Leah considered the question seriously. "Nicole and Regan are so sure of themselves. Everything they do is perfect."

"They were born to wealth but people like you and me* we have to learn. I will help you, that is, if you aren't afraid of hard work."

Leah smiled at that, remembering the feel of the plow harness about her shoulders. "People who live in houses like this don't even know what work is."

"You will do," Madame Gisele said, laughing. "You will do."

What followed for Leah were days of measurements, pinnings, and being bullied by Madame.

"Lingerie!" the little woman said repeatedly. "You may have to forego silk for everyday wear on that

nasty farm you're going to, but underneath you'll be a lady." At first Leah was shocked by the semitransparent garments of Indian cotton, but she soon grew to like them. Madame and her workers created a stunning wardrobe for Leah with many plain, everyday dresses of printed muslin and several silk and velvet creations for whatever society existed in the new state of Kentucky. And always, Madame helped build Leah's confidence. "You are a Stanford now and entitled to the privileges that go with the name."

Unconsciously, Leah began to stand straighter, and within another month, she acted as if she'd always eaten her meals at a table and worn satin dresses. When the fall harvest was in and Clay could relax, he began to spend time with Leah. Each morning they went out together and he taught her to ride.

"I like her," Clay told Nicole one night. "She's very serious, always wanting to please, trying to learn everything at once." "It's for Wesley," Nicole said softly, looking up from the needlework in her lap. "Even after the way he's treated her, leaving her after their one night together and again leaving her after their marriage, she still believes the sun rises and sets on that man. I just hope*"

"You hope what?" Clay asked.

"Wesley is so much like Travis and when either one of them gets something in his head it's not easy to change."

"And what do you want to change?"

"Kimberly," Nicole answered.

Clay gave a snort of disgust. "Wes was saved when he didn't marry that bitch. Kimberly believes the

world should be laid at her feet, and, unfortunately, it generally is."

"And most often it's put there by Wesley. I don't think he's going to easily forget Kimberly."

"He will," Clay said with a chuckle. "Wes isn't stupid, and after he spends a few weeks alone with a

beauty like Leah, he'll never even remember that Kimberly exists."

Nicole had her own ideas of the stupidity of men when it came to pretty women, but she said nothing as she turned back to her sewing.

It was that winter, as work on the plantation began to slow down, that Leah discovered weaving. When Nicole showed Leah the loom house, Leah was reluctant to leave. The beautiful cloth, the coverlets taking shape under the women's hands, shuttles flying, treadles working smoothly, fascinated Leah.

"Would you like to try your hand on a loom?" asked a big blonde woman who Nicole introduced as Janie Langston.

"I'm not sure I could do that," Leah said hesitantly. There seemed to be thousands of threads on the loom going in and out of looped strings, with a metal comb tied to a wooden bar.

"Would you like to try?" Janie urged as Leah reverently touched a piece of woven cloth.

"Very much," Leah said positively.

Nicole led Leah around more of the plantation, but Leah didn't see much of it because her mind was still

on the fabrics she'd seen. "Do you really think I could make something like that?" Leah asked while she was supposed to be looking at the dairy cows. She'd milked cows since she could walk and they didn't interest her, but the idea of being able to create such beauty did.

"Yes, Leah, I believe you could. Would you like it if we went back to the loom house now?"

Leah's eyes sparkled in answer.

Leah spent the next months seldom more than a few feet away from Janie, who taught her everything

from caring for sheep, shearing, and dyeing to spinning, dressing a loom, and weaving. And Leah took to

it all as if she'd been born with a shuttle in her hand.

In the evenings she sat behind a spinning wheel and the threads she produced were even and very fine.

During the days she put her stool near the loom heddles and pulled threads through according to Janie's intricate pattern without a single error and without losing her patience. When she wove she threw the shuttle straight through and brought the beater back with a great deal of strength.

In January, Janie said it was time to learn to draft her own patterns.

"But I can't read," Leah said.

"Neither can my other weavers. Now, first you learn to draw your pattern."

In the next few weeks Nicole twice found Leah asleep over a table covered with pattern drafts, intricate

graphs of blocks of numbers and treadling charts, as well as tie-ups. She'd extended the numbers to draw the six harness patterns on paper to check herself for errors. There were names such as double chariot wheel, double bow knot, velvet rose, snail trail, and wheel and star.

Nicole helped Leah to bed, and in the morning Clay asked that she come to his office.

"I thought you might like to have this," he said, handing her a large book bound in blue leather.

"But I can't," she began.

"Open it."

She saw that the pages were blank and she looked at him, puzzled.

Clay stood beside her. "On the cover it says, Arundel Hall, and every year I have several of the books

bound to use for permanent records. Nicole told me of your loom patterns so I thought you might like to

record them in this. You could take it to Kentucky with you."

To Clay's complete bewilderment, Leah collapsed in a chair, the book held close to her, and she began to cry. "Did I do something wrong?" he asked. "Don't you like the book?"

"Everyone is so kind," Leah cried. "I know it's because of Wesley but still."Clay knelt before her, put his fingers under her chin, and lifted her face. "I want you to listen to me andbelieve what I'm saying. At first we did take you in because you'd married Wes, but we forgot about himmonths ago. Nicole and I and our children have come to love you. Remember how the boys came down with the measles at Christmas and you stayed up with them? Your kindness, the love you've given us, have more than repaid us for what little we've done for you."

"But all of you are so easy to love," she answered through tears, "and you've given me the world. I've

done so little for you."

Standing, Clay laughed. "All right, we're equal then. I just don't want to hear any more about what we've done for you. Now I need to go back to work."

Leah stood and on impulse threw her arms around Clay. "Thank you so much for everything."

He hugged her back. "If I'd known I'd get this kind of reward I would have deeded you the plantation.

Now go on back to your looms."

Smiling, she left the office.

In February, Regan and Travis came to fetch her.

"You've had her long enough," Travis said to Clay while grinning at Leah. Regan had said, with some

disgust, that Travis had quickly forgiven Leah for trapping his little brother after Travis saw how prettyLeah'd turned out to be.

With tears in her eyes, Leah hugged all the Armstrong family good-bye.

"Oh yes," Clay said, eyes dancing, "I thought you might like to have this." He nodded toward a wooden crate standing with several others on the wharf.

Puzzled, Leah walked toward the box. Behind it was a loom, a beautiful piece of work in cherry with

brass fittings.

As Leah gaped soundlessly, Clay put his arm around her. "It breaks down for packing and you can take it to Kentucky with you. If you start crying again I'll keep it," he warned.

Again Leah hugged him as Travis said he'd send someone to get the loom. Leah, hating to part with the loom for even a few days, grabbed the long comblike reed and clutched it. As Travis lifted her into the little sloop, she held the reed and waved as long as she could see the Armstrongs on the dock.

On the sail back to Stanford Plantation, Regan asked Leah hundreds of questions and at the same time noticed the many changes in Leah. She held herself erectly, looked people in the eye, and her movements were unconsciously graceful.

As they walked from the dock to the house, Regan was thinking that Leah was ready for anything-until she looked up at the house. Standing on the porch, one hand delicately poised on the iron railing, was Kimberly Shaw, her blonde hair drawn back from her lovely face, rings of curls down her neck. Her fragile prettiness was set off by a silk gown and matching cloak of deep pink.

"Is she Wesley's Kimberly?" Leah asked in a whisper.

"You are Wesley's wife, remember that, Leah," Regan said under her breath as Kimberly walked downthe stairs and toward them."Kimberly!" Travis said, pleased. "It's been so long since we've seen you." He caught her shoulders and kissed her cheek. "Have you met Leah, my sister-in-law?"

"Only briefly," Kimberly said in a pretty, soft voice as she held out her hand. "I am Kimberly Shaw."

To Regan's disgust, she could see Leah weakening before Kim. Kim had a way about her of apparent

sweetness that made people want to do her bidding.

"I am very happy to meet you," Leah said softly.

"If you ladies will excuse me," Travis said, "I have to get back to work."

When he was gone, Regan invited Kim in for tea.