To Whisper Her Name

by Tamera Alexander

  “Done this before?” Susanna huffed. “Lawd, Missus Aberdeen. This woman done put the fear of God in all of us so many times I can’t keep count. She got up from a chair last week and fainted dead away right there. Thank the Lawd Betsy was there to catch her.” She smoothed a loving brown hand over Elizabeth’s forehead. “It just be tired blood, is what I’m guessin’. She get stronger, in time. She just gets to thinkin’ she can do more than she can. We got to look out for her is all.” Susanna winked at Olivia. “Slow her down some. But she gonna be fine.”

  Elizabeth got a sheepish look. “I’m sorry, Livvy. I should have told you, but I didn’t want you to worry. Not with everything else you’ve had pressing on you.”

  Olivia leaned down. “You about scared me to death,” she whispered, smiling, though more on the outside than in. “How long have these … spells been occurring?”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “Not too terribly long.”

  Susanna cleared her throat.

  Elizabeth sighed. “About three years now, I’d say. Off and on.”

  Three years. Olivia smoothed a frown before it fully formed. That was a long time to struggle with “tired blood.”

  “Just what’re you doin’ up here, sir?”

  Hearing Susanna, Olivia looked up to see the head cook eying Ridley Cooper with suspicion, and she hurried to intervene. “This is Mr. Cooper, Susanna. He’s …” she faltered. “He’s an acquaintance of mine.” She caught the slight smile he gave her but ignored it. “He found us in the yard and was kind enough to carry Mrs. Harding inside.”

  “Is that right, Mr. Cooper? An acquaintance?” Susanna’s dark eyebrows arched in question. “You make it a habit of rescuin’ women, do you, sir?”

  Mr. Cooper smiled, but said nothing, and Olivia got the impression maybe he and Susanna had met before.

  Heavy footfalls thundered up the stairwell, and Olivia — knowing to whom they belonged — braced herself. Not only to explain to the general about having taken Elizabeth for a walk, but to explain Ridley Cooper being in his bedchamber.

  True to form, the general strode into the room looking every inch the military commander that he was. He glanced at Elizabeth first, anxiety lining his features, then at Olivia, his concern quickly melting to censure. “So it was my wife I saw being carried into the house, Mrs. Aberdeen.”

  Olivia nodded, hearing accusation in his tone. “Yes, sir, it was. But I can expl —”

  “General …”

  All eyes turned to the bed.

  “My dear, Olivia is not to blame.” Elizabeth smiled as Susanna propped a pillow behind her head. “It took every ounce of charm I could muster to persuade her to allow me outside.” Elizabeth’s voice, though soft, possessed an insistence that demanded attention. “I was eager to show her your handiwork, my love, and then simply got carried away.” Her laughter came out feather light. “Apparently I stayed too long in the sun. Please forgive me for worrying you. For worrying all of you.” Her gaze swept the room. “And to you, Mr. Cooper, my thanks for your assistance.”

  General Harding turned, as though only now realizing Ridley Cooper was in the room. “Mr. Cooper?” He frowned. “I’m to understand that you carried my wife into the house?”

  It was all Olivia could do not to intervene again on Mr. Cooper’s behalf. But knowing the general as she did and knowing how angry he was going to be — and already was — with her, she didn’t dare.

  “Yes, sir,” Mr. Cooper said. “That’s right.”

  Stoic, the general faced him square on and Olivia cringed, bracing for another confrontation.

  “Then may I offer my thanks, Mr. Cooper.” The general extended his hand. Olivia’s jaw went slack. “It appears as though you’re going to be a welcome addition here at Belle Meade.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Ridley Cooper gripped his hand.

  Olivia could only stare. Welcome addition? How had this man — termed a vagrant by Harding the other night in his office — managed to become a welcome addition?

  Her surprise must have played openly across her face because as soon as the general turned, Ridley Cooper cut his eyes in her direction and smiled, almost as if to say, So much for what you said about the general not hiring.

  She recalled what she’d said to him that day in the carriage and her stomach knotted. He had every right to toss those words right back in her face. Just as Charles would have done. She looked away, grateful Mr. Cooper didn’t know the truth about her personal circumstances. She hoped, too, that he hadn’t learned about her not being given the position of head housekeeper. Although the chances of him already knowing were good. News like that always traveled swiftly through the servants and hired help.

  Once he knew those things, she’d be smaller in his eyes, she knew. And for reasons she couldn’t explain, she didn’t want Ridley Cooper to think about her that way.

  General Harding crossed to where she stood, his gaze unflinching. “If you’ll kindly step aside, Mrs. Aberdeen, I’d like to see to my wife’s health.”

  Olivia Aberdeen left the bedroom quickly. She’d seemed nervous from the moment General Harding had entered the room. Intent on speaking with her, Ridley followed her into the hallway, then heard the general call his name.

  He paused long enough to see Mrs. Aberdeen descending the stairs. “Yes, General?” He stepped back inside the room.

  “How’s our little mare coming along, Mr. Cooper?”

  The question took him by surprise. Not that the man’s interest in the horse was unexpected, but his timing certainly was. General Harding had just made a point to tell Mrs. Aberdeen — in a rather biting tone — that he wished to see to his wife’s health. Yet now, not a minute later, he was discussing business?

  Ridley read similar surprise in Mrs. Harding’s face, except her expression also held shades of disappointment. “It’s only been a couple of days, General, so it’s too early to tell. First order of business is to get her leg healed. I’ve been salving her wounds and changing bandages a couple of times a day. We won’t know anything on that count for at least a week.”

  “And you’re keeping track of your expenses?”

  Ridley tasted a bitterness in his mouth. “I told you I would. Our agreement hasn’t changed.”

  Harding held his gaze. “And if, by chance, I’d like to —”

  “Anytime you want to see the ledger, the book is in Uncle Bob’s cabinet. Where it always is, sir.” Ridley heard a door close somewhere downstairs. “Now if you’ll excuse me, General, I need to get back to work.” For a brief second, he thought Harding was going to make objections, but the general just nodded and turned away. “Ladies,” Ridley added, nodding to Mrs. Harding and Susanna. He took the staircase down, frustration dogging each step.

  He didn’t appreciate his word being questioned. Especially by a man like Harding. A man who had built his estate on the back-breaking work of others. A man who wouldn’t possess what he did right now, especially in terms of thoroughbreds, if not for the loyalty and integrity of a man he’d once held as a slave.

  Descending the winding staircase afforded Ridley a better view of the foyer than he’d gotten on his way up. And — he whistled low — this place was something to behold. Portraits of thoroughbreds claimed nearly every inch of wall space. Some included a groomsman holding the lead rope, others pictured only the horse. A bronze and crystal gasolier hung from the ceiling, and the finest of furniture decorated the spacious area below. All of it screamed wealth.

  But the mansion wasn’t what he wanted to see right now. He paused at the base of the stairs, wondering which way she’d gone.

  Mrs. Aberdeen had seemed embarrassed when she’d left a moment earlier, and he knew why. Harding obviously blamed her for what had happened to Elizabeth, and General William Giles Harding could be an intimidating man. What he couldn’t figure out was why the general had seemed so intent on pinning the blame on her when the outcome clearly wasn’t her fault.

  The foyer opened to four different
rooms, and he briefly peered inside each one as he crossed to the front entryway. All proved empty of people, but full of things. He turned to leave when a portrait in one of the rooms caught his attention. He stepped closer.

  It was of the general, he was certain. But the likeness had been captured several years earlier. Twenty, at least. With not a trace of a beard. Striking, what difference a beard could make in a man’s appearance. A companion portrait of Mrs. Harding hung beside it. Her likeness, too, exuded a youthfulness that her countenance — though still attractive — no longer claimed. And the portraits had been hand colored, no less. Beautifully so.

  He closed the front door behind him and scanned the yard. No sign of Mrs. Aberdeen. She hadn’t had time to get too far, if she’d even come this way. He felt for her, knowing what he did about her situation. Widowed, with a late husband who’d been murdered and hung for treason, and now apparently bearing the shame of his actions.

  He searched to the right of the house, wanting to see if she was all right. To see how she was getting settled in after such a rocky arrival. At least that’s what he told himself. But in light of what had just happened upstairs, there was something else he wanted her to know.

  Whatever her position was at Belle Meade, it was clear she and Elizabeth Harding had a very close relationship. Equally clear was that she and General Harding did not. He’d felt an almost palpable tension between them today.

  He took the steps down to the yard and started toward the stable when he spotted her. Off to the left. Walking hurriedly in the direction of the old cabin. Perfect.

  Chapter

  FOURTEEN

  Ridley caught up with her easily and — judging by the rigid set of her jaw — she was still upset. He couldn’t blame her. “Mind if I join you, Mrs. Aberdeen?”

  Her glance was fleeting. “Not at all, Mr. Cooper.” Her smile, too bright and brief to be genuine, was still pretty.

  Everything about her said she preferred to be alone — the stiffness in her shoulders and evenness of her stride, as though she were counting the steps until he took his leave.

  “I won’t take but a minute of your time, ma’am. I only wanted to see how you’re getting along. How your first few days here have been.”

  “I’m getting along very well, Mr. Cooper. Thank you for inquiring.” Her voice might have sounded convincing to anyone who hadn’t just witnessed the scene in the bedroom.

  “Well …” He nodded. “That’s good to hear.”

  They walked on in silence, passing the cabin, and he sneaked another look at her, silently adding pleasantly evasive to the mental list already containing the words prim and proper. Did she have any idea how easy she was to read? And that her politeness — while well intentioned, he felt certain — didn’t fool him in the least?

  The slope of the ground curved and formed a path along the side of the creek, and they followed it. How many times in recent months had he bedded down by a creek similar to this while making his way from the coast to Nashville? The sluicing of water over smooth rock produced a tranquil tune, providing an excellent companion to the long nights of silence.

  But the silence coming from the woman beside him all but drowned it out.

  Deciding to honor her obvious desire to be alone, Ridley came directly to the point. “About what was said, Mrs. Aberdeen. Back there with the general. Just to make sure everything’s clear between us, I—”

  “Yes, Mr. Cooper.” She stopped and turned, her eyes flashing. “I’m aware you were hired by the general, so …” She stood a little straighter. “Congratulations to you, sir.”

  He eyed her, a tad confused. “I beg your pardon?”

  She looked at him as though he were a simpleton. “I saw the way you looked at me back there, when the general referred to you as a welcome addition.” A tinge of bitterness punctuated the words, helped along by the hurt in her eyes. “You gained employment here at Belle Meade, even after I expressly told you that General Harding wasn’t hiring. That being the case …” She briefly looked away, firming that delicate jaw of hers again. “I was wrong. And you were right.” She looked back, a polite — if false — smile curving her mouth. “There, I said it. Have I rendered the satisfaction you require, Mr. Cooper?”

  Ridley stared, partly fascinated by how she’d managed to get all of that from a simple look but mostly wanting to shake the woman for getting it so wrong. If she only knew what he’d truly been thinking in that moment.

  Not that he wanted to share it with her.

  “So it’s your understanding, Mrs. Aberdeen, that I’ve tracked you down to demand an apology?”

  “Well, you were able to obtain a job, were you not?”

  Something inside told him not to answer, but he didn’t listen. “I was.”

  “And did I not assure you within minutes of our first meeting that your chances of that happening were slim?”

  “Those weren’t your exact words, as I recall them, ma’am. But that was the gist of it.”

  “So?” She looked up at him, defiant, as if she’d just proven something worthy of condemnation on his part.

  He couldn’t help but smile. “If the day ever comes, Mrs. Aberdeen, don’t ever try to defend yourself in court, ma’am. It won’t go well for you.”

  Her mouth slipped open. “I just offered you an apology, Mr. Cooper.”

  “One I didn’t ask for, Mrs. Aberdeen. Nor one I require.”

  She let out a breath and turned toward the creek.

  Anger rolled off her in waves, and he felt a fair amount of frustration himself. She crossed her arms, wrapping them around herself, and he noticed her left hand absent of a wedding band. Rings were expensive, he knew, and not every married woman had one. Even fewer married men. He would’ve bet good money, though, that she’d been given one.

  Recalling what he knew about her late husband from Uncle Bob and the others, he wondered if she’d chosen to take it off, wanting to forego the unpleasant reminder.

  He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, wishing he could take back the comment about her defending herself in court. That had been a careless thing to say. But how in God’s green earth did the woman conclude he wanted an apology? It was with good reason he’d never married. Or even come close. He didn’t understand the fairer sex. And never would.

  He glanced in the direction of the stable, knowing he’d best get back to work. Feeling a need to test the silence before he spoke, he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, Mrs. Aberdeen. I could tell you wanted to be alone. And … I should have respected that.”

  She continued to stare at the water moving past them.

  “Good day to you, ma’am.” Feeling a heaviness within, he started back, struggling to remember why it was he’d sought her out in the first place. Not that it mattered now.

  “Mr. Cooper?”

  He paused and turned, not ten feet away. She stood exactly as he’d left her, facing the creek.

  “I didn’t …”

  Her voice trailed off, and for a second he thought the melody from the creek had washed away her words. Then she turned to face him.

  “I didn’t get the position of head housekeeper.”

  The words I know were nearly out of his mouth before he caught them. It didn’t feel quite right. Not with the way she was looking at him. “I’m sure you’ll find other ways to help, ma’am. I bet a lady like you knows how to do many things.”

  She smiled and bowed her head. “Earlier, before I interrupted you … You said you wanted to make sure everything was clear between us.” She lifted her gaze. “What were you going to say?”

  He took a step back in her direction and stopped. “I was going to tell you that I thought you handled yourself well with General Harding, ma’am. With the whole situation.”

  She gave a soft sigh. “Thank you, Mr. Cooper.”

  “You’re welcome, Mrs. Aberdeen.”

  “One more question?”

  Hearing subtle longing in her voice, h
e nodded, waiting.

  “That first day, when I was in the carriage, you said you may not get what you’ve come for. What is it that you’ve come here for, Mr. Cooper?”

  For not wanting to talk a minute ago, the woman certainly was chatty now. “I want to learn more about horses, how to work with them, how to train them. And I figured … what better place than here? The best thoroughbred farm in the country. Uncle Bob has agreed to teach me, with the general’s permission, of course. Have you met Uncle Bob yet?”

  She shook her head.

  “You’ll like him. And he’ll like you.”

  Her mouth curved in a smile, but he sensed she was contemplating something.

  “You said you wouldn’t be here long. That you were only passing through.”

  He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. That’s still my plan.” Watching her tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, he added good memory to the mental tally he was keeping on her. “Once I’m done, I’m headed to the Colorado Territory.”

  Her eyes widened. “The Colorado Territory? But there’s nothing out there. It’s wild. There are no cities and hardly any people. There’s only …” She huffed a disbelieving laugh. “Indians and bears and … freezing cold. Why in heaven’s name would you want to go there?”

  Tempted to laugh at her response, the simplicity of the answer within him wouldn’t allow it. “Because it’s a world away from here.”

  “From Nashville?”

  “From the South.”

  She frowned as though unable to comprehend him thinking such a thing. “But … what will you do there?”

  He’d already told Bob Green about his plans and saw no harm in telling her. That part of his life wasn’t a secret. “I want to start my own ranch. Cattle, which is what my father did, so I know all about that. But I want to have horses too. Thoroughbreds.” It felt good to say it aloud, to know he was finally on his way to making it come true. Or at least closer to it. “You might say it’s become a dream of mine. Not just the horses, but seeing the land. While it’s still wild, as you say, and unsettled, it’s a whole new world ready for the making, and I aim to be part of it. I’ve heard it’s beautiful too. The mountains so high they disappear into the clouds, the air so fresh and cold. And the snow …” He smiled, remembering how an article he’d read had described it. “They say it’ll almost blind you, it’s so pure and white. And the sun shines most all the time, even in the winter.”