“What do you think you’re doing?” asked a woman from the doorway. “Miss Regan!” she shouted over her shoulder.
When Regan arrived, Leah was struggling with the woman to be allowed out of bed. “Sally, that will be all.”
“You don’t know what her kind’s like,” the maid said, sniffing, pushing at Leah’s shoulders.
Regan drew herself up. “Sally!” she commanded. “Out of this room and I’ll speak to you later.” When she was gone, Regan turned to Leah, who was again trying to sit up. “You must rest.”
“I have to see about the little ones. The old man’ll let them starve.”
Gently, but with force, Regan pushed Leah back into bed. “That’s all been taken care of. Travis and Clay went to your farm and got all your brothers and sisters and they’re being placed in people’s homes. As for your father, no one’s seen him in weeks, not since he…came to church. Right now all you have to do is rest, eat, and get well. When you’re better, you can see your family. Ah, here’s the food.”
Leah was bewildered when a prettily painted wooden tray laden with food was placed over her legs.
“I didn’t know what you’d like so I ordered a variety,” Regan said, lifting domed silver lids to show fragrant, hot food.
“I…” Leah stammered.
Regan patted her hand. “Eat as much as you can and enjoy it, then I want you to sleep. We’re going to fatten you up before we set to work. The chamber pot’s under the bed.” With that Regan left the room.
Leah tore into the food with both hands, eating as she always did—as fast as she could. She was unaware of the flecks of food she splashed on the bed hangings. When she finished, she used the chamber pot and emptied it out the window, just as she had at home. Scratching, she went back to bed and slept, missing Travis’s furor when he heard what Leah had done with the contents of the chamber pot.
For ten days Leah did nothing but rest and eat and, as her scratches and bruises finished healing, Regan looked at her in speculation. Regan had told Leah about Wesley’s leaving for Kentucky, pretending that it was something he’d intended to do all along.
Leah learned to leave the chamber pot for a maid, but she never had the courage to leave the bedroom. She sat at the window and looked out at the acres of buildings that went with Travis’s plantation, saw the hundreds of people moving about their jobs, and she began to feel restless.
“When am I gonna start that work you mentioned?” she asked Regan.
Regan took Leah’s chin in her hand and studied her face in the sunlight. The bruises were almost completely healed. “How about tomorrow morning?”
“Good.” Leah smiled. “You got anything I can wear? Somethin’ old,” she said, nodding toward Regan’s blue silk dress.
“I don’t think we’ll worry about your wardrobe yet,” she said thoughtfully. “Yes, I think we’ll start tomorrow if Nicole is available.” She gave Leah no time to ask questions. “I must go. There are so, so many preparations to make,” she said distractedly as she left the room.
When Leah woke the next morning, both Nicole and Regan were standing over her wearing worn, coarse dresses of muslin, their hair covered, and stern expressions on their faces.
“It’s not going to be easy,” Regan murmured. “Where do we start?”
“Body first, hair tomorrow.”
Before Leah could say a word, each woman grabbed an arm, pulled her from the bed, and led her out of the bedroom. Leah, while being half dragged, gazed about her in wonder at carpets, pictures, furniture of magnificence. They led her downstairs to a relatively plain room that was still beautiful compared to where she’d lived. “Is this gonna be my room? Wait a minute!” she gasped as Regan and Nicole practically tore the nightgown from her. She bent, struggling to cover her nude body. “You can’t—.”
“Get used to it, Leah,” Regan ordered, “because you won’t be wearing any clothes for a couple of days.”
“You have no right—,” she began, grabbing her gown from the floor.
“Get in!” Regan commanded, pointing to an enormous tub standing in the middle of the room.
Leah stood perfectly still where she was, holding her discarded gown before her.
Nicole took over. “Leah,” she said firmly. “You’re a Stanford now and with the name and the beautiful house go certain responsibilities. For one thing, you cannot sit at a dining table smelling worse than a mule, which you do right now. Therefore, Regan and I are going to devote the next few weeks—or months if need be—to making you into a Stanford. We’re going to clean you, cream you, mask you, and when that’s finished we’re going to tackle your grammar, your walk, your manners, and anything else that needs work.”
Leah looked from one woman to the other. “When you get through with me will I smell like you do? When Wesley comes back will he see me wearin’ a pretty dress?”
Regan and Nicole exchanged smiles. “A beautiful dress. Wesley will be proud to have you as his wife.”
Days later she wondered whether she would have gotten into that first tub of water if she’d had any idea what those two fiendish women had planned. She’d assumed they’d be happy with her clean skin, but Nicole clucked over her.
“This won’t do at all. Too many years of neglect.”