Celestial Springs

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

1846

“Madam! Madam! Wake up!” The jostling about wasn’t quite enough to wake her from vivid dreams of her husband, but the slap in the face did the trick. She sat bolt upright in bed, rubbing her cheek, and peering into the wide eyes of the servant girl sitting next to her on the mattress.

Absently rubbing her cheek, she glanced around the room. “What is it?” she asked, a bit of panic in her voice. “Was the baby crying?” The room was silent now, so it was difficult to understand what could have caused the woman to barge in and jar her from sleep so abruptly.

“No, madam. You were,” she replied. “You were screaming so loudly, I was afraid you’d wake everyone. Are you quite all right now?”

This knowledge was a bit shocking. She couldn’t even remember what she had been dreaming about, except for the face of her husband, which was always in her mind’s eye, and she sank back into the pillows in reflection, the heat in her cheek beginning to alleviate. After a moment she said quietly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake…anyone. I was just dreaming, I suppose.”

“I should say you must have been,” she agreed, pulling herself up off of the bed and straightening her clothing. “You must try to control your outbursts, Mrs. Edwards. It isn’t good for anyone to listen to you scream.”

Smoothing her blankets and running her hands down her white gown, she said, “You’re right, of course. I’ll try to have better control. It’s a wonder I didn’t wake the baby.” She glanced in the direction of the bassinet, which still sat over by the window, but there appeared to be no movement, and so she returned her attention to the disgruntled face floating above her.

“See that you do,” she replied, sternly. “Or else, if you can’t control yourself, I’m certain he will send me in with something to control you. Or worse yet, he may come in himself. And that is never pleasant, is it, Mrs. Edwards?” Her hands were clasped in front of her, and her attitude was enough to show the seriousness of the situation.

She cleared her throat, not exactly sure how to accept the servant girl addressing her in such a harsh voice. However, attempting to admonish her might lead to more involvement of the fellow down the hallway—the man she wished to avoid at all costs—and so, rather than engaging in an argument in the middle of the night, she nodded sharply and said, “That will be all, Scarlet.”

The woman’s shoulders shot up to her ears; her lips drew together; her eyelids dropped. “Madam, as I explained to you earlier, my name is Joanna.”

A confused expression crossed her pretty face. Perhaps it was the dim starlight filtering through the window. The moon—lying orb that it was—had hidden itself away a few nights ago, so it was of little help. She squinted, studying the woman’s face. “Joanna?” she repeated, quietly. “Wherever is Scarlet then? Is she sleeping? When did we hire you, Joanna?”

There was an exasperated sigh of disgust as Joanna attempted to gather her wits about her. “Mrs. Edwards, there is no Scarlet here. The only ones who ever tend to you are myself and Hazel. And it is very troubling to have you continue to call each of us the wrong name time and again. Will you please try to remember that my name is Joanna, madam?”

Admonished again, she shrank back against the wall behind her. Only thoughts of what had happened last time he had come to correct her for being out of sorts kept her from putting the servant girl in her place. “I’m sorry,” she finally replied. “Perhaps there is something about you that reminds me of Scarlet, and when I look at you, I see her face.”

“Perhaps,” Joanna said, shrugging. “I only wish you would try a little harder, that’s all, Mrs. Edwards.”

“But you see,” she began, sitting up a bit, “you always call me that—Mrs. Edwards--and that’s not my name either.”

Now she was agitated again. “The hour is so late—it’s practically early, madam, and I am not going to stand here and have this discussion with you again. Now, you will answer to Mrs. Edwards as instructed, and you will call me Joanna, and you will call Hazel by her given name, which is Hazel, not Scarlet, or else I shall have no choice but to let him know that you are being disagreeable again. Is that what you want?”

Joanna’s face was so close to hers now their noses were practically touching. Fear of the pain he would certainly visit upon her should he need to be called in the middle of the night trumped her conviction to assert her authority. Eyes wide, she finally managed a, “No, thank you,” and Joanna returned to her full height, clearly satisfied that there would be no more noise out of Mrs. Edwards that evening.

With one last “humph” Joanna turned and walked to the door, disappearing out into the hallway. She watched her go before taking a deep breath, and in the starlight, she slipped from her bed and crept over to where her son lay sleeping. She glanced down at his serene face and smiled. If it wasn’t for him, she could never endure living in such a hopeless place. It was only his angelic face that kept her planted in reality.

She looked up at the sky, making sure the moon had not dared to leave his hiding place. He was nowhere to be seen, and she was glad of it. “Inconstant moon,” she muttered, turning a phrase from a story she knew oh so well, a story she felt she had lived almost to completion. Someday, her husband would return, and on that day, perhaps, she would be able to forgive the deceitful orb in the sky, but until then, nights such as these where the moon kept himself hidden away were easier to endure. She couldn’t tell waxing from waning if there was no moon at all.