Winter Shadows (11 page)

O
n my way home from Miss Cameron’s this afternoon, there was much to think about. School was over until well into January. A few of the girls not in the choir were already on their way north to their families, but the main group was staying with relatives at the settlement. Six of the youngest choir members were to be billeted at the governor’s house at the Lower Fort, eight miles away, while Miss Cameron found billets for five others on our more prosperous farms. By teatime, we were left with ten of the oldest choir members to place
.

As we sat down over our final cup of tea of the year, Miss Cameron said, “I can manage five girls on my own, despite the fact that the cook, all but one of the servants, and Miss Stiles have gone to the settlement at the Upper Fort. That still leaves five girls to sort out.”

Without thinking, I said, “I could offer to have three, but that would still leave two.” I knew Ivy would be furious, but I’d face that later
.

Miss Cameron was delighted. “Are you sure your grandmother is well enough?”

“Oh, yes, and she will enjoy the girls.” Ivy wouldn’t, however
.

We were sorting out when my three girls would arrive at Old Maples the next day and what to do with the last two when Reverend Dalhousie was ushered into the room by a pupil
.

When we offered tea, he accepted and settled into a chair by the fire. “I have come to see if all is set for the Christmas Eve service.” On hearing of our situation, he said, “I could welcome the remaining two girls, but Bishop Gaskell and his wife are taking their servants when they leave, including the cook. Mrs. Gaskell informed me of this just yesterday. After their farewell party, Henrietta and I will be without domestic help, and although I am working hard to find replacements, I must admit we are totally inept at caring for ourselves, not to mention two young girls as well.”

Miss Cameron cried, “Problem solved! The remaining two are my oldest students, well-trained in running a household. They would certainly earn their keep until you find replacements.”

“Then I shall do my best for them as my thanks – with enlightening books and a few social gatherings to which both of you and your temporary wards shall be invited.”

My heart lifted. But then I wondered if Robert Dalhousie would actually allow more socializing in St. Cuthbert’s. He did seem somewhat aloof, and his sister rather pale and listless, but perhaps it was because the Gaskells had simply worn them down. Those two would wear anyone down – even the most lighthearted of folk
.

On closer examination, I saw deep lines beside the minister’s narrow mouth. His hair was neatly combed, the sideburns
curving just above his jawline. His eyes were the palest of blues behind sandy lashes. But his black vestments were slightly wrinkled, and there was a small stain on his white collar and cravat
.

He glanced at me with a puzzled expression
.

My teacup clattered onto the small table. “I must go,” I said. “I will expect my three charges around two o’clock tomorrow, then, Miss Cameron.” On impulse, I added, “I would like to extend an invitation to you both to dine at Old Maples on Christmas Day, following the afternoon service … including your charges and, of course, your sister as well, Reverend.”

Miss Cameron’s face lit up. “But how kind, Miss Alexander! My girls and I should love to come. I’ll bring – let me see – seedcake, gingerbread, and a large dish of winter squash, of which I have many. You will have quite a crowd of people!”

“It will be wonderful to have a full house!” I said, counting heads quickly in my mind. It seemed an alarming number!

Reverend Dalhousie said, “My sister will be delighted to come, but I must consult her before offering anything.”

“Please, don’t worry about that, Reverend. We will have a large goose, a fine haunch of venison, fish, pudding, and cakes. I can’t promise a high culinary standard, but we will have enough to fill us.”

I was babbling. I stopped at once, said my good-byes quickly, and gathered myself together before scuttling down the hall, where I pulled on my outdoor clothing. As I reached for the door handle, I hesitated. Once I walked through that door, I would be under obligation to follow through with what I’d promised Miss Cameron and Reverend Dalhousie. To have three young girls stay with us for a fortnight was going to be
hard enough to explain to Ivy, but adding ten students and three adults for Christmas dinner was madness
.

“What on earth have I done?” I whispered
.

Only last night, I fainted dead away after imagining a sick young girl lying in my bed. What makes me think I can manage the huge task of Christmas dinner on my own? What if I see the phantom girl when my three young guests are crowded into Grandmother and my room? What if I forget myself and try to speak to the spirit girl while people are nearby – for I could easily do that, she is so real to me. And what if she tries to talk to me again – what if I actually hear her voice? If I do, does it mean I’ve lost my mind? Will everyone find out about the shadows and think that I am crazy?

I backed quickly away from the door and stumbled into Reverend Dalhousie. As he tucked an old scarf around his neck, I noticed his wool coat had frayed cuffs
. Someone needs to take care of him,
I thought wildly
. How can his sister let him out looking so neglected?
Knowing my thoughts were out of control, I staggered to one side, apologizing
.

He caught my arm to steady me. “Miss Alexander, are you ill?”

I almost blurted out my fears, but noticed a slight withdrawal in his pale eyes. “I am fine, Sir. Just momentarily dizzy.”

“Does this happen often, Miss Alexander? Perhaps you should see Doctor Wilson when he returns to the parish.”

“I’m so busy getting my grandmother settled in the mornings that I forget my own breakfast sometimes.” I tried to laugh. “Only when I am halfway through my lessons do my rumblings remind me I haven’t eaten.”

“You must take care of yourself.”

“I will have more time now that school has broken for the holiday. Will you attend choir practice this week, Sir?”

“Yes. I should tell you that Mr. Campbell is indeed ill with bronchitis – but not seriously so – and I have asked your brother, Duncan, to step in. I hear he is a good fiddler and an excellent singer.”

“He is? Are there musical gatherings in the parish? Since when?”

“Mr. Kilgour started them when he arrived. I don’t go, of course, as I can’t make any decisions about them until I am in charge. I don’t condone drinking or wild dancing, however.”

I wanted to say, as opposed to sedate dancing? But, instead, I said, “I didn’t know about them. And he is not my brother. He is the grown son of my father’s wife, the Widow Comper.”

“I do beg your pardon. Of course. But I’m sure he will be a fine addition to our choir. It will do him good to think on God’s lessons and less of his own pleasures. Good-bye for the present, Miss Alexander.”

As Tupper trotted through freshly fallen snow in the afternoon gloaming, I tried to take in what Robert Dalhousie had just told me. Clearly the young reverend disapproved of parties or community ceilidhs. And I could only imagine how rowdy they would get with Kilgour in charge. Still, it must surely do the farmers and their families good to have some enjoyment like that
.

But enough – I must prepare myself for this new battle with Ivy over Christmas dinner. Perhaps Kilgour would stay away for a
few days after that awful episode over Penelope’s Christmas box
.

I couldn’t help but wonder why he came all the way from Scotland to stay with his mother. It was obvious they were not comfortable in each other’s company. She was often strangely fussed and excited around him, and he seemed cold toward her, even deliberately unkind, as he’d been yesterday. Yet he continued to come by each day to see her. Why? It is all very curious
.

His dark eyes always seem to be laughing at me. Yet he has been almost solicitous over the Christmas box from Penelope. My inner voice chided
, But, surely, that was because he wanted to annoy his mother more than help you, wasn’t it? And don’t forget the humiliation of waking from your faint in Duncan Kilgour’s arms and how you reacted with such revulsion.

After he’d left the room, Grandmother had scolded me. “I called for help, nôsisim,” she said. “Mr. Kilgour came running. He was kind, and you were rude to him.”

She was right. But the smoky closeness of him had angered and confused me. Must I apologize? No … I couldn’t
.

I thought about both the minister and Kilgour – one reserved and temperate, the other rough and coarse – and knew which man I preferred. Not that I would ever be offered a choice! I shook my head
. How pathetic you are, Beatrice. Pathetic. As well as half-mad.

As Tupper pulled me homeward, down the final slope to Old Maples, the little voice whispered
, Find courage, Beatrice – and some wits. For you are about to face the dragon in her lair below.

I
slept all morning and woke up to see Aunt Blair leaning around the door frame. “How ya doing, honey?”

“Aunt Blair! Hi! Be careful around me. I have the plague.”

She threw her sheepskin jacket on Daisy’s bed and sat cross-legged on the foot of mine. “I’ll only stay a few minutes.” She pulled magazines and candy out of her bag, then two books and a plastic box filled with my favorite cookies – peanut butter.

“Thanks. Hey, you haven’t been here since Dad got married, have you?”

She nodded and looked around. Her hair was in a spiky ponytail. As usual, she wore no makeup except lip gloss. “I see Jean’s still chopping away at the house. I caught a glimpse of the living room. Where’s all your furniture gone?”

“In the barn, where else?”

“It should be in proper storage. It’ll get wrecked out
there. Listen, do you want to come to my place for a day or two?”

“I’m okay. They’ve got the devil child sleeping with them, so at least I have the room to myself for now.”

She laughed. “When you feel like a break, come on over. I don’t think your dad would fight that, would he?”

We both knew that the rupture between her and Dad was serious. The only time they talked was when I stayed with her and he was forced to phone her house.

“I’d like to come for sure. But when I feel less like dying,” I said. “We’ll go shopping, right? How did you get past Jean, anyway?”

She smiled. “Just walked in. I told her I came to see you. She seemed surprised as all get out. You look terrible, kiddo.”

“I feel terrible, believe me. But I’m glad to see you. You better go before you get sick.” She squeezed my foot under the covers.

“Okay. You know where to find me – just call.”

As soon as she left, Jean brought me homemade chicken noodle soup and raspberry Jello – the sort of lunch Mom would’ve made, except Mom always used canned soup.

Jean looked out the window. “I wanted to do some Christmas shopping, but it’s snowing buckets out there.”

I couldn’t be bothered with even one tiny jibe about buckets clanking down from the sky. I
must
be sick.

“Have you decided what to get your dad?” she asked. “I could buy it for you. I know he needs socks.”

“One rule in our house is that Dad doesn’t get socks for Christmas. Or ties,” I said. “The other rule is, everyone does their own shopping. Dad and I bought for Mom together, though. He liked getting her custom-made jewelry. He said she looked like Branwen – goddess of the north seas – so he gave her a lot of pearls. I have them all put away.”

She looked at me. “I don’t care for pearls. And I’m not competing with your mother. Or your aunt.”

“Really? I’d call getting rid of everything that even hints of my mom trying to destroy the competition. And you’ve never bothered to get to know Blair.”

“That’s not true. You might ask Blair why she hasn’t been here since last summer.”

I shrugged. I knew why.

“It’s possible to love more than one person in a lifetime, Cassandra. Your dad loves me now. Blair doesn’t want to accept that. She won’t listen. That’s your biggest problem, too, and it’s why we don’t get along. You –”

“Oh, but I do listen, even to your thoughts, Jean. And that’s my biggest problem.”

Before she could answer, the door flew open. Daisy cried, “They sent us home early! Tracy’s mom gave me a ride. I’m hungry!”

Jean left, guiding Daisy ahead of her, her back stiff as usual.

I forced some of the soup down, then slid under the covers and drifted off. By the time darkness fell, my throat felt a bit better. I couldn’t eat the slice of meatloaf
Dad brought upstairs, but I managed a few mashed potatoes. The dessert – yogurt – went down easily and filled the hole in my stomach.