddenly recalled Miranda’s warning
how her mother-in-law expected her house to be run.
“Yes Mum. Shall I do that now?” From her accent, Sarah knew this
young woman was an Irish immigrant and she smiled to try and sooth her
discomfort.
“Mercy no. Take your time.” Then looking at Miranda and Elise who
were still busy selecting a dress, Sarah said, “Well, I’ll be on my way. Elise
dear, did you say what time Joshua was coming for you?”
“I’m not sure, he did say a few hours.”
“Well that gives you little time to do anything but freshen up. When
were you intending to rest?” she asked motherly.
“Oh Mama, please don’t fuss. I want to be with Joshua.”
Smiling, Sarah came over to her daughter and softly caressed her
cheek. “Well soon enough, you’ll be with him everyday, my darling.” Not
waiting for a reply, Sarah went to the door, pausing to watch the two
women together. How lovely it was for her to see something familiar.
When Miranda called Beatrice to the cupboard, Sarah watched the
young Irish woman’s eyes light up. “Hello Beatrice, how good it is to see
you again,” Miranda said. “Come help my dearest friend in the world pick
out a dress to wear to meet her future in-laws--the Carmidy’s.”
“The Carmidy’s you say, miss? Oh, me John loves working for them.
Fine people they are, miss.”
Hearing the servant’s comment, Sarah slowly stepped out of the room.
A sense of peace filled her. No longer did she have to worry that her
daughter would be walking into a situation much like the one she found
herself in. As she closed the door, she paused and leaned against it before
she went down the corridor to hers and Michael’s room.
“Oh, Miss Miranda, I fancy your pale blue one, with the matching
parasol. With your friend’s hair, she will be so striking.”
“Hello Beatrice, I’m Elise. My hair? Oh dear, I must look a fright.
How will I ever become presentable with it all tangled so?”
“I’ll help, miss,” Beatrice offered quickly.
Ah, how wonderful
, Sarah thought,
at Elise being excited about her
new life.
The soft muffled sounds of her footsteps echoed in the hallway as
she stepped into Michael’s room.
How wonderful to have nothing more
pressing on your mind but what gown to wear
. Forcing herself not to think
about her fears, Sarah hastily changed from her soiled and creased gown.
Looking at the grass stains, she dreamily recalled the look on Michael’s
face when he had seen her and Elise come out of the shop in Washington
.
How happy and excited he had been that day.
Not yielding to her troubled
mind, Sarah immediately went to the dry sink and quickly washed before
slipping into the pale green silk robe Miranda had loaned her. While tying
the wrap tightly around her, a gentle knock at the door alerted her that the
servant had returned.
Taking a seat at the bureau to brush her hair, Sarah softly said, “Come
in, Beatrice.” Casually stroking her tresses, not looking at the servant, she
added. “My gown is folded in the chair. I fear, though, no amount of
cleaning will restore it.”
“Then burn it, my dear.” From the reflection in the mirror, Sarah saw
Michael smiling at her, and she quickly ran to him. “Oh darling, I thought
you were the maid.”
As he put his arms tightly around her, Sarah knew her husband was
troubled by the way he clung to her. She desperately wanted to ask how his
visit had gone and why he had been so distant the past several days, but
instead of badgering him with questions, she just held him tightly, needing
to feel him near to her too, obviously as much as he needed her.
Feeling her pull away, Michael asked, “Darling where is your tray?
Haven’t you eaten anything?”
“There’s hardly been time. After Jerome showed us to our rooms and
Miranda lent me her robe . . . Besides, that lovely maid, Beatrice, is busy
helping Elise get ready since Joshua is coming for her early. And as you
see, I’ve managed quite nicely on my own. Why not come lie beside me.
You look exhausted.”
Stretching his neck then looking at his wife, childlike he mused, “Only
if you remove your robe.”
Laughing softly, she blushed. “Why Michael Honeycutt. Shame on
you!” As the couple began to kiss, a soft knock at the door alerted them
that Sarah’s tray had arrived. Huskily Michael whispered, “Enter.”
Beatrice, seeing Michael and Sarah embracing, walked in carrying a
tray and sheepishly said, “Mrs. Honeycutt, here is the coffee and strudel
you requested. I’ve taken the liberty of adding another setting for you,
Mr. Honeycutt.”
“Fine, Beatrice, set it over there,” Michael said pointing to a table by
the window. “Mrs. Honeycutt’s dress is folded on the chair. See that it’s
burned.”
“Oh darling, does it have to? I rather hoped to keep it. Beside the fact
that you bought it for me, I have nothing else . . .”
“You heard Mrs. Honeycutt. That will be all, Beatrice.”
As soon as the young woman exited the room, Michael bent down and
fiercely began kissing Sarah. Within moments, Michael had gratified his
needs, without the tenderness the two of them usually shared. Feeling
bereft and empty--more of a sexual object than someone he loved and
cherished--tears stung Sarah’s eyes.
As Michael pulled his body from her, he looked at Sarah, hoarsely
whispering, “Oh God, I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say. I just needed
you so desperately, I wasn’t thinking. Only reacting.”
Seeing her tears, Michael tried to pull her to him. Feeling Sarah pull
away from his touch, he apologetically said, “Please don’t cry, darling. Did
I hurt you?” Tenderly Michael wiped her tears, still pleading for her to
forgive him.
“You didn’t hurt me, Michael. I just don’t understand what has
happened . . . Why are you behaving so strangely?” she pleaded, looking at
him.
Rolling onto his back, Michael shook his head and sighed, “I overheard
Miranda.”
Sarah gasped, “Oh no . . . Surely darling, you realize Miranda would
never say anything deliberately to hurt you. Anyway, it’s only her opinion.”
“Please stop. When a woman, speaks from the heart and says it as
delicately as she did--that my son is not a man she chooses to share a life
with--this was not something said in haste. Especially, if that woman is
Miranda Brown.”
“Yes, but darling, surely you can’t blame . . .”
Interrupting her, Michael said solemnly, “My darling Sarah, of course
I’m to blame. Not only did I fail my son, but I broke a promise.”
“A promise? I don’t understand.”
“On Emily’s death bed, I promised her I would take care of our son and
make certain he never turned out like my mother. My late wife and mother
never got along--as a matter of fact, Emily despised her. The feeling was
mutual, I’m sure.” Michael looked at Sarah, his eyes showing his deep pain
and anger. “So no matter what you say, Sarah, after hearing Miranda say
my son was more like my mother than my father and me, I had to face the
fact. I’ve failed them both, Emily and Tad.”