Over the Misty Mountains (2 page)

Even as he stood talking to her, Malon Jones came up and said, “Got yourself a lady friend, Spence?”

“We’re doing all right without you, Malon,” Josh said sharply. He did not like the heavyset, bug-eyed boy. He had had trouble with the bully on several occasions
.

Malon reached over and grabbed the material of the girl’s dress. “What’s this made out of, a cotton sack? Well, I wouldn’t even use it for that.”

“Take your hands off of her, Malon!” Jehoshaphat said sharply. The other boy was two years older, stocky, and had administered two severe beatings to Josh already
.

Now Malon grinned roughly, a cruel light glinting in his muddy brown eyes. “You ready for another thrashing?”

“You can try it if you want to!”

“Come on then! Outside!”

The two went outside and soon were rolling in the dust, gasping and throwing blows at each other. Only when they had battered each other into insensibility did the schoolmaster come out. He grasped them each by the collar, yanked them up, and said, “Fighting again? Maybe a caning will make a difference to you!”

Josh did not wince even once under the strict punishment administered by Mr. Highliger. Malon squealed loudly as the cane repeatedly struck, but Josh uttered not a word
.

Afterward he sat down, his back burning from the strokes of the hickory cane. His lower lip was bleeding where he had bitten it during the thrashing, but he said nothing. After the school day was over, he slowly got to his feet and walked out of the room, moving carefully
.

“I’m . . . I’m sorry you had to take a whipping.”

Josh turned around and saw that the girl had followed him. Her name, he knew, was Faith Hancock, and he shrugged, saying, “It wasn’t so bad.”

“I bet it was. I bet it hurt like anything.”

The two turned and walked down the dusty street. The August heat was dying down now, and as they walked along Josh began to grow curious about the young girl. “Who are your people?” he asked. Williamsburg was a small place, and he knew almost everyone who lived there
.

“I . . . I don’t have any people. I’m an orphan,” she said, looking down
.

Josh had known a few orphans before, but somehow the sadness in the girl’s voice struck him. “Sorry,” he mumbled
.

“What about your people?”

“I’m a Spencer. My father’s name is James, and my mother’s name is Esther.”

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“No. Just me.”

The two walked on, and finally she stopped in front of a cobbler’s establishment. “I’m staying here with the Mayhans. I’m going to be bound to them for six years, until I’m eighteen.”

“Maybe we’ll see each other again. I don’t mean at school.” Josh suddenly felt shy and awkward. He was not good at making conversation with girls. Most of the time he felt clumsy and uncertain around them, but when the young girl lifted her eyes and smiled, a shock went through him. There was a gentleness and a sweetness in her face that he had not seen before
.

“Well,” he said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Faith hesitated and then suddenly reached out and, with a rather daring motion, took Josh’s hand. When she leaned forward her voice was almost inaudible. “Thank you for looking out for me.”

The touch of her hand was gentle and soft and gave Jehoshaphat Spencer a feeling of pride and power. Clearing his throat, he said huskily, “Oh, that’s okay! I’ll see you tomorrow, Faith.”

“Tomorrow, Josh . . .”

****

“Esther—!”

Josh’s reminiscences were broken off abruptly when he heard his father call his mother’s name. Instantly, he sprang out of his chair and turned to face the woman who had come into the room. “How is she, Mother?” he demanded.

Esther Spencer was only two years younger than her husband. She was a small woman with brown hair and clear brown eyes. She was pretty rather than beautiful, but now there was an air of trouble in her usually placid expression. Something in her eyes, in the set of her lips, or perhaps in the way she held her hands together tightly, brought a surge of fear into Josh’s heart. “Is it bad?” he demanded, rising and grabbing her arm quickly. He was a strong young man, not knowing his own strength, and he saw pain flicker in his mother’s eyes. “Sorry,” he whispered, then stood there waiting for her report.

“Dr. Twilliger isn’t as happy with her progress as he would like,” she said evenly.

“I wish Dr. Hammond were here,” James Spencer said. He rose and moved jerkily across the room. There was no smoothness about his movements. All were quick and rather awkward. He slapped one fist into a palm and shook his head, almost viciously. “Why did Hammond have to choose
this
time to go to Richmond for that meeting?”

Ignoring his father’s outburst, Josh stood staring down at his mother’s face. He noticed the taut lines on each side of her mouth that only appeared when she was troubled. “What does Twilliger say?”

“There’s . . . there’s something wrong with the way the baby is placed.”

“Can he do anything?”

“He’s trying, dear!” Esther Spencer reached up and pushed the errant lock of hair from her son’s furrowed brow. She knew well the tumult that was tearing this tall son of hers apart, and she yearned to do something about it. Quick flashes of memory of how the other two pregnancies had ended in miscarriages rose in her mind, but she did not want to create any more fear in Josh. “You two sit down. I’ll go make some tea and perhaps something to eat.”

“I don’t want anything!”

James Spencer gave his wife a quick look. They had lived together long enough so that each understood the other’s unspoken words by a mere gaze. In those few seconds, it was as if he said,
He’s going to pieces, Esther
.

Looking at her troubled son, then back at her husband, Esther gave him a look that said,
We’ll have to be strong for him. He is not as strong in the Lord, so it will be up to me and you, James
.

Esther forced Josh to sit down and said, “There’s nothing to be gained by fretting yourself. Now, I’ll fix some tea, and then later Dr. Twilliger will come down, and I’m sure he’ll have good news.”

Two parallel lines appeared between Josh Spencer’s eyebrows—signs of anger or disturbance, or both. His parents recognized it instantly. Beneath their son’s rather casual good humor lurked a stratum of temper that neither of them quite understood. Both of them were placid, easygoing people, as were most of their family. From time to time during Josh’s young life, a temper and an intolerance had flashed out, almost from nowhere, that they both feared. As Esther left the room, James sat down with a cautious look at his son and shook his head. “It’ll be all right,” he said. “It’s natural that men would be worried about their wives at a time like this.”

Lifting his steady gaze that was troubled and flecked with an inexpressible emotion, Josh Spencer regarded his father.
You don’t know anything about this, Father! You’ve never lost two children. You’ve had an easy life. You just don’t understand!
He sat back, however, and his father began reading from the Psalms again. As the words flowed across to him, filling the room with the sounds and cadences of Old Testament verses, Josh leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and involuntarily, almost, began to think of how he had married the woman who was now suffering such terrible pangs upstairs in this house. . . .

****

The dance was the biggest in the county, and it was being held in the home of a former governor. Josh Spencer was not a young man who often attended parties. He had spent far more time in the woods surrounding Williamsburg hunting the elusive deer, the coon, and the possum than he had on polished dance floors. Still, his mother had insisted, saying, “It’s your duty to go, Josh. There won’t be enough young men there, and the young ladies will be wanting for partners.”

Josh had laughed at her, but then had obeyed by going to the best tailor in the city and being fitted with a fine suit. Now, an hour before the dance, he was standing before the full-sized mirror, admiring himself and feeling rather like a fool. “I never did care much for fancy clothes,” he murmured as he studied his reflection in the mirror
.

The suit coat was made of faille—a light, soft, ribbed fabric woven in silk—with light and dark green stripes, and was worn open. Under the coat he wore a white silk shirt with ruffles at the chest and at the wrists. The waistcoat was short, single-breasted, tan in color with a trim of dark green, and had silver buttons down the front. He had on white satin breeches that fastened just below the knee, white-and-green-striped stockings, and low-heeled black shoes with silver buckles. He was carrying a pair of white gloves in his hand
.

Finally shrugging, he said with a half grin that turned one corner of his lip upward in a peculiar manner, “At least I won’t be sniffing snuff out of a silver box. I draw the line at that!”

Wheeling swiftly, he left the room, his stride smooth and even. He moved more easily than most men, the result of long walks in the forest. Going down the stairs, he met his mother and laughed when her eyes widened. “Well, what do you think, Mother?”

“You look beautiful!”

“Women are supposed to look beautiful! I’m supposed to look handsome!”

James Spencer emerged from the study and made his way down the hall. “Well, that suit cost enough. You should look both beautiful and handsome. Come along. Let’s go. You better let me drive. I wouldn’t want you to spoil those white gloves with anything as crude as the lines of a buggy.”

They arrived at the governor’s house, which was illuminated with what seemed to be hundreds of lanterns, and Josh said, “Some house the governor’s got here! It looks like a Greek temple.” He studied the portico of Doric columns that outlined the huge building on three sides, noted the balustrade on top, and shook his head. “His father would’ve been happy in a log cabin.”

“Times are changing.” James Spencer grinned. “But I agree with you. I find it a bit ostentatious myself.”

Stepping inside, they heard the sounds of violins, dulcimers, and a clavichord filling the house with music
.

The foyer was a large, well-lit room with a domed ceiling and a large chandelier of cut glass. On each side of the front door was a floor-length window covered with white silk damask, faintly caressing the highly polished white marble. A sky of light blue, with fluffy white clouds floated overhead, and the illusion carried on down the walls with trees and the landscape of an old English garden
.

At the far end of the foyer, a pair of great oak doors opened onto a large ballroom. The ballroom had a very ornate domed ceiling made of gilded tinplates depicting scenes of angels and other flying cherubs. The walls were white, broken up by floor-length windows alternating with long gilded mirrors that reflected the candlelight of silver wall sconces next to each one. Queen Anne walnut chairs with crimson silk damask lined the walls of the room. Doors to the right of the ballroom led to a formal dining room, where many tables were laden with refreshments. At the back of the ballroom French doors led to a garden filled with fountains, statues, and many beautiful rose bushes
.

The ballroom was an array of swirling colors—reds, yellows, greens, blues—as the ladies’ evening gowns swished by in step to the soft music. Their jewelry glittered, catching the reflection of the chandeliers overhead. Jehoshaphat enjoyed the dances he had with several of the local girls. Finally he saw a young woman over to his right with her back to him. He admired the way the rich chestnut hair was done in a French style that he knew was called a chignon. She was very attractive, and a sense of adventure and daring suddenly took Jehoshaphat. He moved over toward her and said, “Miss, may I have the next dance?”

The young woman turned, and a pair of bright brown eyes suddenly laughed up at him. “I thought you’d never ask, Jehoshaphat!”

“Faith!” Josh had not seen Faith for six months. She had been to Boston, and now looking at her in a lovely dress, it seemed that he had never seen her before. “Why, you look like a grown woman!”

“And what did I look like when I left, an old mule?”

Josh knew that she was teasing him, something she often did. They had become close friends over the past few years, but they had spent more time studying books in dusty schoolrooms or going for walks in the woods than attending parties
.

“I’ve never seen you in a party dress,” he said
.

“Do you like it? I made it myself,” Faith said, twirling around
.

The dress was a simple gown but exquisite, made of a pale pink silk in the Watteau style. It had a low-cut neckline with a dainty white lace frill around it. The bodice fit tightly in front, and in the back the material hung loosely from the neckline, falling into folds all the way to the hem. The elbow-length sleeves were finished with a wide ruffle of lace at the end. The overskirt was of the same pale pink silk, which hung to the floor, trimmed also in exquisite white lace. A delicate pearl necklace, white gloves, and pink satin shoes added the finishing touches to the elegant ensemble
.

“You look absolutely beautiful!”

“Why, Josh, I believe you’ve been practicing up on young ladies. Have you gotten to be a gallant?”

“I don’t believe I have.”

“Pardon me. I believe this is my dance, Miss Faith.”

Josh turned with annoyance in his eyes. A tall young man was standing there, and before he could say a word, Faith was swept away
.