"Seeds from the blue flower called the morning glory. Should you ever have enemies, they will make a nice potion to make them very sick. They will become dizzy and see visions, as well as vomit and be afraid. Since it would be hard to get them to eat the seeds whole, you must mash them into powder and then mix the powder in liquid for drinking."
Jacie was amazed. She loved morning glories. She had even planted some next to the porch at the cabin and enjoyed seeing their green vines grow to wrap around the posts, shading the porch with large, heart-shaped blossoms. But never had she thought they could be used to poison.
"As I told you," he said, "I want you to be able to take care of yourself when we are no longer together."
Looking from the knife she held in one hand to the poison seeds in the other, Jacie murmured, "I just hope I never have need of either of these."
"As do I, my child," he agreed solemnly. "As do I."
Jacie took her bedroll and lay down on the other side of the campfire, but she was too restless to sleep. After a time, she heard Mehlonga's even breathing and only then did she reach for the baby blanket she had not opened since they had left ten nights ago. Wanting to look at the daguerreotype once more, she felt along the hem for the telltale bulge, which oddly seemed larger and heavier than she recalled.
Her fingers crept inside, and she swallowed a startled gasp to find, along with the locket, the diamond and amethyst necklace. But she had left it on Michael's desk, next to the letter she had written. So how...
Sudie. She must have been inside the closet while Jacie was writing the note to Michael and saw her leave the necklace on the desk. Evidently she had also seen her take it out of the hem of the blanket earlier so she had returned to the cabin and put it back inside, thinking she was doing Jacie a favor.
Jacie could do nothing about it now. She snuggled down to rest as weariness washed over her. Sudie meant well; Jacie knew she would just have to be extra careful not to lose the necklace. After all, Michael was going to be angry enough as it was. He would never forgive her if she lost something so dear.
* * *
The trip had taken longer than Michael anticipated. He had figured the day-and-a-half train ride to Charleston, two days of business concerning the sale of Cousin Verena's house, then the return to Atlanta. Five days, six at the most. And now he had been away nearly ten days.
As the carriage reached Red Oakes and turned into the drive, Michael reveled in the sight of the cotton fields that stretched as far as the eye could see. White blossoms exploded like popcorn on a sea of green. Pickers stooped and worked their way between the rows, the big shoulder bags dragging the ground behind them.
The overseers watched from horseback. A few tipped their hats or waved as the carriage passed.
Olivia darted an anxious glance at Verena. The trip had been quite tense. As the days had dragged on, Michael made no secret of his growing annoyance. "See?" she pointed out, attempting to lighten his mood. "Everyone is hard at work. Red Oakes does not come to a standstill just because you aren't around, dear."
"That's right," Verena said in the chirpy voice Michael found so grating. "We didn't have to rush at all. Goodness, I hope I didn't forget anything, the way you were hurrying us to leave."
Michael's lips were a thin line of irritation. He did not trust himself to speak, for he did not want to be disrespectful to Cousin Verena. But it was her fault, damn it. If it had been left up to him, he'd have had workers pack everything in her house in one day, but she had insisted on supervising, picking and choosing what to store, give away or sell. Then there was her stomach upset that delayed signing the papers for two days. She had laughed it off, saying she knew collard greens sometimes didn't agree with her, but when her neighbor brought over a big bowl full, how could she refuse?
Shopping had also taken an extra day, as Verena said she had no idea when she would be getting back to Charleston and wanted her dressmaker to fit her for a few new gowns before leaving. Michael had really struggled for control then, yearning to tell her she could stay in Charleston if she liked. He wished she would, because he couldn't stand the thought of her living at Red Oakes indefinitely.
He had wanted to go on ahead, but his mother would not hear of it, so he'd had no choice but to stay and keep his mouth shut. But now he was home at last, and the second the carriage pulled to a stop he was out and bounding up the steps. The grooms could help the ladies. He could wait no longer to see Jacie.
Elyse had been watching from a window. Her mother had promised to keep Michael away from Red Oakes for at least ten days, and she had done so. There had not been time to explain everything before they left, only that Jacie had run away, and she needed time to come up with a plan to ensure Michael would not want her back. Verena had been only too happy to oblige, willing to do anything to help.
Elyse was wearing one of her prettiest dresses—a pale green taffeta that complemented her hair, the neckline dipping just low enough to be enticing Without being obviously provocative. She had a nice bosom and knew Michael appreciated that fact, because there had been times when she had seen him looking at her when he thought she was unaware.
Michael was taking the steps two at a time as he called Jacie's name.
Elyse took one last look in the mirror, drew a deep breath, then walked out into the hall.
Michael was just reaching the landing, and despite his disappointment at finding Elyse waiting instead of Jacie, he greeted her warmly, unable to keep from noticing how fetching she looked and absently wondering why she had not married long ago. "You're lovely, as always," he greeted her. "I'm sorry you had to look after Jacie for so long, but blame your mother. You know how she is." He forced an indulgent smile to show that he meant no disrespect.
He rushed on to demand, "Where is she? God, I've been so worried. Did you two go riding? Are her spirits better?" Michael called for a servant to go fetch Jacie.
Elyse bit her lip, her hands primly folded at her waist. The words had been carefully rehearsed. She knew them by heart. But it was important to wait until exactly the right moment. Meanwhile, she was trying to make herself cry. She thought about a little dog she had as a child, how much she had loved him and how hurt she'd been when he died. Then the tears came quickly.
"I'm sorry, Michael. Jacie isn't here."
"What do you mean? Where is she?"
He gripped Elyse's shoulders, and instead of flinching with pain as his fingers dug into her flesh, she felt a delicious tremor at his touch. "She isn't here, Michael," she managed to say.
"What are you talking about? Is this some kind of prank the two of you are playing? I'm not amused."
She pulled away from his grasp, for he was squeezing harder and hurting her now. She hated this, despised having to cause him such anguish, but if that was what it took to make him her very own, so be it. Jacie did not love him, or she never would have left him, not for any reason. Therefore, Elyse reasoned, she did not deserve him.
"Oh, I see," he said. "She went back to the cabin to stay. Well, I might have known she would do that the minute I left. But you couldn't help it, Elyse. I know how headstrong she can be. There's no need for you to cry."
He turned to go.
"She's not there, Michael. She didn't go there."
"Then where the hell is she?"
The words tumbled out, and Elyse no longer had to force herself to cry, so shaken was she by the way he was glaring at her, as though it were suddenly all her fault. "She's been gone since the day you left. I had the servants searching all over, but they couldn't find her."
He grabbed her again, and this time she tried to escape him, but he held tight, shouting, "Where did she go? Where would she go? Something has happened to her and you're keeping it from me. What is it, damn you. Tell me...."
He trailed off as Olivia and Verena appeared. Olivia saw how he was holding Elyse and cried, "What is going on here? Michael, what are you doing to her?"
Michael waved the women back as they rushed toward him. "Sta
y out of this. Both of you." He gave Elyse a shake. "Are you going to tell me or drive me crazy?" He was almost hysterical as visions began to flash before his eyes—Jacie dead, her neck broken in a fall while trying to jump the hurdles, or dead from fever, sickness. If Elyse didn't tell him the truth, and soon, he was afraid he would have to put his fist through the wall to keep from beating it out of her.
"Let me go. You're hurting me," Elyse whimpered.
Verena threw herself between them and gave Michael a quick slap. "How dare you treat my daughter this way. I'll not have it, do you hear me?"
Michael's chest was heaving. He felt he was going to be sick. "Something has happened to Jacie," he said with a moan that came from somewhere deep inside. "And she won't tell me what it is."
Olivia began to sway. "For God's sake, Elyse, what is this all about? Tell us."
Elyse then threw her arms around him. "Oh, Michael, I'd rather die than have to tell you this." She took a deep breath, gathering her courage to tell the biggest lie she had ever told in her whole life. "Jacie has run away with Zach Newton."
Olivia fainted.
Verena fought to hold back a smile to think what a clever daughter she had.
And Michael pushed Elyse away from him to finally slam his fist through the wall.
Chapter 11
Michael was proud that he had proved wrong the skeptics who said he was too young to take over for his father. He was also pleased to have earned the respect of some of the most influential people in Georgia, and there was even talk of his entering the political arena one day.
But in the wake of Jacie's running away, Michael Blake was a broken man.
It had been a week since he had returned to find Jacie gone, and all day, every day, he sat behind his desk and brooded. Elyse had taken to her bed, weeping with self-recrimination. Michael had tried to assure her that he did not blame her, but she said she felt that she had let him down. He tried to make her see she could not have prevented what happened, but she refused to come out of her room and said she could not bear to talk about it.
Humiliation kept him from leaving his study, for he could not bear the pitying looks of his overseers. That first day, he had ridden out to the fields, pretending to be interested in how the cotton and corn harvests were going but actually wanting to escape his mother's wailing over such a scandal. But realizing the overseers knew about it, as well as some of the field hands, Michael had avoided everyone since. Eventually he would have to come out, but for the time being he wanted to be alone with his misery and heartache.
"Michael? Unlock this door."
He groaned to hear his mother's voice; she pounded till he had to let her in. "I don't feel like talking," he said brusquely.
"Well, I do." She sat down. "It's time we discussed that little doxy."
"She's not a doxy, Mother. She might have run away with Zach Newton, for God only knows what reason, but she's no doxy. And how can we know what she was thinking? She'd been friends with him for years and she was probably upset with me for letting him go. We'd had a fight the last night we were together."
"She was probably off with him that afternoon, making plans to leave."
"No, no, I don't believe that. She was angry with me. That's why she went with him. I shouldn't have left her at such a time. My God, she'd just lost both of her parents." He slumped into his chair, racked by torment.
Olivia Blake was unmoved by his defense of Jacie. "You can't make excuses for her, because there can be none for what she did. And the fact is she had been carrying on with him for some time, only we were all too blind to see it."
His head snapped up. "What are you talking about?"
"I hate to be the one to tell you this, Michael, but I've heard some of the servants' gossip. Jacie was sneaking out to meet Zach at his cabin behind the stables before her parents died. And after you moved her in here, she was seen meeting him at the gazebo in the middle of the night. Disgraceful." She wrinkled her nose and gave a shudder. "Not only did she behave like a wanton hussy, but her parents weren't yet cold in their graves. And the reason she wanted to go back to the cabin was so Zach could sleep there and you wouldn't know about—"
Michael slammed his fist on the desk and bolted to his feet. "That's enough, Mother. I won't listen to such filthy lies, and I'll have the heads of those spreading them. Who told you all this? I want their names."
Olivia shrank back in her chair. She had never seen him so angry. "Well, actually," she hedged, "I didn't hear it. Verena did."
"Verena!" He spat the name. "I might have known. She loves to stir up trouble. I wish to hell she'd go back to Charleston."
"They don't have a house there anymore, remember? She wants to find a smaller place, but with winter coming on, she wants to wait till spring to do anything. And she is your father's kin. I certainly can't ask her to leave. We've had enough impropriety at Red Oakes," she added pointedly.
Michael gritted his teeth at the thought of having to endure Verena for such a long time. "Well, if she's going to stay, she's going to have to keep her mouth shut and stay out of my business. I'm not going to have her upsetting you."
"Jacie has managed to do enough to upset me for a long time to come. Verena doesn't have to say a word. And by the way, I should think you'd be concerned about poor Elyse. She's making herself sick, she feels so bad about all this. She adores you, and it breaks her heart to know you're taking this so hard."
"I can't help it. I love Jacie and you know it."
"You're better off without her, and sooner or later you'll come to your senses and realize that. She was not of our class. I just wish we'd found out about her earlier. Then you wouldn't have made such a fool of yourself by giving her that necklace. I'll wager she and Zach get a pretty price for it, and they'll laugh at you the whole time they're spending the money—"
"That's enough!" Michael cried. His face turned ashen. The necklace, damn it. He had forgotten all about the necklace.
"Where are you going?" Olivia demanded as he hurried toward the door. The expression on his face was fearsome.
"To talk to the servants. I want to see how much they're willing to tell me."
She got up to follow after him. "Forget them. Forget Jacie and say good riddance. It's Elyse you should be talking to."
The front door slammed on her words and Michael hurtled down the wide marble steps, taking them two at a time. Somebody had to have heard something, seen something. It was a big plantation, with hundreds of slaves, and they were the ones he could make talk. He had no intentions of demeaning himself by discussing his fiancée's infidelity with his overseers. The slaves were a different matter. And he'd dare them to gossip about his interrogation of them.
Fiancée.
The word rolled around in his mouth like bile and he screwed up his face in loathing.
Though he had not let himself dwell on it, Jacie had never said she loved him; but he had assumed she did. Just as he had assumed she would marry him, which she probably would have, if only for his money. Then she and Zach would have continued to be lovers behind his back. Only when her parents died and she had her greedy little hands on the necklace had she decided to take it and leave with Zach.
How could he have been so blind? Fuming, he rounded the house and entered the rear yards, Jacie and Zach probably became lovers while he was in Europe, and when he returned, distracted by grief and sudden responsibilities, it was easy for them to deceive him. Never had he suspected anything. Whenever Jacie seemed aloof, Michael thought she was just being coquettish. Now, with rage a hot fist squeezing the very life from him, Michael knew she had been thinking about Zach all the while.
And she could have him, he raged, but by God, he would be damned if she would have the necklace too. If he could find out in which direction they had headed, he was going after it.
The sky was a huge gray hand, reaching across the earth with rings of silver lightning and fingers dancing to the rhythm of thunder. Trees bowed in fear as the winds
slashed and crackled like giant, punishing whips.
A bad storm was rapidly approaching, but it was not only the threatening clouds that made those in Michael's path run for cover—it was the raw tempest in his eyes.
He passed the kitchen buildings with determined steps as the first drops of rain began to fall. The cooling rooms and smokehouses appeared deserted, but the washwomen scurried frantically toward the lines as the winds threatened to snatch the laundry and fling it into the sky.
The chicken pen was hidden behind a thick row of crepe myrtle bushes. Skirting around them, Michael walked with angry strides down the path leading to the whitewashed slave cabins.
Nearby, a tree was hit by lightning and went crashing to the ground. In the fields, cotton flew through the air like snow.
Michael was soaked within seconds, his hair plastered to his head. But storm or no storm, he was going to get some answers, and he was going to start with Sudie, whom he had not seen since his return. The girl was assigned to watch Jacie, so she might have seen or heard something but not dared to tell anyone.
By the time he reached the rows of shacks, the storm had exploded and the rains came down so violently he could barely see where he was going. Stumbling into the first cabin he came to, Michael yelled, "Find the girl named Sudie. Bring her to me here, and the rest of you get out."
They scurried to obey, a man, his wife, and two teenage children. Michael felt bad about the fear in their eyes, for he had never screamed at any of them in such a way, but he was desperate. His nerves were raw, and he feared he was reaching the breaking point.
He stumbled about the cabin, noting its bleakness. A large bed with a wooden bedstead stood in one corner opposite two smaller beds on the other side of the room. There was a table and a few chairs, hooks on the wall to hang clothes. The floor was dirt, and there was a crumbling stone fireplace for cooking and heating. No glass was in the windows, and the shutters had been fastened against the storm, which made the room stifling hot. He knew he should have been aware of the poor conditions but had let other matters take precedence. He made a mental note to see to it after he settled things with Jacie, then realized he was no longer alone.
Say You Love Me Page 10
