Dulcie's Gift. Ruth Langan

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      Aunt Bessie looked horrified. “I simply cannot abide such a lack of manners,” she said with indignation. “Where were you children raised? In the streets?”

      Dulcie bit back the words that sprang to her lips. Could the woman not see that the children were starving?

      Taking charge, she admonished, “You will spoon the food onto your plates. Nathaniel, you may go back for seconds. But for now, take only what you can eat.”

      “Yes’m.” He eyed the food with naked hunger.

      “Emily and Belle, I think your eyes are bigger than your stomachs.”

      The two little girls reluctantly returned half their food to the silver trays, put the rest on their plates and made their way to the table.

      Frail Starlight, on the other hand, spooned only a speck of food onto her plate. Dulcie took it from her hands and filled it, then returned it to the young woman. “See that you eat, Starlight. You need to regain your strength.”

      “I…I’ll try.”

      When all were seated, Dulcie prepared a plate for herself and took a seat at the table. She bowed her head and the others did the same, clasping hands as Dulcie murmured, “We thank thee, Father, for this shelter from the storm and for this splendid food.”

      “Amen,” the children intoned.

      As the others began eating, Dulcie touched a hand almost lovingly to the lace tablecloth. “This is beautiful, Aunt Bessie.”

      It took the older woman a moment to gather her wits. She had been first moved to anger by the shocking lack of dining etiquette and was now moved by some other, deeper emotion at the touching scene of the women and children praying.

      It had been a long time since she had heard such words in this house. She had never been one for outward signs of religious faith. Her nephews were especially resistant to any displays of religion since their return from the war.

      “The lace was made in Belgium.” As soon as she took her seat at the table, Robert appeared at her side with a steaming cup of tea. As always, his white shirt and dark pants were perfectly pressed, his shoes polished to a high shine.

      A minute later Dar entered carrying a pitcher of milk. As he filled each child’s glass, he kept his gaze averted, as though reluctant to look directly into their eyes. But he did glance at Starlight, who ate slowly, as though she’d had little experience at such a feat. Almost at once he looked away.

      “Milk?” He paused beside her.

      “Yes, please.”

      He filled her glass quickly, then moved on to Dulcie, who refused. She’d noted that Aunt Bessie had said cow. Singular. If, indeed, there was only one cow on the plantation, it would be important to save what little milk there was for the children who needed it.

      His chore completed, Dar fled the room, obviously eager to get away from so many strangers. Perhaps, Dulcie thought, he did not like children. Nor, it seemed, did any of his family.

      “Tea, missy?” Robert asked.

      “Yes, thank you. And thank you for washing and pressing our clothes, Robert. That was very kind.”

      Except for a slight arching of his brow, Robert’s handsome face remained expressionless.

      As Dulcie bit into the coddled eggs, the first she’d actually tasted in months, and corn bread still warm from the oven, she couldn’t help sighing. Leaning back, she sipped strong, hot tea. “This is wonderful, Aunt Bessie.”

      “Thanks to the Yankees who set fire to our home and helped themselves to most of our supplies, it’s simple fare,” the older woman snapped.

      Out of the corner of her eye Dulcie saw the look that came over Starlight, and knew that Bessie’s words had sent her retreating into a safe place in her mind. She knew she must deftly change the subject, or the young woman would retreat even farther.

      “Simple to you, perhaps, but not to us. This food is heaven-sent.” Dulcie glanced around the table, enjoying the way the children looked as they dug into their meal. It was the first time she’d seen them scrubbed clean, wearing crisply ironed clothes. They were, in Dulcie’s eyes, a band of angels.

      When she’d searched the upper rooms this morning, Dulcie discovered that she was not the only one with her own room, which opened onto a graceful balcony. Nathaniel and Starlight had been given rooms of their own. Emily and Belle had been given a room together. Though they had probably been placed in separate beds, Dulcie had found the two little girls lying together in one bed, their arms still wrapped around each other for comfort.

      She could hardly blame them for being fearful. It had been a dangerous, exhausting journey, and she still found it hard to believe they had survived.

      “I’m sure you are eager to return to Charleston,” Aunt Bessie began. She caught the looks that passed between Dulcie and the others, and thought about what Cal had said over breakfast. She was not imagining the fear she saw in their faces. “But my nephew assures me that the woman and girl are not yet strong enough to make the trip. Therefore, it would appear that you will have to remain with us for a few days.”

      Their relief was palpable.

      For a moment no one spoke. Then Dulcie broke the silence. “We wish to repay your kindness.”

      “And you shall,” Aunt Bessie said sternly. “This is a large plantation. Since the war, we find ourselves without help. There are floors to scrub and rugs to beat. Dishes to wash and—”

      “—clothes to mend,” Dulcie put in, glancing down at her torn gown.

      At the word “mend,” Aunt Bessie perked up. Perhaps she could be relieved of one of her dreaded chores. “Can one of you actually sew?”

      “I can,” Starlight said softly as she finished her meal.

      Aunt Bessie immediately warmed to the strange young woman. “Fine, child. Come with me. The rest of you can offer your services to Robert. But beware,” she cautioned, “he is a harsh taskmaster. And I am even more so.”

      “We are not afraid of hard work,” Dulcie assured her.

      As the children pushed away from the table, Dulcie called to them, “Each of you will carry a tray laden with dishes to the kitchen. Papa always said, ‘With many hands a burden is made light.’”

      In the kitchen, they found Robert busily wrapping food in a square of linen. He seemed genuinely surprised when Dulcie explained that she and the others intended to work in payment for their keep.

      “Just tell us what to do and it will be done,” she said simply.

      He thought for several long moments, and it was plain to Dulcie that he was wondering whether he could entrust the care of this fine old house to such inexperienced hands. At length he nodded. “I will show the children what I want them to do. In the meantime, missy, this food must be taken to the men in the fields, along with a heavy jug of water. Can you manage?”

      She nodded.

      He СКАЧАТЬ