Box Set: The ArringtonTrilogy

by Roxane Tepfer Sanford

  Warren was always rather quiet. He was a different quiet than Patrick. Patrick was a thinker, his mind always on the go. Warren was simple and matter of fact. He lived one moment at a time, whereas Patrick was always plotting and planning what would come next. It was refreshing to be with Warren, and I knew how thrilled he was to be with me.

  “It’s a fine Christmas Eve morning,” he commented.

  The wind was damp and cold, but the sun was warm, whenever the wind settled down for a moment. The landscape was rather unpleasant to the eye. The tornado had damaged many of the mansions along the route to Savannah and had toppled the Mason mansion altogether. The Montgomery mansion had been spared and had only lost a few windows, though it didn’t matter much, as it had been abandoned for some time.

  I thought of Perry Montgomery when we passed by. It had been so long since I’d seen him, and for a moment my heart fluttered when I thought about the day he kissed me. He was so very handsome, and now thinking of how he chased after me was thrilling. Without Eugenia cramming all her talk of sin and wickedness down my throat, I began to feel more alive, free, and willing to take chances once again.

  And now my chance was with Warren. I leaned up against him to get warm, and he smiled.

  “I know it’s chilly. We’re almost there.”

  “I don’t mind,” I said and looked up at him, batting my lashes. “You’re keeping me warm enough.”

  His face, already red from the cold wind, turned scarlet.

  We came into a bustling Savannah and left the wagon outside the mercantile.

  “I have a few things to shop for, Warren. You go ahead and place our order. I’ll be back.” I headed off to do some Christmas shopping. I had brought two of my best dolls to sell at the pawn shop so I would have money to buy everyone a gift. Of course I would never think of selling my favorite doll, Lillian.

  The shop was crowded, and I looked around for the perfect gifts.

  First I found a brown leather wallet for Warren, and for Mammy, a lovely straw spoon bonnet. Thinking of Eugenia, I decided on a mother-of-pearl hair pin I’d noticed in the display case, thinking she would be very pleased with it. Hattie and Jacob’s gifts were easy; they each would get a tiny pennywhistle. For Hamilton, I thought a harmonica would be just perfect.

  Then what for Patrick? I walked around the store ten or more times, uncertain what the perfect gift would be. A gift he would treasure and always remember me by. I continued looking around the store some more and finally spotted a handsome pocket watch. It was perfect!

  I happily made my way up to the counter and placed my dolls on top.

  “I would like to sell my dolls and purchase several items.”

  The clerk followed me around as I pointed out each of the gifts, then we headed back to the counter for everything to be tallied up, including the credit for my dolls.

  “Well, let’s see here,” the older man said as he added and subtracted, coming up with the difference. He peered over his spectacles and told me, “That will be five dollars you owe me.”

  “Five dollars! I don’t have five dollars. Isn’t my trade-in enough to cover the costs of the items?” I cried.

  The clerk shook his head, pushed my things aside, handed me back my dolls, and shouted over me, “Next!”

  “But wait. Please. Can’t you do better on the dolls?”

  He leaned over the glass counter impatiently.

  “In these troubled times, little lady, you’re lucky I’m offering you that much. Not too much need for pretty porcelain dolls these days. Customers are looking for more practical gifts this Christmas.”

  I was disappointed that I would have to put back some of the gifts and choose less expensive ones. At this point, I was sure Warren was waiting to head back home.

  “Oh, dear,” I uttered and again begged the clerk. “Please sir, can’t you make an exception. After all, it’s Christmas.”

  The man was getting annoyed with me, and just when I was about to give up, a tall, middle-aged man, dressed in a suit as fine as any of Daddy’s, approached the clerk. Apparently he had overheard our discussion.

  “Now there, Frank, I think the young lady has a point here. It is Christmas, after all.”

  “But Mr. Dawnell, these dolls…”

  Mr. Dawnell held up his hand, indicating the man should be quiet. Then he turned to me, smiled, and reached for my dolls.

  “I think we can work this deal. Your father, Thomas Arrington, is a good friend of mine.”

  “You know my father?”

  “Of course. You are his lovely daughter, Amelia. I have seen you many times in town with him. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said and extended his hand to shake mine. “I am the owner of this shop.”

  I eagerly shook his hand, relieved and delighted that I could purchase the presents I had selected after all.

  “And wrap them for her, Frank,” Mr. Dawnell ordered.

  “Yes, Mr. Dawnell.”

  Warren had been waiting for patiently for me, and I could detect a bit of curiosity behind his smile. Mr. Dawnell had an employee trail behind me with a pile of packages to place in the wagon.

  “Don’t ask any questions,” I said.

  Warren threw his hands up and said, “I promise.”

  “Very well. I suppose you are finished in town?”

  “I have all the supplies loaded up. Shall we go?” He reached over to assist me into the wagon.

  “Yes, indeed. Thank you, Mr. Stone,” I said with an impish grin that made him smile with delight.

  On the short journey back to Sutton Hall, we spoke of Christmases past. I described in detail our gala celebrations.

  “Sounds as if the party was not one to miss.”

  “Certainly not. I just wish this year could be as wonderful.”

  I had done all I could to make this Christmas as special and unforgettable as possible.

  ~ ~ ~

  ~ Sixteen ~

  Patrick was obviously annoyed with Warren and me. When we returned to the plantation, he ushered Warren to the kitchen and ordered him to finish the trim work, ignoring me.

  I didn’t let that bother me, and I occupied all the rest of my time preparing the best meal I could manage for our Christmas Eve supper. Mammy was feeling better and was able to sit and help me in the newly-repaired kitchen.

  Hattie and Jacob Thomas had come inside and were playing with my toys upstairs in my room, without an argument from Eugenia. She paid little attention to them now. Instead, she stayed up in her rooms, locked away and depressed. There were little moments when I almost felt sorry for her; but those moments were few and far between, as I could never forget all she had done to me.

  I enjoyed Mammy’s detailed instructions on how to prepare the roasted chicken, dumplings, and corn pone. It was a simple meal compared to years past, but with few choices now, it seemed satisfying enough.

  While Mammy oversaw the cooking, I made my way into the dining room to set the table with our finest china dishes and gold cutlery. I used our best tablecloth and had Hamilton polish the candelabras for the red candles I’d made months before.

  Warren and Patrick worked well into the evening. I went upstairs to dress for our Christmas Eve supper, and I didn’t see them until I came back downstairs.

  The table looked extravagant, the food smelled scrumptious, and the men looked handsome. Eugenia had dressed in one of her best ball gowns and wore her finest jewels. I was pleased to see she made such an effort. I gazed around the table and was happy to see everyone eating and conversing together. It still could be a merry Christmas after all, I thought to myself. I think even Eugenia was pleased to have Patrick in Daddy’s seat. Having Patrick with us was the next best thing to having Daddy here.

  “I wrote and told Thomas you were here with us. I’m certain he is relieved,” Eugenia said and patted him on the hand.

  “I’m glad to be of help to you all. I hope this war ends soon and that Father returns safely.”

  Eugeni
a closed her eyes and nodded in prayer. Patrick took a long sip of red wine and looked over at me for the first time all night. Warren’s eyes were glued to me, but I was waiting for Patrick to notice me in my lovely gown. It was my lowest-cut bodice, revealing my cleavage. When his eyes finally drifted toward me, my heart pounded heavily and I felt butterflies in my stomach. What about him gave me goose bumps? I asked myself. Did all sisters feel this way for their handsome older half-brothers? And did all older half-brothers look at their sisters the way Patrick looked at me? I was confused, more so than ever, although this time I wasn’t frightened, the way I had been with Perry Montgomery. I didn’t know why that could be, except I felt as though I’d known Patrick forever and that he’d been destined to come to Sutton Hall to see me, not just Daddy.

  With every gulp of wine Patrick downed, he became more relaxed. His usually composed manner became casual, and as the night progressed, after hours of stories of voyages across the sea, he suggested that we gather into the parlor and sing Christmas carols.

  “And Amelia will sing for us, won’t you?” he asked, and he pulled my chair out for me. He had been faster than Warren and bumped him out of the way to get to me first.

  “Of course,” I replied, and I allowed him to lead me into the parlor.

  Patrick poured himself and Warren some brandy, lit up a cigar, and made himself comfortable on the settee. Reclining with his long legs crossed, he instructed me to begin. “Sing for us Amelia, sing ‘It Came Upon a Midnight Clear’.”

  I pulled out my music book, skimmed over the sheet music, and began.

  When I was singing the Christmas carols, it bothered me a little that we didn’t have a decorated tree in the corner. It was one of my favorite traditions, decorating the tree with Hattie. This year was different in so many ways, but the music was the same, and that eased my heavy heart.

  I thought about the Christmas package Eugenia had instructed Hamilton to send out to Daddy weeks ago and wondered if he’d received it. It must be heartbreaking for all those men to be away from their families in the holiday season. I wondered if Daddy was sad to be away.

  I sang many songs, and before I knew it, the clock read eleven. Eugenia had retired for the evening. Warren and Patrick stayed on as my loyal audience, smoking and drinking, and to my delight, they even sang along with me.

  I finished playing as the clock chimed eleven, and closed the cover to the piano keys. I announced that it was time for bed, but not before playfully adding, “So Santa Claus can arrive.”

  Warren and Patrick chuckled and downed what was left of the bottle.

  “Amelia, may I have a moment with you before you retire for the evening?” Patrick asked politely. “In private.”

  He threw Warren a look that indicated he should leave. Warren leaned in, kissed my cheek, and said softly, “Merry Christmas, Miss Arrington.”

  I watched Warren walk out and thought about how nice it was to have him there. I recalled how I’d found him lying face down in a pool of blood, thinking he was dead for sure. How good it was that he had lived to celebrate another Christmas.

  “Well, here we are,” I said to Patrick, once we were alone. “What is it you needed to see me about?”

  Patrick’s eyes were wide and alert, his breath overwhelming with the scent of brandy. He stood before me with one hand in his pocket and with the other reached for my hand and sat me down. Each time Patrick came close to me, I became covered in goose bumps. This time was no different.

  “Amelia,” he began, not letting go of my hand. “I wish we could have met years before. I have been keeping something for you, and now is the perfect time for you to have it. Merry Christmas.” Patrick gently turned over my hand, pulled out from his breast pocket a brooch, and laid it down in my palm. I studied it for a long moment, staring at a hand-painted portrait surrounded by the gold and seed pearls that outlined the brooch.

  “That is a portrait of Charlotte, your mother,” he said, though I already knew. “As she was dying, she begged me to give it to you someday, her baby she swore would be a girl. I took it from her jewelry box the night she died, hours after you were born, and kept it with me all these years to ensure that one day you would have it.

  “You look so much like her, it’s remarkable. You have her delicate features and her soft, creamy skin,” he said, touching my cheek as he spoke.

  I lifted my eyes and looked up at him. His dark eyes were glazed over, his usually firm jaw relaxed. His warm fingers slowly traced my cheekbone, then down to my lips, making me tremble with excitement. “Charlotte had your rosy, full lips too,” he murmured.

  “Thank you, Patrick,” I said softly. “I am truly grateful you brought this to me.”

  I carefully leaned into him and went to kiss his cheek, brushing his lips with mine as I moved. Before I knew what was happening, our lips were locked together and we were kissing. It was a real kiss, just like the one Perry Montgomery and I had shared. I closed my eyes and allowed the kiss to continue. Then, as if coming out of some kind of trance, he jerked away. I stood, dizzy, trying to catch my breath.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what came over me. Please forgive me. I promise not to let such a thing happen ever again. It was just…” he stopped and took hold of me again, staring into my eyes with intense distress. “There is something special about you, Amelia. Something dangerous. It’s not only your beauty that is irresistible, you know,” he desperately tried to explain.

  I could barely find my voice, but I finally I managed to speak. “I didn’t mind the kiss.”

  His jaw clenched and he released his hold. “You should mind. This is wrong, so very wrong.” He anxiously ran his fingers through his thick, dark hair. I could see that Patrick was trying to think it through, trying to understand what was happening between us. We both felt an attraction that shouldn’t be, but it was undeniable. “This mustn’t happen again, ever. Do you understand!”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s my fault. I’m sorry.” I covered my face with my hands and ran out, dropping the brooch without concern.

  “Amelia!” he called, but I didn’t stop. I ran to my room and locked the door. I fell into bed, cursing myself for once again dabbling with sin. I was drawn to it, tempted by it, and destined to become like my mother, without any shadow of a doubt.

  Christmas dawned with glorious sunshine on a balmy winter’s day. I woke and hurried to open my windows, allowing the soft sun to beam against my skin.

  Putting the previous evening’s ordeal aside, I merrily dressed, and before heading to the kitchen to assist Mammy, before laying out the wrapped gifts for all, I quickly scanned over Patrick’s respectful letter of apology and placed it in my armoire, along with the brooch he’d left outside my door, wrapped in one of his monogrammed handkerchiefs.

  Mammy gave me a somber Christmas greeting, and I quickly realized what a very tragic holiday it was for us. As much as I wanted to think of presents and celebrating this merry time of year, I also knew it was our most difficult time.

  Even though Daddy and I shared a rift, a deep rift that came from him loving Eugenia, I couldn’t help but suddenly miss him.

  I went to Mammy, kissed her cheek, and asked what I could do to help.

  “I got it all done, Miss Amelia. Would you go see to Hattie? She’s sick in bed.”

  Jacob was down by her feet, contentedly playing with three of my glass marbles. When I knelt down and kissed him atop his head, he smiled and touched my nose and said, “Nose!”

  “Very good, Jacob Thomas. What a smart little fellow you are.”

  Just then, Patrick entered the kitchen. “Merry Christmas, ladies! Breakfast smells scrumptious.”

  Patrick hardly glanced my way when he took a piece of corn pone and then headed into the dining room and opened yesterday’s newspaper. He did not seem to expect any acknowledgment of his letter to me. He didn’t even lift his eyes toward me when I stood in the doorway, hoping he might want to be clo
se to me again.

  I became frustrated and left, and I hurried out to visit Hattie. In all those years, no matter how many doctors examined Hattie, no one could ever diagnose what made her ill so much of the time.

  With my gift in hand, I quietly crept into the cabin and sat beside on the bed. She was resting with a cool cloth on her brow, her lids closed as her thin chest heaved up and down with great distress.

  “Merry Christmas, Hattie.” I put the gift down and took hold of her limp hand.

  She opened her eyes and smiled. I had seen her like this many times before, and it was always difficult to watch her lie there in misery.

  “I brought you the gift Santa left for you,” I said. “I hope it cheers you up.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  She struggled to stay awake as I opened the wrapping for her. She was too weak to do it on her own.

  “I was surprised when I saw the gifts left in the parlor,” I began, while untying the strings around the paper. “I thought for certain since we had no tree, Santa wouldn’t come. But when I woke this morning, there they all were, gifts for everyone. This one had your name on it.”

  Hattie tried to smile, but she fell asleep again, just before I placed the pennywhistle in her hand.

  I leaned in and hugged her, wiped away a small tear, and said, “Mammy will come and check on you soon. I wish you felt better, Hattie.”

  Mammy had me help serve breakfast. When I came back, everyone was seated, waiting for me.

  “Merry Christmas,” I sang to everyone as I took the serving tray from Mammy.

  “Where have you been? The food is getting cold,” Eugenia snapped. “We need to eat and get to church.”

  “Sorry, Eugenia. I went to give Hattie her gift.” I served her eggs and hurried to sit down.

  “What have I told you about bringing her germs in here!” she barked, shoving her plate back.