Archer, Jane (20 page)

"I'm glad you're here, Alexandra. It's lonely here for a woman. I wish, though, that you could have met Jacob. I feel that you two would have liked each other. He's a brave man. I believe you have the courage and also the pride that Jacob has. But let's not talk of it now, let's just enjoy each other. It's been so long since I've talked to a young woman like yourself."

At that moment, there was a knock on the door and it swung open, revealing a large dark woman, carrying a tray.

"Ebba, do come in," Eleanor said with obvious warmth in her voice.

The large woman came into the room, a broad grin on her face as she carefully placed the tray of food across Alexandra's lap.

"Here, child. You eat up. Bet you're hungry by now," the woman said as she stepped back and crossed her large arms across her ample bosom.

Alexandra smiled, then said, "Thank you. It's very thoughtful, but you needn't have gone to so much trouble."

"Don't get that much company anymore, child. Course, there was a time—"

"Before the war it was all different," Eleanor broke in. "This is Ebba, Alexandra, and Ebba, this is a close friend of my father. He was her guardian. This is Miss Alexandra Clarke. She brought me news of home. My father is dead now. I have no more family except here," Eleanor said, sadness creeping into her voice.

"I'm sorry, Miss Eleanor, sure sorry, but you got a fine son. That Jacob Jarmon is a fine man."

"Thank you, Ebba. Alexandra wanted to see him, but she's just missed him, hasn't she?"

"Sure has. That's a shame."

"I'm sorry I missed him, but surely he'll be returning. I want to spend some time with Eleanor.

That's why I came," Alexandra said, thinking that she couldn't leave Olaf's daughter, wouldn't even want to. Jacob Jarmon was all right—she knew that now, but Eleanor was not. She would stay here and help Eleanor all she could.

"Thank you, my dear. And Jacob will be returning, although one never knows when."

Alexandra began eating the large bowl of thick soup. It was delicious and the thick slice of cornbread that Ebba had served with it made a tasty meal. She hadn't realized how hungry she really was and ate hurriedly. She couldn't help noticing, after the ostentatious opulence of the brothel, that the bowl and spoon were items that should be found and used only in the kitchen. Times must be very hard indeed in the South!

After she finished eating, Alexandra looked at both women, then said, "I want to tell you both now that I'm quite ready and willing to do anything that needs to be done. I may not be good at chores, but I'll gladly help. You can be sure of that."

"We're delighted to have you visit us, but you're our guest. We wouldn't think of your working," Eleanor said.

"But I intend to help. Didn't your son?"

"Of course. Jacob always does what he can when he's here, but—"

"Then think of me in the same way. I feel like I'm part of the family."

Tears streamed down Eleanor's face as she said, "You are so good, my dear, to want to help, but truly-"

"Now, Miss Eleanor, this has been too much for you. I'm going to take you to bed," Ebba broke in. "Miss Alexandra, you just stay here and I'll be back for your tray."

Ebba helped Eleanor up from her chair and across the room. At the door they turned around and Eleanor said, "Thank you for coming, my dear. I'll feel much better later. It has all just been too much for me, I fear."

They left the room, closing the door behind them. Alexandra sat in the great bed, wondering at the plight of these people. Ebba had reminded her of the dark woman she'd known in the Bahamas and wondered why she had stayed on after she was free.

There was a light tap on the door, then Ebba hurried in, a conspiratorial look on her face. As she came close to the bed, she said, "Child, I'm glad you come at this time. She's failing fast and insists on working. That Giles won't hardly lift a finger. Always gone to New Orleans gambling. Mister Jarmon holes up in his library going over his books, figuring out all he lost in the war. That leaves poor Miss Eleanor to do all the planning and she's hard put to make ends meet. I cook and clean, but my joints aren't what they should be. We've got no man here to do the hard work."

"How do you get by?"

"Ain't easy, child. Ain't easy. Mister Jacob just left so we're fixed up fine now for wood. He repaired things for us, got some other things to working again. He's some worker, but I don't expect him back for a time. He was awful upset that Miss Eleanor wouldn't go back with him. It almost tore her heart out to appear so well and happy with him here and all the while knowing that she'd probably not see him again."

"Not see him again?"

"Doctor said she's on borrowed time. Could have lived longer in a dryer climate and if she hadn't worked so hard the past few years. That war's killed her sure as a bullet through her heart."

"I'm so sorry," Alexandra said sadly.

"You can see she's not well, and almost killed herself doing for Mister Jacob and proving that she was as strong as ever."

"And he believed her?"

"Sure. He didn't want to know how sick she was. And she didn't want him worrying none about her. Also, he was in a hurry and she didn't want him wasting time here with her, waiting for her to die. Course, he'd never have left if he'd known. He never was one to stay long, though. He don't get on with his brother and grandpa.

"Child, you're not going to leave Miss Eleanor, too, now are you?"

"No, Ebba. I'll stay here as long as I'm needed."

The old woman let out a sigh of relief, then said, "That's a heap of worry off my mind. When she goes, I'll go, too, I got friends up North. I've even got my fare to get there, but I'd never leave Miss Eleanor here alone with those two men. You see, I took care of Mister Jacob when he was just a little one, just like I did Mister Giles, but I can tell you now, Mister Jacob was my favorite. Mean little devil, but loving too, when he loved. Always in trouble, but he was out in the open with it. That Mister Giles is the Creole and when he was in trouble, he'd weasel out of it somehow. Never could trust his handsome little face." She shook her head, smiling to herself. They'd been her children and always would be.

"Look, I've no experience, but I'll do whatever I can to help. If you'll just show me what to do, I'll do it and gladly if it will keep Eleanor in bed."

Ebba nodded her head slowly, then grinned. "I'm sorry you missed Mister Jacob. I got a feeling in my old bones about you two—yes, perhaps you will go to Texas. He needs a fine, strong woman like you."

Alexandra blushed, then said quickly, "I'm not looking for a man, Ebba. I came to keep a promise to Olaf Thorssen, that's all."

Ebba said nothing more, but raised her brows and clucked to herself for a moment. "Well, child, I can sure use the help, but there's not a lot you can do for this old place anymore. They've sold off the china, the silver, and soon they'll start on the furniture, the paintings, either that or sell the place. It'll never be the same again, but with your help we can at least keep a few of the rooms clean and usable."

"Are my things with me?" Alexandra asked.

"Mister Giles brought a valise with you. Sure funny him meeting up with you in New Orleans.

Something fishy about it all, but don't quite know myself. Never can tell with Mister Giles, never could."

Alexandra averted her eyes, afraid that Ebba would read too much in them. Giles! How she hated him!

Chapter 14

Panting, sweat dripping down her face, Alexandra lifted the heavy tray of food to carry to the mansion. She had never worked so hard in her life as she had that afternoon in the kitchen. The room was large, old-fashioned, and had once been tended by many servants. Now, there were only Ebba and Alexandra. Of course, there weren't so many people to cook for, either, but still there was plenty to do. They had cooked and cleaned all afternoon, and Alexandra realized for the first time the vast amount of work required to run a home. She glanced down at her red, sore hands, and knew they were no longer the soft white hands of a lady. But somehow, it didn't seem to matter. These people needed her help and she was only too glad to give it to them.

It had been intensely hot in the kitchen—she'd never felt such humidity before and it seemed to stifle her very breath. How Eleanor had lasted this long, she did not know.

As she stepped out into the cool night, the beautiful mansion loomed large before her as the last rays of the sun bathed it in a golden glow, masking its decay and slow destruction. Alexandra could imagine how it had once been with soft voices floating on the sultry air, and singing coming from the fields and slave quarters. It must have been a beautiful life if one had not looked beyond the house into the shanties behind it, or to the long rows of slaves working in the fields under the hot, southern sun.

The kitchen occupied a separate building from the mansion so that the heat and smells would not intrude on the people living there. Now, it would not have mattered so much, and the walk between the two buildings seemed unnecessarily long to Alexandra, who tottered along on tired feet under her heavy burden. Although there was no reason any longer, proprieties were still followed by Mister Jarmon, and Ebba and Eleanor had to follow his desires no matter how much more work it made for them. He was still head of Jarmon Plantation and they worked for him, as the women always had before them.

Ebba had stayed in the kitchen where she made her home now. It was big enough and warm in the winter without the constant draft of the main house, and then she was black. Mister Jarmon would never allow her a room in his home, no matter that she was no longer a slave. The past had not died for him and the future he ignored.

Alexandra was a little anxious about meeting him for she had seen no one except Ebba and Eleanor. They had told her about him and she wondered how he would accept the sudden appearance of another woman in his home. Well, she would certainly not be an expense to him for she was working for her keep.

Alexandra dared not let herself think of Giles. She could hardly believe that he was really a Jarmon. Why had he kept this fact from her? What more did he and Madame LeBlanc plan for her, or had they already accomplished what they wanted? She couldn't understand them, or their motives, but she was determined to find out soon. She would confront Giles at the first opportunity. She wasn't afraid of him, only confused and curious, and full of loathing.

Following Ebba's instructions, Alexandra hurried into the mansion, shutting the wide door behind her. There was no need of such a wide door now that women no longer wore the wide hoops under their skirts, but the doors remained as a reminder of what once had been.

Her arms aching, Alexandra found her way down the dimly lit hall to the room that Ebba had told her was the main dining room. Balancing the tray on one hand, she pushed wide the door and entered. The light here almost blinded her and she had to stand still a moment while her eyes adjusted.

Finally, she was able to see, and ignoring the eyes that she knew were fastened on her, she quickly approached the huge table and put down her heavy burden. Wiping her hands on the rough cotton apron around her waist, she looked at the faces around the table. Eleanor smiled warmly, looking stronger and more rested. Giles looked quite amused and his brows quirked upward as their eyes met. Mister Jarmon was frowning down his nose at her over his spectacles.

Breaking the heavy silence, Mister Jarmon asked, "Is this the girl, Eleanor?"

"Yes, this is Alexandra Clarke, Mister Jarmon, the young lady I told you about."

"Doesn't look like much. How come she's dressed like that? I thought she was a relative of yours."

"She, she is helping—"

"I've been working all afternoon in
your
kitchen,
Mister
Jarmon. Someone has to do the work and Eleanor is obviously too sick." Alexandra was shocked by her words but the explosion came unbidden. She was tired, angry, hurt—and Mister Jarmon's arrogance was too much for her.

Mister Jarmon looked away as if she were a distasteful spectacle and said, "Yankees are all alike. No class or respect for their elders."

"Mister Jarmon," Eleanor began.

"Well, if she wants to act like a servant in my home, then so be it. I suppose that's all these damn Yankees understand, anyway," he said, still not looking at Alexandra. "Well, serve the food before it cools, girl."

Alexandra could not believe her ears. The nerve of this old man. She wanted to throw the food at him and walk out, but instead she took a deep breath to gain control, and began lifting the covers from the food.

"I'll help you, Alexandra," Eleanor said, beginning to rise from her chair.

"No, no, please, Eleanor. I'd rather that you didn't. Your setting the table had been enough already. You need to rest."

"Let the girl serve if she wants, Eleanor. Anyway, we can't afford to feed another Yankee for nothing," Mister Jarmon growled, now watching Alexandra closely.

Alexandra saw Eleanor look down at her lap. What she must have endured at the hands of this proud, unbending family was beginning to become painfully clear. Alexandra did not think that she could have stood being treated as an inferior Northerner—for any reason. But then here she was, silently accepting this man's unkind words and attitude. Yes, there were reasons that could make a woman stand this type of life.

Alexandra set the food down in the middle of the table. She wasn't about to serve everyone individually. She was too tired and there was no need. Fortunately, everyone was sitting at one end of the long table. It was a beautiful room with heavy, dark wood furniture that still gleamed brightly from Eleanor's determined polishing, but there was no fancy silver or china to grace the table anymore. They were using the simple utensils from the kitchen.

When Alexandra had set the food on the table, then seated herself at the empty place by Eleanor, she paused to look around the table. Everyone still stared at her, as if expecting something more, so Alexandra said.