Morning Sky Page 12

  Mr. Laird laughed. “You may leave whenever you desire, Miss Har-ban, but Miss Boyle is in no condition to travel. I explained that in my detailed letter to Dr. Boyle. I trust he sent sufficient funds to cover her medical expenses?”

  Truth fingered the clasp on her reticule and shook her head. “No. He said he would send you payment for the additional expenses once Macia arrived home.”

  The man’s back straightened. “I don’t believe you.”

  Truth pointed at the ivory stationery. “It’s right there in the second page of his letter.”

  Mr. Laird snatched the paper from Mrs. Rutledge and ran his finger along the page. He looked up and glared at Truth before whispering something to Mr. Rutledge. The older man bowed his head in agreement, and both of them stormed from the room.

  Truth fidgeted for a moment while hoping to gain her courage. “May I see Macia?”

  Mrs. Rutledge didn’t reply. Instead, she stared into the distance acting as though she’d not heard a word. Truth loudly cleared her throat, and Mrs. Rutledge startled to attention. “Well, I suppose Daisy can take you upstairs, though Miss Boyle is likely asleep. You shouldn’t disturb her.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be quiet as a church mouse.”

  Truth followed Daisy up the staircase and down the hallway.When Daisy reached to turn the doorknob, Truth touched her arm. “What’s going on in this place? Why do those people act so odd?”

  Daisy shrugged and pulled away. “I jest do my job and keep my mouth shut. I don’t know nothing about nothing. Your mistress is in there.” That said, Daisy shoved open the door and retreated at a lope.

  The sight of Macia’s sallow complexion and sunken cheeks sent fear coursing through Truth’s body. She barely looked like the vibrant young woman who had departed Hill City just over a month ago. Truth paced back and forth with an occasional glance toward the canopied bed. She didn’t know how to proceed. She’d come to New York fully expecting to begin her return journey within a day or two. Instead, her plans had begun to go awry from the moment she’d set foot in the city. Aunt Lilly’s assurances that she would have little difficulty navigating in the city had proved untrue. Outside the railway station, the street had been jammed with carriages, wagons, carts, omnibuses, and trucks, all packed together in helpless confusion. People scurried about in ill-fated chaos while policemen waved and shouted at the passing parade of humanity. Hailing a cabriolet had been a daunting task, but dodging a racing omnibus had placed Truth’s very life in peril. And as if to add insult to injury, the omnibus driver seemed quite jubilant when she’d dropped her valise while jumping into the cab.

  Having survived the harrowing incident with the omnibus, she’d been treated as an interloper when she had finally arrived at Macia’s school. How Truth longed for the assistance of some kindly soul who would direct her along the proper path. If only Macia would awaken, perhaps she could help. However, Macia wasn’t stirring in the least. Truth plopped down in the oversized chair near Macia’s bed and drifted in and out of a restless sleep until a knock on the bedroom door awakened her. Before she could answer, Mr. Laird and Mrs. Rutledge entered the room.

  Mrs. Rutledge drew near and touched Macia’s cheek. “Has she awakened at all?”

  Truth shook her head. “No, ma’am, and she looks much too thin— and pale.”

  “Well, what did you expect?” Mr. Laird looked down his nose at Truth as he spat the words. “She’s ill. We told you she’s in no condition to travel.”

  “Maybe if another physician examined her, we could gain further information about her illness.” Truth’s suggestion was met with icy stares.

  Mr. Laird brushed past Truth and neared Macia’s bedside. “When I want your opinion, Miss Harban, I shall ask. In the meantime, I suggest you return to Kansas. There is nothing you can do here in New

  York. Miss Boyle is well cared for, and you’ll only be in the way. Moreover, you can’t remain in the room overnight—it’s against the academy rules.”

  Truth’s stomach lurched at the comment. “I-I don’t have anywhere else to go. I’ll sleep on the floor beside Macia’s bed. There’s nothing in the rules against someone remaining in the room to care for a sick student, is there?”

  Mrs. Rutledge tapped her finger on her chin. “You are not a trained nurse. Our rules specifically state that only paying students may remain in the rooms.”

  “But I’ve traveled so far. Surely in this instance you could make an exception.”

  “I suppose you could stay in the servants’ quarters with Daisy until you decide to return home,” Mr. Laird allowed.

  There was no sense arguing. She wouldn’t win this battle. “So long as I can attend to Macia’s needs during the day, I’ll accept your kind offer to sleep in the servants’ quarters. I do hope Daisy won’t object.”

  “Daisy? She has no right to object to anything. She’s a servant who knows her place, Miss Harban.”

  Mr. Laird’s words stung like an angry slap. Obviously, he wanted Truth to argue. Instead, she decided to remain compliant and disappoint him. “Thank you, Mr. Laird. I accept your offer of accommodations in the servants’ quarters. Dr. Boyle will be pleased to hear how well I’ve been treated here at the Rutledge Academy. I’ll simply plan to spend my days in this room with Macia. Does the doctor make daily visits?”

  Mrs. Rutledge arched her eyebrows. “Doctor?”

  “Yes. Dr. Anderson. Your letter to the Boyles said Dr. Anderson was caring for Macia. Dr. Boyle asked that I speak with the physician upon my arrival in New York.”

  “His schedule varies, though the two of you will eventually meet.

  Now go along and tell Daisy to show you to your quarters,” Mr. Laird instructed. “She should be in the kitchen preparing supper.”

  Truth’s stomach rumbled at the mention of food. She hadn’t eaten anything since early morning. “What time is supper?”

  Mr. Laird smirked. “I can’t believe you were expecting to take your meals in the dining room with the students, Miss Harban. You may be able to find a few extra morsels in the kitchen.”

  Truth picked up her valise and opened the door. “I shall expect more than a morsel, Mr. Laird. Obviously, Macia isn’t eating. I shall plan to eat her portion. After all, her family has already paid for her board at this academy.”

  Without another word, Truth strode off. She hurried down the steps, using the front stairway rather than the back stairs Mr. Laird had suggested. It was a childishly defiant measure, but one that pleased her nonetheless. After navigating the curved hall that meandered in several directions, Truth spied Daisy moving about in the kitchen. The girl looked up as Truth entered the room.

  “Mr. Laird sent me. He said you would show me to the servants’ quarters.”

  Daisy swiped her floured hands down her apron. “Do I look like I got time to take you out dere right now? I’s busy fixing supper. It don’t matter what Mr. Laird said I should do with you. There won’t be no forgiving me if supper’s late, and I ain’t losing my position over some stranger.”

  Truth could wage an argument against Daisy’s position—and perhaps even win. But what would be accomplished? She needed a friend, and maybe if she was kind, Daisy would be willing to help her. She set her valise in the corner and removed her cape. “Give me an apron and I’ll help you, Daisy. I cook for the Boyle family, and I can follow your orders.”

  Daisy’s eyes shone with suspicion, but she handed Truth an apron. “You can peel them potatoes.”

  Truth finished each of Daisy’s assigned tasks without complaint. “You can help yourself to any of that food,” Daisy said after they had completed the supper preparations, indicating the pots and bowls. “I always fix extra for me and Silas. Mr. Laird says we’s only s’pose to eat the scraps. That man is crazy if he thinks I’m gonna gnaw on the bones while the rest of them eat the pork chops.”

  After helping with the supper dishes, Truth was exhausted but certain she’d made a friend. Daisy looped arms with her as the
y walked to the servants’ quarters. “This here place ain’t very nice—nothing like what you’s been living in with that fancy doctor and his family.”

  “Once I’ve had some sleep, I’ll tell you about some of the places I’ve lived, Daisy. I’m certain your room will do just fine.”

  As they neared the carriage house, Daisy called to Silas and asked him to bring a bed from the storage barn. “Miss Harban’s gonna be staying in my room.” Daisy led the way upstairs to the large rooms above the carriage house—much larger than what Truth had expected. “Me and Silas was sorry Miss Macia was one of the gals to get sick this school session. Miss Macia and Miss Rennie been right nice to both me and Silas. Not like some of them uppity girls. I was hoping it would be one of them snooty gals like Inez Barringer that got sick.”

  Daisy waved Silas into the room and helped him as he set up the bed. Silas pounded the wood frame together and topped it with a flimsy mattress. “Once in a while the snooty ones get sick.”

  Truth unfolded the sheet Daisy handed her. “You mean there are students sick during every school session?”

  “Um-hmm. Mrs. Rutledge says it’s the change in climate and water. Sure ain’t my cooking, ’cause Silas ain’t never got sick.”

  Silas laughed and rubbed his stomach. “Now that’s a fact. And those pork chops tonight was really good.”

  Though Truth wanted to question the two of them further, Silas excused himself, and Daisy was soon asleep.

  When Truth awakened the next morning, sunlight spilled through the two windows on the east wall, and there was no sign of Daisy. The girl had likely been in the kitchen working for several hours. Truth hurriedly dressed and then raced across the rear yard to the kitchen.

  “Why didn’t you wake me?”

  Daisy gave her a lopsided grin. “I figured you was mighty tired what with your traveling and then helping me in the kitchen. Thought you could use the sleep. ’Sides, ain’t nothing you can do for Miss Macia. Jest like all the other gals, she ain’t gonna do nothing but sleep.”

  “Does Dr. Anderson come to check on her, Daisy?”

  “He was here once. He don’t never come too often.”

  “But he wrote that Macia’s been having seizures. How does he know that unless he comes to see her?”

  Daisy shrugged. “Don’t know. I ain’t never seen Miss Macia have no seizure. She jest sleeps all the time.”

  “Tell me about the other girls that have gotten ill,” Truth urged.

  Daisy glanced about. “We can talk tonight when we go back to my room. I don’ like talking ’round here where people’s always listening.”

  Truth wondered why anyone would be interested in listening to a servant’s conversation, but she harkened to Daisy’s admonition. She and Daisy would talk at length this evening.

  Truth headed off toward the grand stairway but turned on her heel and walked to the back stairs. It was, after all, closer to Macia’s bedroom. She was nearing the top of the steps when she saw Mr. Laird and another man exit Macia’s room. She stood quietly, wanting to hear what they were saying. The stranger explained he would bring additional medicine. Was this Dr. Anderson? She absolutely must talk to him.

  She stepped into the hallway. “Dr. Anderson?”

  The stranger turned in her direction. “Yes? May I help you?”

  Mr. Laird dipped his head toward Truth. “This is the woman I mentioned—Miss Boyle’s servant.”

  Truth didn’t correct the statement. She was, after all, the Boyles’ maid and housekeeper, if only for a short time longer. “May I speak to you about Miss Boyle’s condition?”

  The doctor rubbed his index finger over his mustache. “Yes, of course.”

  “I’d like to accompany Miss Boyle home, where her father can attend to her medical treatment and restore her back to health.”

  The doctor shook his head. “She’s unable to travel in her current condition. However, I’m sure your ministrations will be helpful. Perhaps in the next several weeks her strength will return.”

  The days marched on in blurry replication while Macia continued to fade in and out of a hazy stupor. Unfortunately, the meager amount of food Truth could force into her patient usually came back up, and her condition had changed little since Truth’s arrival. Truth had been ever watchful, hoping there might be some way she could reverse the tide. None of her efforts had met with success, however, and Dr. Anderson soon proved to be as obstructive as Mr. Laird and the Rutledges. When her attempts with all of them had failed, Truth turned to Daisy and Silas.

  After much prodding, they had agreed to reveal what little they knew about Macia’s illness. Although Truth had hoped for more information, both of the servants were frightened to speak freely. And Truth understood their reticence—both of them stood to lose their employment with the school should they speak out of turn. But they had told her enough so that she’d begun watching Mr. Laird very carefully, and she’d now discovered a pattern in Macia’s incessant sleeping. Shortly after Mr. Laird would arrive with fresh water and encourage Macia to drink, she would drop off into hours of sleep, followed by periods of lethargy. And just when she would become somewhat lucid, Mr. Laird would reappear with more water.

  Truth now believed Mr. Laird was pouring medication into Macia’s water to make her sleep. She didn’t know, though, if the medication had been prescribed by the doctor or if the treatment was Mr. Laird’s idea. Worse yet, she dared not ask Dr. Anderson, for he would likely tell Mr. Laird, who would surely send her packing.

  After another day without any correspondence from home, Truth decided she must take matters into her own hands. The thought was frightening, yet she absolutely must do something to get Macia out of this place. As if being imprisoned in this dreadful school wasn’t enough, she’d not received one letter from Moses or the Boyles. She’d been faithful to write Moses daily and Dr. Boyle several times. Mrs. Rutledge had at least been amenable to posting the letters—the woman’s only act of kindness. Yet neither of them had bothered to respond. Pacing back and forth in front of the windows, she startled when Macia groaned and turned in the bed.

  “What time is it?”

  Truth hurried to Macia’s bedside and grasped her hand. “It’s nearly suppertime, and you’ve not yet eaten breakfast. Why don’t I help you into the chair and I’ll brush your hair.”

  Macia closed her eyes and turned away.

  “Please, Macia. You absolutely must spend some time out of this bed. Let me help you.”

  Without waiting for Macia’s approval, Truth leaned down and hoisted the girl’s skeletal frame upward. Using her powers of persuasion, Truth dragged Macia to the nearby chair. Holding her shoulder with one hand, Truth retrieved a silver-handled brush from atop the dressing table. She began to brush Macia’s hair in earnest, for she doubted her patient could tolerate sitting in the chair for long.

  “I’m going to marry Marvin.” Macia’s words were garbled.

  Truth looked into the mirror and met Macia’s glassy-eyed stare. “Who is Marvin?”

  “Mr. Laird.”

  “Mr. Laird? No, Macia. You’re going to marry Jeb Malone when we return to Hill City. Remember?”

  Although Truth knew Jeb hadn’t yet proposed to Macia, everyone in Hill City expected a wedding would take place the moment Macia returned from New York—everyone with the possible exception of Mrs. Boyle, who still held out hope her daughter would marry a wealthy man with social standing.

  Macia extended a wobbly finger toward the mirror. “Nooo. I’m going to marry Mr. Laird. He loves me, and he’s going to marry me.

  He says I’m beauuutiful.”

  Truth patted Macia’s arm and slowly repeated her earlier explanation as though speaking to a small child.

  Macia slapped at the brush. “I know who I’m going to marry. Don’t you tell me . . .” Before Macia could complete the sentence, she collapsed into uncontrollable sobs. “What has happened to me?”

  Truth knelt down and cupped Macia’s chin in
her palm. She wiped away the tears that rolled down Macia’s cheeks. “It’s going to be all right. You’re confused because you’re ill, that’s all. We’re going to get you better and go home.”

  Macia’s eyes reflected confusion, so Truth said nothing further about going home. Instead, she fashioned a dark blue ribbon into Macia’s blond curls and spoke of the warm weather. When Mr. Laird arrived moments later, he appeared startled to see Macia sitting in the chair with her hair properly combed.

  With his jaw tightly clenched, Mr. Laird approached Macia. “Look at you! It seems the two of you have accomplished more than usual today.”

  “Do you like my hair?”

  “Indeed, it looks quite lovely, though I believe you’ve likely over-exerted yourself. I’m going to have to give Truth a sound reprimand for having you out of bed much too long.”

  Truth knew his jovial tone was nothing more than a charade for Macia’s benefit. The moment they were alone, Truth would be the recipient of his wrath. His jaw continued to twitch as he poured a cup of water. With his back turned, he pulled something from his pocket. Truth edged closer and saw him pour something into the glass.

  “Here you are, Macia.” Mr. Laird turned with the glass in his hand.

  “I’ll give it to her.” Truth reached for the glass and knocked it to the floor, the contents spilling on the dressing table and wool rug.

  “You idiot! Look what you’ve done!”

  “Why are you so upset? It’s merely water. I’ll pour her another glass.” Truth stooped down to wipe up the spilled liquid and winced as Mr. Laird’s fingers dug into her arm. Her feet barely touched the floor as he yanked her toward the door.

  Truth glanced over her shoulder. “I’ll return in a moment, Macia.”

  “Don’t count on it,” Mr. Laird hissed as he closed the door. “What do you think you’re doing interfering with Macia’s medical care?”