Words Spoken True: A Novel

by Ann H. Gabhart

  In her eagerness, she forgot to pay attention to the traffic on the road and stepped into the street directly into the path of two matched bays smartly pulling a light carriage. The driver shouted and jerked hard on his reins to keep from running her down. Spooked, the horses fought against the driver and reared up in their traces. At the sight of hooves flashing above her head, Adriane froze, not sure which way to run. Strong hands grabbed hold of her and just in the nick of time yanked her back up on the sidewalk to safety. The horses found their legs and took off in a wild gallop as their driver kept yelling and pulling on the reins.

  With her heart pounding, Adriane’s knees went weak, and she leaned heavily against her rescuer as the carriage bounced past them. Two pale, wide-eyed faces peered out at her.

  “My dear lady.” The man’s voice sounded very familiar in her ear. “Do be more careful. I would hate to beat your father to the headline that his own daughter had been run down by a team of high-spirited horses.”

  Adriane gasped as she looked up at Blake Garrett smiling down at her. Even though her knees felt even weaker, she attempted to push away from him. But he kept his arms tight around her waist.

  “Give yourself a moment to recover from your scare, Adriane,” Blake said. “It would be quite ungentlemanly of me to allow you to crumple on the sidewalk.”

  His body felt rock solid against her, and her heart started pounding even harder although the carriage was disappearing from sight. She felt the urge to just lean closer to this man and let him hold her as long as he wanted.

  The thought brought her up short, and she immediately stepped away from him. Her eyes darted to his face and away. She took a deep breath and managed a polite smile. “Thank you, Mr. Garrett. I can’t imagine what I must have been thinking.”

  “I’m sure you know exactly what you were thinking, Miss Darcy. Your problem was that you were not watching.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Adriane kept the slight smile on her face as she stared somewhere a bit to the side of his face and went on. “At any rate, I am grateful that you were. Watching, I mean.”

  “I guess this is one time you can be glad you weren’t able to avoid me.”

  “Avoid you?” Her eyes flew to his face in surprise. “I can’t imagine what you mean, Mr. Garrett.”

  “Can’t you?” Blake’s eyes burned into hers. “You’re afraid to talk to me.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” She knew she should turn away from him, but she seemed rooted to the spot.

  “That it may be, Miss Darcy, but we have been attending the same social functions for weeks, and any time I attempt to speak to you, you always manage an escape.” His look didn’t waver. “Even so, I hardly expected you to be so fearful of meeting me that you’d step in front of a team of horses.”

  In spite of feeling a bit breathless, Adriane managed to keep her voice steady as she peered up at him. “Have I need to fear you, sir?” She tried to sound coquettish as though they were merely sparring meaningless words at a social.

  Every trace of a smile disappeared from his face as his eyes probed hers until she was sure he was seeing into her very soul. She wanted to close her eyes, shut him away. She wanted to flee across the road toward Grace’s house where she would be safe. But she couldn’t allow him to win so easily.

  After a long moment, he finally spoke. Not in the haughty voice she expected, but softly, almost kindly. “There are things you should fear, Adriane, but I am not one of them. Remember that. I always stand ready to rescue you.”

  “I should hope I will not need to be rescued again, Mr. Garrett.” She attempted a smile. His kindness was even harder to bear up under than his disparagement.

  He didn’t smile back. “I think you need rescuing even now.”

  She arched her eyebrows at him. “From you, sir?”

  “Perhaps so, dear lady.” At last he smiled fully, and again as it had that first time she’d seen him smile at Mrs. Wigginham’s, the light exploded from his eyes. “There are ladies who think I’m more than a little dangerous.”

  Adriane began breathing easier as if she’d just tiptoed safely away from the edge of a chasm. “I wouldn’t wonder.” She kept her tone light as she turned from him to look up and down the street for carriages or wagons. “Perhaps if I’m careful, I might be able to make it across the street now.”

  He held out his arm to her. “Please allow me to escort you. I’m going that way anyway.”

  “Which way?” she said even as she slipped her hand under his elbow. It would be childish to refuse to walk with him.

  He grinned down at her. “Whichever way you’re going.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to turn my head, Mr. Garrett. Or perhaps you think I’m on the track of a news story that you’ve somehow missed buying from some poor unfortunate soul.”

  He laughed easily as they made their way across the street. “It never hurts to keep an eye on the competition.”

  On the opposite walk, Adriane stopped and looked at him. There hardly seemed any reason to avoid meeting his eyes now. “Alas, Mr. Garrett, I’m not on the track of a story, but simply on my way to visit a friend.”

  “In this part of town?” Blake looked around at the small houses. “Hardly the place for a social.”

  “Neither is the newspaper shop where I live.”

  “But all that will soon change.” His eyes came back to hers.

  “So it seems.” She looked away from him toward Grace’s house. “At any rate, my friend’s house is right around the corner, and I fear I’m late, so I must hurry on.”

  “I’ll walk you to her door.” When she hesitated, he went on. “It really is the way I’m going.”

  “Very well.” She gave in gracefully and began to walk beside him. After a moment of silence, she said, “I have been meaning to compliment you on your interview with Helena Poteet. It was the talk of the town for days.”

  “She’s an old friend,” he said. “And if we’re handing out compliments, you’re due one for your story about the Betsy Layne. I hear there was a line down at the dock the next day to get tickets for its first trip down the river.”

  Adriane looked over at him. “What makes you think I wrote that and not my father?”

  “You did, didn’t you?”

  “Well, yes,” Adriane admitted. “I do love the steamships and I managed to get aboard the Betsy Layne for a look around without anyone knowing.” She laughed. “If only I could stow away on her for her maiden voyage. I think she will beat the record to New Orleans without any problem.”

  “You keep up with the records?” Blake asked.

  “Don’t you? People love reading about record-breaking runs.” Adriane glanced at him again. “That and murders, of course.”

  “I don’t write about the murders to sell papers.” His eyes were suddenly piercing again.

  Adriane looked down at the sidewalk as if she needed to watch her step. “I didn’t say you did.”

  “Your father has said it, and more than once.” Blake’s voice was hard.

  “So he has,” Adriane agreed, still watching the sidewalk in front of her instead of looking at the man beside her. “And he probably will again. Father actually prefers the old-style papers where the news was mostly political. He sees the need to carry other sorts of stories now, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy with the way newspapers are changing.”

  “In the newspaper business, an editor prints the news. That’s what his readers want to read whether they know it or not. If you don’t show them what’s happening, there’s not much use in putting out a paper at all.” Blake’s voice changed then, until he sounded almost sad as he went on. “You can be sure I have no desire to print stories about how these poor girls lost their lives at the hand of some monster, but it happened. What happens is the news.”

  “Tell me, Mr. Garrett, and believe me, I’m not trying to steal your story, but do you think the river slasher will strike again? It’s been
over two months.” Adriane looked up at him.

  “I don’t know any more than you’ve read in the Herald.” A frown creased his forehead. “I don’t think anyone does. Certainly not the police.”

  “It must be awful for those girls down there to wonder if every stranger they meet might be the one.” Adriane stared back down at the plank walkway.

  “What makes you think it’s a stranger?”

  Adriane’s eyes flew up to his. “I don’t know. Except it would be worse to think it was someone you knew.”

  “Much worse. But a stranger would be caught or move on to another town. And this man has already killed three times.”

  “And you think he’ll do it again, don’t you?”

  “I do,” Blake said.

  Adriane couldn’t keep a shudder from running through her. Her father kept saying that no proper young lady had anything to worry about, but it could be some young girl somewhere did. “I sincerely hope they catch him soon,” she said.

  “I didn’t mean to distress you with all this talk of the murders, Miss Darcy.” He was looking at her with concern.

  “No, no, I brought it up. And it’s sometimes refreshing to talk to someone who’s not always fearful of disturbing one’s tender sensibilities.” Adriane stopped in front of Grace’s small house. “And now I must thank you for seeing me safely here. It was really most kind of you.”

  “My pleasure, Miss Darcy.” Blake smiled.

  Before he could turn to leave, Grace’s door flew open and the little woman came running down the walk to embrace Adriane. Grace Compton was only five feet tall with her shoes on and so slim that the angles of her bones showed through her skin, but she did everything with enthusiasm, as though the energy of a woman twice her size was coiled tightly inside her and she had to let it out every way possible.

  “Dear Adriane, I thought you’d never get here.” Grace held Adriane at arm’s length for a moment, looked her up and down, and then pulled her close for another even tighter hug.

  Adriane laughed and hugged back as happy tears ran down her face. For the moment, she forgot to worry about what she’d tell Grace about Stanley. Now she was just too glad to see her friend again after so many weeks.

  Two hugs later, Grace at last noticed Blake Garrett still standing beside them, watching their display with amusement as he waited to be properly introduced. She looked him up and down before she said, “One thing for certain, this is not Stanley Jimson.”

  10

  Grace, please! There’s no need to shock Mr. Garrett with your disdain of the social niceties.” Adriane sent a pointed look at Grace, even though she knew that would do nothing to stop her friend. Grace enjoyed throwing all the established rules of proper behavior out the window and absolutely relished any social upheaval that might cause.

  Indeed Grace didn’t even glance over at Adriane as she kept eyeing Blake. “Don’t worry, dear. I don’t believe Mr. Garrett is the type to be so easily shocked.”

  Blake laughed easily. “That’s certainly true, madam, and since Miss Darcy appears to be somewhat flustered by your admirable frankness, please allow me to introduce myself. Blake Garrett, editor of the Herald.”

  Grace’s eyes sharpened on him. “Yes, I remember reading about John Chesnut taking you on at his paper before I left for Boston.” She held out her hand with an amused smile. “Grace Compton, teacher, abolitionist, dedicated campaigner for the rights of the downtrodden, especially women, and last and certainly least, occasional hatmaker.”

  Blake barely hesitated before he clasped Grace’s slender hand in a manly handshake. “A pleasure, Miss Compton.”

  Grace laughed delightedly as if he’d just passed a test of some sort, and Adriane, watching them, began to believe that if she walked away up the street, neither of them would notice. Blake gave every appearance of being enchanted by Grace, and Grace in return seemed totally captivated by his frank smile.

  Adriane was a bit disappointed but hardly surprised. After all, Grace was a woman, even if she did have some unconventional ideas about a woman’s proper role in society. And just the thought of the light exploding out of Blake’s eyes when he smiled at her was enough to make Adriane’s own heart do a funny spin.

  She brought her thoughts quickly under control. She needed to remember that this man, no matter how charming and handsome, was attempting to destroy the Tribune. Smiles and talk of rescues did not alter that fact.

  Grace was inviting him to stay and lunch with them. “Nothing fancy, you understand. Just tea and bread and cheese. I do fear I haven’t made any hats for some time now.”

  Blake looked at Adriane, who was ready with a polite smile that slid easily onto her face after all the practice the last few weeks. “And what do you say, Miss Darcy?” he asked. “I wouldn’t want to impose on your visit.”

  “It’s hardly for me to say,” Adriane said crisply. “It is Grace’s house and her tea and bread. However, I must warn you she only wants to feel you out about publishing some news of her work in the North. She’s been away from Louisville for several months so can hardly know how carefully you tiptoe around any and all controversial issues for fear of stepping on the wrong toes.”

  His smile was gone in an instant as anger tightened the lines on his face. “Do you really believe that, Miss Darcy?”

  Grace stood to their side, now the one completely forgotten.

  “It doesn’t matter what I believe, Mr. Garrett. All that matters is what I read in your paper, and I do read your paper. I fear you care more about entertaining your readers than enlightening them.”

  The lines of anger grew deeper. “A good editor waits to be sure he has the facts before he enters into the fray.”

  “Such a careful editor might well miss the fray altogether.” Adriane stared at him boldly.

  “So he might,” Blake said softly. Some of the anger drained from his eyes to be replaced by rock-hard determination. “But you can be assured, Miss Darcy, that when I do take a stand, it will be because of what I believe to be right and not because I have been told what to believe or do by someone else.”

  All the fight drained out of Adriane, and she was sorry she’d initiated the whole confrontation. He was right. She didn’t know what she believed anymore. Perhaps she never had. She lowered her eyes to the ground. “I do apologize, Mr. Garrett. I don’t know whatever came over me to criticize you in such a way. I must beg your forgiveness.”

  Beside them, Grace took the matter into her capable hands. “Of course he forgives you, Adriane. Don’t you, Mr. Garrett?” She didn’t wait for him to answer as she rushed on. “And I fear I must withdraw my invitation to lunch, because Adriane is right in trying to discourage you from staying. It would not, I suppose, be proper, and a lady in her current position does have to maintain appearances, unlike myself who worries not a whit about what the other ladies might say if I entertain a gentleman in my parlor. That is, if I had a parlor to entertain a gentleman in. But you do understand, don’t you, Mr. Garrett?”

  “I’m trying to,” Blake said.

  Adriane slowly raised her eyes to look at him again. Even though he still frowned, he no longer looked angry, simply puzzled. “Perhaps Grace would be good enough to invite you to lunch on another day,” she said.

  “Anytime, Mr. Garrett,” Grace concurred quickly. “We could talk about the possibility of you publishing a small news report or perhaps a letter to the editor in regard to my causes. Even Adriane’s father is foolhardy enough to do that on occasion.”

  Blake looked at Adriane. “If indeed it is Mr. Darcy who picks the letters for the Tribune. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised to discover Miss Darcy was the foolhardy one.”

  “Not at all,” Adriane said, even though he’d hit on the truth. She was the one who slipped Grace’s letters into the paper whenever the opportunity arose, but she saw no reason to reveal that fact to Blake Garrett. “Father favors a bit of controversy on his editorial pages.”

  “Controversy can be an edi
tor’s best friend.” Blake’s smile returned. “Now if you good ladies will excuse me, I’ve kept you from your tea much too long already. I’m sure we’ll all meet again, and perhaps next time it will be proper for us to lunch together.”

  “One can only hope,” Grace said as she allowed Blake to take her hand in his again.

  Adriane did not offer her hand, but he stepped close in front of her and took it anyway. Before she could pull it away, he brushed the top of her fingers with his lips. A streak of fire flashed from her hand straight to her heart.

  “Please be careful on your way home, Miss Darcy. I must confess that I rather look forward to these duels of words we seem to have whenever we meet,” he said before he turned and briskly set off back down the walk the way they had come, giving lie to his words that he had been going the same way as Adriane.

  Grace watched until he was out of sight. “Well,” she said as she put her arm around Adriane’s waist to turn her toward the door. “I do believe we have a great deal to talk about, you and I, but first we’ll eat before we both faint from hunger.”

  “Good.” Adriane turned her full attention to her friend. “I am famished. Not only for your tea but also word of the gains you’ve made in the North.”

  She followed Grace through the front room where bright-colored ribbons and flowers spilled off Grace’s worktable. Unadorned hats were piled in one chair, while the only other chair was stacked high with books the small bookcase against the wall was too full to hold. The kitchen held another table with two mismatched chairs that looked as if they might have been salvaged from a rubbish pile. The table was strewn with papers and pamphlets. Grace pushed them to one side to make room for their teacups.

  “Regretfully there haven’t been all that many gains.” Grace sounded discouraged as she poured their tea and set bread and cheese on the table. “While a handful more papers in the North are taking up the cause of the Negro, very few feel there is any merit in the fight for the rights of women.”

  “So it didn’t go well.” As Adriane sipped her tea, she noted the new lines on her friend’s face and the tired droop of her shoulders. “I’m sorry to hear that.”