The Barefoot Bride (19 page)

"Lord o' mercy. These here dishes shore is purty, Araminty," Chickadee said as she poured tea into a cup and onto the Aubusson carpet.

"Dear God!" Araminta flew out of the settee, showing more energy than she had in years. She snatched up a napkin.

But Chickadee grabbed it out of her hand. "I maked the mess, and I'll clean it up. You got any vinegar? Ain't nothin' like vinegar to git stains outen thangs, y'know. 'Course, this here stain ain't real bad. More'n likely, nobody'll even notice it." With her foot, she rubbed the tea deeply into the rug. "See? Cain't hardly see it no more." She held the cup of tea out to Araminta, the dark brew sloshing over the rim and into the saucer.

Her hands trembling, Araminta took the cup but set it down. "Saxon, I demand you tell me what this is all about. This...
rustic
has been here all of fifteen minutes, and already there is dog spittle on my shoes, my cane is ruined, my sleeve is torn, and there is tea on the carpet! I do not know who this person—"

"This
person
has every right to be here." Saxon crossed to Chickadee's side. "I have met the stipulations in your will. This beautiful girl is my wife, Keely Blackwell."

Araminta grabbed at her brooch and swayed back into the settee. "Reckon yore my granny now too," Chickadee said. "You want I should call you Granny or Araminty? Yore a sight older'n I am, so I reckon it's yore right to tell me what you want me to call you." She bent and patted Araminta's trembling hand. "How old are you anyway? 'Bout a hunnerd?"

Araminta's gaze hardened at Saxon's expression. "The marriage certificate," she snapped at him. "Produce it immediately."

"Oh, we're married all right," Chickadee said. "Stepped offen the carpet in a real church with a real preacher-parson in front o' about fifteen folks. I had on the God-burnin'est purty dress you ever laid eyes on. Would a-weared it to this here city, but I spilt gravy on it. After that, I stepped on the hem whilst I was a-dancin' and ripped up the skirt real bad. Miz Mansfield tried to fix it fer me, but she couldn't do nothin' with it and finally throwed it away. We had the weddin' party at her house, and we was all a-laughin', a-wearin' the bells, and—"

"I cannot begin to express how little I care." Araminta held out her skeletal hand. "Saxon, the document in question."

He smiled, withdrew a cheroot from his pocket, and lit it, knowing the smell of the smoke irritated her. He deliberately blew it her way before he reached inside his coat and pulled out a sheet of paper. "Here's the pine forest report you wanted, too," he said, tossing a packet to the settee.

Araminta ignored the report and took the document. Chickadee sat down beside her and pointed to a name on the certificate. "See that thar name? That's me. Keely McBride. But you can call me Chickadee. Ain't nobody calls me Keely but Saxon, and I been a-thankin' he's the onliest one I'll let call me that. That way, it'll be special."

Araminta ignored her and continued to inspect the document, her eyes narrowing as she scanned it and verified its legality. The uncivilized girl who sat beside her was Mrs. Saxon Blackwell. The certificate fluttered to the floor. "I will have this mockery of a marriage annulled, Saxon."

"On what grounds?" He walked to the fireplace and flicked ashes into it. "I'm aware that you have the planet's entire force of attorneys behind you, but Keely and I are both of marriageable age, there were witnesses at the wedding, you know the certificate is legal, and," he said, pausing to grin, "I assure you the marriage has most definitely been consummated."

Araminta raised her hand. "Spare me the ghastly specifics." She rose, clutching her skirts tightly, her white fingers a frightening contrast to the midnight hue of her gown. "You have disappointed me, and for that you will be sorry. If you are entertaining the thought that you have bested me, you are woefully mistaken."

"Really? And what, pray tell, will you do?"

"The will. I'll change it if you do not divorce this—"

Saxon laughed. "Change it again, and your reputation will be ruined, Grandmother. There are some who already think the first ultimatum you gave me was cruel, and if you alter the will to cause—heaven forbid!—a
divorce,
what will people think of your scandalous action?"

Speechless with impotent anger, Araminta could only glare.

Saxon turned away from the hatred in her eyes and forced down his haunting memories again. "I realize the bulk of the fortune will not be mine until your death, but you are required to provide me with a monthly sum of money now that I am married. I'll expect the funds due me as soon as possible. And lest you forget, Grandmother, let me remind you again of the damage your... uh,
good name
will suffer should you tamper with the will. I'll not hesitate an instant to make your vindictive actions known to all of Boston."

Araminta's wrath exuded from every pore. The Boston Brahmins—the elite society of the city—would undoubtedly look down on her if she dared
force
Saxon to divorce his wife. Just as he'd said, an act of that kind would cause a horrible scandal. And if she disinherited him, as she had done with his father, that, too, would tear her reputation to threads, for Saxon had, indeed, met the will's stipulations to the very letter. Lightheaded with rage, she turned to leave.

"Araminty?"

The look Araminta gave the mountain girl could have turned the sun into a snowball. "My name is not Araminty. It is Araminta. Mrs. Blackwell to the likes of you."

Chickadee wrinkled her freckled nose. "You and me's kinfolks, and I ain't gwine call you Miz Blackwell. It's either Araminty or Granny. What's yore druthers?"

Araminta scowled at her and then bristled at the sound of Saxon's smug laughter. Surely there was some way to make this mountain person leave! Her eyes narrowed wickedly.

Desdemona. The asylum! She would have her granddaughter committed and refuse to allow her release until the heathen was out of Saxon's life. Society wouldn't blame her for sending Desdemona to the institution for "treatment." Everyone would understand and sympathize. And she would vehemently deny any and all accusations Saxon might throw at her. No one would believe him anyway: all of Boston knew Desdemona was insane.

She would make the arrangements secretly and without delay. The solution found, a smile replaced her frown as she looked at Chickadee. "It does not matter what you call me. I have no intention of being around you anyway."

Chickadee sighed and pulled the raccoon tails from the waistband of her breeches, stroking them lovingly before she pressed them into Araminta's hand. "Had these here coon tails fer gwine on ten years, Araminty, but I'm gwine give 'em to you. Don't reckon you and me's ever gwine wash hands together, but thur still ain't no reason why we cain't at least be civil. These here perfectly matched tails can be the commencin' of peace betwixt us."

Araminta dropped the tails as if they'd set her hand on fire. She whirled to leave the room, slowing as she passed Khan, who was chewing her ebony cane into splinters.

"Araminty?"

Araminta stopped but did not turn around.

"Did it rile you when I asked iffen you was a hunnerd years old? Iffen it did, I'm sorry. You really don't look a day over ninety."

Saxon's deep laughter echoed throughout the mansion, and a visible shudder shook Araminta's body as she disappeared through the door.

*

Saxon's bedroom of dark green and gold reminded Chickadee of her mountains in autumn. She thought it the most beautiful room she'd ever seen until she beheld Desdemona's a few hours later. Desdemona's room, decorated in peach and teal, was the Blue Ridge in springtime. Chickadee professed it to be as lovely as the silent girl who rarely left it.

"Your waistcoat is being pressed as we speak, Mr. Blackwell," Candice, the young maid, nervously told Saxon as she laced a pink ribbon through Desdemona's hair. "And Miss Desdemona is ready. But sir, if I may be so bold... are you sure it's your wish to take her downstairs for dinner? Mrs. Blackwell instructed me to lay out only one place setting. And she has never allowed Miss Desdemona—"

"I will take full responsibility for bringing my sister to the dining room, Candice." When the maid curtsied and left to get his coat, Saxon knelt by his sister and placed her hand on his cheek. "Desdemona, I'm home."

Desdemona continued to stare at a miniature painting of her mother and father on her bedside table.

Saxon felt that familiar sadness rise within him. But it faded instantly when he remembered who was standing beside him. "Desdemona, there's someone here I want you to meet. This is your new sister-in-law, Keely."

Chickadee held out the pine-straw basket she'd made. When Desdemona made no move to take it, she sat down beside the quiet girl. "Made this fer you, Desdemona. It's fer a-totin' posies."

"Keely is from North Carolina," Saxon explained. "I told you I'd bring you something that would help you understand where I went, and there's no better way to describe the beauty and wonder of North Carolina than to show you its most remarkable native. I met Keely in the mountains when she saved me from a bear."

Chickadee laughed and smoothed Desdemona's black curls. "Saxon warn't real smart. He left his shootin'-arn on Hagen's back, and the critter lit out with it. When I first met yore brother, he couldn't a-growed pole beans in a pile o' horse—"

"Uh, Keely has been looking forward to meeting you, Desdemona." Saxon made a mental note to ask Chickadee to refrain from using strong language and just as quickly decided it would do no good.

"And yore ever' bit as purty as Saxon said you was, Desi."

Desdemona turned her head to stare at nothingness.

"Stay with her for a moment while I see what's keeping Candice with my coat, Keely," Saxon said. "I'm anxious to confront Grandmother once and for all. I've done everything she demanded, and there's not a blessed thing she can do. I can't remember the last time I dined with Desdemona downstairs, and despite what Grandmother has to say, the meal we share tonight will be the first of many more."

When he was gone Chickadee knelt and reached up to hold Desdemona's satin-encased arms. "Desi, darlin', you don't talk. Saxon said you don't even smile, and that ain't right. It's Araminty, ain't it?"

Desdemona's eyes widened.

"That ole spider woman prob'ly skeert the voice plumb outen you when she come to this here city. I know she's yore granny and all, but she's mean enough to pour water on a poor ole widder woman's kindlin. Now Desi? I know you cain't talk, but I suspicion thur ain't nothin' wrong with yore ears. You listen to me real good, sweet thang, and we'll see iffen you don't smile when I'm finished explainin' the way o' thangs to you."

She patted the girl's hands and stood. "I ain't got it settled in my mind real good yet, but somehow I'm gwine larn ole Araminty some manners. This afternoon she was a-lookin' at me like I warn't worth dried spit. I'm a-tellin' you, she was nigh in a franzy that Saxon married me. I done already figgered it out that she was a-wantin' him to marry him a Boston girl. I had a mind to slap her down fer a-treatin' me the way she done, but my mama-woman raised me better'n that."

Chickadee began to laugh. "You got to stretch out a snake real good afore you can measure it, darlin', and that's what I'm a-aimin' to do. Once I got that spider woman figgered out, her and me's gwine pass some words. She's right used to folks a-fallin' over back'ards fer her, but she ain't gwine play that thunder with me. And she's a-baitin' trouble by a-treatin' you the way she does, Desi. It's shameful her not a-lettin' you eat with her. And Lord only knows what else she does to you."

She pulled Desdemona from the bed. "Saxon says he's gwine give her what fer ternight at supper. But I reckon he's been a-tryin' to handle that woman fer years. 'Pears to me he ain't done too good so fur. He thanks he's done winned the battle, but he ain't, Desi. Spider Woman'll bite back, shore and sartin. 'Sides that, he ain't allus gwine be 'round here no how. He's got them fancy offices to go to."

She brought Desdemona into her embrace. "But I'll be here, Desi. I ain't gwine be here fer long, but I ain't gwine let ole Araminty hurt you whilst I'm here. I'm gwine stay with you. You and me's gwine be like sisters, and I swear I'll take up fer you. You done got yoresef a guardian angel, sweet thang. But this angel's got horns and a pitchfork along with her wangs."

Saxon returned then, and though there was no smile on Desdemona's lips, he could have sworn there were two in her eyes.

Chapter 10

"Desdemona, go to your room." The crisp order delivered, Araminta seated herself at the head of the table.

Desdemona turned toward the door, stiffening when Saxon caught the sash of her gown. "Come back here, little sister. You're a member of this family, and you'll eat with us from now on."

Araminta watched with rising vexation. "Desdemona, you will do as I told you. Your brother has no say."

"Why don't he?" Chickadee returned Araminta's glare with equal defiance. "He's the spear-side o' the family."