The Barefoot Bride (25 page)

Irritated anew over his strange attachment to her, he muttered a curse and stalked to the front door. With a quick glance at the upper landing of the staircase, he silently wished Chickadee good luck.

She was attending the ladies' sewing circle today. It was a good place for her to start joining society. It would be just a quiet, simple affair, and he couldn't imagine she'd be able to cause any chaos there. After all, she wouldn't be taking Khan, and she'd leave her rifle at home. What could happen?

"Saxon, I refuse to take that girl to the sewing meeting," Araminta snapped as she rushed into the foyer.

"Sorry, Grandmother. If you don't take Keely everyone will want to know why she's not there. And if you lie and make up some excuse, I will reveal your dishonesty at the first opportunity. I want her to make some friends. Can't you understand that?"

Araminta rubbed her arms to warm herself against the chill her cold anger brought her. "I will not take her."

"She's been invited. I ran into Mrs. Rush yesterday in town. You know how fast news spreads. Apparently every female in Boston has heard of my marriage, and all are anxious to meet Keely. And since I cannot be with her today, I'm counting on you to make sure things go well for her."

Araminta's eyelids fluttered like the transparent wings of a fly.

Saxon tapped his hat against his thigh, thoroughly enjoying Araminta's dismay. "You see. Grandmother, Keely and I were with Wesley Melville several weeks ago. When I saw Mrs. Rush yesterday, she informed me she'd heard about my marriage from Mrs. Douglas. Mrs. Douglas learned about it from Mrs. Eliot, who got it straight from Mrs. Bancroft, who got wind of it directly from Mrs. Melville. Mrs. Rush promised to do her utmost to see that Keely is introduced to all the proper people. Hence, the invitation for her to join the ladies' sewing circle. Which, if I'm not mistaken, meets at one o'clock today at the Rush estate. And you,
dear
Grandmother, will take her. Now, with your leave, I go to my office."

She caught him by his sleeve. "You know perfectly well they want to meet her because of the rumors that are undoubtedly flying about. They cannot resist—"

"Grandmother, what a terrible way to speak of your own friends! And as for the rumors, do as I do—ignore them." He reached out and patted her shoulder before heading out the door.

"But she has nothing to wear!"

Saxon turned slowly, his eyebrow raised. "Her clothes arrived yesterday. She'll be dressed beautifully. So you see? You've nothing at all to worry about."

*

"I heard she actually took a few shots at Wesley Melville," Sarah Bancroft proclaimed, nodding in assurance that her words were the truth not mere gossip.

"Told him she'd strip naked for him too," Evelyn Douglas whispered, her cheeks reddening. "You know, I always knew Saxon wasn't right for my Emily. Granted, he's a handsome scamp and will be as rich as Croesus one day, but to have him as a son-in-law! Well, the proof of his true character is that girl he married. Gracious me! I'm so glad I always took care to keep Emily well out of his way."

Hester Eliot smirked. "Evelyn dear, you'd have stripped poor Emily naked if you thought it might have made Saxon take a second glance at her, and you know it. It's common knowledge you've wanted that match ever since Emily sprouted breasts."

Evelyn gasped. "Why Hester Eliot! I never—"

"I wonder what Saxon would see in her?" Millicent Ashbury interrupted. "From what I've heard about her, she's the crudest person ever to set foot in our fair city. Why, even her name is outlandish. Imagine being named Chicken!"

"Excuse me, but I don't think her name is Chicken," Bunny Hamilton said quietly, reaching up to push a brown curl off her plump cheek. "I believe I heard it to be Chickadee."

The cluster of women turned to look at the overweight girl. "Bunny, what difference does it make, for heaven's sake?" Eleanor Peabody spat. "Chickadee is as ridiculous as Chicken."

"But no one can possibly judge her without even meeting her," Bunny pointed out timidly. "Surely the things you have heard about her are nothing more than overblown gossip. I'm sure she's a lovely, genteel girl."

The discussion was interrupted by a commotion in the hallway.

"No you cain't have my cape, you thievin' buzzard! Don't they pay you enough here so's you can buy yore own dang capes?"

"But I only thought to hang it up for you," the butler rushed to explain to the mountain girl who'd just arrived.

"Oh." Chickadee unfastened the front of the silken garment and handed it to him.

"And may I take that for you also?" he asked, gesturing toward the leather satchel she held.

"No, I'm gwine need it."

The butler frowned. "But it's a saddlebag."

"Onliest thang I could find to put my sewin' in."

Eyes wide, the women watched the scene at the doorway. Araminta entered and shuffled to a vacant chair, leaving Chickadee under the archway of the door.

"Araminta," Millicent said, still staring at the person in the doorway, "is
that
her?"

Araminta yanked her needlepoint out of her bag and threw Chickadee a scathing look. "Yes, and before she even sets foot into this room, allow me to apologize for whatever she says or does. I can promise you all that before this assembly is over, each of you will understand how horribly humiliated I am by Saxon's marriage."

"Does she always talk like that?" Eleanor asked.

"It gets worse with every word she utters," Araminta said. "I did not want to bring her here, but Saxon—"

"Well, isn't anyone going to invite her into the room?" Bunny asked.

"Yes, Thelma," Sarah said.
"You're
the hostess."

Thelma Rush fiddled with her ruby ring. "But... Perhaps I made a mistake in inviting her. I only thought to do Saxon a favor by—"

"You're a very poor liar, Thelma." Hester chided. "You heard the rumors about her, and you couldn't wait to see if they were true. You're always the one who has all the latest gossip. The rest of us—"

"Hester, that's not true," Thelma gasped. "I—"

"It is so true, Thelma," Evelyn exclaimed. "The proof is that you invited her!"

Thelma flushed scarlet. "But I had no idea she would be... like that!"

"What is she like?" Bunny heaved out of her chair. "How can we know until we acquaint ourselves with her?"

"Oh Bunny, do sit down," Millicent commanded. "Heaven knows none of us can see around you."

Bunny hung her head for an instant before she turned and waddled across the large room toward the doorway where Chickadee still stood. Chickadee watched her coming and knew instantly that Bunny certainly enjoyed food. But Chickadee looked beyond the rolls of plumpness on the girl's face and saw Bunny's smile. It was an honest-to-goodness real smile, the only one given her since she'd arrived.

"Hello," Bunny greeted her. "My name is Bunny Hamilton. It's such a pleasure to meet the girl who finally caught that handsome Saxon Blackwell. My sincerest congratulations on your marriage, Chickadee."

Chickadee shook Bunny's hand firmly. "Bunny? Uh, Bunny ain't no nickname fer somethin' else, is it? I mean, yore real name ain't Rabbit, is it?"

For a moment, Bunny looked confused. "Rabbit?" she repeated and then laughed. "Oh no! My real name is Hortense, but I hate that name. When my parents died and I came here to live with my relatives, and my aunt nicknamed me Bunny. That's what I've come to prefer to be called."

"Well, God-proud to meet you Bunny. I was a-wonderin' if thur was anybody here who was gwine welcome me in. Ole Araminty jist left me a-standin' here, and I didn't know what I was s'posed to do. She's pained over a-brangin' me today, y'know. 'Course, I don't keer nary a jag she's so ill. The iller she is, the tickleder I git."

Bunny held her hand over her mouth and giggled.

"Yes, well, come with me, and I'll make all the introductions. You'll have to forgive Mrs. Rush for not doing it. She's... uh, she's not herself today."

Chickadee took a moment to smooth down her salmon-colored silk dress, and then followed Bunny. She smiled at each woman to whom she was introduced, but not one lady returned her gesture of friendliness. Shrugging her shoulders, she sat down beside Bunny and opened the old leather bag. Every pair of eyes in the room was on her. Oblivious to the rude stares, she took many frayed squares of cloth from the satchel, making a pile of them on her lap.

"I ain't much fer sewin', but Saxon says you-uns do a lavish of it here in Boston. And what with the warm welcome you-uns give me, the leastest I can do is try and do thangs the way you-uns do 'em."

Not one woman deigned to answer, and because they were staring so intently at Chickadee, not one woman had noticed Eugenia Preston's quiet arrival.

She had nearly stepped into the room to demand an explanation for such rudeness when she realized who Chickadee was. With a finger to her lips, she asked for silence from the butler and then stood behind the door to peek through the crack. She knew spying was rude, but if the delightful tales she'd heard about the mountain girl and Wesley Melville were true—and she believed they were—she suspected the overbearing matrons in the room were about to suffer a similar fate. It was entertainment she simply couldn't resist waiting to see.

"Whatever it is you're making will certainly be vivid and pleasing to the eye," Bunny said, picking up one of Chickadee's bright squares of cloth. "You've such pretty colors here."

"Me and Saxon went through ever' closet in the house a-huntin' out ole clothes and other kinds o' cloth. Spended near all night a-rippin' 'em inter these here squares."

"She is most likely making a gown, knowing her taste," Araminta remarked coldly, her smile as icy as her voice.

The other ladies twittered with laughter.

Bunny glared at each of them. "If she is indeed making a dress, it will be a beautiful one. With her coloring, the hues of her fabrics will be quite pretty on her."

"Nice o' you to say, Bunny, but it ain't gwine be no dress. It's gwine be—"

"I'm sure none of us care," Araminta broke in. She tried to concentrate on her needlepoint, but her fingers shook as she thought of the things that would be said about her in the days to come. Even now, each lady in the room was absorbing everything that went on and would soon shout it out to all of Boston. Her fine, untarnished name would be stained irreparably.

Oh, how she relished the thought of punishing Saxon for doing this to her.

"Yes, well... who has news to share with us?" Bunny asked, realizing a change of subject was vitally needed.

With effort, the women tore their eyes from Chickadee and settled back in their chairs. After all, there would be plenty of time to gossip about the rustic later on.

"There is a certain Mary Lindlock I'd like to discuss," Hester said. "She's new to Boston, and while she's a pleasant enough woman, I'm sure we'd all like to know more about her before we accept her into our circle."

"Far be it from me to pass judgment," Sarah said, and threw Chickadee a well-aimed sneer, "but I must say I'm not at all certain Mary could ever be one of us. Why, do you know I actually heard her arguing over the price of a necklace the other day in Cromwell's jewelry store?"

"You don't mean it!" Eleanor responded. "Well, that is all the proof we need, ladies. Bickering over jewelry is simply not acceptable. It's—"

"Maybe that Cromwell feller was a-tryin' to cheat her," Chickadee ventured. "I met him when Saxon tuk me thar, and I ain't a-tellin' no lie when I say he was a mite shifty-eyed. I tole Saxon—"

"No one asked for your opinion," Araminta said. "Samuel Cromwell is a respected businessman, and we have all patronized his store for years. You'd do well to keep quiet when it comes to matters you know nothing about."

"I'm sure Chickadee meant no disrespect, Mrs. Blackwell." Bunny tried to soothe the angry woman. "She—"

"And as for you, Bunny Hamilton," Araminta hissed, "your opinion is of no value either. I will speak to your Aunt Sue and Uncle Van and inform them of the impertinence you have shown your elders here today. Your cousin, Cynthia, told me herself she is exasperated with you, and from your actions today, I can certainly understand her feelings."

Bunny bent her head and noticed the warts on her hand were showing. She pulled her sleeve down over them and then stared blankly at her sewing. Exasperation had nothing to do with the fact that Cynthia hated her. It was her large size that kept Cynthia from liking her. Cynthia had even said she'd rather die than be seen anywhere with her, and true to her word, she only accompanied Bunny to social gatherings when she was forced.

Bunny squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to control her tears. But one solitary drop rolled down her round cheek, splashing onto the cloth she held.

Chickadee watched the tear until it was absorbed into the fabric, her insides lurching with both pity and anger. Finally, her eyes the only part of her that moved, Chickadee looked up at Araminta, barely noticing that every woman in the room was leaning forward expectantly.

Araminta's hostile look withered into one of apprehension.

Chickadee stood.

Araminta's fingers trembled on the arm of her chair.

Chickadee took a step forward.

Araminta's needlepoint fell to the floor.

"Refreshments," the butler announced as he wheeled a large cart into the room. "Shall I serve, Mrs. Rush?"

"No. That will be all, Wells," Thelma replied, annoyed at the interruption. "Ladies, we shall dispense with formalities and serve ourselves."

Bunny was the first in line. She piled her small plate high with buttered bread and then reached for the spoon in the large honey pot, drowning the food with the sweet syrup. She dropped four sugar lumps into her tea and selected a fruit tart before she plodded back to her seat.

Chickadee watched her closely, and then, with a heavy sigh, she went back to her chair and began to stitch her tattered squares together.

"Chickadee," Bunny whispered, and pulled her sleeve down over her warts again, "what were you going to do to Mrs. Blackwell before the butler came?" While waiting for the answer, Bunny made quick work of her tart.