Ebony did stay to dinner; though, the look on her face showed that she had protested it earnestly. Jealousy grew stronger within the eldest lads' hearts as she took her place in the coveted chair which they all fought for. Yet, Copper strove against those feelings of envy and dislike.
With the woman there, Copernicus's mind went back to his past. Aunt May had been the loveliest lady he had ever known, and her memory had given him a feeling of respect toward women. It had been her sweetness and beauty which had made him build fantastic imaginations of his mother. It had been her influence which had caused him to regard even Mrs. Hannover with humble respect. Surely, he owed Ebony that same respect too. He gathered some chivalry and prepared to be kind to her.
All the other children attacked their meal in their usual manner. They tore the baked chicken limb from limb and plunged their dirty spoons into the gravy bowl. Ebony wanted to scream and run away. But instead, she clung to Mordechai tighter, terror-struck.
"Madame," Copper began politely, "I'll help you get whatever you'd like on your plate."
Ebony recoiled from him. "You think I would let you touch my plate?" she shrieked. Mordechai gave her hand a squeeze that seemed to bring her back to her senses. "That is...thank you, child; no."
"Our friend, Ebony, is not accustomed to our ways, my lad," Mordechai excused, seeing the cloud of offence on Copper's brow. "But fret not about that. She will soon get used to us and be as cheerful as anyone here. Won't you, precious?"
"Of course," the lady hissed through her teeth. Then she looked at Mordechai with a cringe, silently begging him for a way out of this awful situation.
"You wicked man, this was all a miserable joke, wasn't it?" she whispered to him.
"I gave you fair warning," he replied, speaking softly so the children couldn't hear.
"Fair warning? You told me that boys will be boys and to expect some lively behavior! You did not tell me that they would smell like sewer rats! And look at them with their dirty hands in everything! I tell you, I will not put a crumb from this table in my mouth!"
"Darling, darling, where is your faith in me?" Mordechai asked calmingly. "But of course, I did not expect you to eat along with these savages. Your own meal will come presently, and you will see that you are the first, the only thing, on my mind! Don't frown, beauty. You must make these boys adore you as I do."
She failed at that miserably. But her withering faith in Mordechai was restored part way when Bob emerged from the back rooms, surprisingly clean and tidy looking, with a china plate decked with sumptuous food. It was artfully displayed, as if it had come from the grandest restaurant in the world. And when Bob laid it on the table, he did it with a bow.
"I hope it is to your liking, Madame," he spoke. To the shock of all, his voice was clear and dignified.
"Hey Bob, when did you go all posh?" Gibbs blurted.
Bob gave a big shrug and shook his head. "I dunno, Boss," he answered, as amazed as the rest of them. "Seems I used t' say somefin' like that t' somebody important once. But blimey, I can't 'member who!" He left Ebony to pick tentatively at her meal. It was without doubt, her food was fit for a queen.
For the rest of the evening, the boys tried to understand the woman whom their father loved. But they couldn't. It was clear from the look in her eyes that she hated them, and yet she tried to feign some kindness. When any of them came near, she stuffed her hanky against her nose and looked at them with fear.
"What is it...darling?" she always spat. The "darling" was a forced afterthought.
It was little Ozzy who had come to her, and in his smudged brown face, his round eyes stared at her with sweetness. He was a dear, well-meaning child, hardly more than a baby. In fact, he was so young that he did nothing in the sewers but follow Gibbs around and play. But Ebony couldn't see his precious heart; she only saw his grime.
"What do you want? Why are you looking at me?" she asked suspiciously.
"I used to 'ave a Mummy," the little boy began wistfully. "An' she used t' sing t' me. Father says you sing, miss. Will you sing to me?" He smiled and almost grabbed her arm with his chubby fingers. Ebony jerked away.
"Sing to you?" she shrieked. "I couldn't sing in this place if my life depended on it! Get away from me rat—darling—whatever you are!" With tears springing up in his eyes, Ozzy ran away, wailing in sorrow.
All evening long, Ebony insulted or disappointed all fourteen of the boys. After dinner, she and Mordechai sat together on a sofa in the parlor. The man tried to distract and sooth her with words of love and more elaborate magic tricks than he usually played. For her, he turned a penny into a diamond ring, and made rose petals appear in his hand which he threw into the air as he kissed her. Despite her wretched surroundings, a glow of color touched her cheeks, and she smiled at his enchantments.
"How can I love you so when you are wicked, your lordship?" she laughed adoringly.
"Perhaps it is because you are wicked yourself. There is no thrill in being a saint. You and I know what it is to enjoy life!"
The scene was enough to make the boys feel just as disgusted with Ebony as she was with them. One by one, they began to feel out of place. Their father had ceased to pay them any heed, and they couldn't bear to watch the two whispering their dark words of endearment. Little by little, the children left the room, and by chance, they all sought the same refuge.
Copernicus knew there was only one person in the house who could make him happy again. He found himself running to the workrooms where Bob always did his chores, and there the other children gathered too.
They found the man-of-all-work just finishing the task of cleaning the large kitchen. Ozzy ran to him first and crawled his way up Bob's massive stature. An instant later, he had been caught up in the man's arms.
"What's this, little fella?" Bob asked, wiping a stream of tears from the little boy's cheeks. "Got the morbs, Oz?
Gibbs spoke up for the child the way any big brother would. "He's snivelin' cause old Mad-madam Bony wouldn't sing 'im a song. Ain't that right, Ozzy?"
The little boy nodded and looked up at Bob sadly. "Miss B-b-bony i'nt nice," he stammered. "Can y-y-you sing B-Bob?"
The question took their servant by surprise. He sat down on a chair with the lad curled up on his lap and scratched his head. "Well...I reckon I could croon a tune if I tried. Seems I used t' sing an awful lot once when I was on board a ship."
"Where was the ship goin' to?" Mose asked.
"Can't remember," the man answered.
"What did you sing?" Copper asked.
Bob squeezed his eyes shut and wracked his brain, digging through a hazy muddle of memories. Then, slowly, he began humming fragments of a tune and words came back to his mind.
"When the storms of sorrow gather,
O how blest, 'tis to rest,
'Neath thy wings, O Father!
Dark may be the clouds and dreary,
Yet the night melts to light
When thou guid'st the weary..."
He sang the song in his resonating base. It was a soft, gentle tune that seemed to still the raging storm in the children's hearts.
Copper sat down at the man's feet and leaned against Bob's knees as he listened. He didn't grasp the meaning of the hymn, but he thought it was very nice. "I wonder where my father went," he murmured, feeling suddenly empty and uncared for.
"What? Ain't he just out in the parlor?" Ozzy asked, nestling his head against Bob's chest and looking sleepy.
Copper didn't know how to answer. Yes, he had called Mordechai his father since the first day he had come. And yes, he paid all of his devotion to the man. But his heart yearned for something more now. There was an empty place which Mordechai could never fill.
"Did yer father go someplace, Cop?" Bob asked.
"Same place yours went, I expect," Copernicus answered quietly.
"Mine didn't go nowhere I don't fink. I wish I'd 'ad a father," the man sighed. "But oh well," he added lightheartedly. "No sense in complainin'. D'you blokes wanna 'ear a story, eh? I ain't never told you 'bout the time I played Robin Hood on stage, did I?"
"You played Robin Hood?" Copernicus laughed.
"No, not exactically. I was the bloke what pulled the curtains back and moved the props about. But sure as anyfing, I listened t' the lines till I knew 'em all by 'eart. An' one day, the bloke what played Little John, he sprained his ankle right afore he walked on stage, an' there weren't nuffin' for it, I marched out an' said his lines for 'im just as sure as me name's Bob!"
From there, Bob acted out the whole scene, playing Little John, Robin Hood, and the Sherriff of Nottingham simultaneously. His humorous drama lifted all of the children out of their glum mood for a while. In the other room, Mordechai and Ebony didn't miss the children's company at all. When the lads finally crept out of hiding, they discovered that the lady was gone.
Mordechai stood near a window, gazing out wistfully as he fingered his medallion. He had to pull himself away from a dozen rose-colored dreams as he found his boys gathering around him.
"Father," Copper ventured shyly, "there's still a few hours before work. Will you play with us?"
A smiling word of consent, and for a short amount of time, life went back to normal. But no matter how hard the boys tried to be happy, they felt the shadows growing deeper in their lives. Copernicus tried to stay positive about it all.
"Maybe Mad-madame Bony will 'Ebb' away," he joked hopefully before he and his friends fell asleep the next morning.
"It'd be better than 'avin' her as a 'Blight' on our family!" Mose put in with good humor.
Gibbs lay in bed silently, stormily thinking. "She ain't leavin'," he stated at last in a dooming tone of voice. "Watch an' see. She means to be the end of us."