Lady in the Mist - Laurie Alice Eakes [109]
And the attic, where Dominick slept.
He slipped the key into his pocket and turned his attention to the bookcase. Again, not knowing what he sought, he simply began a methodical search through every volume, pulling them out, flipping the pages open, groping behind.
He found it on the next to last shelf, as the aroma of boiling fruit crept into the room. It was nothing more than a folded sheet of foolscap tucked behind two fat volumes of sermons. On it was a list of dates. Nothing special about that. They listed the days on which men from the eastern shore had disappeared.
But Kendall had departed the previous morning, and the last date was June 15, the night before last.
28
______
Within twenty minutes, if she hadn’t shared a strawberry with Dominick, Tabitha believed she would never want to eat another seedy red fruit. Her hands were stained. Her borrowed apron was stained. She thought maybe her eyes were stained. But without every last ripe berry picked and prepared for preserving in the form of jam or jelly, she didn’t know how she would keep Letty and the twins occupied and away from the front of the house.
“I’m likely to die of picking these horrid things,” Dinah complained. “Whoever planted so many bushes anyway?”
“The gardener, I expect.” Tabitha would have rubbed her aching lower back if she didn’t fear staining her gown. “And they all come ripe at once. It’s just like tomatoes.”
“I won’t touch a tomato. Momma always said they was poisonous.” Deborah dropped a handful of berries into her bucket and headed for the house.
“Where you going?” Dinah called after her. “You can’t leave with the work half done.”
Deborah tossed her head. “I just have. I’m going to make these into a poultice with some oatmeal and slap it on my face. It’s good for the complexion.”
“Your complexion is already beautiful.” Tabitha eyed the younger woman with her porcelain skin and not a hint of a wrinkle. Tabitha’s own mirror told her the wrinkles had begun. They were faint. One needed bright light to see them, but she knew they were there. Most considered her an old maid already, beyond marriageable age. It didn’t matter now. She wanted no one after knowing Dominick.
Thoughts of Dominick made her worry Deborah would go off to her chamber to apply the mask.
“Maybe I should try your poultice. Will you show me how to make it?”
“I’ll even apply it for you,” Deborah said, then she and Dinah giggled. “I wonder if Mr. Cherrett will want to kiss you with slime all over your face.”
Tabitha’s face heated from more than the sunshine. “Girls, don’t talk about that. Mr. Cherrett was being . . . a wee bit forward in his behavior, and I’ve put a stop to it.”
“I wouldn’t have.” Dinah sighed.
“Nor I.” Deborah closed her eyes. “Don’t you like him?”
“I like him fine.” Tabitha ducked her head in the pretense of searching for more ripe berries. “That doesn’t mean he should behave improperly.”
“What’s improper about kissing?” Deborah asked.
“Nothing unless it leads to . . . more.” Tabitha straightened and frowned at the girls. “Do not even insult either Mr. Cherrett or me by asking. Some things are meant for marriage and marriage alone, and don’t either of you forget it. I don’t want to have to see you begging me to deliver a baby and stop your pain if you won’t tell me who the father is.”
The girls’ eyes widened until they looked like they would pop out of their pretty faces.
“You do that?” Dinah breathed.
“Yes, I do that. I am required to.”
The last time gave one man in the village cause to fear her or despise her, which sometimes was one and the same. He could have planted the snake. He might want to be rid of her and her knowledge that badly.
“Who did you do that to?” Deborah asked.
“That I can’t tell you.” Tabitha rose. “I think that’s all the berries, girls. Let’s get these inside and cleaned.”
“That’s worse than picking them,” Dinah cried.
“I suppose you