59

The Daroga died a month later. Katrina and Darius found a cemetery that would care for his grave even when they could not.

The service was less than simple, but the minister was kind, and Harry made sure that the two friends beside the grave had as little as possible to fret over.

It was a severe blow to Darius. Most of his life had been spent in service to the Persian, and he was at a loss. For a time, Katrina feared that she would lose him as well.

However, at the time Harry had done all the work he could do and the wagon was ready to return to Kingston, Darius was willing to leave the master he had loved like a brother.

It was a somber group that returned to Mrs. Jenkins'. Even George had the sense to keep his questions and lectures to himself.

Mrs. Jenkins bustled around them, making sure everyone, particularly Darius, was comfortable. Katrina helped the landlady put up a cot in the pantry until one of the empty rooms could be readied for the old man. Katrina allowed him the use of her bed, and slept downstairs.

Over time, Darius became more and more at ease with his new state of life. He began helping in the garden, or doing odd jobs at the theater. He seemed to enjoy raising chickens, running errands and repairing things. He had never had an opportunity for outdoor work, and it was restoring some of his interest and health.

Katrina and Clara took turns watching over the servant, and would compare notes. One afternoon while walking to the store, they did so again.

"He's recovered nicely, though I think he'll always greave for his master." Clara said. "I think, though, he's not entirely sorry to have come with you."

Katrina gave her a puzzled look. "How do you mean?"

"Mrs. Jenkins." When that didn't clear things up, Clara sighed and smiled knowingly. "He's going to court her before the season's out. Neither of them are young anymore, and neither of them would like to be alone."

Katrina mulled the idea over, and admitted that it was a possibility. "But would that not cause talk?"

"Something tells me neither one cares if it does. Mrs. Jenkins for sure won't. From what you've told me of his master's work, Darius put up with a lot of embarrassment over the years."

"Inconvenient was the word I used, but I see what you mean."

They walked a moment in silence. Clara glanced around thoughtfully. "When are the theater masterminds heading for their buying trip?"

"Three weeks. We'll work towards Boston, so that Monsieur Jones can see his family. We should be back before summer…that is what George says." Katrina shook her head. "He is very different from his cousin. Fergus is…sterner, less…"

"Less George." Clara finished. "Not all families have similarity between them. What of yours? Surly they are not all alike?"

"Not alike, no. But there is a similar feel to them."

They entered the store, made their purchases, and walked back languidly. As they entered the little house, they found Grubb, Carl, George and Harry all seated before Darius and Mrs. Jenkins. The girls looked at each other, and then at the group before them. Katrina tried not to laugh and failed.

"I think that you gave them too much time, Clara. By season's end? No, by tonight!"

Clara was not one to give over to hilarity, but even she could not help laughing at the serious faces turned to them. Every time they neared the end of their laugher, they would see the puzzled looks and start again. Katrina sat on the floor and rubbed Tomino's face in her hands. "Yes, by tonight!"

It was true.

Darius and Mrs. Jenkins, now Mrs. Simon, had paid a visit to the rector that morning and tied the knot. They were waiting for the girls to return before springing the news.

Clara was still laughing, even as she helped make a small wedding supper for the group that night. "Ah, Katrina did not see it coming, and I did. But Katrina, she see's that it's done first! I never would have known that was what had happened so quickly."

"You observe some things, I others." Katrina eyed the cake she had iced dubiously. "I cannot do this. I should not have tried."

"It isn't so bad. Make more icing and cover it with a second layer. They'll forgive you. Besides, you can cook frogs' legs."

"They do not have to be as delightful to look at as a wedding cake."

Clara stuck her finger to the cake, ran it clear around leaving behind a furrow in the frosting. She licked the sugar off her hand and smiled at Katrina's chagrinned gaze. "Do it, it'll make you feel better."

Knowing it would be silly to argue, Katrina did so, and began to make more icing to hide their taste test.

It was a happy group that ate and laughed together that night.

When the time came for them to go towards Boston, no one was surprised that Darius chose to stay behind with his new wife.

They worked their way along slowly, since they needed few items, and price usually dictated what they purchased. Many nights were spent simply watching plays or concerts, observing what each theater did, what worked and what failed.

Katrina was able to see more than the others, as she had a good idea of what when on behind the wings. She could see who was jealous of whom, who hid their anger or exhaustion behind an elaborate smile. Yes, there was always a side to the show that few understood as well as she did.

Yet, Harry glanced over to ask her something at one point, and found her engrossed in the story. He poked George, and they both watched her. She looked very young then, wrapped up in a moment, just like the children seated on the other side of her.

When they reached Boston, they toured the sights they had agreed upon, and went to the outlying home where the Jones family held sway.

It was not far from the city, but it seemed as though it was. Trees and fields surrounded it, there was a creek a short walk behind the house, and the group of dogs that ran baying to greet them never seemed to end. The horses didn't enjoy it, but calmed when Harry stepped down to handle the hounds.

"Hey! Isn't there anyone home?" He boomed, "I say, nothing for a weary traveler?"

A line of children ran out, oldest to youngest. The little ones had no idea who the great stranger before them was, but the others were glad to see him, and so they were too. Then a row of adults came out, calling greetings and waving. The two young women carried babies.

George and Katrina climbed down, waiting until the family had said their hellos and Harry motioned them forward. They were introduced to the grandparents, the elder Mr. and Mrs. Jones, and Mr. and Mrs. Sanfeild. Harry's parents were Mr. and Mrs. Jones the second. The children Mr. and Mrs. Jones the third, and Mr. and Mrs. Hopkins. The nieces and nephews wouldn't stand still long enough to be named.

Katrina looked around the house as they were ushered in. It was large, all white outside, and all wooden walls or flower papered inside. The furniture was a mish-mash of the families' items, and a few newer pieces that had found their way in.

Tea was rapidly made and served on a back porch, shaded by the awning and large trees. The children wolfed down theirs, and ran over the grass, yelling and racing the dogs. The men gathered at one end of the porch, the women at the other. Katrina said little, feeling suddenly self-conscious about her accent. At some point, one little toddler came over, and clambered up into her lap. She had red hair, freckles, and brilliant blue eyes.

Katrina allowed the child to play with her locket. When the little girl opened it up, she saw two faces and looked up expectantly. "Mama, Papa," Katrina answered, pointing to each face in turn. The child leaned back against her chest and studied the faces closely.

"That's Bernice." Said Grandmother Sanfeild. "She's trouble, or will be."

"Mother!" Mrs. Jones cried, coloring.

"She's a red head. They are always trouble." She folded her wrinkled hands knowingly. "She likes you, never goes to anyone else."

Katrina smiled down at Bernice. "Bernice is a good name. Often goes with yellow hair, yes?"

"I never thought of that," Grandmother Jones said. She was a tiny thing, and gentle as a kitten. "Perhaps the name will mitigate all that bad luck you say she has, Edna."

Grandmother Sanfeild snorted. "We'll see."

"We each have our own superstitions, I'm afraid." Mrs. Jones muttered.

"No need to apologize." Katrina said. Bernice closed the locket and left to make flower dolls. "I miss children."

"You had children?" Grandmother Sanfeild asked bluntly, but not cruelly.

"No, but I had younger cousins. I was in charge of them often."

"A large family?" It was Harry's sister, Mrs. Hopkins. She cradled her newborn as if it weighed nothing, though it had been said often it was all of twelve pounds.

Katrina looked around and smiled. "Like yours? No, not large at all."

The Jones family insisted they stay on for a few days. The few days stretched into a week, and Katrina was beginning to feel at home.

Each evening was spent on the back porch, talking, rocking in chairs and sipping tea. It was a serene time, and even George was pleasant to their hosts.

It was the Friday evening after their arrival that they were once again on the porch, the children playing in the grass.

Katrina was trying to explain something about theater to Harry's sister, when all the kids ran up to them looking uneasy.

"There's someone out there." An older boy said, pointing.

Sure enough, a slender figure robed in black stood there. Before anyone could react, Katrina was down the steps.

"No, oh no. Sarah?"

The girl sobbed and threw herself at her cousin. "Katrina, I didn't know where else to go. I'm sorry. I went to Kingston, but Darius said you had come here."

"Katrina, who is it?" someone called.

Sarah shrank back, and pulled her hood closer. "I should not have come. I should not have come."

Katrina grabbed her arms. "Don't you dare, you tell me what's wrong this instant."

"It's Papa, I think he's dying." Sarah began to cry, and buried her yellow face in Katrina's shoulder.