She drew her mother into her arms and rested her chin on Mama’s hair. How could she condemn Papa for his lack of compassion and ignore the cries of her own devoted mother’s heart? She released a shuddering breath and felt her heart filling up with sadness and regret. For a moment she had glimpsed the tantalizing possibility of an authentic life, but now both her parents expected her to live out a false one. She could have borne her father’s anger and contempt, but she was no match for her mother’s heartrending tears.
She kissed Mama’s cheek, tasted the salt on her skin, and summoned her resolve. “Don’t cry. I can stand anything except your tears. If it will make you happy, I’ll marry Charles Kittridge.”
“I can’t be truly happy knowing that you are not content.” Mama released a long breath. “But it is the practical choice.”
“However, I must speak to Dr. Bennett regardless of appearances. He deserves an explanation.” Abby found her hat and tied the ribbons beneath her chin.
She left her mother sitting by the window, crossed the hall to the back door, and took the back steps down to the beach. It was nearly noon, the spring sun high in the sky, the light breaking and multiplying on the vast expanse of sea. Normally such a sight would have calmed her. But now, thinking of Wade and of what she must say to him, she was wound tight as piano wire. And near to breaking.
She crossed the dunes and hurried past Miss Augusta’s cottage, where the Kittridges were staying, praying not to be seen. Marveling at how quickly all her bright hopes had shattered. Remembering a time when she had looked forward to her future instead of dreading it.
CHAPTER SIX
ALL OF THE WINDOWS OF THE BENNETTS’ COTTAGE WERE open to a freshening breeze that caused the empty hammock to sway, throwing patterns of light and dark on the piazza’s plank floor. Abby mounted the steps and peered inside. “Hello?”
“My son is not at home.”
Abby turned to see Wade’s mother rise from a rocking chair half hidden behind an enormous potted palm. Mrs. Bennett crossed the piazza, brows raised in question. “After the events of last evening, you are the least likely person I expected to see.”
Abby’s mouth went dry. “It’s all a misunderstanding, and I feel terrible about it. I’ve come to explain to Wade, to tell him that I—”
“Your father’s announcement last night made things plain enough.” Mrs. Bennett crossed her arms across her chest. “Wade is in shock. And deeply hurt.”
“I know. That’s why I want to speak to him.”
“If you care for him at all, you’ll leave him alone. He has no desire to hear anything from you.”
Tears brimmed in Abby’s eyes. “Did he say that, Mrs. Bennett? That he won’t see me? That he won’t even listen?”
The older woman sighed and stared out at the sea. “It won’t change anything, will it? What good is talk, except to ease your conscience?”
“I—”
“I don’t wish to be rude, Miss Clayton. But there is nothing you can say that will make any difference, and I have things to do. I’ll thank you kindly to leave us in peace.”
“I’ll go, but please tell me where to find Wade.”
Mrs. Bennett whirled and stalked toward the door, shutting it firmly behind her.
Too distraught to return home, Abby continued up the beach, crowded now with swimmers and waders, groups of children launching kites, and ladies in wide-brimmed hats enjoying tea in the shadow of the dunes.
An older man in a fishing hat approached, carrying a string of sea bass. He nodded as he passed her, then stopped and turned around. “Miss Clayton?”
“Judge Bennett.” She clapped one hand to her hat to anchor it against the sea breeze and looked up at him.
“Are you all right?” Frowning, the judge peered into her face. “You gave us all a scare, fainting away like that. Do you know you barely missed hitting your head on the corner of the stairs?”
“I spoiled the evening for everyone.”
“Well, for my son at least. I expect your Mr. Kittridge is happy enough this morning.”
“I haven’t seen him. I’m told that Dr. French gave me something to make me sleep. I’m grateful for that since it saved me from having to listen to idle gossip all night.”
The judge’s face flushed, and Abby saw that he had heard the unsavory story of her encounter with Charles in the boathouse. No doubt Wade had heard it too. But she still wanted desperately to talk to him.
“Judge Bennett, I know what my cousin Ophelia has told everyone. It isn’t true, but it seems no one believes me, even Mrs. Bennett. She refused to tell me where Wade has gone.”
Two boys rushed past, jostling her, and the judge held out a hand to steady her. “I’ve been a judge a long time, Miss Clayton. Long enough to learn that things are often not quite as they first appear.” He motioned to her, and they continued walking along the beach. “Long enough to feel that everyone deserves a chance to tell his own side of things.”
Abby kept her eyes down as they neared the Bennetts’ cottage. Did this mean he would help her?
“Do you know how to drive a horse and rig?” he asked.
“Of course. I have my own rig at Mulberry Hill. Papa declined to bring it over this summer. He said walking to the ferry landing would be good for me.”
“I expect it is at that. But in this case a rig will get you there faster.”
“Sir?”
“Wade is taking the noon ferry to Georgetown. If you go now, you can catch him.”
“But I was hoping we could talk someplace quiet. Maybe I should just wait here. When will he be back?”
“Not for a good long while. He intends to overnight aboard the Nina and return to Charleston tomorrow.”
They had reached the Bennetts’ cottage. The judge summoned a servant and handed him the string of fish. “Scipio, please take these to the kitchen. And hitch the rig for Miss Clayton.”
Abby placed a hand on the judge’s sleeve. “Thank you.”
“I hope I’m not making things worse for either of you.” He started up the stairs.
Minutes later Scipio returned with the horse and rig. He nodded toward the chestnut dancing sideways in the traces. “He’s liable to be a bit feisty this mornin’, miss. He ain’t had his run yet.”
Abby climbed into the smart little rig and picked up the reins. The horse soon settled and trotted down the road, his hooves churning up clouds of sand. At the ferry landing she rolled to a stop, jumped out, and looped the reins over a hitching post next to a couple of other waiting rigs.
The landing was crowded. Many of the passengers were guests from last night. Abby recognized two of Papa’s lawyers and his rice factor, Mr. James. Several ladies sat atop their traveling trunks, their parasols raised against the late-morning sun.
Abby scanned the crowd, looking for Wade, but it was Theodosia Avery she spotted. Abby looked away quickly, hoping Theo hadn’t seen her, but her friend pushed through the crowd, caught Abby’s arm, and turned her around. “Oh, Abby, are you all right? What are you doing here?”
“I’m not injured. Unless you count a broken heart.”
“Oh, I know! I nearly fainted myself when your father said you’re to marry Charles. I’m sorry that Mother and I left so abruptly. But honestly, Charles looked so smug—and that mother of his too—that I could not bear to spend another minute in their company. Mother agreed with me. The Ravensdales’ cottage is finally open for the season, so we spent the night there, and Mr. Ravensdale drove us here this morning. We planned to take the earlier ferry, but by the time we got here it was already too full.” Theo paused for breath. “You haven’t said why you’re here.”
“I’m hoping to see Dr. Bennett before he leaves.”
“He’s here. I saw him just a few moments ago, talking with Mr. James.” Theo stood on tiptoe to scan the crowd. “There he is—with Mr. Drayton. I haven’t seen Jane this morning. I’m sure she is just as astonished and miserable as you are.”
Abby n
odded, her throat too full of tears to speak. Her first glimpse of Wade, his dark head bent to the older man, broke her heart all over again.
“Shall I tell him you’re looking for him?”
“Please.”
As Theo made her way through the crowd, Abby blotted her face and hands with her handkerchief and pinched some color into her cheeks. It wouldn’t do for Wade to see her looking so wan.
In a moment he was beside her, his expression unreadable. “You shouldn’t have come, Abigail.”
“Your father thought I deserved a chance to speak to you. Though your mother does not share his opinion.”
“Well, here I am. What do you want to say?”
She drew him aside. “That I am utterly miserable. That my heart has not changed toward you in the least. That I will always regret asking you to wait just for a moment before speaking to Papa.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered. After what happened in the boathouse—”
“Surely you don’t believe idle gossip. You know there is nothing between Charles and me. You can’t think that I encouraged him in any way.”
“I know you didn’t, but not everyone—”
“Isn’t it breathtaking how a life can be turned upside down in a heartbeat? Everything you ever wanted gone for good.”
He swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on some point in the distance. “Come with me to town. Just for today.”
“Then you don’t hate me.”
“How could I hate you?” His expression was as somber and defeated as her own. “Your father wouldn’t let me into the house when he carried you inside. I was awake all night, worrying about you and hoping there might be some honorable way through this situation. But I don’t suppose there is one.”
Abby slowly shook her head. “This morning I told Papa I intended to marry you regardless. But my mother is entirely broken at the prospect of being ostracized, and I cannot condemn her to such a fate. I owe her everything.” She reached for his hand and held on tight. “You will always have my heart. But I have agreed to a life I don’t want. Because of her. Can you understand?”
“I can. You’ve been made to choose between love and duty.”
“Yes. And I expect to regret it forever.”
The ferry rounded the bend. People picked up their baggage and began lining up.
“We are denied a lifetime together,” he said softly. “But we can have this one day. If you will come with me.”
“There is nothing I want more. But tonight Papa is hosting another dinner, and—”
“Yes. I know. For the governor and his wife. I heard your father talking about it last night.”
“I’m to make an appearance. With Charles. And pretend to be happy.” Her voice broke. “From this day until my dying breath, I must pretend.”
Wade heaved a sigh. “The last ferry leaves town at four o’clock. You’ll be back here in plenty of time for supper.” He indicated the hitching post. “Plenty of time to return my father’s horse and rig.”
“It was generous of him to let me use it. I’m glad he gave me a chance to explain.”
“He believes in fairness above all.” Wade drew back to look into her eyes. “Will you come with me?”
Abby imagined an even bigger scandal if anyone should report to Papa that she had spent a day with a man not her relative and not her intended. But she had given up her entire future for her family. Surely she deserved one day for herself. One day that she could store away like a precious treasure, to be taken out in years to come and remembered when reality was too difficult to bear.
She followed Wade onto the ferry. He chose a spot near the back, where they were partially hidden by stacks of suitcases, hatboxes, a horse and rig. They spoke little on the crossing. For Abby it was enough simply to stand next to him. To imprint upon her memory the play of sunlight on his dark hair, the sad and tender look in his eyes, the exact timbre of his voice when he spoke her name.
When the ferry arrived in Georgetown, Wade took her hand as she stepped from the landing onto the busy street. The clock tower announced the hour, and Abby realized she had not eaten since the three o’clock barbecue the previous day.
“Mother insisted on packing food for me.” Wade held up a small basket as they strolled past shuttered shops and the slave market, quiet now on this Sunday afternoon. “There’s plenty to share.”
“Last night I thought I might never want to eat again, but I admit I am hungry.”
He smiled then. “Even a condemned prisoner gets a last meal.”
They made their way along the waterfront, past rows of wooden sheds and brick storage buildings, past cargo ships riding at anchor in the Sampit River. Wade found a grassy patch at the end of the pier and spread his jacket on the ground. He opened the basket and took out sandwiches, boiled eggs, and a glass jar of berries and cream.
“I’ve told my mother I don’t like boiled eggs,” he said. “But she makes them anyway.” He offered Abby one, and she bit into it. He unwrapped a sandwich and lifted the top slice of bread. “Ham and cheese?”
“Beggars can’t be choosers.”
They ate in a silence broken only by the faint sound of music coming from a group of sailor-musicians gathered at the stern of a cargo ship.
“Listen,” he said. “Remember that song?”
“Of course. The St. Cecilia Ball. Six years ago.”
“The first night we danced together.” He rose and reached for her hand. “How about it, Abby? One last dance?”
It was a bad idea, being so close to him, feeling his arms around her and knowing that this moment was all they would ever have. What could come of it but more painful memories? But she placed her hand in his. He drew her to her feet and hummed softly in her ear as the song drifted on the breeze. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder, listening to the shuffle of their footsteps on the wooden wharf. It was more than her battered heart could take.
“That’s enough.” Abby pulled away before the song ended and fumbled for her handkerchief.
“It will never be enough.” He took his time packing away the remains of their meal, giving her time to regain her composure, to return the conversation to a more even keel. “I finished editing my article for the Medical Society journal.”
“I’m glad.” She managed a smile. “When will you know whether it’s accepted?”
“Perhaps not for some time. When I get to Charleston, I’ll have clean copies made and sent to Dr. Percy. He’ll send them on to the editor, and then we must wait for a decision.” He opened a leather pouch and withdrew a sheaf of papers. “Would you like to read it?”
She resumed her seat on the grass and began reading, tucking each page under the edge of his lunch basket to prevent its blowing away. Wade leaned back on his arms, his long legs stretched in front of him. Abby was aware of his eyes on her face as she read, and now and then she glanced up at him. When she set aside the final page, he caught her hand. “What do you think? Be honest.”
“I can offer no suggestions for improvement. It’s complete, succinct, and factual without being boring.”
He laughed. “I’m relieved it isn’t boring.”
“I don’t see how anyone who reads it can fail to be excited by what you and Dr. Percy are trying to accomplish. It seems to me that the goldenseal in particular may hold great promise as a preventative for disease.”
“That’s what we’re hoping.” His eyes lit up the way they always did when he talked about his work. Abby felt another stab of disappointment that she would not be working alongside him as his experiments progressed.
“I have great hopes for the coneflower extract too,” he continued. “I’d like to be able to offer my patients more than dried huckleberry tea and molasses. The trick of course is to figure out how to ensure that each dose of the extract is of uniform strength and purity.”
Abby placed a hand on his. “You’ll figure it out. I know you will. I only wish I could be a part of it.”
“So do I.” He took out his watch and snapped it open. “The Nina will begin boarding soon. Shall we walk a while first?”
He took her hand to help her to her feet. Then he donned his coat and picked up his belongings. They strolled to the end of the busy wharves, skirting stacks of lumber, barrels of molasses, kegs of spirits. The calls of gulls hovering above a fishing boat mixed with the music still coming from the stern of the cargo ship. Farther on, eager passengers carrying travel satchels, hatboxes, and portmanteaus milled about the Nina. Smoke drifted from her stacks into the clear spring sky.
Crossing the street, they passed a group of girls whispering together, the pastel flirtation ribbons on their Sunday hats lifting in the wind. Her hand resting lightly on Wade’s arm, Abby stopped to admire a silver tea service and a pair of jade lions in the window of a secondhand shop. In the next block they paused to listen to a black-clad street preacher reading from the book of Isaiah.
They strolled past a bakery, a leather-goods shop, a tobacconist’s. The clock tower rang again. Wade turned to her, his eyes darkened with pain and regret. “I suppose I ought to walk you to the ferry landing. You don’t want to miss that supper tonight.”
“I want to come with you to the Nina.”
He shook his head. “It’s better this way.”
“I don’t want to leave you.”
“I’ll be in Charleston until the autumn, looking after my patients.” He brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek. “Sixty miles is not the ends of the earth.”
Among the Fair Magnolias Page 6
