Manfred blinked, swaying a little
on his knees, but answered readily enough.
Oh. Thats Fraulein Berrisch. Pastor Berrischs sister.
Inga and Hilda made little cooing sounds of interest; Lizzie frowned a little, but then relaxed, seeing her father tilt back his head to address the newcomer; Fraulein Berrisch was nearly as tall as Brianna herself.
Well, that explains why shes still a Fraulein, Brianna thought with sympathy. The womans hair was streaked with gray, where it showed beneath her cap, and she had a rather plain face, though her eyes held a calm sweetness.
Oh, a Protestant, then, Lizzie said, in a dismissive tone that made it clear that the Fraulein could hardly be considered as a potential mate for her father.
Aye, but shes a nice woman, for a that. Come and dance, Elizabeth. Manfred had clearly lost any interest in Mr. Wemyss and the Fraulein; he pulled Lizzie, protesting, to her feet, and propelled her toward the circle of dancers. She went reluctantly, but Brianna saw that by the time they had reached the dance, Lizzie was laughing at something Manfred had said, and he was smiling down at her, the firelight glowing on the handsome planes of his face. They were a nice-looking couple, she thought, better-matched in appearance than Senga and her Heinrichwho was tall, but spindly and rather hatchet-faced.
Inga and Hilda had begun arguing with each other in German, allowing Brianna to devote herself to the wholehearted consumption of the excellent supper. Hungry as she was, she would have enjoyed almost anything, but the tart, crisp sauerkraut and the sausages, bursting with juice and spices, were a rare treat.
It was only as she wiped the last of the juice and grease from her wooden plate with a chunk of corn bread that she cast a glance at the coopers shop, thinking guiltily that she ought perhaps to have saved some for Roger. He was so kind, taking thought for poor Ronnies feelings. She felt a rush of pride and affection for him. Maybe she should go over there and rescue him.
She had put down her plate and was sorting out her skirts and petticoats, in preparation for putting this plan into action, when she was forestalled by a pair of small figures who came weaving out of the darkness.
Jem? she said, startled. Whats the matter?
The flames gleamed on Jemmys hair like freshly minted copper, but the face under it was white, and his eyes enormous dark pools, fixed and staring.
Jemmy!
He turned a blank face to her, said Mama? in a small, uncertain voice, then sat down suddenly, his legs collapsing under him like rubber bands.
She was dimly aware of Germain, swaying like a sapling in a high breeze, but had no attention to spare for him. She seized Jemmy, lifting his head and shaking him a little.
Jemmy! Wake up! Whats wrong?
The wee laddies dead drunk, a nighean, said a voice above her, sounding amused. Whatever have ye been givin him? Robin McGillivray, rather obviously a little the worse for wear himself, leaned over and prodded Jemmy gently, eliciting nothing more than a soft gurgle. He picked up one of Jemmys arms, then let it go; it fell, boneless as a strand of boiled spaghetti.
I didnt give him anything, she replied, panic giving way to a rising annoyance, as she saw that Jemmy was in fact merely asleep, his small chest rising and falling with a reassuring rhythm. Germain!
Germain had subsided into a small heap, and was singing Alouette to himself in a dreamy sort of way. Brianna had taught it to him; it was his favorite song.
Germain! What did you give Jemmy to drink?
jte plumerai la tete
Germain! She grabbed him by the arm, and he ceased singing, looking surprised to see her.
What did you give Jemmy, Germain?
He was thirsty, mdame, Germain said, with a smile of surpassing sweetness. He wanted a drink. Then his eyes rolled back in his head, and he keeled over backward, limp as a dead fish.
Oh, Jesus Christ on a piece of toast!
Inga and Hilda looked shocked, but she was in no mood to worry about their sensibilities.
Where the bloody hell is Marsali?
Shes no here, Inga said, bending forward to inspect Germain. She stopped at hame wi the wee maedchen. Fergus is She straightened up, looking vaguely round. Well, I saw him a while ago.
Whats the trouble? The hoarse voice at her shoulder surprised her, and she turned to find Roger looking quizzical, his face relaxed from its usual sternness.
Your son is a drunkard, she informed him. Then she caught a whiff of Rogers breath. Following in his fathers footsteps, I see, she added coldly.
Disregarding this, Roger sat down beside her and gathered Jemmy
up into his lap. Holding the little boy propped against his knees, he patted Jemmys cheek, gently but insistently.
Hallo there, Mej, he said softly. Hallo, then. Yere all right, are ye?
Like magic, Jemmys eyelids floated up. He smiled dreamily at Roger.
Hallo, Daddy. Still smiling beatifically, his eyes closed and he relaxed into utter limpness, cheek flattened against his fathers knee.