Birdie's Nest Read online

  “Flabby arms? Who’s going to see those anyway?”

  “Your husband.”

  Dolly blushed scarlet and giggled. “Oh.”

  The married women laughed and Dolly’s group twittered, the sound very similar to the chatter of hens in a chicken coop. Oddly enough, Birdie now knew what the sound was like. She’d been to the hen house with Maybelle to collect eggs on occasion.

  “And,” said Birdie, “You might want to wear an evening gown with very short sleeves.”

  Nods and expressions of agreement filtered throughout the ladies.

  Birdie held up a hand and they quieted. “The most important thing is you’ll surprise your attacker with your strength. If you’re ever attacked, which I pray never happens, the person will realize that, though you’re a woman, you’re not weak and helpless. That little surprise will give you an advantage.”

  She picked up her bags. “Now, another round of ten lifts each arm.” Groans and laughs echoed around the room as they heaved the ten-pound bags to shoulder height. The ladies had started with bricks and had progressed to bags filled with rocks.

  After lifting weights, Birdie checked their walking journals.

  Julie, a young redhead announced. “It’s hard to walk fast wearing a corset and my mama won’t let me leave the house without one.”

  This had been one of Birdie’s stiffest hurdles. “I think we need to have a meeting with the mothers of all you single young ladies. Maybe I can express to them how important your exercise is and perhaps convince them of the advantages of being able to breathe during exercises.” At their classes, they loosened their corsets giving them a little more freedom.

  “Who’ll organize a tea for us?”

  “Oh, let me, Birdie,” said Julie. “Mama will be thrilled to have you visit.”

  “Wonderful. Do you think Thursday morning be agreeable with your mother?”

  “I believe so.” Face radiant, she clapped her hands and twirled to face the others. “This will be so much fun.” She turned back to Birdie. But I don’t think we should exclude the married ladies.”

  Birdie smacked her forehead. “What am I thinking? Of course not, everyone is invited. If your mother doesn’t mind, we’ll all meet, say at 10:00.” To Birdie’s thinking, it would at least be cooler then. Of course, this was Texas and they might have a cold front blow in. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?

  “Let’s be sure everyone has your address.”

  “Oh that’s not necessary. Mama will send out invitations.”

  Okay, thought Birdie. Shows how much I know about throwing a tea party in 1890. “Wonderful, but if for some reason your mother isn’t up to this, get a message to Mrs. Hellman and she’ll let me know.”

  The following morning, a man on horseback delivered Birdie’s invitation to tea from Mrs. Wallace, Julie’s mother. Olivia and Bethany received one also. Thrilled to have been included in the outing, Bethany rushed to her room to decide what she’d wear.

  On Thursday, Birdie strode up the stairs and studied the new corset lying on her bed. She shuddered at the thought of being tied up in the torture device. Olivia insisted Birdie buy a new one as her old one was out of style. This one was shorter but it appeared the lacing could be pulled even tighter.

  Birdie stripped and slipped the Moreno vest over her head. Whoever heard of wearing wool in Texas? Supposedly it kept the contraption from rubbing the skin, and it absorbed moisture. She snorted. Just like wool socks absorbed the sweat in boots and tennis shoes.

  She’d just stepped into her petticoats when Olivia tapped on the door. “You ready for me to lace you up?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Olivia slipped into the room and picked up the new corset. According to the older woman it was the latest fashion. “All right dear, first let’s get you laced into this bust supporter.” Birdie guessed it was as close to a bra as she’d get for now. Made of the same fabric as the corset, it had boning on each side.

  “Now, I can’t wait to see what the corset does for your figure.”

  “What’s wrong with my figure?”

  “Not a thing dear, but this will help hide some of those assets.” She pursed her lips at Birdie. “You know ladies do not draw attention to their anatomy.”

  You could’ve fooled her. What did women go to all this trouble for then? But then, it was the Victorian era and people had funny ideas about their bodies and their sexuality. “You know Birdie, most girls strive to have their waist measurement equal their age. And for the most part, want to marry before they turn twenty-one.”

  “Since I’m thirty-three, I don’t need to be laced as tightly as those girls.”

  “That’s not the way it works at your age. You want to remove as many inches as you can.”

  Birdie pulled air into her lungs and tried to hold it while Olivia tugged the straps of the corset. Olivia pinched Birdie’s underarm.

  She jerked her arm up. “Ouch! What was that for?”

  “So you’d breathe, my dear.” Olivia yanked again. “All right then, I’m finished.” She reached for the tape measure on the dresser and ran it around Birdie’s waist. “Excellent—twenty-three inches.”

  Birdie was glad the older woman was happy. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to gasp between words when she talked. She slipped the camisole over her head, and then the rose colored dress she’d purchased for the occasion. She didn’t realize it was possible to wear so many clothes at one time. Olivia buttoned it up and then stood back. She twirled her finger in the air, and Birdie slowly turned around. The sleeves puffed out from the shoulders, the waist formed a V ending just below the waistline, and the skirt had an A-line shape.

  “Perfect, absolutely perfect!” She motioned to the stool before the vanity and Birdie sat down. The woman was in her element. She lifted the matching hat from its box. “Now, let’s set it at a slight angle like this.” Just like Aunt Patty, Olivia used three hatpins to hold it in place. The memory of that day, when her life had been simple, brought tears to Birdie’s eyes. Please Lord, I pray Aunt Patty is okay.

  Olivia squeezed Birdie’s shoulder. “Lovely, my dear. The color is perfect for you and the hat isn’t too fussy, is it?”

  At least it only had one flower and no plumes. She shook her head and brushed away the tears. No need to upset Olivia. “It’s perfect, just the right size.”

  The older woman beamed. “Wonderful. Now, give me about fifteen minutes, and I’ll join you and Bethany downstairs in the parlor. Tad has agreed to drop us off and take care of some business while in town.”

  Birdie picked up her parasol and little handbag as she exited the room. The small heels on her shoes were quiet against the carpeted treads of the stairs as she descended, the swish of her skirts the only noise. Tad sat in the parlor in a comfortable chair reading a newspaper. He glanced up when she walked in and leapt to his feet.

  “Birdie!”

  “I’m sorry if I disturbed you. Go back to reading your paper.”

  He crossed the room and took her hand. “You are lovely.”

  She wanted to chastise him for foolish flattery, but the heat in his eyes indicated he meant his words. “Well, thank you. It’s the clothes. But, I must say, I’m terribly uncomfortable. Not to mention, if I keep spending money on clothes I won’t be able to buy the land I want.”

  Tad led her over to the sofa. “Sit down.” He cleared his throat and perched on the other end. “I’d like to talk to you about something.” She noticed he still held her hand and moved to pull it back, but he covered it with his other hand.

  “Sure, what is it?”

  “I'm going to court you, Birdie... until you say you'll marry me.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Her mouth fell open, and then she snapped it shut. She frowned and yanked her hands from beneath his. “No, you're not!”

  “Why not?”

  “Why would you want to court me? I’m not marriage material, not at all like the ladies you’re used to.”
/>   He’d tried to talk himself out of being interested in her. In truth, he wasn’t looking forward to settling down, but if he waited too long someone else would snatch her up. “Why would I not? You’re beautiful.” He touched her knee. “By the way, I love this color on you. Plus, I like the fact that you’re not slapping my face for putting my hand on your knee.”

  “So, you think I’m a loose woman.” She drew herself up and shot him a steely glare.

  He jerked his hand back. “No, not at all, and I meant no disrespect. It’s just that I admire you, enjoy being with you, and I don’t think you could ever bore me.”

  She looked down at her dress and the parasol across her lap. “Don’t you see, I’m just playing a part here in this time period. This is not me.”

  “I don’t care. I like you just as well in those dungarees I see you wearing when you run in the mornings.”

  A grin tilted the corner of her mouth. “Really?”

  “Yes, really. Now, it does kind of rankle me that you can probably outshoot me.”

  She chuckled and tapped him on the knee with her umbrella. “It does not. I don’t see you as a man needing a weak woman to reinforce his masculinity.”

  Her comment was just another reason why she interested him. Maybe he’d been born in the wrong era. He might have fit just fine in hers.

  “What about love? You don’t love me. I admit I admire you, Tad, but I’m not in love with you.”

  Well shoot, that hurt, but it was honest. He couldn’t say he loved her, either.

  “As we get to know each other better, hopefully love will come.” He winked. “Without a doubt, I’m attracted to you. Have been since the first time I saw you.”

  “To be honest, I find you attractive too.”

  His heart leaped. This was going better than he thought. He leaned in closer and slipped a hand behind her head. “Let’s see if there is a physical spark between us.”

  Almost nose-to-nose, they studied each other for a moment. He closed his eyes and breathed in the hint of lilac that blended with her fresh scent. Her lips touched his and sampled. Unprepared for the contact, he jerked back. Those delicious lips twitched and he swooped in to claim them, softly at first. His hunger grew and he explored and deepened the kiss. When her hand clasped the back of his head, he knew the sparks were there, an inferno hiding beneath.

  “Ahem…sorry to interrupt, but we must be on our way.”

  They jerked apart to see his mother and Bethany at the doorway. Bethany’s eyes were round in surprise. He could tell his mother wanted to clap in delight, but she restrained herself and cheerfully called, “Come along, children.”

  * * *

  Olivia insisted Birdie sit up front with Tad while she and Bethany sat in the back. No doubt about it, the woman was matchmaking. As they left the yard, she tapped Birdie on the shoulder. “Keep your parasol up, dear. You don’t want to get sunburned.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Birdie flipped it open and positioned it over the hat.

  Tad chuckled. Voice low, he leaned toward her. “I can imagine what’s going on in Mother’s mind right now. She’s probably planning the wedding.”

  She hissed, “Hush! You better set her straight. A kiss does not mean we’re courting and it certainly doesn’t mean we’re getting married.”

  “I didn’t ask you to marry me.” He grinned. “I said I intended to court and marry you.”

  Heat rose in her face. “Thank you for correcting me on your intentions.”

  He sobered. “I thought you enjoyed our kiss.”

  “I did. Very much, but it wasn’t a commitment.” She glanced sideways and added. “It won’t be happening again.”

  Olivia called from the back. “What are you two whispering about up there?”

  “Nothing in particular, Mother. Just passing the time.”

  Tad pulled the buggy up in front of a beautiful Grecian style home and helped them down. “How long before I should be back to pick you up?”

  Birdie turned to Olivia. “I’d say an hour and a half would be about right, don’t you think, Olivia?”

  “Yes, I do.” She took Birdie’s arm. “Come along, dear.” Bethany was left to follow them up the stone walkway.

  Julie met them at the door and made the introductions. Mrs. Wallace was a broader version of her daughter and sported the same red hair, toned down with a few strands of gray.

  “Olivia, it’s so nice to see you again.” She turned to Birdie. “Miss Braxton, I’m anxious to hear what you have to share with us today.”

  “Please, call me Birdie. Thank you for inviting us into your home for this meeting. I know there will be many questions which I hope to answer to everyone’s satisfaction.”

  “Yes, well, refreshments first.” She took Olivia’s arm and led her to the dining room. Birdie followed.

  A long table covered in a white lace cloth bore a variety of sweets and tea sandwiches. Birdie had attended enough social events with Aunt Patty to know how to conduct herself. She’d been told the knowledge would come in handy one day. Who knew it’d be in 1890?

  She carried her plate with one finger sandwich, one cookie, and a cup of tea into the parlor. Being careful to not spill anything, she eased into one of the chairs and laid her napkin across her knees. Most of the women knew each other and chatted in small groups. Though they glanced her way and smiled, no one engaged her in idle chitchat. Maybe they weren’t comfortable with her yet.

  Birdie glanced around for Bethany. She’d found several friends and the girls sat

  outside on the patio. French doors opened off the parlor allowing guests to spill outside if necessary.

  No sooner had she finished with the snack when a maid appeared. “May I get you something else, miss?”

  “No, but thank you.”

  “Let me take those for you then.”

  Mrs. Wallace stood. Slowly the chatter died away. “Ladies, I believe it’s time for Miss Braxton to speak.” She held a hand out and Birdie joined her. “Birdie, I believe if you stand here behind this chair, everyone can see you.”

  Birdie took her place and looked out at the expectant faces. The girls smiled; their mamas did not. Hopefully, what she had to say would soften the expression on their faces. She nodded to their hostess. “Thank you, Mrs. Wallace, for opening your home to us for the occasion and for the delicious refreshments.” Birdie joined the ladies in a round of applause. Mrs. Wallace nodded graciously.

  “I understand that image and decorum in dress is very important to you ladies. You want your daughters to remain in good standing in the community and not be shunned for improper behavior or manner of dress.” Heads bobbed in agreement. “I know it was hard for some of you to allow your girls to attend my classes, afraid they’d become boyish in behavior. I hope your fears have been put to rest in that department.” A few yeses and nods reassured Birdie and she continued. “As you know, the heart is a muscle that pumps blood to the lungs to obtain oxygen and then that blood travels to all parts of the body giving cells fuel. For the heart to operate properly during exercise, the lungs need to be able to fully expand and supply oxygen to cells.”

  She placed her hands on her abdomen and drew in as deep a breath as she could, and exhaled. “As you see, wearing this corset, I can’t fully fill my lungs. If I tried to exercise in this I’d become fatigued quickly, maybe even feel faint. I want your daughters to be strong. To become so, they need exercise. Brisk walking exercises the heart and the lungs as well as toning the legs, abdomen.” She patted her butt, or tried to through the many layers of petticoats and skirt. “And other parts of the anatomy.” Twitters and laughter rang through the room.

  “I’m asking that you allow your daughters to take their brisk walks without wearing a corset. If they need support, bust supporters will help, or I know some of you ladies can create something that would work. And girls, perhaps to appease your mothers you could wear a shirt of some kind, like a smock, that covers your torso.”

  Julie
raised her hand. “But it’s so hot out. That’s just one more layer to wear.”

  “Yes, but it will be more comfortable than the corset. And, if you get up early, it will be much cooler.”

  Mrs. White stood. Birdie had seen her drop Dolly off for class. “I want to know where they can walk safely. It’s unseemly for them to walk briskly down the public streets.”

  “An excellent point, ma’am. I think we need a committee, one that can find a place where the girls can walk without being stared at and are safe. Who would like to chair such a group?”

  “I will.” Mrs. White raised her hand.

  “Excellent. Choose a couple of ladies who’d like to help you.” Another thought entered Birdie’s mind. “I just want to mention that bicycling is also excellent exercise and is becoming more popular with both men and ladies.”

  A groan echoed through the room. Birdie bit her cheek to keep from grinning. From their comments, the mamas didn’t want to see their daughters on the contraptions.

  “I must add, ladies, the bicycling outfits would be perfect for walking.” The volume of chatter rose. She held up a hand and the talk gradually ceased. “One last thing before we adjourn. I’ve explained my reasons behind the change in garments, but these young ladies are your daughters, and you must make the final decision as to what changes you’re willing to adopt.”

  She narrowed her eyes and glanced down at the younger set. “And girls, I ask that you respect your mother’s decision.”

  * * *

  Tad grinned as Birdie charged from the Wallace home like her tail was on fire. She hopped into the buggy before he could help her up. Mother and Bethany exited at a slower rate, chatting with friends as they walked toward him. “Tough morning?”

  “It wasn’t bad, but I’m not accustomed to chit-chat, especially in this blasted corset.”

  “But…but it makes your figure so womanly.” Good grief, what was he doing talking about her figure, especially to her. Mother would have his hide.

  She shot him an irritated glance. “You wouldn’t think so if you had to be rigged up in this torture device.”