Queen of Swords
Page 31

Ben looked at Jackson directly and gave a slight, stiff bow from the shoulders. “At your command, Major General.”
Jackson’s mouth was like a bloodless cut in a face carved from stone. He turned away and disappeared into the crowd of his officers.
Jennet woke with a gasp and lay frozen with fear until she made out the embroidered bed hangings and remembered where she was, and why.
The Livingstons’. They were safe.
The pillows and covers showed that while Luke was not here, he had slept beside her. Jennet remembered, now, where he had gone this morning, and why. She wondered if he had tried to wake her. With a sigh of relief, she sank back into the small mountain of pillows, all encased in finest linen and smelling of lavender water.
The house was very quiet, though by the quality of the light, it must be at least nine. Even without the light she would have known the hour; her breasts were full and tender. If they did not bring the baby to her soon, she would have to go look for him. And, she noted with some surprise, she was hungry herself. She sniffed and took in the faint smell of coffee.
Just that simply she was more fully awake and it seemed, looking around the room, that at some point in the last months all the color had drained out of the world in such a slow way that she hadn’t even noticed. Now it was as if a hundred candles had been lit at once so that grays gave way to strong color: the sky blue of the coverlet, the crimson and grass-green embroidery on the pillow slip, the crisp gold of sunlight on the polished cypress wood floor, the same warm color as Hannah’s skin.
Jennet sat up in the bed, thinking of her sister-in-law. She would ask the butler to send a message. Mrs. Livingston had told her that she was to act here as if she were at home, and that she would do. She would send a half dozen boys out on errands, but the first one would carry a note to Hannah. Just as soon as she found her clothes and took care of the baby.
A soft knock at the door. Jennet jumped back into the bed and pulled the covers up around herself—she was wearing only the simplest muslin shift—and a servant came in carrying a tray covered with a linen cloth the same brilliant white as the tignon wrapped around her head. Behind her was Rachel, carrying a fussy, scowling Nathaniel. His expression shifted just as soon as he saw her, first going blank and then breaking into a smile. He lurched, trying to fling himself out of Rachel’s arms.
She handed him over with a laugh. “He’s had porridge this morning, but clearly it’s not enough. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting, does he?”
“I suppose I should wean him,” Jennet said, knowing even as she said it that she had no intention of doing any such thing. It would be too cruel, after such a long separation. They would both feel the loss.
In a matter of minutes the servant had set a table with china, silver, a tea service, baskets of toast and rolls, and a plate filled with shirred eggs, ham, and a buttery mound of hominy. Then she disappeared without saying a word. Jennet’s mother, who had been the housekeeper at Carryckcastle for all of her adult life, would have approved. For her own part, Jennet was rather sorry, as servants were generally the best source of real information about the way a household worked, and there were things she would have liked to ask.
Jennet climbed out of bed and wrapped a shawl around herself and the baby, who was nursing so enthusiastically that she could barely contain a wince. Settled in a chair, she used her free hand to accept the teacup Rachel had filled for her.
“So,” Jennet said. “Is the great man arrived in the city?”
Rachel’s excitement was answer enough, but of course she must also describe what Jennet had missed.
“You should have seen it,” she said. “The whole city turned out to welcome the general. My uncle Livingston was riding next to him, and your husband just behind, and he looked so very handsome, you would have been proud. It was so thrilling. I’m surprised you could sleep through the noise.”
“It has been a long time since I had a proper night’s rest,” Jennet said. “It would have taken more than a parade to wake me.”
Rachel said, “It’s so exciting; the major general is only five minutes away. We will be seeing a lot of him, I think.”
There was no end to Rachel’s enthusiasm for Major General Jackson and his party, which continued while Jennet looked to the boy and ate her own breakfast with her one free hand.
“The troops will be pouring in,” Rachel said with a pretty blush. “Corbeau—have you met Corbeau? my uncle’s valet—Corbeau says we will be overrun by Americans, and my aunt said—”
“Better than the alternative, to be overrun by the English.”
“Yes,” Rachel said, sitting back. “Exactly.” She pushed out a sigh, and then seemed to really look at Jennet for the first time.
“You think me silly. Well, I suppose I am, a little, but it really was exciting.”
“Of course it was,” Jennet said. She gave the girl a sincere smile. “And I don’t think you silly. I think I was much like you at your age, actually.”
This pleased Rachel greatly. She said, “Your color is much improved. You like it here with my uncle and aunt?”
“We are safe,” Jennet said. “And your aunt keeps a verra comfortable home, forbye.”
“You are feeling better, if you’re speaking Scots so early in the day and without provocation,” Rachel said with a smile.
“It’s good of you to come by so early,” Jennet said.