“I see.”
“I’ve known Dorcas for years.” He winked at her. “At one time, my parents and her parents thought we ought to make a match of it. But my taste doesn’t run to blonds.”
Normally, Alexandra would have dredged up some witty response to his comment, but her heart wasn’t in it any longer. What had happened to her in the past weeks? She glanced away from Lowell and straight into the blue eyes that had haunted her dreams far too often. But in her dreams, the eyes were kind and caring. The gaze that skewered her now, however, was full of loathing. It took her back to her final weeks in Nashville and the hard-hearted people who had condemned her. Alexandra wanted to jump up from the table and run away, but she could not move.
Lowell had turned from her to answer a question from the person sitting on his other side.
Someone removed her plate and replaced it with a bowl of berries topped with fresh cream. She wondered where Mrs. Sheffield had procured fresh fruit at this time of year. It was surely an extravagance in the middle of winter.
Lowell had turned his attention to his dessert and wolfed it down in a few large bites before turning his attention back to her. “Are you ready to move to the ballroom?”
She put her spoon back on the pristine tablecloth, her dessert untouched. “Yes.” Pushing back her chair and resting her hand on Lowell’s arm, she lifted her chin and walked out of the room with all of the grace she could muster. The evening could not end soon enough for her.
The orchestra launched into their first piece as she and Lowell entered the ballroom. The polished floor would soon be scuffed by the movements of the eager dancers, but for now, it gleamed in the candlelight. Alexandra longed to throw off convention and let Lowell sweep her across the room in his arms.
Instead, she was engulfed in perfume as someone came up behind her and put her hands over Alexandra’s eyes. “I bet you can’t guess who this is.”
Dorcas’s accent, with its mountain twang, gave her away.
“It can be none other than the guest of honor.” Alexandra pulled on the hands and turned around to see the golden-haired girl smiling at her oddly.
Dorcas giggled and hugged her. “Aren’t you sweet? I’ve been waiting all night to get to say hello.”
“It’s nice to see you, Dorcas. How are you enjoying your stay in Natchez?”
“The Sheffields have been so considerate of my comfort that I feel like one of the family.” She glanced toward Lowell, who was smiling at both of them. “But I have such good news for you, Alexandra.”
Something in the tone of the other woman’s voice put her on alert. She studied Dorcas’s face, forcibly reminded of the content expression of a well-fed house cat. The room was filling up now as the rest of the dinner guests caught up with them. “Is that right?”
“Yes.” Dorcas clasped her hands together and spoke a little louder. “The scandal about your father’s death is dying down now. Hardly anyone is talking about the way he murdered that poor, innocent family. And the sheriff has fully recovered from the gunshot wound. I imagine you could even come back to Nashville and be received again.”
Silence fell in the room. Heads turned toward them.
“Whatever are you talking about, Dorcas?” Lowell sounded as shocked as Alexandra felt.
“Oh no.” Dorcas’s eyes widened convincingly, but her smug grin told the true story. “Don’t tell me I’ve spoken out of turn. I just assumed everyone knew….”
“Knew what?” Now Lowell sounded exasperated.
“Please don’t be angry with me, Lowell.” She turned her gaze away from him, and Alexandra saw her eyes were moist. “How was I to know?”
Alexandra might have fallen for the ruse if she had not used it herself from time to time to convince others of her own innocence. “Dorcas is referring to the manner in which my father died last year.”
Lowell took a step away from her, leaving Alexandra standing all alone in the crowded room. No one else was talking; even the orchestra had stopped playing as the musicians realized some drama was being played out.
“My father died under a cloud of suspicion.” She glared at Dorcas, daring her to say anything more. “He was apparently involved in a plot to seize some valuable farm land from a family in the area.”
“But I thought he was killed in an Indian raid?” Lowell’s voice had hardened. He would probably blame her just like all those self-righteous people in Nashville.
“You are mistaken, Lowell.” Alexandra took a deep breath. The words boiled around in her head, words that would condemn her to a life of shame. Her mouth was wobbly, making it hard for her to form the words properly, but she refused to let these people intimidate her. She clenched her jaw and forced the syllables out, one by one. “My father was killed in a shootout with the sheriff. Had he lived, he would most likely have been hung for his crimes.”
A girl behind her gasped. Someone farther away asked what she had said. The buzz began slowly but gained momentum as her words were repeated to those who had not been able to hear for themselves.
Alexandra ignored all of them, even Dorcas, her attention centered on Lowell. Would he condemn her, too? Would he slip away from her as Asher had done? Was she doomed to lose each candidate she deemed suitable?
She saw the answer in his eyes and closed her own to hide the pain. She should have known better. She had been through this before. No one cared that she was innocent of the crimes her father had committed. She was guilty because she was his daughter. And the ironic thing about it was that she understood. She was one of these people. In the past, she would have separated herself from anyone with the barest hint of scandal, earned or not.
Alexandra pushed her way past Lowell and ran into the hallway. Tears swam in her eyes and overflowed onto her cheeks. Unable to see clearly, she barreled into someone. “Ex–excuse me.”
“Alexandra…Miss Lewis…whatever is wrong?” The concerned voice made the tears flow harder.
“I…I have to g–get out of h–here.”
A strong arm wrapped around her.
Alexandra burrowed into the reassuring warmth of a muscular chest. She was beyond caring who was holding her. All she knew was that her world had ended…again.
Chapter 12
Jeremiah sent one of the hovering slaves to ready the Hugheses’ carriage. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you safely home.”
He frowned a warning at any of the guests who approached them. He had no idea what calamity had occurred before his arrival in the ballroom, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was the crushed girl who was clinging to him like a half-drowned kitten. He stroked her back and murmured soft words of understanding and encouragement. He had no idea where the words came from, only that they were what she needed to hear right now.
Harvey Sheffield approached them warily. “The carriage is ready. Do you want me to get one of the slaves to accompany her?”
“I’ll do it.” Jeremiah wasn’t going to let her be hurt anymore tonight. He was tempted to pick her up as he had that first night, but he decided to see if she could walk with his support. He helped her stand up and, keeping an arm around her, guided her to the front door.
It took a minute to sort out their wraps, but once they were both bundled up, he helped her into the carriage and took the seat opposite her, his back to the coachman. She seemed calmer now, only sniffling from time to time. Without comment, he gave her his handkerchief.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She pushed herself into the far corner of the carriage. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
Jeremiah had been asking himself the same question. He didn’t even know what she had done or what had been done to her. But he needed to get her mind off her troubles. “A tent meeting has been going on across the river at Lake Concordia. I went to hear the preacher on Sunday. Do you know what book of the Bible he preached on?”
“No. How would I know?”
His eyes were growing accust
omed to the darkness in the carriage. He could see her face now even though he could not make out her features. He imagined her brows were drawn together in a frown. “He spoke on John’s first letter to his fellow Christians, specifically on John’s instruction to love each other. ‘Whosoever doeth not righteousness is not of God, neither he that loveth not his brother.’ That verse really struck me. Our attempts to be honest and righteous are no more important than the love we show to each other.”
The silence went on so long after he stopped speaking that Jeremiah wondered if she had fallen asleep. But then her husky voice answered him. “So you’re seeing me home because it’s your Christian duty?”
“I am ministering to a sister in Christ. I’m doing what I can to help someone God loves.”
“I don’t feel very lovable.”
The heartrending catch in her voice made Jeremiah’s eyes sting. “But you are so precious to God. Don’t ever doubt it. He created you. He knew you even before you were born, and He loved you so much that He let His Son die on the cross for you.”
Another silence.
“If that’s true, then why did God let my father commit those terrible deeds? Why didn’t He stop it from happening? Why didn’t He protect me and my mother from the consequences of Papa’s indiscretion?”
Jeremiah prayed for an answer that would heal the hurt in her heart. “People aren’t reliable, Alexandra. Only God is. If you put your faith in another human being, you will always be disappointed. But if you turn to God, He will comfort you no matter what happens.”
He could feel her gaze on him, but she didn’t comment.
When the carriage pulled up at her family home, she stopped him from rising with a shake of her head. “I appreciate your kindness, but you should go back to the Sheffields’. Your friends will be worried about you.”
Jeremiah nodded. He reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. “I’ll be praying for you, Alexandra.”
The party was ending by the time he returned, but Jeremiah heard all about what had happened from his friends on the ride home. It was a shame about Alexandra’s father. A part of him could understand why her family had made up the story about Mr. Lewis dying a hero’s death. But they must have known the truth would come out eventually. Now Alexandra and her mother would be forced to deal with the consequences. For their sakes, he hoped the scandal would blow over quickly. But if it didn’t, at least they had family here who would stand by them.
Judah took a more conservative view of the evening’s events. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to accept Alexandra any longer, Susannah.”
The darkness of the carriage seemed to close in on Jeremiah. “You can’t mean that.”
“I have to protect my family’s reputation.”
“And what about your Christian duty to love others?”
“Jeremiah”—he could make out Susannah’s blond curls as she leaned forward and shook her head—“don’t be so hard on my husband. He’s just a little confused. But don’t worry. I’m not going to ostracize your Alexandra.”
What was this? Had Susannah misunderstood his concern? “She’s not my Alexandra. She’s just a young woman who deserves our sympathy.”
“Of course she is.” Susannah’s voice sounded a little choked, making him wonder if she was laughing at him. “And she shall get it. I promise you that.”
Chapter 13
A shaft of sunlight woke Alexandra the next morning. No one had come in to light the fireplace in her room yet, so it must still be early. She burrowed deeper into the covers and tried to go back to sleep, but her mind wouldn’t stop replaying the previous night’s debacle.
She kept seeing Dorcas’s face. She had known exactly what she was doing. But why? Did she harbor some grudge against Alexandra? She remembered the day they buried Papa and the feeling she’d had that Dorcas was looking for a reason to spread gossip about her. Perhaps it was simply her nature.
She pulled her knees up toward her chin. Gossip had always been a part of her world. She could remember the thrill of learning about one of her acquaintances in Nashville who had been caught embracing a man who was not her fiancé. It had been the talk at all the parties for several weeks. The whispers had grown to head shakes, and soon everyone was turning away from the indiscreet girl and her family.
Eventually the young man had asked to be released from the betrothal. At the time, Alexandra had joined the rest of her peers in condemning the girl’s behavior. She deserved the treatment she had received. Didn’t the Bible say people reaped what they sowed? The whole town had been in agreement. They had been united in their condemnation. No member of the family was exempted. Even the younger daughters were looked upon with suspicion.
At the time, it had never occurred to Alexandra to consider another interpretation of the events. She had never considered the pain they might be experiencing. Pain similar to what she felt this morning. But she had been innocent. She didn’t deserve the treatment she would surely receive now that the truth was known.
Someone, probably Jemma, entered the room. She listened to the scrape of the iron poker stirring the warm coals, followed by the rhythmic whoosh of the bellows and the soft crackle of the fire. With a sigh she flipped back the counterpane.
“Good morning, Miss Alexandra.” Jemma moved around the room, opening the curtains to allow more light to enter. “It’s a pretty day.”
“Not to me.” Breakfast loomed in her mind like a towering thundercloud. She would have to tell her relatives that the scandal had caught up with them. “I wish I could sleep until noon.”
Jemma’s brown eyes widened. “Whatever is the matter?”
Alexandra supposed she might as well start practicing her story now. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her toes searching for her slippers. “An acquaintance of ours from Nashville was at the party last night. In fact, she was the reason for the party. And she kindly suggested that I could soon return to Nashville since Papa’s scandal was no longer being discussed.”
“Here you go.” Jemma picked up her slipper and helped Alexandra ease her foot into it. “I suppose that’s why you was crying last night.”
A sigh of remorse filled her. Lowell would never want to marry her now. “What am I going to do?”
“Don’t you worry none, miss. Things’ll be all right.”
“No they won’t. No one will receive me anymore. It will be exactly like Nashville. The invitations will stop, and no one will come to visit. I’ll never catch a husband like Grand-mère wants.”
“Don’t you be talking like that.” Jemma pulled Alexandra’s nightgown over her head and replaced it with a black cotton chemise. “You got so many blessings. Maybe this is God’s way of getting you to share them.”
Alexandra picked up her corset and stepped into it, tugging upward until the stays enfolded her rib cage. She held it still while Jemma laced up the back. “What do you mean?”
The next layer of clothing was a dark petticoat, followed by a black overdress with long sleeves to protect her arms from the cold temperatures.
“There’s lots of folks in Natchez who need help.” Jemma shrugged and led her to the dressing table so she could fix Alexandra’s hair. “Maybe God is freeing up your time so you can visit with them.”
Preposterous. Spend her time helping the poor? Accompanying her aunt Patricia on more depressing visits? Yet what was the alternative? She could not stand the idea of sitting in the parlor, waiting for visitors who never arrived. Jeremiah’s words from the evening before came back to her. He had shown her such kindness, coming to her rescue without question or concern for his own dignity. She opened her eyes and met Jemma’s gaze in the mirror. “Maybe you’re right.”
Jemma beamed. “Once you show those people who you really are, they’ll forget all about the past. You wait and see. They’ll be knocking on your grand-ma’s front door in no time. Nobody can resist a young lady with an open heart.”
Alexandra left her and joined her f
amily for breakfast. The gloom that had seemed so impenetrable earlier lifted a little. Once they saw the new Alexandra Lewis, her friends would be ashamed of their actions. And if they weren’t, well, that was all right, too. She had no need of false friends. Like Jeremiah had told her last night, depending on human beings always brought disappointment. She was done with relying on others. She could count only on herself.
A thought struck her, and she turned on the staircase to look back at her bedroom door. Had God used Jemma to make her feel better this morning? Did He really care enough to involve Himself in her life? A spark of excitement warmed her, but then it faded. How ridiculous to think such foolishness. If He cared that much, why hadn’t He been there when she really needed His help? Why had He been so silent during those days and weeks right after Papa’s death? And why hadn’t He stopped Papa from going down the wrong path?
No, believing in a caring, loving God was for children and old people. They needed to believe someone would protect them, be there for them. But she was young and healthy. She could make her own way in the world. She didn’t need God or anyone else.
Neither Aunt Patricia nor Uncle John was present for breakfast. Alexandra had been so caught up in her own worries she had forgotten they were visiting his relatives and would be gone all day. Her plans to devote her time helping her aunt minister to the needy were dashed. What would she do with her day?
Grand-mère entered the dining room, leaning heavily on her cane. After she was seated and served, she turned to Alexandra. “How was your party last night?”
“It did not go as well as I had hoped.”
Her mother, sitting across from her, looked up. “What happened?”
Mississippi Brides Page 8
