Ireland Rose

  Suddenly a little voice spoke. “I don’t like you.”

  “That’s okay. You don’t have to.” She kept her eyes averted studying a large 6-drawered side board with mirrors. “Would you mind if I looked in those drawers?” she pointed.

  “Why?”

  “Hmmm…no reason, just wondered if someone left treasures behind.”

  The small head swayed back and forth, wispy blonde hair feathering her face.

  Rose also noted the frown and the crossed arms over the chest. This would require a bit of work.

  She stood and immediately cracked her head on the low ceiling. “Oh my.”

  The little girl was startled but did not move.

  Rose opened the drawers and found dusty photos, old towels, ancient flatware. “Wonder who these people are?” She took a picture and gazed at it. Then took up several more and sat down again.

  “I know.”

  “You know who lived here?”

  “Yes.” The little face contorted for a moment. “My grandmama.”

  “Your grandmama?”

  Rose did not believe a word of it. She herself, had made up imaginary siblings when she was young, but she played along.

  “What was her name?”

  “Charmaine Billingsly Thompson” from Illinois.”

  Rose was duly impressed. The child was highly intelligent to make up such a name and so quickly. “Whose mother was she?”

  “My mothers.” The voice faltered. “She used to live here with my father. And he died, then mama died and then Grandmama died.”

  Those brown eyes stared into hers.

  “I see. And now you are here.”

  “Yes, but I don’t like all the other kids here, too. They don’t belong to me.”

  “They don’t?”

  “No.” the little bare feet kicked at her shoes.

  “Well, what can be done about that…” Rose wondered aloud, her finger at her chin.

  “I don’t know. But I won’t go down there.”

  “You do look like your grandmama.” She said for it was true. “You have her handsome eyes.”

  “I do?”

  She seemed surprised, Rose noted. “Yes I believe you do.”

  “You’re the only one who believes me.”

  “Can you tell me more?”

  “Me and mama lived here, until they moved in.” she pouted. “I was very little mama said, but she told me the story and I believe her.” The arms crossed again and her lips quivered.

  “Of course you do. And well you should.”

  The little face seemed to relax.

  “Why don’t we go down and see what is for lunch. I’m very hungry. Are you?

  “No.”

  “All right then, I’ll go down and if you should like to join me, put your shoes on and we’ll eat together.” Rose stood, put the picture in the little girls hand and started down the stairs.

  Her toe touched the bottom stair and she heard clip-clop, clip-clop behind her.

  “Well, then, Cecelia, let’s go have a bit of milk or tea.”

  As she came down Mr. Doddle saw her and wisely said nothing to Cecelia.

  “It is lunchtime? We are a bit hungry, sir.”

  “Indeed.”

  Rose saw him smile as led the way. As they approached she could hear the low chatter of voices. After a short walk and a couple of turns, they entered a very large, very noisy room, filled with tables and benches. It was an old warehouse. Had Cecelia been telling the truth after all? She wondered.

  “We have assigned seats.” He indicated Cecelia’s.

  “May I join her?”

  “Here? Mrs. Lovell wouldn’t you much rather . . .” he was suggesting another space with his hands.

  “I would like to eat here, if you don’t mind sir. Cecelia and I have things to discuss.”

  There must have been forty or fifty children, who were scurrying to their seats.

  She looked at Mr. Doddle.

  “They are waiting for everyone to be seated before prayer.” A little voice at her elbow said as she took her seat.

  “I see.” Rose sat down quickly.

  Mr. Doddle prayed and immediately older children poured out of several doors, with pots in their hands and began following each other down the line spooning soup into a bowl, followed by the bread girl, followed by the water girl. The three girls went from table to table serving.

  Rose watched with wonder noting how well they worked together. Without a word dinner was served and no one ate until the last girl walked out of the room, then the chaos began. Talking, laughing, eating.

  She saw Cecelia watching her and picked up her spoon and ate the soup that was more water than vegetables. The little hand picked up her spoon.

  In less than ten minutes the children had finished. No wonder for the servings were small and no more were coming from the kitchen, it seemed. Each child picked up their empty bowls and deposited them in one of several large tubs of water after which the girls who served came out and began washing and drying the dishes, stacking them up on a side table as they went.

  The entire lunchtime took less than twenty minutes.

  “Well, then, Cecelia, I must be going.” Rose said as Mr. Doddle joined them.

  “Okay.” She said, pouting.

  “It’s been very good to meet you.”

  “Cecelia?” Mr. Doddle prompted.

  “Nice to meet you too.” The child said, as Mr. Doddle apologized with his eyes to Rose.

  “I shall come again to see you Cecelia.”

  The dark eyes brightened and Rose knew that she must keep that promise.

  “Please come again when my wife is better. She will show you around, Mrs. Lovell.”

  “Thank you sir, I shall do that.”

  Rose walked out into the sun and helped herself up into the buggy. “Thanks for waiting Emmanuel…I know I was late.”

  “Hmmm…..mmmm.” He chuckled. “I don’t mind at all Miz Rose.”

  Chapter 37

  The last few days had set Rose on a new course. She knew now why Captain Lovell had attracted Yellow Fever and ultimately paid with his life.

  She wished they would have had more time together. He could have taught her so much. It had been almost three months. She had worn dark colors the first month or so, but in light of the fact she knew her husband rested with a life well lived and was safe with God, made it her goal to do continue what he had started. God had been good to give her Captain Lovell. She saw that now more clearly than ever.

  There were so many new friends. Mrs. Shevington. Mr. Doddle and Cecelia. And Matilda Jane, whom she and Mrs. Shevington forgot to discuss, they had been so overwhelmed with meeting each other they’d been unmindful of the reason she had come.

  * * *

  Matilda Jane continued to work at her usual pace. All day. Every day. She was unstoppable. Rose, Portia, even Emmanuel had encouraged her to rest, but the girl was undaunted when it came to work. She loved it. No doubt from Mrs. Shevington’s good training. Which reminded her….she sat at her desk and wrote out two calling cards, sending Thomas with the missives and cash to pay the miller for their cornmeal this month.

  One went out to Newgate to Mr. and Mrs. Doddle for an appointment two weeks hence. One for Mrs. Shevington. She had been better at sending cards and noted she now had two callers this week. Stella and just this moment one from Mrs. Shevington. Laughing, the two notes between herself and Mrs. Shevington had passed.

  * * *

  Rose stood from the desk in the library. The two new watercolor paintings were of Whitegate were of no use to her, she may as well give them to Mrs. Shevington. Her head cocked to the side she lay both up against the books in the bookcase and stepped back for a look. With a critical eye, she chose one and wrapped it in tissue paper.

  The thought crossed her mind about painting Newgate Orphanage and she tossed the idea aside; it would only enhance the fact the building was less than desirable. Perhaps she could
find a more suitable subject….hmmmm….maybe she could sketch Cecelia in charcoal. She put that in the back of her mind…those brown eyes so like her grandmother’s in the picture.

  Rose set aside a small canvas for that project and heard Thomas’ heavy footsteps approaching the office.

  “Miz Rose. I brought the mail. Clerk stopped me and said I should carry these to you.”

  “Thank you Thomas, I take it that the miller is paid and you brought fish from the wharves for supper tonight.”

  “Yes’m. I sure did. I’ll get ‘em to Granmama. The fresher they is, the better she like ‘em.”

  Rose smiled as Thomas hurried away. He would make a good business owner one day.

  When she looked down at the letter in her hand, her heart skipped a beat. It was from Captain Wyatt. He never wrote unless there was a problem. Maybe he was asking after Matilda Jane. Her hands trembled a bit as she opened the missive. It seems Captain Wyatt was just sending word ahead he should arrive sometime in mid-June. No doubt to see his child born. As it should be.

  “The idea.” She whispered and opened other packet.

  The doorbell sounded behind her and she jumped.

  “Ava.” Tossing the letters on the table she ran for the door excited to see her friend. They had much to talk about.

  “Come in my friend.” She said, but quickly saw there was trouble.

  “What is it?” Rose took her hat and parasol, placed them on the hall rack.

  “I’ve come to tell you, Rose, that I can no longer be associated. My husband has found out about my attendance at the meetings for Jamison’s and he has forbid me to go. He is quite upset. I’m very sorry.”

  “That’s all right, Ava. He has his reputation to think about. We can talk about it though…and no one need ever know. Sit down, I have much to tell you.”

  Ava’s dark eyes lit up a bit. “I visited Newgate and Whitegate, both!”

  “You didn’t.” Ava’s voice was hushed, as though someone might hear her.

  “Yes, and there are so many opportunities we can take advantage of.”

  “Oh Rose, I cannot be associated in any way.”

  “You won’t need to. Do you pray?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Good. I’ll call for tea.” Rose pulled the rope.

  “Now.” She took a seat. “Newgate is in need of food and clothing. The children were not ragged, but close.” Rose sat nearby.

  “From the looks of it Jamison needs help more. They need a new location.” Ava reported.

  “You are right. I’m sure you haven’t heard. My husband left his small home to Jamison’s.”

  “What?” Ava perked up.

  “Yes! But the house is not large enough for all the children so they have set up a business. The older girls that have skills work from the rooms and board there. It is good the house is situated on a corner lot. There is room to build.”

  “Oh Rose, the city officials would never let them build. You should know that.”

  “Why? It’s their property.”

  “Because they are Negras. It will never happen.”

  Rose’s bubble burst. “But there should be some way. They are already getting customers for Nettie’s dresses. She can hardly keep up. Other girls are coming to help. They have been doing quite well.”

  “That is all good.” Ava admitted, but I’m afraid you will get a reputation, Rose. One you cannot withstand. Your husband’s good name is honored. But he is gone. The bank, Mr. Dalton in particular, will slap away your every attempt to borrow funds. Do you not see that he could never be associated with funding a business such as that.”

  “That may well be, but I shall do my best.” Rose had no idea she was so determined until just that minute.

  “I’m sure you will but I cannot be known as a participator in any way.”

  “Then you shall not.” Rose assured her. “Your power will be through the prayers of those who can participate, will it not?”

  Ava nodded, but with trepidation Rose noted.

  “Ah, tea. Portia made scones with apricots.”

  They ate in silence for a few moments. It was very unlike Ava to be so quiet.

  “Ava…” Rose put her tea cup down. “Is there something you want to talk about?”

  The woman, so elegant and beautiful, looked away then back again. “I cannot stay long. As you see I did not bring my conveyance. My husband has forbid me to have contact with you Rose.”

  “I see.” Rose picked up her cup and sipped, giving her time to process the words. “That is quite all right. Perhaps I can send word through your brother.”

  “No. Do not do that.” Ava said quickly, her teacup rattling in its saucer. She put it down and stood, paced, the back hem of her dress puffing out each time she turned.

  “My husband and my brother have come to blows.”

  “The reason for Captain Wyatt’s battered face?” Rose asked quietly.

  “Yes.” Ava whispered near tears. “They will not tell me what transpired. But it is bitter and final I’m afraid. My husband will not tolerate his presence and I am forced to follow my husband.”

  Rose kept her tongue.

  “My husband took the worst of it. He had to feign illness for several days until the bruises went away.” She whispered then caught Rose’s eye. “Theodore accuses Ashton of having a temper like my father.” She finished. “Our home was very strained.

  “I see.”

  “It makes things so difficult. My husband has chances for promotion at the bank. And he must take them.” Ava finished and turned, her eyes hard. “I must see to him. You do understand?”

  Rose stood. “Yes, of course I do.” She hugged Ava lightly. “Now be gone, before you find yourself in any harm, my friend, and know that nothing will change our friendship.

  Rose had no idea how much her own life would change.

  Chapter 38

  The next morning Mr. Dalton was shown to the library before the house was fully in motion.

  “Dat man from da bank, he sayin’ he ain’t leavin’ till he sees you Miz Rose. I told ‘im you was still abed. He wouldn’t hear o’anything but to see you.”

  “That’s all right, Portia. Just get my blue lawn from the wardrobe and we’ll make Mr. Dalton wait while you plait my hair. Mind you, I want it perfect, so take your time.”

  “Miz Rose you done gone daft, you knows that? I gonna do just that too.” She chuckled. “He want to see you. He gonna see you, all purtied up like dem little bluebirds, shore enough.”

  A full hour later and looking very radiant and upstanding, Rose trailed her hand along the rail, the hem in back of her dress dropping onto each step behind her as she descended. “Good morning, Mr. Dalton. I do hope we haven’t taken overlong.” She said sweetly, aghast that she could be so bold and with no husband to stand up for her.

  “Not a worry in the world. I was just reviewing your material goods, Mrs. Lovell. You do have a lovely home.”

  Material goods? Was that all he thought about?

  His words were overconfident. She had intended to give him a taste of his own pride and now she herself had been foiled by it.

  “Is that what you came to say, sir?” She turned serious. “For if that is all you want you may leave.”

  Mr. Dalton turned to her and with acid on his tongue, “I shall leave. But I shall also come back. For in due time, Mrs. Lovell, this house shall be mine again.”

  “Yours? Again?”

  “Indeed.” He bowed slightly at the waist and with an evil grin, turned on his heel and exited.

  The screen door slammed. Rose fell into a chair. What had just happened? His confidence and bitterness were sure. He had reason to make such a bold declaration. What should she do? She took the handkerchief out of her wrist and tapped the beads of sweat on her upper lip. And why had he come in the first place?

  Immediately she went to the hall desk and snatched a paper and quill. With a quick scratch, she wrote a missive to
Captain Wyatt and sent it immediately on it’s way with directions to Thomas to make sure it went over on the next ship. She only hoped it would arrive before the Emerald Star left London.

  The joy of the last few days flew away like a hawk with a dead creature in its mouth.

  * * *

  Two weeks passed without a word from Captain Wyatt or Mr. Dalton. During that time she visited Newgate and met Mrs. Doddle, whom she found kind and worn out. Cecelia had been studying her subjects. Mrs. Shevington had been called away to a meeting and was unable to make the visit they had planned. Rose kept herself busy visiting Jamison’s new house on Bull and Versey Streets.

  Nettie was now in charge of the design, sewing and fitting of dresses for Charleston ladies. Her gift for creating stylish new dresses was exceptional. The older boys from the orphanage came and made repairs to the house. Rose noticed the well-kept lawn and an array of colorful flowers now stood sentinel in pots arranged very cleverly in front of the newly painted house. Several girls came once a week to scrub, she learned, for the house was spotless. A new counter separated the clients from entering the sewing rooms which boasted a brand new Singer sewing machine complete with gold lettering on the front.

  Mrs. Jamison kept herself busy searching for food and clothing so Rose rarely saw her. Several children at the orphanage acquired new positions as the eldest with skills went to work at the new house. She also noted there was no sign out front. Clearly it was better for Charleston ladies to be seen entering a home rather than a business. For whatever reasons, it didn’t matter, the fact was they were doing well.

  Jamison’s was making headway. Just the way her husband planned, she was sure.

  Chaper 39

  Weeks passed. It was May 3rd, her 21st birthday. She sat at the table in the foyer, checking mail. Still no word from Captain Wyatt. For now there had been no visits from Mr. Dalton and none from Ava either. Foster and Stella had come for dinner twice. The furniture Stella acquired from her father’s home was divided and delivered according to need. Some to Jamison’s and some to Newgate.

  The ladies, at their monthly meetings, were finding ways and means to accomplish what they wanted. Some were willing to donate various used items from their homes when Emmanuel made his slow drive around with a small cart. A servant from the house would wave him in and deliver blankets, dishes, an old table, clothing, even boots and shoes.