The Mirk and Midnight Hour (9 page)

I dropped to the floor beside her. “Does your head ache terribly?”

“Not now that I’ve taken my medicine. Your papa doesn’t like me to use it. I know I’m weak and foolish. I’ve tried and tried to quit, and obviously I lack character. I began dosing myself because of my headaches, but now … I seem to need it always. And it helps me be more creative with my painting. It really does. I’ll take less … starting tomorrow.” She let her gaze drift toward the window. “Perhaps I’ll wander outside since I feel better. Find something to trim my bonnet …”

A while after I rejoined Sunny in the sitting room, Miss Elsa floated in with a basket of cut blossoms. To our amusement—and my amazement—she began sewing real flowers to her oldest, shabbiest bonnet. Sunny and I looked at each other, then ran to fetch our own.

I hollered to Laney in the kitchen, “Come in here and bring your bonnet!” Sunny sniffed but said nothing.

Laney entered, mystified. Her eyes widened when she saw what we were doing. “Y’all are crazy,” she said, shaking her finger. However, she pulled a needle from my pincushion and threaded it.

We stitched away, dissolving into giggles as each creation got more and more flamboyant. Tiger lilies dripped down the sides, crape myrtle fronds became plumes, and daisies lined the interiors.

Miss Elsa did not work for long. Soon after Laney entered, she drooped onto the sofa and closed her eyes.

Once I was satisfied that my bonnet was outlandish enough, I put it on and sat down at my harp. I sang, “Begone, dull care! I prithee begone from me.” Laney warbled along, rich and full-throated.
Sunny hummed, slightly flat. A little smile played about Miss Elsa’s lips. “Angelsss.” She let out her breath with a sigh. I glanced at my stepmother lying there peacefully. I was beginning to see what had attracted my father to her.

Life at Scuppernong was more interesting with my stepfamily, I had to admit. Miss Elsa was kind and sweet in her own wistful way, and a far cry from a cruel stepmother. And, yes, Sunny was too pretty, too flirtatious, and too vain, and not the most clever girl in the world, but if I could accept her as she was and expect nothing more, I might actually enjoy her company.

That evening the world was permeated with a weird beauty. Filmy white moths flitted across the front lawn like tiny ghosts, and the sunset behind the black trees was an odd pinky-purple. For some reason I thought of the VanZeldts, with their unearthly looks. Their silhouettes would suit such a setting. I was idly swinging a fussy Cubby in our grapevine swing beneath the live oak while Laney made supper.

When someone caught the ropes from behind, I jerked and nearly fell out of the swing.

“My dear cousin,” drawled a voice. “I didn’t mean to startle you that much. I only meant to startle you a little.”

I jumped down and whipped around. A fashionable young man with a merry, laughing face held the ropes. He wore a long buff-colored duster and subtly striped trousers. He tipped his straw hat with a flourish.

“Cousin … Dorian?”

“In the flesh.”

“You haven’t hardly changed at all since I last saw you.”

His eyes were still so blue I couldn’t quite get over the shock of them, and he had the same engaging smile and bright hair. My mother had called him “the golden boy.”

“Can’t say the same for you, Cousin Violet. You were a little girl in pigtails that summer I stayed here, back when Seeley made his debut into the world. Somehow I expected you to remain the same. Instead you have turned into a very pretty young lady. With a baby.”

“Oh, this is Cubby. He belongs to Laney, if you remember her.”

He laughed. “Well, I didn’t really think he was yours.”

Of course, now that I looked closer, there were changes. “You’ve got a mustache,” I said, thinking out loud and immediately wishing I had kept my mouth shut. Silly. He was good-looking, and good-looking men made me nervous. “I guess we both grew up.”

“I do indeed have a mustache. Thank you for being so perceptive; I’m awfully proud of it. Of course you wouldn’t remember, but like many sixteen-year-old boys, I was trying to sprout a beard last time I saw you. To my sorrow, even after weeks of putting all my efforts into it, no one could tell at all.”

“Aunt Lovina’s letter never mentioned you coming. Are you here—what exactly are you doing here?”

“You might well ask since I’m showing up uninvited but, I hope, not unwelcome.”

“Oh no! You’re very welcome.”

“I’m glad. You see, I was accompanying Seeley and Co., but I rode on ahead to give you fair warning of our arrival. I took the liberty of putting my horse in the barn just now, by the way.”

“Good. I hope you gave him oats too. But I thought you’d be
too busy to come. The letter said Cousin Seeley was traveling with another household.”

“He is, and the whole Tingle entourage will arrive shortly. I came along with the poor little fellow so he’d have a familiar face here at first.”

Something in me that had been holding back warmed to Cousin Dorian. “How nice of you! That should help Cousin Seeley feel at home.”

“I’m afraid I can’t stay more than a couple weeks, though. Duty calls.”

“Yes. Pa told me you were—um—running the blockade.”

“Me, as well as a big, fast ship and lots of other, far more daring associates.” His eyes scanned the road. “There. That’s the first of them.”

A carriage lit by lamps, followed by slow-moving outlines, topped the little hill. As I watched, more lanterns came flickering on like fireflies.

Cousin Dorian slipped his hand firmly into the crook of my arm, and I readjusted Cubby. “Let’s meet them up at the house. It’s been an interesting trip. Did Aunt Lovy write how the Tingles were moving every last person from their plantation to Texas? All hundred of their slaves? Well, with each stretch we traveled, they lost more of their Negroes to the lure of the Yanks. They’re left mainly with women and children now. Serves them right for vamoosing from their property.”

“You think they’re wrong for fleeing before the Federals?” I asked. “Cowardly?”

“Not so much cowardly as stupid. So far the Yanks mainly burn abandoned homes. I would never for a second leave Panola if I didn’t know Aunt Lovy and the rest of the caboodle were there. We’ve got a good overseer, who keeps me informed of what’s going on, and the fields are still being cultivated. We’ll keep at it till the bitter end. If you’d ever seen Panola, you’d understand how it gets in a person’s blood.”

In an instant I remembered that the Panola my cousin spoke of had been my mother’s childhood home. The few times she had mentioned it, love had misted in her eyes. It was from there she had brought the musical instruments that were first hers and now mine. I’d not thought of it before, but what must it feel like to leave a beloved place knowing you may never return? I felt a rush of compassion. Poor little Cousin Seeley.

“I hope I may see it someday” was all I said.

The carriage stopped in front of the house, and a middle-aged man and a pleasant-faced woman alighted. The woman, seeing me, came forward and held out her hand. “I’m Jacintha Tingle, and this is my husband, Matthew. And you must be Violet.”

I dropped a quick curtsy and took her hand. “Yes, ma’am. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. Won’t you both make yourselves at home inside while your people camp on the lawn? I expect y’all would relish a warm meal and soft bed after traveling so far.”

“We would indeed,” Mrs. Tingle said, beaming from ear to ear. “We’re most grateful.”

“And we appreciate you bringing Cousin Seeley,” I said, glancing around. “Who is—where?”

“Oh,” Cousin Dorian said, “he generally hangs back with my body servant. He and King are great cronies. Seeley!” he called. “Come meet your cousin Violet.”

A small figure hesitantly broke away from the others and shuffled toward us. He was undersized for his age, with a head that looked too big for his body and a slouch hat pulled low. He reached out a reluctant hand for me to shake. I still couldn’t see his face, but his jacket sleeves were slightly too short and his wrists bony. “How do you do, Cousin Violet?” he mumbled.

“Very well, thank you, Cousin Seeley,” I answered. “I’m so happy you arrived here all safe and sound. And you know what I think?”

He shook his head slowly. Sullenly. Obviously he didn’t consider what I thought of much importance. But then I stopped myself from sizing him up too quickly.

“I think,” I continued, “you should call me Violet without the ‘cousin’ business attached, and I’ll call you Seeley. Much more convenient. And by the way, this little baby I’m holding is Cubby. His parents are around here somewhere. In fact, I need to hurry and tell his mama to toss lots more potatoes in the stew to make it stretch for everyone who’ll be eating it. As soon as you’ve washed up and brought in your things, I’ll introduce you to the others.” I turned back to the Tingles. “Please get yourselves settled and I’ll call y’all for supper shortly.” I started to usher Seeley indoors.

He hung back. “I’d rather eat out here.”

“Seeley!” Dorian said sharply. “You’re not a Yankee. Maybe you’ve forgotten that civilized people dine at tables.”

The boy stammered something apologetic, and I found myself immediately on his side and not at all hesitant to go against Dorian.

“No,” I said. “He’s right. I love twilight too. I guess I’m not civilized either. Let’s all sit on the porch. The mosquitoes aren’t bad yet, and we’ll be more comfortable outside than in the stuffy dining room.”

Seeley shot me a swift upward glance. He was not a particularly attractive little boy, but he had beautiful, long-lashed eyes. I smiled at him. “I’ll go tell Laney where we’ll be.”

“What’s that?” he asked as I was turning to go. He was pointing to where, barely visible, a shadow darted across the lawn like a thing possessed, pouncing first here, then there.

“That’s our mad cat, Goblin,” I said. “There’s moths out there and she’s being the mighty hunter.”

“Would she let me hold her, do you think?”

“I’m not sure we can catch her when she’s in her wild creature form. Once she comes in for the night, though, just try to keep her off you. Wouldn’t you rather hold Cubby? He’s a very nice baby and only scratches when he’s trying to pull your nose off.”

Seeley shook his head, but I was rewarded with a faint smile.

“If we eat on the porch,” I said, “we’ll lure Goblin with food. She’ll be your friend for life if you feed her the rabbit stew we’re having tonight. She likes her rabbit neatly chopped up with vegetables. Especially parsley. Isn’t she silly for a mighty hunter?”

My young cousin grinned. His teeth were too big for his mouth and pointed chin, but maybe his face would grow around them eventually.

Dorian followed me inside. “Rabbit stew, eh?” he said. “So y’all in Mississippi have been driven to living off the land. Soon you’ll be scrounging for catfish whiskers to nibble. Or—don’t tell me—are you already?”

I widened my eyes. “Well, we Mississippians don’t care for that sort of thing, but if y’all Virginians have a hankering for whiskers, we’ll find you a cane pole so you can go fishing tomorrow.”

Over Dorian’s head I saw Sunny pause at the top of the stairs. She wore the paisley voile she’d worn at the wedding. Since she’d sported blue muslin earlier, she must have thrown on the voile at the first inkling of company. Her hands smoothed down the fabric over the curve of her bosom and then over her hips as she prepared to descend.

Dorian was still laughing about catfish whiskers when she swept up to him.

“And who do we have here?” she asked, inspecting Dorian with her head cocked slightly to one side. The light shining from the doorway sent fiery glints shooting through her chestnut hair. She looked rather bold and very beautiful.

As I introduced my cousin, I caught his glance fix on her low-cut neckline for a second too long before he bowed slightly and took her hand.

“Hopefully you’ll stay for a good while, Mr. Rushton,” Sunny said, looking up at him through her lashes. “Long enough to appreciate our Mississippi hospitality.”

“As Violet said, we needn’t bother with titles,” he said quickly. “Call me Dorian since we’re all family. And I’m sure I will enjoy your … hospitality.”

I drew in my breath. I wasn’t sure, since I was already turning away, but he might have winked at her.

At suppertime the two of them—Sunny and Dorian—sat together on the front porch steps. Sunny’s skirts were spread so
wide there was little room for anyone else. Since the Tingles and Miss Elsa occupied the rockers, I hunched on the bottom step, trying feebly to join in the conversation, which mostly was about my cousin’s blockade-running.

Sunny raised her hem high enough to expose her ankle and shapely calf encased in delicate lace. “So,” she said, “you, sir, are one of the valiant gentlemen responsible for bringing Southern ladies their pretty Parisian finery, such as my new stockings. A girl really shouldn’t have to give up
everything
for the Cause.”

Dorian’s eyes twinkled. “How noble of you, Miss Sunny, to remind this gentleman of some of the pleasures of home worth fighting for.”

She giggled. “It’s a demanding responsibility, but someone must do it.”