Page 39 of Just Imagine
Lucy had unpacked her trunks, and for a moment Kit considered throwing on one of her oldest dresses and dashing outside to reacquaint herself with her home. But she had to be downstairs soon, ready to do battle again. Morning would be time enough.
She chose a frock with sprigs of gay blue forget-me-nots scattered over a white background. The skirt was drawn up in soft folds to reveal an underskirt in the same blue as the flowers. Cain had provided a generous clothing allowance, damn his soul, and Kit had a beautiful wardrobe. Much of the thanks went to Elsbeth, who said Kit’s taste was too erratic and hadn’t trusted her to shop alone. The truth was, unless Elsbeth rode herd, Kit generally grew bored and settled for whatever the shopkeepers placed before her.
Impatiently she pulled out her hairpins. That morning, she’d dressed her hair in the Spanish style, parted in the center and pulled into a simple coil at the nape of her neck. With a few tendrils escaping here and there and her small jet earbobs, the sophisticated style had been perfect for her first encounter with Cain. But she couldn’t tolerate the confinement any longer. Now she brushed her hair out until it crackled, then caught it back from her face with the silver filigreed combs Elsbeth had given her. It tumbled in a riot of curls that spilled over her shoulders. After dabbing jasmine scent at her wrists, she was ready to fetch Miss Dolly.
As she knocked at her door, she wondered how her fragile companion would handle sitting at dinner with a Yankee war hero. She knocked a second time, and when there was no response, pushed open the door.
Miss Dolly sat huddled in a rocking chair in the corner of the darkened room. Tears streaked her wrinkled cheeks, and she held the tattered fragment of what had once been a baby-blue handkerchief.
Kit dashed to her side. “Miss Dolly! What’s wrong?”
The older woman didn’t seem to hear. Kit knelt before her. “Miss Dolly?”
“Hello, darlin’,” she said vaguely. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“You’ve been crying.” Kit clasped the woman’s bird-frail hands. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing, really. Silly memories. Making rag babies with my sisters when we were children. Playin’ under the grape arbor. Reminiscence is part of old age.”
“You’re not old, Miss Dolly. Why, just look at you in your pretty white dress. You look as fresh as a spring day.”
“I do try to keep myself pretty,” Miss Dolly acknowledged, straightening a little in her chair and making a dab at her wet cheeks. “It’s just that sometimes, on days like today, I find myself thinkin’ about things that happened a long time ago, and it makes me sad.”
“What kind of things?”
Miss Dolly patted Kit’s hand. “Now, now, darlin’. You don’t want to hear my ramblin’s.”
“You don’t ramble,” Kit assured her, even though only a few hours earlier, that very habit had been driving her to distraction.
“You’ve got a good heart, Katharine Louise. I knew it the moment I set eyes on you. I was so glad when you asked me to accompany you back to South Carolina.” Her ribbons dipped as she shook her head. “I didn’t like it in the North. Everybody had such loud voices. I don’t like Yankees, Katharine. I don’t like them at all.”
“You’re upset about meeting Major Cain, aren’t you?” Kit rubbed the back of Miss Dolly’s hand. “I shouldn’t have brought you here. I was only thinking of myself, not of how it would affect you.”
“Now, now. Don’t you be blamin’ your sweet self for a silly old woman’s foolishness.”
“I won’t let you stay if it’s going to make you unhappy.”
Miss Dolly’s eyes widened in alarm. “But I don’t have anywhere else to go!” She pushed herself up from the rocking chair and began to cry again. “Silly foolishness . . . that’s all this is. I’ll—I’ll just freshen up, and then we’ll go right downstairs for dinner. I won’t be a minute. Not a . . . not a minute.”
Kit rose and embraced the woman’s frail shoulders. “Calm yourself, Miss Dolly. I won’t send you away. Not as long as you want to stay with me. I promise.”
Hope flickered in her companion’s eyes. “You won’t send me away?”
“Never.” Kit smoothed the puffy white sleeves of Miss Dolly’s gown, then gave her powdery cheek a kiss. “Make yourself pretty for dinner.”
Miss Dolly glanced nervously toward the hallway that lay beyond the safe haven of her room. “All—all right, darlin’.”
“Please don’t worry about Major Cain.” Kit smiled. “Just pretend you’re entertaining General Lee.”
After ten minutes of primping, Miss Dolly decided she was ready, but Kit was so happy to see the older woman’s spirits restored that she didn’t mind the wait. As they descended the stairs, Miss Dolly began fussing over her. “Hold still a minute, darlin’. The overskirt on your pretty dress isn’t caught up properly.” She clucked her tongue while she adjusted the garment. “I do wish you’d be a little more careful with your appearance. I don’t mean to be critical, but you don’t always look quite as neat as a young lady should.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Kit assumed her most docile expression, the one that had never fooled Elvira Templeton but seemed to do the trick with Miss Dolly. At the same time, she made up her mind to murder Baron Cain with her bare hands if he did anything tonight to frighten Miss Dolly.
Just then he came out of the library. He was dressed informally in a pair of black trousers and a white shirt, his hair still damp from his bath. She relished the fact that he was too boorish to dress for dinner, even though he’d known there’d be ladies at the table.
He looked up and saw them coming toward him. Something she couldn’t decipher flickered in his eyes.
Her heart began to pound. The memory of that lunatic kiss washed over her. She took a deep breath. The evening that lay ahead would be hard enough. She had to forget what had happened and keep her wits about her. Cain’s appearance was going to terrify Miss Dolly.
