Joy for Mourning. Dorothy Clark

and patted the seat, processing the scant information as Tommy Dodge hopped up and sat beside him. They. So there was a midwife in attendance. He hoped she was a good, capable woman. Of course, that would mean the problem was serious. Thad scowled and urged his tired horse into a trot, his own weariness forgotten.

      Laina turned on her side, pulled the covers closer about her neck and stared at the moonlight streaming in the window. So many lovely things had happened in the past two days with Justin and Elizabeth.

      Laina sighed, threw back the covers and slid out of bed. They were the best days she’d had in months and still she couldn’t sleep. All those lovely things reminded her of the emptiness of her own life.

      Laina lifted the long skirt of her nightgown, stepped into her slippers and walked to the window. Moonlight outlined the bare branches of the trees and highlighted the patches of snow in the gardens below. She wrapped her arms around herself for warmth and stared down at the scene. Everything looked desolate and barren.

      She heaved another sigh and turned away from the depressing sight. She would be so glad when spring arrived. When everything came to life again. She wanted so much to feel alive again. Not on the surface, as she’d felt tonight while playing checkers with Justin and Elizabeth, but deep down inside. She was so tired of feeling like…like Abigail’s empty house.

      There! The thought was out. All day she’d been suppressing it. Laina frowned and walked over to curl up in the chair on the hearth. Why couldn’t she get Abigail’s vacant house out of her mind? She didn’t want to think about sad things. She’d had enough of sadness. She’d come to Philadelphia to escape it! There had to be something she could think about that wouldn’t remind her of her own circumstances.

      Mr. Buffy. Laina gave a nod of satisfaction. Yes, that was it. She would think about Mr. Buffy. There was nothing about him to make her feel her own lack. She’d never had a pet. She leaned against the soft, padded back of the chair, stared into the dancing flames of the fire and fixed her thoughts on the big black dog.

      Chapter Four

      “I wish you would come to church with us, Laina.”

      Laina looked up at her brother and shook her head. “Not today, Justin. I’m not going to make my first public appearance among Philadelphia society in widow’s garb or borrowed clothes. There will be time enough for church when I have my new dresses from Madame Duval.”

      “But—” Justin stopped as Elizabeth laid her hand on his arm and gave a small shake of her head. A frown creased his forehead. “All right, Laina. Perhaps it’s best if you wait.”

      “Thank you for agreeing, Justin.” Laina went on tiptoe and kissed her brother’s cheek, then turned and gave Elizabeth a quick hug as horses’ hooves clattered against the brick paving outside. “Thank you for the help.”

      Elizabeth smiled at the whispered words and stepped back to slide her hand through her husband’s offered arm. “We’ll be back soon.”

      The butler pulled open the door.

      Laina shivered in the sudden draft of cold air and moved to the window to watch Justin and Elizabeth descend the front steps and climb into the waiting carriage. Thank goodness for Elizabeth’s intervention. Justin could be adamant when he felt the occasion called for it, and judging from his frown, he thought church was such an occasion.

      Laina sighed and turned away from the window as the carriage departed. She hated to disappoint her brother, but she wasn’t ready to go to church and listen to empty promises about God’s blessings and answered prayer. If God answered prayers, where were the children she yearned for? If He blessed, where was the baby she longed to feel growing in her womb?

      Laina’s face drew taut. She uncurled her hands, which had clenched into fists at her sides, and lifted her long skirts to ascend the stairs to get her cloak. She needed to walk off her anger before Justin and Elizabeth returned. Her sister-in-law could look at her in a way that stripped away every bit of artifice.

      Laina shook off the thought, strode down the hall to the red bedroom and wrenched open the door. For once the color of the room didn’t cheer her. How could it? Red or black—what did it matter? Either way she was still a lonely, loveless, childless widow. And nothing would change that. No healthy man of her age would marry a barren woman.

      Laina stalked to the wardrobe, yanked open the carved doors and grabbed her cloak. With a quick lift of her arm and a violent twist of her wrist, she swirled it around her shoulders, then fastened the braided loops over the self buttons, grabbed her matching coal-scuttle bonnet and rushed from the room.

      Laina walked rapidly, heedless of her direction, wanting only to outpace the hurt in her heart. She was twenty-nine years old, strong and healthy. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life alone, without love. A shadow fell across her path. She turned her head, staring at the brick pillar beside her. It stood square and tall, a solid anchor for the black wrought-iron fence that marched off into the distance. Abigail’s fence.

      Laina scowled. Why had she come this way? Of all the places she didn’t want to be right now, Twiggs Manor was foremost. She moved beyond the pillar, focusing her attention on the walkway, but she couldn’t resist a strong urge to look at the brick mansion. She lifted her head and glanced at the house. Blank, dark windows stared back at her. She shivered and turned to walk on, but for some reason her feet remained planted to the spot.

      Compelled by a feeling she could not identify or ignore, Laina made her way along the gravel drive. Her reluctant steps carried her over the stone sweep, up the stairs and across the porch to the front door. It was locked. She strode to one of the multipaned front windows and cupped her hands on either side of her face to peer inside. White fabric draped the furniture and chandelier of Abigail’s beautiful drawing room. The carpet was rolled, the wood floor bare. There were no candles in the wall sconces, no fire burning in the marble fireplace. How sad.

      Laina sighed. She could remember the wonderful lively parties Abigail had held in this house and in these gardens. Her mind’s eye retained visions of people playing quoits on the lawn, chess or checkers on tables set out in the shade of the trees, dining on fabulous foods served picnic-style.

      She could close her eyes and see the winter parties—people skating on the pond out back, the flickering of torches against the cold night sky, the dancing flames of bonfires where shivering servants roasted chestnuts and made hot, mulled cider for the guests. If she listened with her imagination, she could even hear the jingling bells on the horses that pulled the sleighs on rides that began at the carriage house and ended with a late-night dinner in Abigail’s vast dining room. She’d met Stanford at one of those parties.

      Laina stepped off the porch and looked up at the house, her heart swelling with protest. There should be warm candlelight shining a welcome from the windows, smoke pouring from the chimneys! There should be the sound of happy chatter and laughter. It was wrong to let this beautiful house sit empty and silent.

      She stared at the house a moment longer, then turned and retraced her steps to the road. She would talk to Justin about selling Twiggs Manor to someone who would enjoy it. Someone who—

      Laina stopped dead in her tracks, stunned by a sudden idea. Why not her? Why shouldn’t she buy Twiggs Manor? The house needed people to bring it back to life, and she needed something to give her life meaning. There was nothing left for her in New York. She…

      She was out of her wits! Laina snorted, shook her head and started walking back to Randolph Court. She must be going stark, raving mad from boredom. What a ridiculous notion—her buying Twiggs Manor.

      Or was it?

      Laina paused at the corner, pursed her lips in speculation and stepped to the wrought-iron fence to look back at the house. At least if she moved to Philadelphia she would have a goal, a purpose. She could save the three-story brick mansion from its present forlorn state and fill her life by carrying on Abigail’s role as leader of Philadelphia society. It wasn’t much compared to a husband and children, but at least it was something.

      Laina