Almost three years had passed and too many people still looked askance at her. She couldn’t walk through town or enter a business without feeling followed by curious stares. They tickled like ants crawling along her scalp. She’d heard the talk. An older man. A young wife. The interest of an adult stepson. Her husband’s unexpected death. As a whole, the circumstances made for tantalizing rumors, but scarce facts.
“Surely, there are men who can use Clayton’s things.”
Rose reached over Joanna’s shoulder and removed a wool suit coat. She shook it out and examined it. “I see no moth holes in this one.”
“Then put it in the pile to sell. We need money if we intend to live somewhere other than on the street.”
“Where will we go? The sale will be legal soon, and you haven’t decided.”
“After we pay Li—”
Rose gripped Joanna’s arm, and both women glanced at Annie in silent acknowledgment that little pitchers had big ears.
“After everything is settled, there will only be a few hundred left, but I want to get as far away from Banesville as possible.”
“I understand.”
Rose’s soft reply pinched Joanna’s conscience. So far, she had made all the decisions regarding the move, giving her friend insufficient say in the matter. Maybe Rose didn’t really want to leave town.
Or maybe she didn’t want to leave her marriage.
Joanna led Rose out of Annie’s hearing and lowered her voice. “I’m sorry. We haven’t talked much about how you’ve fared since Liam left.”
She paused to rethink what she was about to suggest. Could she stay, even for Rose and Annie? “I can’t bear the thought of him hurting you again, but I won’t press you to leave if you’d rather stay.”
“But what of Mr. Barnes and the others around town who offend you at every turn?”
“We’ll find an inexpensive place. Maybe near one of the mills where I doubt we’ll run into anyone of their class. And I’ll need work.”
Rose’s eyes popped. “Surely you’re not saying you’d work in a cotton mill?
Joanna’s father may have become a minister, but he’d never forsaken his wealthy roots for the sake of the Gospel. Even though Clayton held a tight rein on the purse strings while they were married, she had been content with the things her husband had provided, considering life with a miserly husband to be a penalty for her past behavior. Now the state of her finances forced her to consider employment, but could she go so far as to seek mill work?
“Those places are meant for a person like me, not you, Jo. You know nothing of operating machinery or weaving cotton into cloth.”
“And you do?”
“No, but if anyone works in a mill, it should be me.”
The idea of either of them working more than sixty-five or seventy hours a week in a hot, humid, and dusty factory for inadequate pay disheartened Joanna. Most people would say their best option was remarriage. That disheartened her even more.
“Annie will require someone to care for her during the day.”
Rose eyed the child skipping across the open space she found in the attic. “Pretty soon, Annie will be of an age to work in such a place. I won’t let that happen. I won’t stand by while either of you ruin your health and die of the brown lung or lose a hand in the machinery.”
Joanna didn’t care for herself, but how could she ever subject Annie to such a dismal future?
Rose brushed a tear from her cheek. “Jo, I want better for the child. I want better for her than a man who drowns his disappointments with liquor.” It wasn’t necessary for her to add that she wished Liam were the man she thought she’d married. It was written in every sad line on Rose’s face.
“Then perhaps we’ll go to Raleigh, or maybe to a town along the coast. Surely we’ll find work in a shop while Annie attends school.”
Rose laid a hand on her arm. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“I’m the one who owes you, Rose.” Joanna glanced at the child. “And we both owe Annie a happier childhood.”
CHAPTER NINE
Joanna crept toward the front door and wished for a window panel so she could see who had knocked. What if Kit tried to surprise her with another visit? She was too filthy, tired, and cranky to deal with him today.
She waited, willing the person to go away. The door knocker beat against the wood once more, and she jerked the door open. “Perry?” He normally entered without knocking.
His smile faded at the sight of her.
“Yes, I look a fright. I wasn’t expecting visitors. Rose and I have been in the attic all morning.”
Perry dropped his hat onto the half-moon side table along the wall. “I came to apologize for my shortness with you the other day.” He lifted a cobweb from her tousled hair, then frowned and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his hands. “I was caught by surprise. I had no idea you and Kit Barnes were—”
“We were nothing.” Joanna attempted to relax the tight muscles in her neck and shoulders. “Please, come in.”
She led him to the family parlor and stood near the front window so she wouldn’t be tempted to sink into a chair and dirty the fabric. Despite her mood, a smile lurked on her lips. The poor, fastidious man. What a sight she must be to him. All the better if it helped him get over his infatuation with her.
“I came to tell you I’ve received the contract. Kit and I will meet this afternoon to discuss it, and then if all is satisfactory, I’ll bring it to you for signature.” His gaze pinned her. “Unless you would like to meet with him yourself.”
“No. I’m content to let you handle it.”
Perry leaned against the fireplace mantel. With his finger, he traced a rose leaf on a hand-painted vase. “I noticed the friction between the two of you.” His finger stilled, and he waited. What did he expect her to say, that she and Kit were lovers who’d had a spat? He’d have a long wait.
“His brother wanted to marry me. It didn’t work out.” The truth and yet a lie.
Perry stepped away from the fireplace. He stopped before coming into contact with the dust wafting around her. “You aren’t obligated to sell to him, you know.”
You’re wrong, Perry. “He’s shown the only interest.”
Kit’s purpose for the house was absurd, and completely unlike the young man who had tossed her aside. What had she ever seen in him other than his looks?
The question breached the dam holding back memories, both good and bad. Kit had fascinated her from the moment she first saw him in Philadelphia. His easy laughter and devil-may-care attitude were the antithesis of her father’s sober and pessimistic outlook. Yet, underneath that shallow exterior, she’d perceived a smoldering fire—an emotion she longed to explore—never realizing how badly she would be burned.
While she’d danced and flirted with the other young men at the Everspring Ball, her gaze continued to stray in his direction. Finally, he noticed her and made up his mind to approach. Then his brother stepped between them and blocked their view of one another. It was the last time she saw Kit that night. He left the dance without ever speaking to her. They didn’t meet again until Hugh introduced them before a dinner at his grandparents’ residence.
“You need money for the upkeep of this house. Let me pay for the repairs and you won’t have to—”
“Perry, I can’t.”
He forgot himself and grasped her dusty sleeves. “It makes sense, Joanna. I have the money.”
What would he say if she told him she needed five thousand dollars? Would he have that for her? “We’ve discussed this before. I won’t allow you to support me or pay my debts.”
“You’re family. I want to help.”
Joanna eased out of his hold. “I’m leaving Banesville for good.”
Perry’s eyes widened, and he retreated a pace. Had he never taken her spoken wishes seriously before now? “Where will you go?”
“I don’t know yet. Rose and I are discussing it.” As soon as she sa
id those words, Joanna clamped her mouth shut. Judging by the set of Perry’s jaw, she’d made a mistake in mentioning Rose.
“She’s going with you?”
“And Annie.”
“Your housekeeper is a married woman. What about her husband? What does he have to say about it?”
“Liam no longer lives here. I fired him Wednesday morning.”
“You fired …? Why? Why didn’t you tell me before now?”
Joanna raised her chin. “I fired him because I won’t stand by and let anyone physically abuse a friend—not even if he is her husband.”
Perry turned his head away. “Of course, you were right to let him go. Last Wednesday, you said?”
“Yes.”
“Where is Liam now?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
They had heard nothing more from Liam after Rose received the note on Friday. It gave no indication of where to reach him. Even if it had, she’d never tell Perry and risk his confronting the drunkard, possibly getting hurt in the process. Though she believed he had been bluffing, she couldn’t risk that Liam truly knew a damaging fact about her past with Kit. She would pay thousands of dollars to the lout if it assured her that no one ever learned the truth, especially not Perry … or Kit, for that matter.
“You’ve lived here without a man’s protection for several days and didn’t tell me?” Perry faced her and took her hand. “I’ve told you before that it isn’t wise for you to live alone such a distance from me. A burglar entered the Jackson residence two nights ago. What will you do if he comes here? Let me take care of you, Jo.”
“Perry—”
“Stay at my house until the sale is final and you’ve chosen another place to live. There’s no need to leave town. I’ll ask around. Perhaps there’s a house available in my neighborhood.”
Live in his neighborhood? After she finished paying Liam she couldn’t afford a month in a nice hotel room, much less the purchase of a residence in the better part of town.
“Perry, others will find it improper, and I’ve had my fill of rumors concerning our relationship.”
He dropped her hand with a force that sent a dull pang through her shoulder. “Pay no attention to what a bunch of old hens think.”
Joanna had dealt with the opinions of old hens since she was eight, the day they learned her mother had walked out of the Cranston house in the company of a man other than her father and never returned.
She rubbed her shoulder. Gossiping old women weren’t the ones who came to mind this time. As much as it pained her to admit it, Kit’s opinion concerned her most. Would she ever be free of the man’s hold on her?
“If I accepted your offer of a temporary place to stay, what about Rose and Annie?”
“You know I already employ a full staff. I’m sure a number of ladies would be happy to hire Rose, if it weren’t for the child.”
Joanna thought as much. Perry had never made secret his disapproval of her having befriended a household servant. Annie’s existence doubled his objection.
He patted her arm. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Rose will find an employer who won’t mind the presence of the child. In time, the girl will be an additional help to her mother. I might be persuaded to hire her myself after the child grows to a point of being useful.”
“I have greater dreams for Annie than being someone’s household help or working in a factory.” But if the two women barely kept a roof over their heads, how would she manage to provide the child an education that would bring her a brighter future?
“She’s not your responsibility, Jo.” Perry waved away the subject. “Let me return home and instruct my housekeeper to prepare a room for you. It will give you time to gather your things. I’ll come back for you this evening before supper.”
“I’m afraid I can’t accept your hospitality. I’ll be fine.”
“Don’t be foolish. What if a stranger entered this house? Who would protect you? Rose? Obviously, she couldn’t protect herself from her own husband.”
Joanna bit her tongue. Any response would provoke further argument, something she hoped to avoid. Perry had been too good to her over the past three years.
“Suit yourself.” He strode from the room, snatched his hat from the table, and marched out the door.
Joanna lumbered up the stairs and down the hall to her room. The last thing she wanted was to hurt another Stewart man. Apparently, she was destined to do it over and over. The sooner she left Banesville, the better off Perry would be without her.
***
Not long after Perry drove away, the door knocker sounded again. Joanna skipped down the stairs, presuming he had returned to smooth over their troubled parting. She smiled and opened the door to a woman, a stranger. She couldn’t be more than twenty, young and pretty, with high cheekbones, green-tinted hazel eyes, and rosy lips. Reddish-brown hair reminded Joanna of the fawn that had followed its mother through her yard that morning. Wave after wave fought the restraints of combs and pins under a straw hat decorated with red, silk roses.
“Yes?”
The woman inhaled a deep breath, planted a cheerful smile on her face and asked, “Are you Mrs. Stewart?”
“I am.”
“My name is Darcy Baird, ma’am. I’m looking for work. I’ll do anything you need—wash, iron, cook, clean.”
The exuberance in the young woman’s gentle drawl and anticipation in her hope-filled eyes provoked Joanna to say, “I’m sure you’re a competent worker, Miss Baird, but—”
“I can sew, and I make fine lotions. Would you like a sample?” She thrust her arm out to reveal the scent of lavender. “What do you think?”
“It’s lovely. However—”
“Please, ma’am, it’s been difficult to find employment.” She rubbed a hand over her ample middle.
The unconscious reaction drew Joanna’s attention to a bulge under clothing that hung more slack than fashion dictated, even in these days of physicians warnings against tight corsets. At her stare, Darcy Baird jerked her hand behind her back, straightened her backbone, and tightened the muscles in her middle—a ploy to make the baby inside her look as if it didn’t exist.
“I-I’m a widow, Mrs. Stewart.”
A lie if Joanna had ever told one. While Darcy’s dress, manner, and speech indicated an educated woman, the white-knuckled clutch of the purse and the lip caught between her teeth revealed desperation. Another woman who allowed a rogue to take advantage of her and paid the price?
Compassion warred with an urge to shut the door in Darcy’s face and on Joanna’s guilt. “Miss Baird, my house has been sold. I’m preparing to move from town shortly.”
“Oh.” Darcy’s chin dropped. She took a step backward. “Well, I thank you for your time, ma’am.”
Joanna pushed the door, intending to close it. Halfway, she stopped as the inner battle continued. “Would you like something to eat before you go?”
Darcy displayed a sad smile. “No, thank you.”
Joanna remained in the doorway as Darcy trudged back down the drive. Once she reached the street, Joanna shut the door and leaned against it, tempted to lift a prayer on the woman’s behalf—tempted, but not persuaded. Coming from her, it might do more harm than good.
CHAPTER TEN
Kit stopped in front of a massive, moss-colored Queen Anne structure with a turret on the right and a wide porch that wrapped the front and both sides. He hiked the brick walkway leading to the Brockhurst house, rang the buzzer, and waited until a maid opened the door.
When she gazed up at him, he slipped into his Philadelphia-bred manners. “My name is Christopher Barnes. I sent word earlier of my intention to call upon Mrs. Brockhurst this morning.”
“Yes, sir. She’s expecting you.”
The maid led him into a drawing room where a thin, middle-aged woman draped in black was seated on the settee near the fireplace. The room equaled Joanna’s drawing room in size but contained the extravagant furnishings the Stewart house lacked.<
br />
Mrs. Brockhurst’s eagle-eyed stare focused on him. Joanna’s assessment of the woman’s personality was exaggerated, but not wholly incorrect.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Christopher. Please be seated.” With a royal sweep of a hand, she gestured to the straight-backed, ornately-carved chair across from her, then said to the maid, “You may bring the tea now, Mavis.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Kit shifted on the hard chair in search of a comfortable position. He gave up. “I wanted to inform you of our progress in the establishment of the ministry here.”
“The Spencer Brockhurst House.”
It was a mouthful he preferred to shorten in private to the House. “Yes, of course.”
Research revealed her sixteen-year-old son died from a fall down the stairs. If Kit’s majority benefactor insisted upon honoring her late son by naming the home after him, they would do so. He didn’t care what name the place went by, only that it succeed in its purpose.
After Mavis brought the tea, Mrs. Brockhurst poured and handed Kit a delicate cup and saucer. “You have secured the location you sought?”
“Yes, ma’am. We’ll be on Hickory Grove Road, well away from the drinking establishments.”
“Good.” The shadow of a question crossed her face. “Hickory Grove, you said? Which house?”
“The Stewart house.”
She reached for her tea and added a dollop of cream, then stirred until there was no doubt the two had melded. “Are you sure you’ve chosen well?”
Kit straightened his shoulders, alert to the quiet admonition. “It’s an ideal location and the size will allow room for growth. I signed the contract yesterday. I’m afraid Mrs. Stewart asked more than I’d expected, but I’ll make up the difference from my personal funds.” At the distaste written in the pinch of her lips, he asked, “Is there an issue I should know about?”
Mrs. Brockhurst sipped her tea and seconds ticked by before she set the cup on the table. “I’m not one to believe in every rumor that comes my way, Mr. Barnes, but there are those in Banesville who hold Mrs. Stewart to be less than, shall we say … honorable.”
A Reluctant Melody - Will she risk losing everything … including her heart? Page 6
