Window on Yesterday (13 page)

The view from the window was not of the surroundings around the Williamsburg Inn. Instead, her wide eyes gazed out at broad terraced lawns, gently descending to the banks of a river. On her last visit to the restored area, Alycia had taken a side tour of Carter’s Grove plantation. The scene her dulled eyes were now staring at was very similar to the one she had looked on with such delight from the great hall on the first floor of that beautiful mansion.

Sagging forward, Alycia rested her head against the window. Nothing made sense, nothing. If she was not in the restored area of Williamsburg, where was she? Blinking, she refocused on the pastoral scene of gently sloping green lawns and tall leafy trees.

Green lawns. Leafy trees. Alycia moaned. She had never been to Virginia in March. Did spring always come this early? Even as the query formed in her mind, Alycia heard an echo of Karla’s voice from earlier that week as she repeated the radio deejay’s report that the snowstorm had blasted most of the eastern seaboard.

But how could that be? Alycia thought with a growing sense of panic and shock. The sunlight sparkled off the river. The wide, spreading tree branches created dark pools of shade on the summer-green grass. And it was hot!

Enmeshed within the tangle of her own thoughts, Alycia was only vaguely aware of the bedroom door opening. Her body jerked violently at the sound of Lettie’s voice.

“Miss Alice, you should not be out of bed!”

Gathering her wildly scattering thoughts, Alycia drew a deep breath and said, “I... I’m afraid the accident has left me a little confused, Lettie. I seem to have forgotten the date.”

“Why, ‘tis the ninth day of August, Miss Alice,” Lettie said with soft compassion.

Alycia swallowed to dislodge the growing lump of fear in her throat. She could hear the woman moving around behind her, yet she hesitated to turn and face her. But Alycia knew she had to ask one more question. She had to have the answer.

“And ... and the year?” Alycia held her breath.

“Oh, Miss Alice,” Lettie murmured, “surely you remember that it is the year of our Lord 1777?”

Alycia’s first impulse was to laugh,1777 indeed! Her expression wry, she turned on the window seat to face Lettie, fully expecting to find the woman laughing at her own joke. Only Lettie wasn’t laughing; she wasn’t even smiling. Her dark eyes were riveted to Alycia’s face; her expression revealed alarm.

“Mistress Alice, I do think you should come back to the bed,” she said slowly, setting a tray on the Chippendale table. “I have brought a nice breakfast for you.”

Feeling an unnatural weakness, Alycia remained where she was, the back of her head resting against the window. Her appetite had vanished. The impulse to laugh had passed and had been replaced by an even stronger urge to cry. Catching her lower lip between her teeth to repress the tears, she stared at Lettie, her gaze moving slowly as she studied the woman’s apparel.

Lettie was wearing a long-sleeved top made of dark cotton. Her skirt was made of a heavier material and fell to an inch above the floor. A white kerchief of finer cotton was draped around her shoulders like a shawl; the wide tails crossed over her breasts and were fastened at her back. A long light-colored apron was tied about her waist and hung almost to the hem of her skirt. A white cap covered the back of her head. The toes of coarse leather shoes peeped out from beneath the hem of her skirt. All together, Lettie’s clothes had a lived-in, genuine look.

Alycia started when the woman spoke.

“Are you feeling unwell, Mistress Alice?”

You’re dreaming, Alycia told herself, shaking her head in answer to Lettie’s question. Her motion caused a sharp flare of pain, reminding her of her injury. That’s it! Of course that’s it, she reassured herself. It’s all a vivid, realistic dream. You’ll wake up any minute. Stay calm. It’s all a dream. Alycia was unaware that the tears had escaped from behind her eyelids and were rolling down her face.

“Mistress Alice!”

Alycia heard Lettie’s voice as if from a great distance. She didn’t want to hear Lettie’s voice. She wanted to wake up. She wanted to be at home. She wanted Sean. She needed to hear Sean’s voice.

Sean’s voice! Alycia choked on a bubble of laughter born of encroaching hysteria. She had thought to phone him to tell him about the accident! How very funny, she thought, getting to her feet like an automaton when she felt an arm slip around her waist. It was really very funny. There were no phones! Besides, even if there were, Alycia was certain there were no long-distance operators capable of connecting her to a distance spanning over two hundred years! The bubble exploded inside Alycia’s throat. A peal of harsh laughter burst from her lips, followed in seconds by a series of heart-rendering sobs.

“There, there, Mistress Alice,” Lettie crooned, leading Alycia to the bed. “You come with Lettie. I brought you a nice herb tea to ease the pain.”

Made docile by sheer weariness, Alycia allowed the woman to coax her into bed. Her wrenching sobs subsided as Lettie plumped the pillow high against the humpback headboard. Because her head was pounding and her throat was dry, she eagerly drank the bitter tea the woman handed to her.

“That’s terrible!” Alycia exclaimed after the first few swallows.

“Yes.” Lettie smiled. “But it will ease the pain. Now, you drink it down, Mistress Alice.”

Alycia considered rebellion, but gave in with a shrug. What difference did it make? she mused, draining the dainty cup of its awful contents. It was only a dream ... wasn’t it?

Or was it? Shuddering from the unwanted thought, Alycia barely noticed the cup being removed from her numb fingers. She’d had vivid dreams before—long, realistic dreams. But never had a dream lasted this long or been quite this realistic. But if it wasn’t a dream, then ... Alycia slammed the lid on that thought. It
was
a dream. It had to be a dream!

“Will you have your breakfast now, Mistress Alice?”

Alycia glanced up, startled out of introspection by Lettie’s soft, melodious voice. The woman was standing by the bed with quiet patience, her expression gentle with compassionate concern. Surprise washed through Alycia as she looked at the woman, really looked at her for the first time.

Alycia judged the black woman to be somewhere in her early thirties. She was very tall, close to six feet, Alycia mused. Her body was slender, angular, but well proportioned. She was light-skinned, and her features were sharply defined, almost aristocratic. Her face was smooth and unwrinkled. Alycia felt uninteresting and plain in comparison with such a very beautiful woman.

“Mistress? Are you sleeping with your eyes open?” A hint of fear tinged Lettie’s voice.

“What?” Alycia blinked and laughed—a natural, easy laugh that surprised her as much as it seemed to startle Lettie. “No, I’m not sleeping. I’m afraid I was rudely staring at you.” Alycia smiled with sincere appreciation. “You are a very lovely woman, Lettie.”

For a moment, Lettie looked astounded. Then a smile spread on her handsome face, revealing gleaming white teeth. “I thank you most humbly, mistress, for the kind compliment.” Her back straight as a rod, Lettie sank into a graceful curtsy. “And may I be so bold as to repay it by confessing that I was admiring your beauty?”

“You may.” Alycia laughed again. Suddenly feeling better, she sat up straight, wondering what in the world was in the herb tea she’d drunk. “And now,” she said, smiling as Lettie rose to her imposing height, “if this meeting of our mutual admiration society is over, I think I will have something to eat.”

“Mutual admiration society?” Lettie repeated, frowning as she turned to retrieve the breakfast tray from the spindle-legged table.

Realizing that the phrase must be new to the woman, Alycia was on the point of explaining when Lettie turned around, the tray in her capable hands, a wide grin on her face.

“That was a very apt description, Mistress Alice. I would that I had thought it.”

I would that I had, too, Alycia thought, but I cannot take the credit for it. Not wanting to confuse Lettie further, she kept the thought inside her head and cautioned herself to be careful with her mode of speech. Alerted, she chose her words carefully as Lettie approached the bed with the tray.

“Can I not have my breakfast at the table?” she asked.

A look of consternation flashed across the woman’s face, convincing Alycia she had articulated badly. But her fears eased with Lettie’s quiet but firm response.

“I have twice had need to help you back to bed, mistress. I would that you remain there until you are stronger.”

Though tempted to argue that, possibly due to that nasty tea, she was already feeling much stronger, Alycia gave in with a sigh. “Oh, all right, I’ll stay in bed ... on one condition.”

“One condition?” Lettie repeated, frowning as she stood by the bed. “What condition do you request, mistress?”

“That you sit with me while I eat,” Alycia replied, offering the woman a smile of inducement.

“It is both my duty and my pleasure to do so, mistress “ Lettie said, settling the tray over Alycia’s legs.

“Duty?” Alycia frowned at Lettie as she seated herself on a delicate brocaded chair next to the bed. “What do you mean?” Alycia ignored the tempting aroma wafting up to her from under the covered dish on the tray.

Lettie smiled serenely. “You have been put in my charge, mistress.”

Thoroughly confused, Alycia just stared at the woman. “May I ask by whom?” she demanded.

“My lady,” Lettie replied, “by your good aunt Caroline.”

Lettie was a slave! The realization shocked Alycia into utter stillness. Of course, being a student of history she had known that slavery was common in Virginia before, during, and after the Revolutionary War, but to actually meet and converse with a slave ... Alycia suddenly felt sick to her stomach. Lettie was so beautiful, so gracious. The very idea of her belonging, body and soul, to another person was appalling. But then, the mere concept of slavery had always been appalling to Alycia. She was on the verge of crying out in rage against the injustice when Alycia caught herself up short by reminding herself that it was only a dream. But damn, she protested silently, why did it have to be so realistic?

“Mistress Alice?”

Alycia started at the sharp note of concern in Lettie’s voice. “Yes?” She was unaware of the soft note of compassion on her own tone.

“You have not tasted your breakfast.” Lettie smiled. “The cook will be most unhappy if the tray is returned to the kitchen untouched.”

Would the cook be beaten? Alycia clamped her lips together to contain the impulsive question. Comforting herself by repeating that it was all a dream, Alycia smiled wanly and lifted the cover from the tray. “What is it?” she asked, frowning at a small dish.

“Indeed, the blow you suffered to your head has confused you, mistress, if you cannot recognize a shirred egg and toasted bread,” Lettie answered.

“Well, I recognized the bread,” Alycia muttered, gazing at the two thick slices of obviously homemade bread, which had been toasted to a golden brown. Into her mind leaped an image of the crude metal toasting rack she had examined on a previous visit to the historic area. “But I wasn’t sure about the egg,” she hedged, picking up a spoon and dipping it into the dish.

“But, mistress,” Lettie said, frowning. “Do you not eat shirred eggs in your home in Philadelphia?”

Philadelphia? Alycia tasted the egg while pondering the question. Was she supposedly from Philadelphia? More to the point, who, exactly, was she supposed to be? she wondered, dipping the spoon into the dish again; the egg was really very tasty.

“Ah ... umm ... our cook is temporary, and not very expert,” Alycia replied, asking a silent forgiveness of Karla, who did most of the cooking at home. A sinking sensation mingled with the bite of bread Alycia swallowed. Karla and home seemed far away as the dream appeared more and more real. Her appetite gone, Alycia replaced the uneaten bread on the tray and gave Lettie a faint smile. “Please tell the cook I said it was delicious,” she said. “But I cannot eat another bite.”

“I will relay your compliments,” Lettie promised, then gestured toward a dainty teapot. “But surely you will have some tea?”

Alycia eyed the pot with obvious distaste. “I think not. One cup of the stuff was sufficient, thank you.”

Lettie’s burst of laughter was rich and full. “I vow, the herb brew is foul tasting, but there is no need for you to fear.” Her laughter subsided into a soft smile. “That pot contains the finest English breakfast tea.”

“Oh, well, in that case ...” Returning the older woman’s smile, Alycia lifted the quilted tea cozy from the pot and poured a narrow stream of the steaming tea into the delicate cup on the tray. As she stirred a half-teaspoon of sugar into the brew, she stared at the tray in consternation.
“You
should have brought two cups, Lettie,” she said absently. “Then you could have joined me.” Alycia glanced up at the sound of the woman’s sharply indrawn breath. “We could share this one,” she offered, holding the cup out in invitation.

“Mistress Alice!” Lettie stared at her in horror. “I... I could not...”

Alycia gazed at Lettie quizzically as her voice faded. “You could not what?”

Somewhat like a fish stranded on land, Lettie opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again, but no sound came out for several seconds. When at last she did manage to speak, it was in a high squawk. “I cannot drink from your cup!”

“Why not?” Alycia demanded. “I don’t have anything contagious! I’m injured, not diseased!”

Openmouthed and wide-eyed, Lettie stared at Alycia in shocked stupefaction. When she did finally find her voice it was shaky with amazement. “Diseased? Oh, dear Lord! Mistress, I did not mean to imply—

“Then what did you mean?” Alycia asked impatiently.

“Mistress,” Lettie moaned. “I dare not touch my lips to your cup! You are my lady’s niece. A white woman!”

Oh, God! The dawn broke in Alycia’s mind, showering her with enlightenment and mortification. By chatting in her usual gregarious way, she had, however innocently, committed a breach of social etiquette. Was it any wonder the woman was shocked? In an attempt to ease the sudden tension, Alycia rushed into an apology.