Memory of Morning (7 page)

"I think we should get the girl into a university program," father said. "If she can keep the likes of Tennit from tripping over his own feet, she'll be good at organizing entire institutions worth of scientists." I don't think father was paying attention to my and mother's conversation. He chuckled. "A grandchild. I do like that thought. Don't you, dear?"

"Yes, dear," mother said. She continued looking a me.

"What is
it
, then?" I asked her.

She sighed. Then she gave a slight shrug. "It's just that I've talked myself into looking forward to showing my children off at the marriage market. You are a lovely group of prize sheep, you know, and ought to do very well at auction."

Most people's mother would never say such a thing about the traditional courtship dance of our society. I laughed.

She sighed. "Bell's betrothed, Tennit comes home already married. Now I only have you to show off. Not that you won't do me proud," she added quickly.

"Maybe you can talk Alix into this scheme. Even if it's only to stand around looking handsome in his dress blues. He's certain to draw a crowd in any company." Alix is the best looking of the four of us, and he broods better than anyone I have ever met. "Young women are attracted to a brooding sort of man, I'm told."

Whether he'd be attracted to any of them was the problem, as Alix Cliff had a broken heart and a good reason to brood. I had run into him when his ship and the
Moonrunner
were both docked at a remote repair station in the far southwest of the Empire. We'd had an evening together, along with a couple bottles of wine. He had still been far too serious and sad at the time - but that was nearly a year ago. Perhaps his wounded heart was scarring over a bit by now. We'd only find out once he finally made it home.

Belladem was too excited to immediately drop off to sleep when we went to bed that night. It wasn't only having her twin brother at home. She'd also received two letters from her beloved Dwie. She'd let everyone in the family read the letters, but she went over the news again in detail to me when we settled in beside each other.

I didn't mind that the bed wasn't moving tonight. Star was happy to lie down between me and Bell. The more people to potentially pet her the better, as far as the dog was concerned.

I listened to Belladem for a while, made some appropriate sounds. Eventually, I said, "I want to visit a dressmaker tomorrow. I'm sure Mrs. Lilac can recommend someone."

"I'm sure she can," Bell said. "But mother is planning on a major shopping campaign when we get to Loudon. Oh, are you thinking about Rassi? Yes, I suppose she needs some things. She can't wear a uniform now that she's out of the marines, and she'll outgrow it soon anyway."

"Yes, I'm sure Rassi needs a civilian wardrobe, but I want a new frock for myself. Something dressy for daywear."

"But mother brought you a formal dress."

"It's beautiful, and I look forward to wearing it to a recital soon. But I want a serious dress. A dress suitable for the certificate examination."

"Oh. Of course. I see." She was thoughtful for a bit before asking, "Why is it everything a woman wears is scrutinized and judged, or rather, why are we women judged by what we wear? Everyone can tell at a glance who and what we are by the quality of the material, the number of buttons, the width of lace on our dresses. It's silly."

"It is, but I like clothes. I've spent two years in uniform. I like clothes even better now. Besides, I like to think of fashion as armor. We fight our battles with our dresses as well as in them. That's why I need a suitable dress for the examination."

I remembered the discussions among all of us contracted women on board the ship about how a new type of fashion was needed to suitably dress women pursuing careers. I knew exactly what I wanted from such a new fashion, and had sketched it out. It would be blue, not the dark blue of a naval uniform, or the pale blue of a summer daydress, but a rich, saturated blue, with a pleated, off-center panel of ecru or cream that would show when I sat or walked, but not when I was standing still. The neckline would be square cut, but modestly high. I had acquired a silver filigree buckle on my travels. This buckle would be placed on the high waistline of the dress, just above the asymmetrical pleat. All I needed was a skilled seamstress who could make this dress a reality. It was certainly beyond my capacity to make.

"And a bonnet," I said as I dropped off to sleep. "I need a new bonnet."

Chapter Nine

I shooed all the Cliff women out of Lilac House as early as I could the next morning, though I don't think I could have managed to roust my holidaying family from bed in a timely fashion without my new sister-in-law's help. Rassi proved wonderfully efficient in organizing the expedition, showing the advantage of having a marine sergeant in the family.

I had time for one more errand before beginning my shift at Casualties. The dress shop Mrs. Lilac sent us to was open early, and I could tell from the moment we walked inside that it was also perfect for our needs. The available materials were many and varied. The seamstresses were as knowledgeable as the sample frocks displayed on mannequins throughout the space promised. Mother and Bell confirmed happily that the pattern books were of the latest fashions. I was disappointed to see drawings of flutter sleeved, and even sleeveless, ball gowns, but perhaps I wouldn't need a ball gown for this Season that was planned. This wasn't the time to consider future parties.

Rassi and Bell were set upon with delight, mother with respect and tea in fine porcelain, and the owner of the shop helped me with my special order herself.

She promised that there would be no problem converting my idea into a finished frock. She even asked permission to add the finished pattern drawing into her style book. I thanked her, and was flattered enough to tell her I would think about it. I selected materials in the exact shades I'd dreamed about, had what seemed like an endless amount of measurements taken, and was given an appointment to return for a fitting.

Satisfied for myself, I spared some time to check on the others. I found mother benignly gazing upon Bell and Rassi, who were giggling together. I knew for a fact that Bell was not the giggling sort normally, and doubted Rassi was, but I believe the opportunity to play dress-up will do that to even the most dour of women.

Plans were already underway for three daydresses and an evening dress for Rassi, designed to be let out as her pregnancy progressed. She was blond and fair skinned and it turned out she looked lovely in pink, which happened to also be her favorite color. Rassi was delighted with the prospect of a new civilian wardrobe, but I think she was even more excited at finding out how Tennit would like her looking like a proper woman.

My sisters were adorable together, discussing Tenn and Dwie and love and life. They were already friends, since they had being so deeply in love they couldn't see straight in common. Their mutual enthusiasm made me feel old, and I was the youngest of the three of us. I didn't even have the excuse of having been to war to make me feel old and cynical, as Rassi has taken part in the bloody Partra Islands campaign which goes on and on, and had likely seen more bloodshed than me. I wished I had the time to stay with them and work my way into the spirit of the moment, but I had to bid my family farewell instead.

I made a quick stop at the milliner's next door, and decided to save my last errand for later. As it was, I had to practically run to make the beginning of my shift on time. The work at the Home was no different from post-operative treatment on shipboard after a battle, except that there was more of it. In a way, it was worse. This was a place for those who had lived through injury, but were not necessarily going to heal, or had much chance of long-term survival.

I was put to work in a dark and dismal ward overcrowded with too many beds full of amputees suffering long-term infections. I'd been away from the stench, the moans, the broken bodies, and the haggard faces for a few days. I didn't welcome returning to this world, but it was home. I spent the next six hours doing assessments, prescribing treatments, and scheduling follow-up surgeries. No one questioned my authority even though I did mention that I was not yet officially certified. I suppose they considered that this ward was for the hopeless, and any help was appreciated.

Much of the suffering I encountered here was the result of incompetent or inadequate medical care. The waste depressed me, but I was relieved that the ignorant, self-important anger that had filled me when I'd first entered this place as a new recruit had no hold on my spirit now. I knew now that while not all doctors practiced the newer methods I was so sure of, I had learned by experience and contact that people did the best they could with what they knew. Not every ship had a doctor, fewer still a qualified surgeon. Trained nurses were equally hard to come by. The navy tried hard to care for its sailors. I might be impatient to make it all better, but I was proud of the service.

I brought all this philosophizing up to Dr. Heron when we met in the library. He offered me a cynical lift of his perfectly arched brow. "You are going to re-up," he said.

I laughed, a bit hysterically, but softly, as we were in a library. "Commit to being a captain's conscience? I don't know if I'll ever be ready for that."

He leaned back in his chair and looked at me as though he thought I was mad. "You don't really believe all that nonsense about caring for crew and captain above and beyond the vows of the god of healing do you? I have no intention of giving my heart and soul to my captain once I'm assigned to a ship."

"That's the way it's supposed to be," I said. I sounded like a stubborn child told that moon fairies don't fly on the solstice.

Dr. Heron showed no inclination to argue with me. His whole manner radiated that he thought I was being naive and romantic. Which I was - but I had served on the
Moonrunner
with Samel Swan.

He said, "If you do opt for ship duty you should get married first - leave your heart at home with someone else besides your captain when you go off to sea. That's what I intend to do."

Dr. Heron looked up when I got up to leave after only an hour's study. "I have an errand in town," I answered his sharp look.

He closed his notebook and put away his pen. "I will come with you. We can discuss Dr. Ham's journal from '07 as we walk."

I smiled as he rose on his long legs. Heron was a good name for him.

"Of course you want only to continue our work. For a moment I thought your offer to walk with me was a sign of gentlemanly behavior."

"I have no patience for any old-fashioned behavior. All those rules and rituals are meant to keep us all in our place."

I didn't respond that I'd always believed rules of polite behavior helped keep us a civil society. Discussing medicine was a far more interesting topic for us as we walked through warm spring sunlight and past budding trees and fresh young flowers on our way from the War Casualties Home into the shopping district of Seyemouth.

"A jewelry shop? What do you want with a jeweler?" Dr. Heron reacted with surprise when I stopped in front of a shop door. I believe he'd become so engrossed in conversation he'd forgotten everything else.

"I told you I had an errand."

He sneered. "You came to purchase a bauble?"

"Not exactly." I opened the door and went in to the sound of a tingling bell. I was almost surprised when he followed me.

I'd certainly grown used to close quarters on shipboard, but this tiny room full of glass cases with their glittering contents gave me a claustrophobic feeling. It did not help that Dr. Heron's tall form was crowded so close to me. He bumped up against me as we reached the counter, and he didn't step back.

"You are the most unconventional man I have ever met," I told him.

"Thank you."

I'm not sure if he knew I hadn't meant the words as a compliment or not, but I let the conversation go as the man behind the counter approached.

"Welcome to Smith and Chandler. I am Mr. Smith. What may I show you?"

"There is something I wish to show you," I answered.

He waited patiently, if a bit suspiciously, while I took out a brown and blue plaid cloth bundle wrapped in sewing thread and put it on the counter between us.

"You design and make jewelry, I'm told," I said.

The man looked me over, judging my value as a customer by my clothing. I don't think he was quite sure what to make of my sturdy shoes, but the silver filigree ear bobs in my earlobes seemed to decide him on my worthiness. He nodded. "I do accept commissions, Miss...?"

"Doctor Cliff. This is Dr. Heron," I added for politeness sake. The men exchanged nods while I carefully unwrapped my prize.

When the lovely, plump pear of pearl was revealed Mr. Smith looked at it, looked at me, looked back at the gem. When he glanced at me again his eyes were bright and he was smiling. "May I?" he asked.

"Please."

Heron put his hand on my shoulder. The familiarity was totally shocking. I was already aware of his closeness. "Sir!" I protested.

"What are you going to do with that thing?" he asked, accused rather. "Do you know how valuable that is? Are you going to flaunt it on your person when you could set up your own practice by selling it?"