Joy for Mourning Read online

  The warm night breeze blew in the window, ruffling the pages on the Bible in her lap. Laina found her place again, and continued to read. “As for thee, O king, thy thoughts came into thy mind upon thy bed, what should come to pass hereafter: and He that revealeth secrets maketh known to thee what shall come to pass.”

  Laina’s pulse leaped. God sent King Nebuchadnezzar a dream to show him the future? Had she read that right? Did God do that? She skimmed to the end of the verse and read it aloud. “And He that revealeth secrets maketh known to thee what shall come to pass.”

  I believe this is God’s will for Laina.

  Elizabeth’s words surged from the recesses of Laina’s mind into her consciousness. Her dream had come true. Did that mean God had given it to her? Oh, surely not!

  Chills shook her. Laina lifted the Bible onto the candle stand and rose, staring about her bedroom, looking for she knew not what. She shook her head to rid herself of the questioning thoughts surfacing and hurried to the window. It was late. She was tired. That’s why she was being so foolish. The excuses swirled in her head, but nothing could dislodge that one irrefutable fact. Her dream had come true. Every bit of it.

  Laina wrapped her arms about herself and stared out into the night. Justin’s hand had turned into a purse raining money down on the children. Not only had he turned the fortune he had inherited from Abigail into a trust fund for the Twiggs Manor Orphanage, he had persuaded his wealthy friends to donate money, as well—including Henry Rhodes. Combined with the proceeds from the sale of her house in New York it was enough to make the orphanage self-sustaining.

  As for her, she had taken in every child that came to her, tucking them into her heart, loving and caring for them. And Thad continued to bring her children just as he did in the dream.

  Thad’s touch did make her breathless. Laina blinked tears from her eyes. Yes, it was true. The dream had come to pass. All of it. There was nothing more. She caught her breath at the finality of the words. Nothing more.

  A sense of loneliness, of desolation, hit her, overwhelming in its force. Laina turned and ran to her bed, burying her sobs in her pillow.

  Thad finished stabling Faithful and left the barn. His steps dragged. It was getting harder and harder to enter his empty house. He glanced at the dark windows. What would it be like to see welcoming light glowing there? To know someone was waiting for him?

  Thad gave a disdainful snort and sat on the top step leading to the shed door. Who was he trying to fool? Someone. He didn’t want someone. He wanted Laina.

  Thad put his black bag down beside him, blew out a long breath and stared at the bricks in the walk. She was still awake. There had been candlelight glowing from her bedroom windows when he came down Fifth Street. He always looked. He tried not to, but he always did. And it just made everything harder.

  A rabbit hopped out of the twilight shadow of the barn, stopped to nibble at some grassy treat, then continued on around the corner of the outhouse. In the distance a dog barked and another answered. A cat yowled. It all seemed to increase the yearning ache in his heart. Thad blew out another breath, picked up his bag and pushed to his feet. Time to bathe. Time to write the day’s notes in his medical journal and go to bed. Alone.

  His grip tightened on the handles of his bag. He was beginning to hate that word, to hate his bachelor life. He frowned and pulled open the door to his bathing shed, then paused and looked up at the sky. “Why did You let me fall in love with her, Lord? Why? It’s hopeless. You know it’s hopeless. I have nothing to offer a woman like Laina Brighton.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ah—he was caught! Laina stared at the stage as the Loyalist spy, Harry Wharton, unable to deceive Captain Lawton of the Virginia Horse, took off his wig and eye patch. The theater erupted in a clamor as the audience on the main floor beneath the private boxes hooted and clapped and stomped their approval.

  Laina swept her gaze over the jeering, cheering crowd, then glanced around the theater itself. She found it more interesting than the play. She liked the pink paper with dark spots that lined the boxes, and definitely approved of the crimson curtains with tassels. But then, with her love of color, she would.

  She smiled and shifted her gaze to the elaborately ornate glass chandeliers. They were beautiful, as were the pillars representing bundles of gilt reeds bound with red fillets that supported the boxes. The entire theater was elegant—more so than the Park Theater in New York, in her opinion. Did Thad ever come to the theater?

  Laina broke off her wandering thoughts as the audience again broke into applause. The dramatization was over. She rose and exited their box, nodding and smiling at acquaintances as she walked with Justin and Elizabeth to the stairs.

  The voices of people chatting or calling out greetings created a continuous hum from the main floor as they descended. Laina crowded closer to Justin and Elizabeth as they moved into the small space created by the flow of people around the pillar at the bottom of the stairs. “Oh!”

  The man who had bumped into her turned, hat in hand. “Excuse me, madam. I didn’t mean to—” The man’s face split into a smile. “Justin Randolph! It’s been a while.”

  “Indeed it has, Simon. Well over three years.” Justin placed his hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder. “May I present my wife, Elizabeth—” he gestured toward her with his other hand “—and my sister, Mrs. Laina Brighton. Ladies, Simon Harper.”

  “Your servant, ladies.” The man bowed his head, then lifted it, his gaze fastening on her. Laina acknowledged him with a polite smile. His lips curved upward. His gaze warmed. “How fortunate I ‘bumped’ into friends.”

  “Indeed, Simon. When did you get back from England?”

  The man shifted his gaze back to Justin. “I came in Tuesday, on the Cormorant.”

  “Ah! An excellent choice. She’s a good ship.” Justin inched past the pillar, moving into the exiting crowd and creating room for Elizabeth and Laina to turn toward the door.

  Elizabeth smiled at the man. “I hope you had a pleasant crossing, Mr. Harper.”

  “Very pleasant, Mrs. Randolph. Captain Darby is a good man and an excellent chess player. I enjoyed his company.” Simon glanced at Justin and smiled. “I know the Cormorant is one of your ships, so when I booked passage I told Captain Darby I was your friend. He was kind enough to give me preferential treatment and introduce me to points of interest at our ports of call.”

  He stepped to Laina’s side. “Did you enjoy the play, Mrs. Brighton?”

  Laina nodded. “Yes, Mr. Harper, I did. I found it quite entertaining.”

  The crowd surged forward.

  Simon Harper’s arm brushed against hers in the tight space. He didn’t move it. Was it a lack of manners? Or an indication of interest? Laina frowned and inched away from him as they flowed with the people out of the theater into the long outside entry lit with lanterns over the door.

  The press of the crowd eased.

  Laina sighed with relief. Perhaps now Mr. Harper would take his leave of them. He was pleasant enough, but his attention made her uncomfortable. She smoothed back a loose wisp of hair, adjusted her lace stole and moved to the brick walkway through one of the spaces between the columns supporting the front edge of the entry roof.

  Simon Harper stayed glued to her side. “Have you become separated from your husband in the crowd, Mrs. Brighton? May I assist you in finding him?”

  Laina shook her head, checking the twinge of irritation that spurted through her. It was most likely the man was only being polite because she was Justin’s sister. She glanced at him. “I’m a widow, Mr. Harper.”

  “I’m sorry.” He swept his gaze over her elegant gown of cherry-red watered silk. “I didn’t know.” He lifted his gaze back to hers. “My deepest sympathy.”

  He didn’t look sympathetic—he looked interested. Her discomfort increased. Laina inclined her head and tugged at one of her elbow-length evening gloves. Time to change the subject. She glanced up at the sky. “What a beautif
ul evening.” She moved toward the street, putting some distance between them.

  “Indeed it is.” He followed her.

  The frown she’d been holding back broke free. Laina looked around for an excuse to leave Simon Harper’s side. She couldn’t simply freeze him with a look and walk away—the man was Justin’s friend. “Oh, look, an oyster barrow!” She lifted her long skirts and took another step toward the street.

  “Would you care to join us for some oysters, Simon?”

  Laina whirled about and shot Justin a look, wishing she was close enough to give him a sharp jab in the ribs with her elbow. Couldn’t he see she was trying to get away from the man!

  “My pleasure, Justin. Be careful of the step down, Mrs. Brighton.”

  Simon smiled and took hold of her elbow as she stepped from the raised brick walkway to the cobblestone street. Justin’s friend or not, Laina wanted to yank her arm from his grasp. She took a deep breath and counted to ten. The man had done nothing to warrant such aversion on her part. Still, she couldn’t abide his touch. She would separate herself from him amid the people milling about the cart in the street, or perhaps she would use the press of people as an excuse to jab him in the ribs! Her lips twitched at the thought.

  “Have you children, Mrs. Brighton?”

  Laina glanced up, met Simon Harper’s warm, intent gaze and stopped fooling herself. His interest had nothing to do with Justin. And her aversion to him had everything to do with Thad. She gave him a sweet smile. “Why, yes, Mr. Harper, I do. Twenty-three of them. I have an orphanage.”

  The warmth left his gaze. Shock rippled across his features. She was sure he would have turned and run if good manners and Justin’s friendship hadn’t held him glued to the spot. He made a visible effort to gather himself to a polite response. “So many. You’ve been…blessed with success.” He gave her a weak smile. “Abundantly blessed.”

  “Yes.” That took care of any interest Mr. Simon Harper might have had in her. A giggle bubbled up. Laina bit down on her lip and stared down at the street, entertaining herself with the image of Simon Harper’s reaction as they waited their turn at the cart.

  A hard shoulder bumped her off balance as the people squeezed closer together to avoid the carriages rumbling up to the theater to pick up their passengers. Simon grasped her elbow again to steady her. Laina’s amusement soured when he didn’t let go.

  “Look at that old, hard-used buggy falling in line with the departing carriages. The man should have better taste than to bring it around where his betters are gathered for enjoyment.”

  Laina stiffened at the snobbish words of the jeering crowd and drew breath to speak. Justin laid a restraining hand on her shoulder. “The man who owns that rig is a doctor….”

  Laina heard nothing more. She jerked her elbow out of Simon’s grasp and spun about to step up onto the walkway where she could get a clear view of the street over the heads of the crowd around her.

  It was Thad. Laina’s heart pounded as her gaze met his. The smile that had started to her lips died. Why was he scowling? He doffed his hat, gave her a polite nod, then faced straight ahead as his buggy passed. Her heart sank to the level of her red satin slippers at his cool demeanor. She dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands, distracting herself from the horrible hollow feeling in her chest as she watched him drive away.

  Who was the man holding Laina’s elbow? Thad’s hands tightened around the reins until his knuckles whitened. Whoever he was, he was a man of society, of obvious substance. His appearance shouted wealth.

  Thad drew in a deep breath to ease the sudden tension in his stomach and guided Faithful around the corner. Laina deserved a man who could give her everything, who could keep her in the style she’d been born to. But that didn’t make it easier to see her with one. He took another breath, blew it out slowly. He’d had only a brief look, but he knew the image of her standing in front of the theater in that red gown, with her dark hair piled atop her proudly lifted head, would never leave him.

  Thad turned into the narrow alley that led to the Bauers’ home and shook off thoughts of Laina as Faithful stopped by the front gate. He picked up his black bag and climbed from the buggy, his heart heavy with dread. He’d been expecting this summons. Martha had been steadily losing her battle with consumption, but knowing that didn’t make facing her family less painful.

  Lord, make Martha’s transition from her husband’s arms to Yours a quick and peaceful one, I pray. And give me grace and strength to help both Martha and her family through this time. I need Your wisdom, Your words and Your love to flow through me, Lord, for mine are not good enough. Amen.

  Thad brushed his hand over the back of his neck, squared his shoulders and walked to the door. He hated this part of medicine.

  “Yes?” Laina looked up from her desk, rubbing her eyes, grateful for the interruption. She hadn’t slept well last night and she was tired, not to mention what Grandmother Davidson called “ouchy.” She hated all this record keeping, but with so many children there was always something to keep track of.

  Beaumont opened the door and stepped into the study. “There’s a woman—a Mrs. Chandler—who wishes to speak with you, madam. She has three young children with her.” A frown creased the butler’s forehead. “They all look about starved.”

  “Oh, dear.” Laina put the cap on the inkwell and hurried toward the door, her fatigue forgotten. “Is she in the parlor?”

  “No, madam. I offered to show her to the parlor, but she refused. She’s standing by the front door in the entrance hall.”

  “That’s odd. Thank you, Beaumont.” Laina rushed down the hallway, her mind whirling with speculation. Why wouldn’t she wait in the parlor? Who was this woman? She’d never had anyone but Thad bring her children.

  Laina turned the corner into the entrance hall and caught her breath. Her steps halted. It wasn’t only the children who looked starved. The woman was rail-thin, her face attractive but pinched. She was leaning on the boy and seemed to be in pain.

  Laina looked at the children huddled close to the woman’s skirts. A little girl about Emma’s age, another girl about Billy’s age. The boy seemed about Tom’s size and age. They were all spotlessly clean, but thin—much too thin. She glanced at the bulging drawstring bag resting on the floor at the boy’s feet, then stepped back around the corner. “Beaumont!”

  He stepped out of the butler’s pantry at her soft, urgent call. “Yes, madam. I’ve already told cook to prepare a tea with sandwiches and cider for the children. I’ll serve it immediately.”

  Laina smiled and nodded her approval. It had turned out that staid, stickler-for-convention Beaumont had a huge heart for these orphaned children. He was wonderful with them. She swept into the entrance hall and hurried toward the front door, smiling at the children, then lifting her gaze to the woman’s face. “I’m Laina Brighton. You wished to speak with me, Mrs. Chandler?”

  The woman drew herself straighter. A spasm of pain swept across her features. “Yes. Thank you for sparing me a moment of your time, Mrs. Brighton.” She took a deep breath. “It’s—it’s about these homeless children.”

  Laina watched at they crowded closer to the woman, even the boy, who was trying so hard to look brave. Her heart ached for them. She nodded and fastened her gaze on the woman’s overly bright eyes. Tears. Suspicion burst in her mind. “We’ll talk in the parlor, Mrs. Chandler. Come with me, please.” She turned to lead the way along the staircase wall to the parlor door, giving the woman no choice but to follow her.

  “Ugh!”

  “Mama!”

  Laina whirled at the cry of pain. The woman was on her hands and knees on the floor, the boy tugging at her arm trying to help her rise. “Mrs. Chandler!” Laina rushed to kneel beside the woman. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  The woman tried to look up, then clamped her teeth on her lower lip and hung her head. “It’s…my back.”

  Laina’s eyes filled at the woman’s obvious distress. She loo
ked up at the young boy. “Go to the end of the room—” she pointed behind her “—and call for Beaumont. Tell him I need him. Hurry!” She turned back and laid a comforting hand on the woman’s bowed shoulders as the boy ran to do her bidding.

  “Be careful not to bump her feet, Beaumont. You don’t want to jar her.” Laina opened the door for her butler, who was carrying Mrs. Chandler, and led the way into the spacious bedroom across the hall from her own. She glanced at the chaise along the wall to her left, then hurried on toward the bed draped with a white fishnet-weave tester and raspberry-colored curtains that matched the room’s trim moldings and paneling. With quick, efficient movements she yanked the feather pillows from beneath the coverlet, propped them against the headboard and stepped back out of the way.

  Beaumont lowered the woman to the bed and straightened. “Will there be anything else, madam?”

  “Yes. Send John for Dr. Allen, then—”

  “Forgive me for interrupting, Mrs. Brighton.” The woman’s pale face flushed as Laina looked down at her. “I appreciate your wonderful kindness in letting me rest, but a doctor is out of the question. I have no money.”

  Laina waved her objection aside. “Dr. Allen is a friend, Mrs. Chandler. There will be no charge.” She smiled at the woman’s look of amazement and shifted her gaze to the children clustered together at the other side of the bed. They looked frightened—and hungry.

  She turned back to her butler. “Bring the children’s tea up here, Beaumont. I think they’d like to stay with their mother.” She looked back down at the woman on the bed. “They are all your children, aren’t they, Mrs. Chandler?”

  The woman bit her bottom lip and nodded.

  “I thought so. They look like you.” Laina smiled to put the woman at ease and walked around the bed as Beaumont left the room. Her long skirts billowed out around her as she crouched in front of the teary-eyed toddler leaning against her older brother. “Hello. I’m Mrs. Brighton. What’s your name?”