A flash of anger stabbed at her like a red-hot poker. ‘‘Mr. Houston has never asked me to marry him, and I’m certain he hasn’t asked for my father’s consent. In addition, my mother would have written me.’’
‘‘I can’t imagine he’d announce your wedding plans to all of his business associates if he didn’t have your father’s permission,’’ Violet countered.
Jasmine was uncertain how to respond. She had more questions than answers, and right now she wanted only to awaken from this nightmare. The warm afternoon heat closed in like a suffocating shroud. ‘‘He made a public announcement?’’ She shook her head and looked around. ‘‘I must sit down. I feel as though I’m going to faint.’’
Violet helped her to the bench and then sat down beside her.
‘‘I’m sorry I was so unkind, but it never entered my mind you didn’t know. I just thought you were being coy. When Father told us, I did express my surprise that you would agree to marry Mr.
Houston since you’ve told me in the past you did not enjoy his company.’’
‘‘His behavior makes me extremely uncomfortable,’’ Jasmine confided. ‘‘Besides, he’s too old for me. I’m but ten and eight and he’s . . . well . . . he’s much older.’’
‘‘What will you do?’’
‘‘As soon as the meeting is over, I’ll talk to Grandmother and see what she knows of these arrangements. If she, too, is uninformed, we’ll need to talk with Bradley Houston. Until then, I’m going to pray this is all a misunderstanding.’’
So great was her sense of humiliation that she wanted to disappear from sight, and Violet’s wan smile was doing nothing to help buoy her spirits. There was nothing to do but return to the parlor and act as though all was right with the world.
‘‘I suppose we should join the others,’’ Jasmine said, finally staying her nerves. ‘‘But please, Violet, say nothing about this.’’
‘‘I promise I won’t,’’ the girl said, jumping to her feet. ‘‘I cannot vouch, however, for what my mother might say or do. She loves weddings and babies. I think she always longed to have more daughters to plan events for, but alas, she has to suffer with me. Of course, my brother, Michael, keeps her very busy. Mother often says that twelve-year-old boys are much more difficult to contain than fourteen-year-old girls.’’
Jasmine listened only half-heartedly to Violet’s girlish chatter. Inside her head, a million questions were spilling over one another. How could Bradley Houston have made a public announcement of marriage? It was unheard of. The embarrassment he would face when she rejected him would be a hard matter to face among his peers. Why would he put this burden upon himself? Unless . . . Jasmine couldn’t even bear to let the words form in her thoughts. It couldn’t be true. Her father and mother would have said something.
‘‘Oh, I’m so glad you’ve joined us,’’ Lilly Cheever said as Jasmine and Violet came into the room. ‘‘I have someone I want you to meet.’’
Jasmine forced a smile, meeting the dark-eyed gaze of the woman. Lilly Cheever wasted little time pulling Jasmine along beside her.
‘‘Elinor, this is the young woman I was telling you about. Jasmine Wainwright, I’d like you to meet Elinor Brighton. She’s the younger sister of Taylor Manning. His wife, Bella, is that lovely woman speaking with your grandmother.’’
Jasmine met the face of Elinor Brighton and knew immediately that the woman was in no more mood to be at this gathering than was Jasmine. ‘‘I’m pleased to meet you,’’ Jasmine said, struggling with her composure.
Elinor nodded. ‘‘As am I.’’
The brown-haired woman looked immediately past Jasmine as though expecting someone to come through the door. Jasmine had heard from her grandmother that this woman had been recently widowed. In the South she wouldn’t be allowed to join in a public gathering.
In the South a man would never speak out of turn about marrying a woman he hardly knew.
But we aren’t in the South, Jasmine reminded herself.
Bradley had planned to take the train to Boston, but Alice Wainwright’s message summoning him to her home had required him to postpone the journey. The old woman’s note had been vague and somewhat terse, and he had momentarily considered ignoring her request. But caution prevailed—he dare not upset Malcolm Wainwright’s mother at this juncture. Even though his meeting in Boston wasn’t urgent, Bradley detested the interruption nonetheless.
After all, he’d made arrangements to meet with Mr. Sheppard first thing in the morning to go over the shipping business accounts, and now he’d had to send his apologies and ask to reschedule their appointment. Although Bradley had sold the majority of the family shipping business upon his father’s death, he still retained ownership of two of the newer vessels and a moderate share of the stock. And while he didn’t look after daily maritime operations, Bradley was an astute businessman who knew the wisdom of making an occasional visit to inspect Mr. Sheppard’s books.
Attempting to squelch his irritation as he walked up the steps, Bradley took a deep breath and knocked on Alice Wainwright’s front door. He nodded at Martha as he handed her his silk-banded hat. ‘‘I trust the ladies are expecting me,’’ he commented brusquely.
Martha returned his aloof gaze, her chiseled features void of emotion. ‘‘They’re in the parlor, sir.’’
Although he was none too happy about Mrs. Wainwright’s request for him to make an immediate appearance, he was determined to maintain his composure. Losing his temper with the old woman would not be wise.
Bradley entered the elegant yet simple sitting room. To one side of the room Jasmine stood near a large floor-to-ceiling window. Her gown of pale pink hugged her figure, stirring Bradley’s interest. She might well be the factor that clinched the deal in his business relationship with Malcolm Wainwright, but it certainly was beneficial that she was slender and beautiful.
He flashed her a smile just as she turned to meet his gaze. She said nothing and turned away quickly to take a seat, a frown lining her otherwise worried expression. Bradley turned to greet Mrs.
Wainwright, who sat stock-still in a high-back padded chair.
‘‘I’m pleased to see that you both appear to be in good health.
The vagueness of your message left me wondering what mayhem might greet me when I arrived,’’ he stated.
‘‘Sit down, Bradley.’’
The chill in Mrs. Wainwright’s words sent icy fingers racing down his spine. He glanced toward Jasmine, whose cold stare held the same chill as did her grandmother’s words. Perhaps this matter was more serious than he had contemplated. Bradley startled when Mrs. Wainwright rang for Martha and then instructed her to bring tea. He wanted to forego the ritual. Instead, they sat quietly, saturated by an ominous silence that hovered over the room like a vaporous fog. Waiting. Staring first at some indistinguishable spot on the floor and then the ceiling. Listening as the mantel clock ticked off the minutes. Finally, when he thought he would surely break his resolve and speak out, Martha reappeared with their refreshments, and Mrs. Wainwright ceremoniously poured their afternoon repast.
The old woman took a sip of her tea, leaned back into the soft cushion of her chair, and met Bradley’s stare. ‘‘I summoned you here because I have heard what I hope is only idle gossip.’’
His teacup hit the saucer with a loud clink, the amber liquid splashing over the edge of the cup and spilling onto the carpet. He ignored it. ‘‘You summoned me here to discuss gossip? Do you realize I cancelled a business meeting in Boston? I care little about the nonsensical chitchat of women who have too little to occupy their time or their minds, Mrs. Wainwright.’’
The silver-haired woman stiffened. ‘‘Your condescending tone will not serve you well today, Mr. Houston, for I have heard from a most reliable source you have announced in public that you plan to marry my granddaughter this winter. What say you, Mr. Houston? Idle gossip or truth?’’
The blood drained from Bradley’s face. How had word spread to the
old woman so quickly? He’d been certain he would have time to correspond with Mr. Wainwright before she found out.
Apparently members of the Associates gossiped as much as their wives. The very thought provoked him. There was nothing to do but own up to his words. If he lied, he’d surely be made the fool.
‘‘What you’ve heard is a true expression of exactly what I hope will occur this winter. I admit my folly in speaking as though I’ve already received Mr. Wainwright’s permission. I will tell you, however, that the marriage proposal is under consideration, and Mr. Wainwright has given tentative approval to our marriage.’’
‘‘Our marriage? My marriage? To you?’’ Jasmine wagged her finger back and forth between them as she spoke. ‘‘Preposterous! I simply don’t believe you. Papa has never said one word in his letters. Nor has my mother. And she would have written about wedding plans, wouldn’t she, Grandmother?’’
Mrs. Wainwright didn’t answer. Bradley watched the shrewd look of awareness slowly creep into her countenance, and he knew she understood. He was careful not to smirk. After all, he didn’t want to alienate her. He doubted Jasmine’s father would be pleased by his social blunder, and Bradley certainly didn’t want his business acumen judged by this one mistake.
‘‘So, then, this is to be a business arrangement,’’ Alice finally replied.
‘‘If all goes according to plan.’’
Jasmine rushed to her grandmother’s side. ‘‘Grandmother, what are you saying? Don’t take his side against me in this.’’
Alice turned to face her granddaughter. ‘‘I’m not taking his side, my dear. I have no say-so in this matter. But you may trust I will make every attempt to dissuade your father. I doubt Malcolm will be pleased to hear of your conduct, Mr. Houston. There is little doubt in my mind that you’ve overstepped the boundaries of your gentlemen’s agreement with my son.’’
The blood rushed to his head, throbbing in his temples like a pounding drum. He must remain calm or all would be lost. This wretched old woman could ruin everything. He longed to retaliate with venom-filled words, but instead he smiled graciously. ‘‘I hope I can convince you that this is more than a business arrangement, Mrs. Wainwright. I care deeply for Jasmine and I will do my utmost to make her happy.’’
Tears were now streaming down Jasmine’s face. ‘‘If you want to make me happy, you’ll tell my father you don’t wish to marry me.’’
Her disgust at the possibility of their union was evident, causing Bradley’s anger to grow. He was determined to hold his tongue, however. It would be to his benefit to show contrition for his actions, even sorrow at her rejection.
‘‘I am sorry for having spoken out of line. I’m afraid the spirit of the moment was upon me and I erred in judgment. However, I believe that in time you will grow to love me. And once we have children, you’ll be content with this union.’’
Jasmine shivered. ‘‘Children? I’ll never have your children.’’ Her look of repulsion deepened, offending Bradley in such a way that he put down his cup and saucer and got to his feet.
He knew he must leave or he would explode in anger. How dare Jasmine assess his plans with such distaste? She could do much worse than to marry a wealthy Northern businessman. He’d held his temper in check as long as humanly possible. ‘‘I think we are all distraught with this surprising turn of events. I’ll come back tomorrow morning when all of us have had time to gain our composure and think rationally.’’
Before either of them could say anything further, Bradley turned and exited the room. ‘‘I’ll see myself out,’’ he said as he hurried into the entrance hall.
CHAPTER • 10
BRADLEY BOUNDED into the room as though he hadn’t a care in the world. Jasmine watched his animated behavior, amazed at the change in demeanor since his hasty departure only yesterday.
She had spent a restless night reliving the moment when Bradley had not only admitted to his loose tongue but also announced his plans to marry her as a means to further his business. Her heart ached at the very thought, and she felt she had aged overnight.
Her girlish naïveteé had altered in the wake of conversations with her grandmother. She could still hear the older woman say, ‘‘Arranged marriages for the sake of bettering the family coffers are nothing new, Jasmine. It has been done this way for centuries.’’ But how could her beloved papa allow it to happen to his only daughter? Wouldn’t he want me to marry for love?
‘‘You’re looking quite lovely, my dear,’’ Bradley announced.
The return of his confidence was apparent. ‘‘Perhaps reflection has caused you to feel more favorable toward the idea of matrimony.’’
‘‘You appear to be feeling rather brash,’’ Jasmine remarked dryly.
He glanced about the room and into the garden. ‘‘Indeed.
Where is your grandmother?’’
‘‘She’ll be down shortly. She spends the first few hours of the morning studying her Bible and praying.’’
‘‘Asking forgiveness for her sinful nature, I suppose.’’
‘‘What?’’ His rude remark caught her off guard. ‘‘My grandmother is an honest, gentle lady.’’
‘‘Your grandmother is willing to bend the rules to suit herself when necessary.’’
Alice Wainwright descended the stairs wearing a green-and-gold print morning dress that accentuated the golden flecks in her hazel eyes. ‘‘If you care to defame me, please wait until I’m present, Mr. Houston.’’
He held out a letter that had been neatly addressed to Malcolm Wainwright. ‘‘I took the liberty of removing this from the tray in the entrance hall. After we’ve completed our conversation, I doubt you’ll want to post your missive.’’
Jasmine’s surprise at his boldness bordered on hysteria as she turned to her grandmother. ‘‘I cannot believe such behavior.’’
Her grandmother took the letter and placed it on the table beside her. ‘‘I’m certainly pleased I took ample time for prayer this morning, Mr. Houston, as you are already trying my patience. I must say, this is a side of you that I have not yet been burdened to witness.’’
Bradley seemed to enjoy watching her irritation rise. In fact, Jasmine thought he seemed quite pleased with himself.
‘‘Before you say anything you might regret, let me advise you that when I left here yesterday, I stopped at the Merrimack House.
There was quite a crowd, and I was seated near a table of people who were discussing the merits of abolition.’’ Jasmine noticed her grandmother startle when he mentioned abolition.
‘‘That’s of little interest to us, Bradley. I thought you came to discuss the improper announcement of our impending marriage,’’ Jasmine interjected.
‘‘If you’ll not interrupt, you will see how this all comes together, my dear. Just sit down and listen.’’
Bradley relished the moment as Jasmine appeared stunned by his command and immediately dropped onto the brocade-upholstered bustle chair. Watching as she followed his commands gave him a heady feeling of power.
‘‘As I was saying, the people sitting adjacent to me were discussing abolition. In the course of their discussion, they mentioned an antislavery meeting that was held at the old Pawtucket church several days ago. Apparently there were a couple of former slaves who spoke about their life on a plantation. But then, you two already know what they talked about, don’t you?’’
‘‘Excuse me? What are you talking about?’’ Jasmine asked.
‘‘There’s no need to feign ignorance. I know that both of you attended the meeting. I’m certain your son would be appalled to discover you took Jasmine to an antislavery meeting, aren’t you, Mrs. Wainwright? After all, how would it look for a man of his status and reputation—an owner of over a hundred slaves—to have his daughter and mother notably involved with such a movement? Why, it might mean their neighbors would condemn the family. It could mean a great loss for everyone.’’
He paused, watching both women carefull
y. Jasmine paled considerably, but her grandmother held her head upright, waiting for him to continue.
‘‘Not only that, but it could see the family fortune in ruin.’’
‘‘Our family is very successful,’’ Jasmine protested. ‘‘It would take more than something this trivial to ruin us.’’
Bradley raised a brow. ‘‘Trivial? You think this trivial?’’ He shook his head. ‘‘The Boston Associates are heavily dependent upon cotton for their mills. Your father and uncles are vast producers of this cotton. However, the Associates are not fools. They won’t brook nonsense or a threat to their well-being. Your father and his brothers have already cut many of their ties with English markets. They are counting on the Associates to purchase their cotton crops. A single word from me could put an end to that.’’
‘‘But what purpose would that serve?’’ Jasmine questioned, her voice breaking slightly. ‘‘How would it help your case?’’
‘‘It might not necessarily help my case, but it would devastate your family. If I choose to tell the Associates that your family is less than reliable—that there are problems with the dependency of the product—your father and uncles will sit with tons of cotton on the docks and no buyer. England won’t have them now, not even if they agreed to take a huge loss of profit. No, my dear ladies, the Wainwright family has burned several bridges over these past few days. Wouldn’t you say so, Mrs. Wainwright?’’
Alice Wainwright remained silent, staring at the rose bushes in her flower garden, obviously unwilling to make a rushed admission. Bradley rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. ‘‘Let me see, what were your words to me yesterday, Mrs. Wainwright—‘idle gossip or truth’?’’
Alice glared at him. ‘‘Truth. And now, Mr. Houston, what is it you want from me?’’
Bradley gave her a self-satisfied grin. ‘‘I’d say this piece of information puts us on equal footing, Mrs. Wainwright. I’ll not mention to your son the fact that you escorted Jasmine to an antislavery meeting if you’ll refrain from divulging my overzealous declaration of our impending marriage. I won’t suggest to the Associates that the Wainwright family is anything other than solid, and you, my dear Jasmine, will happily agree to our union. Think of it, my dear. You will be saving generations of Wainwrights from disgrace and financial ruin.’’
Tracie Peterson & Judith Miller - [Lights of Lowell 01] Page 10
