Olivia quickly realized that, considering Ridley’s silent invitation to her during dinner — Walk with me later? — which she had accepted and still wanted to keep, this had the potential to be a most awkward situation.
“Mr. Cooper.” General Harding extended his hand. “It was a pleasure to have you at our table this evening. Despite how the invitation came to fruition.”
Ridley shook his hand. “Thank you, General. And thank you, Mrs. Harding, for a delicious meal. One of the finest I’ve had, ma’am. And just for the record …” His smile held a touch of conspiracy. “I thought the blackberry cobbler was exceptional.”
Elizabeth’s fatigued expression softened with pleasure. “Thank you, Mr. Cooper.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I forgot that detail about the colonel. I’ve already told Susanna to make note in the menu book, so we won’t forget again. I’m just sorry it happened and over a dessert, of all things.”
“Colonel Burcham is a fine man, my dear. And a trusted friend.” General Harding’s tone leaned toward correction. “He’s simply accustomed to his orders being obeyed.”
“But the war is over, sir —”
Olivia’s eyes widened at Ridley’s comment and again when she saw he wasn’t finished.
“I believe we need to accept that and move on with our lives. And let others move on with theirs. Wouldn’t you agree, General?”
A breeze wafted through the open front door as if nature itself sought to lessen the tension thickening the air.
“Yes, Mr. Cooper, I would agree … to a certain extent. But not everything needs to change, nor should it. Some things are the way they are for a reason.”
Ridley’s smile came across as a little too pleasant. “And some things are the way they are, sir … simply because we’ve never changed them.”
Olivia wished she could gently tug on the sleeve of Ridley’s coat, just to warn him not to overstate his case. Though remembering the dark look on his face earlier and knowing how he always spoke his mind so freely, she doubted a mere touch would make any difference. She would likely have to rip his sleeve off to gain his attention.
“Well …” Elizabeth looped her arm through the crook of her husband’s. “It’s very late and we’re all tired. Dear?” She glanced up at the general. “Would you be so kind as to assist me up the stairs?”
General Harding didn’t move. “You’re young yet, Mr. Cooper. And idealistic. You believe you know best how life should be. I know that because not long ago, I knew a young man very much like you. Knew him quite well, in fact.” Harding stroked his beard, which brushed the top button of his vest. “But as that young man grew up, as he built a home and family, established a plantation, and then a stud farm … When he fought a war that threatened to take all of that from him, he learned a thing or two about life you have yet to learn, son.”
Sensing Ridley about to respond, Olivia intervened.
“Mr. Cooper?” She caught a flicker of gratitude in Elizabeth’s eyes. “I’m … in need of your help. I’ll be at the stable first thing in the morning, and … I could use your assistance in the tack room. With a new shipment of supplies. If you don’t mind.”
Knowing she hadn’t fooled anyone, least of all the men, Olivia urged Ridley with a look to please let this go. For the moment anyway. Yet she couldn’t help but feel a sadness, too, that their walk would have to wait for another time.
His gaze leveled at Harding, Ridley finally nodded and looked over at her. “Of course, Mrs. Aberdeen. I would be delighted. Mr. and Mrs. Harding …” He bowed slightly. “Again, thank you both for a pleasant evening.” He got as far as the porch when he turned back. “And, Mrs. Aberdeen, I’ll look forward to seeing you first thing in the morning. If not … later.”
Olivia searched his expression, wondering if she’d imagined the slight change in his tone there at the last. But before she could react, General Harding firmly closed the door.
Chapter
TWENTY-SEVEN
Ridley didn’t know which frustrated him more — General Harding’s stubborn arrogance or the fact that he hadn’t gotten the time alone with Olivia he’d been looking forward to.
He opened the cabin door, surprised to see Uncle Bob still up.
Uncle Bob looked him over, then whistled low. “Lawd, sir … You look ‘bout fancy enough to have yourself put on paper money.”
Ridley smiled briefly, removing his coat and tie. “It was Rachel.” He fingered the lapel of the suit coat before hanging it neatly on the back of a chair. “It belonged to her husband. She brought it over here earlier … Had already tailored it to fit me.”
“Well, she done good. You look like a young Mister Harding hisself. Or one of his fancy, rich friends.”
Ridley scoffed.
Uncle Bob’s grin faded. “I aimed for that to come out in a good way, sir.” His eyes narrowed. “Did the evenin’ not go well for ya?”
Ridley sat down in one of the chairs, then immediately stood again. “The evening went fine. Right until the end.” He described the exchange he’d had with General Harding in the foyer. Uncle Bob’s expression went from interested to wary to disbelief and back again.
“You done said that to him? The part about things bein’ the way they is ‘cause we ain’t never changed ‘em? Right out to his face? And with Missus Harding there?”
Ridley nodded. “And Mrs. Aberdeen too. I knew I shouldn’t but … I just couldn’t not.”
Then Uncle Bob laughed. And laughed again.
Ridley glared. “It’s not funny. Come morning, I might not have a job.”
“Oh, sir …” Uncle Bob rose from his chair, hesitating a second to massage his back like he sometimes did before straightening. “Your job is just fine. Mr. Harding likes a man with a strong spirit. One who speaks his mind. ‘Course he likes to be respected too. But all men do. He ain’t no different in that way from you and me.” Uncle Bob eyed him.
“I know.”
“Do you? ‘Cause I ain’t really sure you do. You and him …” Uncle Bob glanced out the front window toward the main house. “You’s a lot alike, sir. Oh, not in some ways, I know. But I been knowin’ that man for nigh onto forty years now. I know him pretty well. And I been livin’ and workin’ with you day in and day out.” Smiling, Uncle Bob patted him on the shoulder. “Trust me, sir. You’s a lot alike. That’s why you got this job. You had the gumption to stand up to him. He respects you, Ridley. I see that clear as day. Now … I’m headin’ on to bed. These bones o’ mine are tired. I see you in the mornin’.”
“Goodnight, Uncle Bob. And … thank you.” A little tired, Ridley wasn’t ready to go to bed yet.
He strode outside to the porch and started to sit on the steps like he often did. But when he looked toward the main house and saw a faint golden wash of light coming from the second-story room above the kitchen, it was all he needed.
Ridley stood in the pitch dark at the bottom of the lattice and stared up at Olivia’s open window, glad he’d changed out of the suit, but wondering now if this was as good an idea as it had seemed when first he’d thought of it. Yet, recalling how she’d smiled and nodded at his mouthed invitation over dinner, he quickly decided it was.
He gripped the lattice and climbed a ways up, wanting to test its strength, and he was impressed. No flimsy trelliswork for General William Giles Harding. This lattice would support Big Ike and four of his friends. It would seem that everything the general built, he built to last.
He climbed back down, then whispered up, “Olivia!”
Nothing.
He tried again, a little louder this time, mindful of another second-story window open a little farther down. He wasn’t sure whose room it was, but guessed it belonged to somebody, because although the room was dark, the window was open.
He heard movement above him and saw a shadow pass. “Olivia!”
The shadow stilled. A silhouette leaned out, backlit by subtle lamplight. Olivia peered down. “Ridley?”
�
��Yes … it’s me.”
“What are you doing down there?”
He laughed softly. “Wondering if you’re ready for that walk.”
Her head tilted to one side. “I’m almost ready for bed. Besides … isn’t it too late?”
“It’s only too late if you want it to be.”
Seconds ticked past, and he wondered if she was going to send him packing. Then he heard her giggle.
“I’ll be down in five minutes,” she said softly and ducked back inside.
“Wait!” he called up in a harsh whisper, guessing at her intention.
She poked her head back through.
He motioned. “I want you to come down this way.”
“This way?”
“Sure … By climbing the lattice. I’ve tested it, and it’s strong enough. It’ll be fun. I’ll help you.”
“Thank you. But I think I’ll take the stairs.”
“Where’s your adventuresome spirit, Olivia Aberdeen?”
“I wasn’t born with one, Ridley Cooper!”
She disappeared before he could say he knew that wasn’t true. Climbing out a carriage window, working in the stables even though she was scared spitless of horses, teaching the children of former slaves …
The woman was braver than she thought.
Staring up, he heard the murmur of voices from above and suddenly wondered what he would do if General Harding’s head poked through that window. But surely the general wasn’t —
The sound of a door closing. Followed by footsteps.
Olivia reappeared in the window. “The Hardings left their bedroom door open for ventilation,” she whispered. “And the general heard me when the porch creaked.” She glanced back behind her. “He called out to see who it was. I told him I’d just taken a step outside for some air, then turned around and hurried back in here.”
Ridley heard the disappointment in her voice, which told him two things: she wanted to go with him, but she had no intention of climbing down the lattice.
So he started up.
“Ridley! What are you doing?”
“I’m coming up to help you down.”
“No,” she whispered. “You can’t. What if … What if someone comes in here? What if they see us?”
“No one’s going to see us.” He kept climbing, knowing the real reason for her protests — and silently appreciating the workmanship of whoever had built this lattice.
He reached the window and smiled. “Good evening, Mrs. Aberdeen.”
She laughed, looking down at him. “You’re out of your mind, Ridley Cooper, if you think I’m climbing out this window.”
He didn’t have to feign disappointment. “I’ll be with you the entire way down. And back up again. You won’t fall, I promise.”
“You know you can’t promise that. We both might fall!”
“I’ve been climbing trees since I was three years old, Olivia. Trust me. I won’t let you fall.”
If she hadn’t hesitated in that moment, he’d have thought all was lost. But she did hesitate, which told him he’d almost won her over.
“Just put one leg out first. I’ll make sure your foot is where it needs to be. Then we’ll —”
“I’ve got on a skirt, Ridley. How am I supposed to climb down in a skirt?”
“Easy. Just bend over, grab the back hem, pull it up, and tuck it into the front of your waistband. And make sure it’s in there good and tight.”
She gave a sharp exhale. “I’m not about to do that!” she whispered. “Can you imagine how that would look? You’d be able to see my —” She closed her mouth. “Well, never mind that, I —”
“Lest you forget, Olivia …” He didn’t even try not to smile. “I’ve seen your … unmentionables before. And believe me, this will show far less than that did. Besides,” he added quickly, anticipating her rebuttal, “my mother used to do this all the time when she climbed trees with me and my brothers. And she was as fine a lady as they came. And … she never fell once.”
Olivia said nothing, and he could see her thoughts hard at work. If she disagreed with him about the skirt issue, she’d be calling his mother’s propriety into question. And as a woman of propriety herself, she would never do that.
“Your mother climbed trees?” she asked softly, the lamplight revealing a smile.
“She did. And she was every bit a lady. Just like you.”
Her smile faded a little. “Is … she still living?”
The soft manner in which she asked told him she already guessed his answer.
“No … she passed several years ago.”
“Do you still miss her?”
Her question touched that place deep inside him that would always hold his mother’s memory. “Every day,” he whispered.
She nodded. “I still miss mine too.”
Making sure he had a good grip, he reached for her hand. “Trust me, Olivia. I won’t let you fall.”
Chapter
TWENTY-EIGHT
With the back hem of her skirt — minus crinoline and hoop — tucked snuggly into her waistband, Olivia maneuvered one leg out the window. Ridley was right, this wardrobe alteration revealed far less than she’d imagined, and the dim light of the single oil lamp aided her determined modesty. But when she caught a glimpse of the ground far below, as well as a mental image of what she was doing, she started to climb back inside.
Ridley’s grip tightened on her arm. “Don’t look down. Just concentrate on where you’re going to put your other foot. I won’t let go of you, I promise.”
“What if I fall?” she whispered, suddenly out of breath.
“You’re not going to fall. Climbing’s just like walking, except you’re going up or down. With walking, it’s one step at a time. With climbing, it’s one hold at a time. Now ease your other leg out … I’ve got you.”
She started to do as he said, then stopped. “I don’t think I want to do this, Ridley. I don’t think I can.”
The distant croak of bullfrogs and cadence of neighboring crickets filled a sudden silence.
“It’s all right if you don’t want to, Olivia.” Ridley’s voice blended with the darkness, soft and deep. “And I won’t fault you if that’s what you decide. But before you climb back in, I want you to know that you can do this. You’re able even if you choose not to. There’s a world of difference between the two.”
Olivia looked at him from her perch in the window and even in the dim light saw not a trace of coercion in his features, nor did she hear it in his voice. He was simply speaking the truth as he saw it. Like he always did.
Despite the warm night air, her chin shook. She knew in that moment if she didn’t do this now, she never would. And she wanted to. Despite being almost paralyzed with fear, she wanted to.
Gripping the windowsill until her fingers ached, she maneuvered her other leg out.
“When you find your foothold,” he said, keeping a firm hand at her waist, “test it to make sure it’s the lattice and not part of the vine.”
She nodded, working to push away the thought of falling. But the more she tried to push it away, the more it came. So she focused her attention on what it would feel like when she found a secure hold on the lattice —
And she did!
She pushed down with the ball of her foot, making sure she was on the lattice, like he’d said. She gave a laugh. “I’m out of the window!”
“Yes, you are!” Again, Ridley’s arm came securely about her waist.
She stared back inside her room. What a difference there was in being out here versus being in there. Not but a few inches in relation to distance. But an entire world away — as Ridley had said — in perspective.
She glanced behind her over the darkened meadow, her eyes adjusting to the moon’s silvery cast.
“Just pause here for a second.” He reached around her and gripped the lattice on the other side, effectively bracing her against the wall. “Take a minute and gain your bearings.”
She took some deep breaths. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“Feels great, doesn’t it? Trying something you’ve never done before?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Not really. Not yet, anyway. But I think it might … if I don’t die in the process.” She giggled in spite of herself.
“Get a feel for where your hands and feet are in relation to each other. And in just a second, we’ll move down a rung. Whoever built this lattice built it exactly like a ladder. So just imagine yourself climbing down a —”
“I’ve never been on a ladder.”
“All right then.” He exhaled. Or had he laughed? “That’s something else we’ll remedy soon enough. But for now … you’re doing very well. I’m proud of you, Olivia.”
Appreciating the encouragement, she wondered if he could feel her trembling.
“Now … I’m going to take a step down. And once I’m done, I want you to do the same.”
“What if I step on your foot when I go?”
“You won’t.”
“But what if I do?”
“Then I’ll plunge to my certain death without having lived a full and meaningful life. But I don’t want you feeling badly if that happens.”
Olivia affected a sober tone. “Not to worry … I won’t. After all, this was your idea.”
Laughing, he moved down a rung, just below and beside her. “All right, your turn.”
Releasing hold of the lattice with her left hand proved to be one of the hardest things she’d ever done. The simple act of letting go seemed counter to logic. But feeling Ridley beside her, feeling his hold on her arm, she let loose.
Then she did it again and again, taking turns with him as they climbed lower, until finally her boot touched solid ground. She hadn’t slipped once. Relief — and exhilaration — poured through her. She peered up at her bedroom window, so high above them, hardly believing she’d done it. And so thrilled that she had.
To Whisper Her Name Page 26
