Free Ask a Shadow to Dance by Linda George Page A

morning.”
    Lisette tried to clear her mind. “I wish we didn’t have to do this.”
    “So do I, but it’s necessary to keep that ruffian from bothering us again. Get dressed. I’ll start breakfast.”
    Lying there a few moments, Lisette recalled the dream and how concerned Doctor Stewart had been about her bruised face. He had to be one of the kindest men she’d ever known. His eyes had seethed with anger when he heard Andrew had struck her.
    She closed her eyes for a moment to clear away the cobwebs. It made no sense to react to a dream as though it were real. The only reality was Andrew.
    At the sideboard, she washed her face and noticed much of the swelling was gone. Only the dark blue of the bruise remained. Her lips were still sore, but better. She peered closely into the mirror. The bruises were abnormally better than they should have been. The injection that rude nurse had given her—but she was part of the dream too. Her left arm, where she dreamed the injection had been given, felt sore, tender, just as Doctor Stewart had warned. But none of it made sense. How could her arm be sore from a dream?
    She selected a black dress from one of her trunks, pulled it over her head, then buttoned it from waist to neck. The collar was a piece of ecru tatted lace that Aunt Portia had made for her before she’d gone to New Orleans with James. She had moved the collar from dress to dress through the years, attempting to brighten the dull material she’d been forced to use in making her clothes. The collar was a warm reminder of the hours she’d spent as a child watching Aunt Portia tat, listening to stories about her parents.
    What would Mother think about all this? Lisette wondered. Her memory of Brianna Morgan was so vague, dimmed by the years and by Lisette’s youth at the time of her mother’s death, she couldn’t be sure any longer if the picture in her mind was real or simply borrowed from the family portrait that had been made the year Lisette was born. Brianna had golden blond hair and incredibly large eyes, which Aunt Portia said were the color of amber. It was easy to see why Jacob fell in love with Brianna at their first meeting. Lisette had inherited her mother’s eyes and full lips, but not the blond hair. Lisette’s hair was auburn, red-gold in sunshine, a combination of the blond and Papa’s once reddish-brown hair.
    Aunt Portia appeared at the door. “Breakfast will be ready soon.”
    “I just have to do my hair.” Lisette picked up the brush from the chiffonier and pulled it through the tangled curls with difficulty.
    “Let me help. I haven’t brushed your hair—”
    “—in eight years.” It had been one of their special times together. The memory tugged at her heart, just as the family portrait had done. She handed the brush to Aunt Portia. She pulled it through Lisette’s hair until it shone like the sunshine streaming through the lace curtains. It felt heavenly to receive this attention after so many years of loneliness and neglect.
    “That will have to do for now. You can do a full hundred strokes tonight. I let you sleep longer than I should have. It’s past ten already.”
    Lisette twisted her hair into a long coil, wound it on the crown of her head and secured it with a hairpin, then followed Aunt Portia downstairs to the kitchen for a breakfast of flapjacks and molasses. She had already instructed Seth to ready the carriage.
    After they’d eaten, Aunt Portia took their plates to the sink and dunked them into hot, soapy water, scrubbing until they gleamed. “I’ll be so relieved when Andrew is locked up and things can get back to normal.” She dried the dishes carefully and put them in the cupboard.
    Lisette wasn’t sure she knew what Aunt Portia meant by “normal,” but agreed that having Andrew out of their lives would lift a tremendous burden from her shoulders.
    There came a sharp rapping at the front door.
    Lisette held one finger to her lips, then tiptoed through the