Chapter 7

“Aren’t you going to greet your mother?”

His mother hadn’t changed. Zelpher expected that, but it was still a disappointment.

“Hello, Mother,” Zelpher greeted dutifully from the living room doorway.

Little had altered about the house. When he’d come upon it after seeing Elsia home, a knot tightened inside his chest as he gazed upon the structure.

Like most of the houses, it was humble, a thing his mother had detested as she fought to live above the standard of her neighbors. Surveying it, he saw it needed work done, but his father would have catered to his mother’s wishes and bought a new bonnet before fixing a leaky roof.

“If I can’t live in luxury,” he remembered his mother saying as a small boy, “then I’ll look as if I do.”

For Mrs. Dinah Knight, appearances were everything.

He could see evidence of that as she sat in what he’d always considered her throne chair. An ornate Queen Anne chair that sat high. It gave her the regal poise and posture she sought to exude whenever she had visitors come to the house.

Even if that visitor was her son.

Truthfully, he couldn’t fault her for she indeed looked queenly. His eyes drifted over the white muslin dress, its full skirt cleverly ornamented with rows of small tucks distanced from each other in circular bands. A forest green silk jacket, tightly fitted to her slender waist, bore a row of gold buttons. A lace chemisette gave her a modest, decorative neckline while her hair, black as midnight, styled in the center-parted variation of the day, gleamed in the light.

Yes, this was Dinah Knight. Elegant, beautiful, and useless.

“Have you met Armine?”

“I am afraid I haven’t, seeing as I have just arrived.”

Dinah let it pass. “Say hello.”

She nodded to her feet. In the small basket, a mass of hair moved and turned. “Is that a dog, Mother?”

“It certainly isn’t a horse, is it?”

Ignoring her caustic tone, Zelpher came into the living room.

“You may kiss me.”

His lips twisted. “I am glad I have your permission.” He came forward and kissed her on her pale cheek. A pleasant lavender scent wafted from her.

“I’m glad you’ve come home, Zelpher. Your father will be pleased to see you.”

A single brow lifted. “Will he, Mother? Or, is that wishful thinking on your part?”

Dinah’s lips pressed into a white slash. “Must you be as uncouth as Sebro?”

“I see.”

And he really did. His mother had sent for Elsia to bring him home, not his father.

Zelpher sighed dejectedly. The sooner he saw his father, the sooner he could leave. “Where is he?”

“Mrs. Halley is seeing to his care now. Once she’s finished, you’ll be able to say hello.”

“What do we know about Mrs. Halley?”

Not that he didn’t trust the woman his mother hired from one of the employment agencies to attend to his father’s nursing needs. He just wondered if it was necessary.

“Enough to know she can care adequately for him.”

Zelpher let it pass. Dinah would never soil herself with certain details, both physical and mental. But, from what Elsia had told him, Mrs. Halley seemed competent in her ministrations to his father.

“Your room is ready.”

“I’m not staying here, Mother.”

She blinked. “You must stay here.”

Zelpher shook his head. “I cannot.” Wearily, he sat down on the settee. “Father hasn’t changed his mind about my chosen profession.”

He almost stated, “neither have I,” but stopped himself before he did.

“Zelpher, you know you must stay. Bristol needs you to handle the shop.”

The shop! Of course, the shop.

Rubbing his temples as a sudden, pounding headache came upon him, he asked, “Didn’t Father find an apprentice in my time away?”

“I dissuaded him from doing so. You are his son, and you are the one to take it over. Should, God forbid, something happen to your father.”

“Mother, I may not stay.”

Dinah’s clear eyes stared from where she sat in her throne chair. He’d always found her eyes a strange part of her anatomy. They had the propensity to change color based on her mood. Or match with her dresses. Right now, they were a hard green.

“Three years, Zelpher. It’s time for this nonsense to end.”

“My acting has never been nonsense, Mother.”

“It’s disgraceful and well you know it.”

He slanted a look at her. “It wasn’t disgraceful when you sought for all of us to pretend—”

“I believe Meester Knight is doin’ better.”

The lilting, accented voice of a woman cut into the conversation like a knife. Zelpher stood as a little Irish woman came into the living room.

She had a wealth of dark hair, messily pulled back from her face. Dark eyes met his own, with narrow nose and thin lips. Gaunt in her physical face and body as most Irish were when they arrived. Despite that, he found her arresting in an odd fashion.

Though neat in appearance, her dress was an obvious castoff of fashions several years old. Dinah would have suffered an apoplexy if she’d ever worn anything so dated. The floral pattern had faded away, the sleeves edged with several dangled threads, and the hem dark with ingrained dirt and grime from the streets.

“Mrs. Halley, this is my son, Zelpher Knight.”

“Oh, is it now? I remember ye sayin’ he was comin’.” The women’s dark eyes widened. She gave a quick curtsy. “Pleasure.”

“You said my father was doing better, Mrs. Halley?”

“Yes, yes. His breathin’s not too bad, not like what it was yesterday. My mum’s remedy can cure the plague, let me tell ya.”

“Is that so?” She seemed a friendly woman.

“Oh yeah, Meester Knight. Whenever we got sick, it cleared it right up.”

“Mrs. Halley and I met at your father’s shop, Zelpher,” Dinah said with a gracious smile. “She needed some things, and we began to talk. It’s been a marvelous association.”

“Oh, look at ye, now, Mrs. Knight. It’s me bein’ grateful to ye for yer help. Without ya, my Brendan wouldna gotten the job at the factory. May the Holy Virgin bless ye much, Mrs. Knight.”

Now Zelpher knew why his mother had allowed the woman to care for his father and let her be a part of her life.

Dinah hated she could not live the life she wanted to, and this Irish woman, who was even poorer than herself, made her feel superior. For the first time since he’d been alive, she was above a certain class of people.

If it were the starving, poor Irish who were coming to New York to escape the famine in their land, so be it.

The chatter went on for a moment, and then, at Dinah’s request, because, of course, she wanted to appear to be the queen she supposed she was, she ordered Zelpher to see Mrs. Halley to the door.

“Yer mother is a saint, Meester Knight. A blessed saint from the Virgin herself.”

Zelpher supposed the woman thought she was speaking in low tones, but he knew Dinah could hear everything even though they were in the small foyer of the house.

He’d no desire to feed his mother’s vanity, imagining that behind the wall that concealed the living room, Dinah preened at the praise of the little Irish woman.

“You’re very kind, Mrs. Halley. And let me add that sainthood goes both ways. It is a balm to my heart to know you are caring for my father.”

The woman’s gaunt pale face flushed with a delicate color. He supposed if Mrs. Halley had been healthier of body, she would have appeared almost pretty.

When Zelpher returned to the living room, he said, “She seems like a delight, Mother.”

“Oh she, the poor dear. What strange religion she has.” Dinah shook her head. “However, one must allow the poor to accept whatever it is that makes them happy in their circumstances.”