Box Set: The ArringtonTrilogy
Page 48
“I wasn’t spying on you, Mrs. Arrington,” she said in a trembling voice.
“How many times have I told you to mind your business?” Grandmother said through clenched teeth.
“I’m sorry. I was only trying to see her,” Abigail explained.
“You stay away from the girl. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good, now go get the brush and pail.”
Abigail scurried away, but not before looking at me. Grandmother shot me a cold warning stare. She wanted me to stay away from Abigail. It was in my best interest not to make waves, to stay quiet, and let information unfold around me.
But Abigail had revealed Grandmother’s name. How could she be Mrs. Arrington when she was my maternal grandmother? Though—she never had said she was. Maybe Momma only stayed at Sutton Hall, as I had done on occasion at the Daltons’ home. Could Momma have been an orphan, taken in by Daddy’s mother? But he called her Eugenia, I remembered, not Momma or Mother. How odd, I thought.
“Girl!” Grandmother barked, interrupting my deep thoughts. “Take the bucket and get to work. I will be sitting in the parlor across the hall, having my afternoon tea.”
I watched her leave, then turned and dropped the brush into the soapy water. I saw Abigail staring at me through one of the hazy windows. I smiled at her, but as soon as I did, she rushed away. Though I was alone, on my hands and knees, scrubbing filth from the wood floors, I sensed Grandmother’s eyes were on me, and I worked hard to do a good job. I needed her approval. I wanted to win her over. Maybe she would learn to like me, if not love me like a granddaughter, and we could spend my short time here together getting to know one another.
As I scrubbed away, I imagined telling her about the lighthouse station and how great a lighthouse keeper Daddy was. I would tell her how devoted Momma was to Daddy, and that she never once strayed from him, that she was a truly devoted wife. I couldn’t reveal her madness, though. That, I planned to keep a secret.
When I was finished with the one room, after hours of scrubbing with all my might, I went into the parlor where she sat in one lone chair facing the window that overlooked the destroyed gardens. She had been sitting there the entire morning.
“I have finished, Grandmother,” I announced.
She slowly turned her head, expressionless, and told me to do it again. When I didn’t respond, in shock at her order, she repeated herself, more firmly.
“But—”
“Get on with it!”
I scurried away, like one of her servants, back to the dining room. I glanced over the clean floor and wondered why I had to do it again. It was perfectly clean, spotless, in fact. She hadn’t even come to see.
So, unhappily, I got down and painstakingly repeated the process, until the sun rose high above the mansion, causing the day to turn unbearably hot. I was uncomfortable, exhausted, and ready to collapse. Hamilton came in and saw me sitting against the wall, trying to relax for a moment. He worriedly came over and nudged me to get up.
“I can’t,” I whispered. “I’m so tired.”
He lifted the bucket full of dirty water, dumped it outside, and then returned. He tried to get back to me before I was noticed resting, but he was too late.
“Get off the floor,” Grandmother hollered from where she stood over me.
“I’m sorry; it’s so hot,” I stammered as I guided myself up against the wall, but she wouldn’t hear it.
“You are as lazy and undependable as Amelia. You didn’t do as you were told. You have disrespected me!” Without warning, she struck my face with the back of her hand, sending me barreling to the floor. “Get back to your room! You’re good for nothing. Do you understand!”
I cried as I passed her and ran outside, not knowing where I was running to. She called for me to return and said that if I did not obey her there would be dire consequences. But I didn’t stop running until I found myself down by the edge of the river. I threw myself to the ground and beat my fists against the dirt, demanding to know why I was put in such an awful place. Though there was no one to answer me, I wanted to know what I had done to deserve such punishment. Daddy needed to take me back; I couldn’t wait any longer. Now that I had disobeyed Grandmother, I would be locked away until he did come for me. She would starve me for certain, probably take the key, and throw it away. I had to keep running. So I stood, wiped my tears, and decided on the direction I believed Savannah was. I heard her call for Hamilton to hunt me down. Panic in my throat, I lifted my dress and sped along the river, ducking under branches and around trees. Panic kept my feet moving, the fear of being beaten and thrown back into the bedroom for good gave me the energy to go faster.
The house fell into the distance, then out of sight. I ran on, though my legs were aching, my side was splitting, and I was in dire need of water, I wasn’t going to stop until it was safe and far away from the claws of my wicked grandmother, and no longer under the evil spell of Sutton Hall.
The heat of the day spilled into the night. I found myself wandering aimlessly through the forest. The river was still close, and I stopped and rested, drank some water, then sat against a sweet magnolia tree when I believed Hamilton was no longer on my trail, and it was safe enough. Then, after a short rest, I got up and walked some more, hoping I was heading in the right direction—towards Savannah. There I planned to stow away on a train that would take me back to Maine. I could easily make my way back to Jasper Island, even if I had to walk all the way to the harbor that was once my home.
My plan was good; I was comfortable with it. I had walked all of the afternoon and night, and as my legs refused to move any longer, I found a spot in a dense marsh area on the edge of the woods I had wandered into, lay down on the soft ground, and fell into a deep, long-needed sleep. I dreamt of Momma that night and saw her as the little girl that once lived in Sutton Hall. She was lovely and happy, and when I woke, I missed everything about her. My heart was melancholy, and I wished I weren’t so alone and lost. I wanted more than anything to go back in time and have my life intact. I wished Momma was still alive and Daddy able to protect me from harm. But my reality was a slap in the face, worse than Grandmother’s brutal slap. My mind wanted me to rise and continue to walk towards Savannah, but my legs refused to conform. My feet were full of sores, and my legs were heavy. I didn’t think I would be able to move a muscle until a snake slithered towards me. I screamed with fright and jumped up without any trouble. It curled up and went to strike, but I moved away, just before the bite. I backed off, hoping it would leave me alone, but from behind me I heard the blast of gunpowder. I twirled around, fearing Hamilton was shooting at me, but to my relief and surprise, it was a man—a stranger on foot. He was as tall as Heath, but years older, though not as aged as Daddy, and came to my rescue wearing a Union slouch hat.
After the snake was dead, I hurried towards the man that saved me from being bit and possibly poisoned and left to die.
“What is a young lady like yourself doing out here? This place is loaded with dangerous snakes and alligators.”
“I see that,” was all I could say.
“Have you gotten lost?” he asked, peering into my eyes, which I kept hidden under thick strands of hair that fell over my face. I didn’t want him to know I had run away; I couldn’t have him take me back to Grandmother.
“I got separated from my daddy,” I said, which after all, wasn’t a lie.
“What happened? Was there a wagon accident? You look like you have been out here for a long time; you’re skin and bones.” He stood before me and waited for my explanation. I brushed my hair aside and gazed up at him. He had thick, wavy hair under his hat. It was golden blond with thick platinum streaks, and his sea green eyes were deeply mysterious.
“There was no accident. We were taking a walk, and we accidentally got separated and I lost my way,” I said, hoping he would believe me. After all, that is essentially what happened.
The man frowned, looked closely at me, a
nd then said, “You look familiar. Do you live around these parts?”
“No. I think my daddy is in Savannah waiting for me. Could you possibly take me there?” I hoped he would agree to take me.
“Why would he be in Savannah waiting for you if you were lost? Wouldn’t he be out looking for you?”
My heart began to race. I was afraid he knew I was lying.
“I suppose,” I said.
“Well, then, why don’t you come with me, and we’ll see what we can do to find him. I don’t live far. My horse is over yonder.”
He didn’t wait for me to agree and walked back towards the horse, expecting me to follow. Something inside me told me not to go, that I needed to stick to my plan, and not be sidetracked. The man would figure out I was lying and send me back to the horrible mansion. He seemed kind, he appeared genuinely concerned, but could I trust him? I stayed motionless, trying to decide whether to run or go with him. When he noticed I wasn’t steps behind him, he turned, and I decided to run. I wasn’t going to take another chance; I had to get back to Daddy.
“Stop!” the man shouted, but not before I had tripped on my dress and fallen hard. I screamed in pain, and he rushed over to help me up.
“My leg,” I moaned. He lifted me and carried me off. I clung to him and cried in agony.
“My place is not far; I will take you there,” he said, carefully lifting me onto his horse. He mounted behind me and said, “I will hold on to you so you don’t fall.” He pulled me close, and just before we took off, a horse-drawn carriage flew down the road. It was Hamilton and Grandmother.
“Please, take me with you,” I said before they got to me.
“Why? I don’t understand,” I turned my head and looked up at him. He saw the desperation in my face and the pleading in my eyes, and he kicked the horse into a gallop and headed off the road and into the woods. He held me tight against him as we jumped thick logs and dodged tall live oaks until we lost them. Then the man slowed the horse to a trot until we arrived at what appeared to be his home. It was a small cabin hidden deep in the woods. He dismounted, and I slid down the side of the horse and into his arms. His arms were as strong as Daddy’s, and I felt safe with him.
He carried me inside his sparse dwelling, placed me in the nearest chair, and cordially introduced himself. “My name is Warren Stone.” He extended his hand. “And you are?”
I didn’t want to reveal my name; I wanted no one to know I belonged to Sutton Hall and the wicked grandmother who ruled it. So I made up a name, the first one that came to mind.
“I’m Clara Dalton,” I said, then shook his hand. The pain in my leg was still excruciating, but my curiosity about Warren helped relax me.
“Well, it is nice to meet you, Clara. I’m sorry my place is such a mess. I wasn’t expecting company.” He saw me wince in pain. “I better take a look at your leg, if that is all right with you.”
I nodded. He lifted the bottom of my dress to reveal my ankle. It was swollen and already starting to bruise. He gently touched my ankle, keeping his eyes on my face to see how badly it hurt when he tried to move it.
“Ouch!”
“I’m sorry, Clara. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I think you only sprained it, though I am not a doctor.”
“I don’t need to see a doctor. I just need to rest it for a while. Then I have to get to Savannah. Will you please take me there, Mr. Stone?”
“Well, I don’t know, Clara. Those people—why were they after you?” His eyes narrowed, and I looked away, afraid he would see the truth—that I was running from them.
“I don’t know who they were.”
Warren placed his finger under my chin and guided my face up so I would look at him. Our faces were only inches apart, and he stared at me for the longest time, studying me with such scrutiny that it made my heart skip a beat. His eyes suddenly turned light to dark, then widened, as if he had just seen a ghost.
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Chapter Fifteen
After an awkward moment, Warren backed away and cleared his throat, then said, “You must be hungry. Let me fix you something to eat.”
I was famished and watched as he prepared a simple meal. He knew his way around the kitchen; he obviously lived alone. The one-room cabin was somewhat disarrayed. The bed wasn’t made, the floors needed a sweep, and the table was covered in plates that needed to be washed. I wondered why he wasn’t married; he was certainly handsome enough to have a wife.
“Here you are,” he said, watching as I devoured the food, then asked, “Clara, where are you and your father from?”
I took my last bite of macaroni, wiped my mouth with a napkin, and thought for a moment about the kind of lie I needed to tell. He could obviously see I was a Yankee, so I figured I wouldn’t lie about where I was from, but everything else, from Momma to Daddy’s names and facts would all have to be made up. I didn’t know if it was going to be believable.
“Daddy, Momma, and I are from a small town up north. Daddy was here on business, though I’m not certain what. I came because Momma was sick in the hospital, and Daddy had to bring me.”
Warren folded his arms over his chest and carefully scrutinized my story. I was vague, too vague.
“What is your momma sick from?”
“The doctors aren’t sure,” I said, which was essentially true for all the years Momma was alive.
“And your daddy—what kind of business is he in?”
“He is a fisherman.”
“What kind of business does a fisherman have in Savannah, and not Charleston?”
I wasn’t good at telling lies, and my plan was falling apart. My face turned red, and I shifted my eyes to stare vacantly out the small window beside the table where we sat.
“Clara, look at me.”
Warren was so much like Daddy. He had an air of fatherly concern about him, but at the same time, he was just as youthful and wise as Heath. I couldn’t face him as the tears of all my fears began to stream down my cheeks. I was so afraid he would see that I belonged to Eugenia Arrington, and take me back. Warren came and knelt in front of me, placed his warm hand on my knee, then said, “Tell me what really happened.”
“I can’t,” I said, trying desperately to hold back my sobs. He turned my face, just as Daddy would, and made me look at him. His eyes were soft and revealed genuine affection for me.
“I am here to help you. You can trust me. Does this all have to do with the Arringtons?”
He saw from my wide-eyed expression that he was correct. Warren instantly saw my pain and wanted to comfort me. Though he was a stranger, and Daddy had warned me never to trust any man but him, I felt a connection with Warren, and I believed he was going to help me.
“Why are you running from them?”
“My name isn’t Clara; it’s Lillian. Lillian Arrington,” I cried. “That was my grandmother who was looking for me.” My emotions flooded out like a broken dam, I needed someone to talk to desperately. As soon as I started, I couldn’t stop until I had not one more tear to shed, and I fell into his soothing embrace. I told him everything. How we lived on Jasper Island with the Daltons and how Momma went insane and was put away in an asylum and Daddy began to fall apart. I mentioned Heath and Ayden, my two very best friends, though I didn’t tell Warren how I truly felt about Heath. I explained why we left the lighthouse station, why we came to Savannah, and that Daddy had left me with a grandmother I never knew existed. And as I exposed Grandmother’s evil plan to keep me locked away until Daddy came for me, Warren’s face filled with shock and disbelief and sadness.
“All I want to do is go home,” I sobbed onto his shoulder.
“You poor dear,” he said softly allowing me to cling to him. When I was finished crying, I pulled back and again couldn’t look at him. Now that I had revealed the truth, what would he do? Would he help me get back to Savannah and on a train back north, or would he have no choice but to take me back to Sutton Hall and leave me in the cruel hands of my grandmother?
With a warm smile, he turned my face and asked me to give him a smile. I did as he said, and it actually felt good.
“That’s better. Now I have some chores to do. Why don’t you come sit outside and rest on the porch while I do that? I don’t want you to lift a finger, do you hear?”
“But your house needs some tidying up. Can’t I do that for you, Mr. Stone? It would be my way of thanking you for helping me in my greatest time of need.”
“I won’t hear of it. You are tired and weak, and you have a hurt ankle. Come now; I will carry you to the rocking chair outside. Okay?” I reluctantly agreed and allowed him to lift me up into his arms.
I watched, feeling peaceful, a feeling I hadn’t experienced in a while, as he split wood for several hours. My ankle was feeling better, as were my spirits. I was certain that Daddy and I would be reunited before long. I would get to Jasper Island, and Edward would know where Daddy was. I would see Ayden and Heath again. Then my time in Georgia would be behind me, and I would never think of it again, I told myself. I would never think of any of it, with the exception of Warren Stone. I would always be grateful to him. He had quickly wandered into my heart and taken hold of it, just as Heath had. I enjoyed watching him, as I used to watch Heath row Ayden and I to school.
The day’s heat left his body glistening with sweat. He occasionally went to the well for a cold drink, then took the bucket and dumped it over himself when the heat became unbearable. I was under the shade of the porch, and although the day was scorching with heat and humidity, I managed to stay comfortable. After the wood was split, he smiled and waved at me, then called out, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, thank you,” I called back.