Dark Masquerade by Jennifer Blake Page B

baby in the crook of her arm, there was little Elizabeth could do to help the Negro nurse. She was glad when she found Bernard beside her slipping an arm under Callie’s shoulders to raise her head. As he moved her the tignon slid backward onto the floor and Elizabeth cried out as she saw that the back of it was wet with blood. There was a grim look on Bernard’s face as his eyes met hers, and then his eyelids masked his expression as he curtly told Celestine to send for brandy and a vinaigrette.
    Celestine left the room but she returned shortly.
    “There was no one to send,” she said, shrugging her slim shoulders.
    “Where the devil are they?” Bernard rasped.
    “Don’t growl at me. I’m sure I don’t know. I suppose the yardman has commandeered the errand boys again. He was complaining yesterday because the chickens were scratching around his precious roses again. And the maids must be finished upstairs.”
    “Then will you at least get the brandy? The decanter is on the sideboard in the dining room. There is a silver tag on it.”
    “I? Wait on a servant? Are you mad, Bernard?”
    “Then find Denise, find Grand’mere, but do something.”
    At the whiplash in his voice Celestine moved, but there was resentfulness in the look she cast at Elizabeth before she turned and went unhurriedly from the room.
    By the time she returned with Grand’mere and Denise, bearing a small glass of spirit on a silver tray, Callie’s eyes had fluttered open. Elizabeth put down the washcloth that she had been using to bathe Callie’s face, and spoke to her softly.
    Callie smiled, a vague look in her eyes, and took a small sip from the glass held to her lips. Then she tried to struggle to a sitting position.
    “I shouldn’t ought to be laying here. I’m all right,” she said, but it was patently untrue.
    Grand’mere, blaming herself for not being in her room, lamenting that she had been closeted in the sitting room, sent the French maid bustling to find bandages. Then she insisted on taking the baby while Elizabeth dressed the cut on the back of Callie’s head.
    “Can you tell us what happened, Callie?” she asked as she worked.
    The nurse seemed groggy, her eyes were still dazed, and it seemed that she would be unable to reply. Then she took a deep breath as if gathering her strength and began in a slow, halting mutter, rambling a little as if she was not quite herself.
    “Little Joseph was asleep—and I had some time—time on my hands. Didn’t know what I should do—whether it was my place to straighten the bedroom what belonged to the Ol’ Mis’. None of the maids—upstairs maids—would come in here to clean up after breakfast. Guess nobody told them to ‘tend to us. Knew how to do for you, though. I thought I would just unpack—and hang all your things in that there big wardrobe in your bedroom. That’s what I was doing when you—sent after them papers. I thought we put all the papers and books and such in the bottom of your trunk—and we did too. I was just lifting that big Good Book out when I heard something funny-like behind me. ‘Fore I could turn around something hit me. It hurt. That’s all I knowed until I—woke up just now.”
    “You heard something funny. What do you mean by funny?” Bernard asked.
    “Well—kinda like a laugh, only quiet. At least, I think that’s what it was—”
    “You didn’t hear anything, see anything, else?”
    “No, sir. Not that I can think of.”
    “The woman probably fell,” Celestine said. “We can only be thankful she didn’t kill the baby when she hit the floor. I wouldn’t be surprised to discover that she has fits or spells of some kind.”
    Elizabeth was speechless with indignation, an indignation that grew as she saw Grand’mere’s frown and tiny nod of agreement.
    “No!” she got out at last. “You can’t be serious!”
    “Indeed? And why not?” Celestine demanded.
    “Because—because it’s impossible, that’s why. You don’t know