Free Lady in the Mist by Laurie Alice Eakes Page A

directed.
    Dominick lifted the roast and carried it into the dining room. The niece tried to catch his eye again, but he kept his own gaze downcast and set the meat on the sideboard.
    “When do the senators arrive?” Reverend Downing was asking.
    Apparently talk about the butler had been brief. Dominick doubted that would have been the situation if Kendall knew how his butler ended up in Virginia.
    Dominick picked up the carving knife.
    “Tuesday or Wednesday,” Kendall answered. “If the fine weather holds. But I’ll see they come to church on Sunday.”
    Dominick steadied the roast with a fork held in one hand and positioned the knife in the other hand for the first cut, the well-done end piece that would go to Mrs. Downing, as she preferred her meat nearly burned, according to Letty.
    “Why doesn’t your midwife go to church?” Mrs. Lee asked. “I hear talk she’s a heathen.”
    Dominick stood still, knife poised above the roast. He was glad the woman had chosen to talk of someone besides him, but asking about Tabitha surprised him into waiting for the answer.
    “She’s lost a number of important people in her life over the past few years.” Kendall spoke slowly, as though thinking over each word. “She stopped going after her grandmother died year before last, leaving her alone in the world except for her servants.”
    “The poor woman,” Mrs. Lee murmured. “You should invite her to dinner, Uncle.”
    “You’re right, Phoebe.” Reverend Downing cleared his throat. “I get so busy with my regular parishioners, I can often neglect others in the town in need. Dinner it is.”
    “Speaking of dinner . . .” Kendall’s chair creaked. “Are we going to enjoy any of that roast, Mr. Cherrett?”
    “Yes, of course, sir.” Ears hot beneath his powdered hair, Dominick fixed his attention on the roast. Picturing the ham, he jerked the knife downward into the tender roast. The blade struck bone, deflected, and drove the point into the palm of his other hand.

7
    ______
    “Miss Eckles?”
    Her thoughts back in the mayor’s garden, Tabitha started at the sound of a soft voice calling her name. She turned to see an unfamiliar young woman trotting toward her.
    “I’m so glad I reached you in time.” Golden curls bouncing beneath the brim of a cream straw hat with lavender ribbons, the woman slid to a halt on the sandy path to the beach. “We could really use your services.”
    “Yes?” Tabitha waited for the woman to catch her breath.
    She knew of no one in the area even close to labor except for Marjorie Parks, a sailor’s wife, and to have two people be injured on a Sunday afternoon was unusual.
    “It’s the dog.” The young woman turned the pink of a begonia as she spoke in a voice as sweet and slow as honey. “She’s whelping. Or she’s trying to, and something seems to be wrong. Can you help her?”
    “I can try.” Tabitha didn’t smile. The request wasn’t unusual, not common, but this wasn’t the first time she’d been called to the lying-in of a creature that was not human. And a dog was a whole lot more pleasant a prospect than a pig or a cow, both of whom she’d helped through labor.
    “Where is this?” she asked.
    “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m Mrs. Phoebe Lee, Reverend Downing’s niece.”
    “Ah, Reverend Downing will do anything to get me near his church.” Tabitha smiled now. “What kind of dog is she and when did you notice she was in trouble?”
    “I noticed her pacing around before church this morning and thought it might be her time.” Mrs. Lee spun on a dainty heel, sending the flounce at the bottom of her lavender gown fluttering in the sea breeze, and headed back toward town with Tabitha beside her. “And when we got home from Mayor Kendall’s, poor little Ginger was on her side in the garden, panting and whimpering. I saw you go past and thought maybe you could help.”
    “I usually can.” Tabitha eyed the lovely young woman, who looked like she’d walked