‘‘I was thinking about taking a walk myself,’’ Jasmine replied.
‘‘Perhaps I’ll join you.’’
Before Kiara could object, Alice came to the rescue. ‘‘There’s a chill in the air, dear. It could affect your milk. I think it would be best to remain indoors. Midafternoon would be a better time of day for you to take a walk.’’
‘‘Perhaps you’d join me tomorrow afternoon, Kiara?’’
‘‘Certainly, ma’am. I’d be pleased ta go walkin’ with ya on the morrow. But ya do na mind if I go tonight, do ya?’’
Jasmine gave her blessing, and Kiara made her way down the stairway, careful to avoid Bradley. She didn’t know where he might be lurking, but she didn’t want to encounter him this evening. The kitchen was dark, and she managed to slip out the door and around the house without being noticed.
‘‘Rogan, are ya here?’’
‘‘Aye, I’m here. How could I stay away with such a message as ya left with Granna? It sounds as though it’s a matter of life and death.’’
‘‘That it is,’’ Kiara replied, tears of anger and fear welling in her eyes.
‘‘Ah, it can na be as bad as that, lass,’’ he said, pulling her into an embrace. ‘‘Come on now and dry yar eyes and tell me yar problem. We’ll get it solved one way or the other.’’
‘‘Mr. Houston is goin’ to send Paddy to Mississippi, where he’ll be forced to work on the Wainwrights’ cotton plantation. He can na survive such a life, Rogan. And I can na survive without me brother. We’re goin’ ta be just like those slave families Miss Jasmine told me about. We’ll be separated and never see each other again.’’
‘‘Ya know I’ll do whatever I can ta help ya, lass.’’
‘‘I want ya to take Paddy and hide him. Mr. Houston will come lookin’ in the Acre, so ya’ll have to hide him in a place where he won’t think of lookin’.’’
‘‘I do na think yar idea is sound. Thar’s strict penalties when ya break the servitude laws, Kiara.’’
Kiara backed away from him. She could not believe what she’d heard. ‘‘Ya’re more concerned about my indenturin’ papers than Paddy being sent off to some cotton plantation that might as well be on the other side of the world away from me?’’
‘‘I do na want ya endin’ up in more trouble than either of us can handle. What good would ya be doin’ Paddy if ya end up in jail, lass? And do na think they wouldn’t put ya there. If this Mr.
Houston’s as mean as ya say, he’ll have ya placed on public display before ya’re hauled off to jail.’’
‘‘Do ya not understand what I’m saying, Rogan Sheehan? Mr.
Wainwright is leavin’ the end of the week, and I’ve little doubt Paddy will be goin’ with him.’’
‘‘Let me talk to me boss, Liam Donohue. He’ll surely be able to give us some sound ideas. He’s smart and knows all the right people.’’
‘‘There isn’t time for talkin’, Rogan. We need ta be doin’ somethin’ now.’’
‘‘If you’ll put a little faith in me and a lot of faith in God, we’ll somehow find a way to get this whole thing settled. What ya need to do is take yarself inside and get down on yar knees. Pray fer God’s intercession to look after Paddy. Will ya do that, lass? Give me but a day. We’ve got that much time.’’
‘‘I’ll give ya a day, and I’ll pray, but I don’t believe God cares enough ta do anything. He’s given me little hope that He’s ever heard one of my prayers.’’
Rogan gave her a wink and smiled. ‘‘You pray, and I’ll take care of the believin’ for the both of us.’’
CHAPTER • 28
JASMINE GREETED her father and Bradley as they entered the parlor. Bradley bid her good evening before hastily adding, ‘‘I’m exhausted. I’ll be retiring for the night.’’
Jasmine watched from the parlor as her husband made his way up the stairs without so much as a good-night kiss.
‘‘How was your evening, my dear?’’ her father inquired.
‘‘Quite fine, Papa. Bradley appeared distraught. Was your dinner meeting unproductive?’’ she ventured.
He nodded. ‘‘I’m certain he found our time together extremely disappointing. I thought he planned to discuss the shift of his duties to Samuel, but I was incorrect. In fact, he wanted me to change my decision. He was amicable and repentant when we began dinner, but when he realized I would not be dissuaded, his mood changed dramatically.’’
Jasmine looked at him in understanding. ‘‘I’m not surprised.
Bradley isn’t accustomed to being refused.’’
‘‘Well, I’m certain that given time, he’ll come to appreciate that this is best for his family. His behavior this evening revealed characteristics I’ve never observed previously—angry conduct I fear you’ve been subjected to throughout your marriage, and it grieves me to know I placed you in this situation. I plan to have a long talk with your husband before I depart, but I do wish there were something I could do right now that would help ease your circumstances.’’
‘‘There is one thing, Papa.’’
‘‘Anything! You just tell me what you want, and I’ll see to it.’’
‘‘Please don’t take Paddy back to The Willows with you. If Paddy leaves here, it will be Kiara’s undoing, and she has been a true blessing to me. I don’t know how I would have endured my marriage without her support and friendship. Bradley has been angry with Paddy ever since he accidentally forgot to lock one of the stalls and Bradley’s favorite horse escaped for a short time. The horse suffered a small cut on his leg, but it healed long ago and no harm was done. The horse was retrieved before Bradley even returned home. It is pure foolishness that he continues to hold a grudge against the child. Paddy is an excellent worker, and everyone speaks highly of his abilities, especially given his tender years.’’
Her father rubbed his balding head and stared thoughtfully at some distant object. ‘‘Bradley seemed insistent. He said the boy is a troublemaker and consistently difficult to manage.’’
‘‘You should speak with the stable master. Ask what he thinks of Paddy. He has told me the boy is a natural with horseflesh and works exceedingly well with the animals. He even mentioned he’d like to hire him on permanently once his servitude ends.’’
‘‘I don’t need to visit with the stable master, Jasmine. I can certainly take the word of my daughter. I’ll tell Bradley I won’t take the boy with me, but if Bradley feels strongly about this matter, he’ll likely try to rid himself of the boy in some other manner, and should that happen, you’ll have no control.’’
Thoughts tumbled through Jasmine’s mind as she digested her father’s words. He was correct. Bradley would undoubtedly sell Paddy to someone else. Sell Paddy. That was the answer.
She clapped her hands together. ‘‘I know, Papa. Tell Bradley you want to purchase Paddy’s contract—that you wouldn’t want to take him into your possession unless you had papers showing you were actually his owner. Then you can sign over his freedom, and he can live with Grandmother and work part time at the stables in town to support himself. He could still see Kiara, yet he’d be out of Bradley’s control. What do you think?’’
‘‘Sounds like a workable idea, so long as your grandmother agrees.’’
Jasmine giggled. ‘‘She’ll agree. Grandmother has developed a penchant for Kiara’s lace, and this arrangement will give her ample opportunity to nag the poor girl about her handiwork.’’
‘‘Sounds like an arrangement your grandmother would relish.
She always did enjoy having the upper hand. Now, if you’ll excuse me, dear, I think I’ll go up to bed. Shouldn’t you be doing the same? Spencer will be awake before long, and you’ll wish you’d gotten some rest.’’
She smiled up at her father. ‘‘I’ll just finish this last row of stitching, and then I’ll be up.’’
Malcolm leaned down and kissed her cheek. ‘‘Good night, my dear.’’
‘‘Good night, Papa. And thank
you for your willingness to help Paddy.’’
He smiled and nodded, his eyes still reflecting some of the sadness she’d noticed earlier in their conversation.
Bradley paced in his bedroom as he waited to hear the sound of footsteps in the hallway. When over an hour had passed, his mild frustration was replaced by acute irritation. Finally he heard someone climbing the stairway. Malcolm must be retiring for the night, as there was no sound in Jasmine’s adjoining bedroom. Why had Jasmine remained in the parlor? He had much to accomplish this night, but he dared not return downstairs until everyone was in bed. Had Kiara not been in the nursery, he would have awakened Spencer in order to force his wife upstairs.
Willing to wait no longer, he called her upstairs, feigning he’d heard the baby crying. Jasmine hurried up the stairs and met him in the hallway. ‘‘I couldn’t enter the nursery,’’ he told her. ‘‘Kiara has the door locked, but I’m certain I heard Spencer crying.’’
‘‘I’m surprised. Kiara is always quick to awaken when he cries. Go back to bed, Bradley. I know you’re exhausted. I’ll see you in the morning.’’
Bradley retreated to his room, glad they were still in separate rooms despite the baby’s birth. He leaned against the door, listening. He heard Jasmine speak to Kiara and Kiara deny that the baby was awake. Jasmine then informed the girl she was going to prepare for bed. Bradley hastily made his exit out of the room and downstairs to his study. If he was to present his records and ledgers to Malcolm the following day, he must adjust the accounts tonight.
He had given consideration to taking the books and going into seclusion in Concord or some other small city where Malcolm wouldn’t find him. But that would likely send alarm signals to both Malcolm and the Associates. Besides, he needed to meet with his father-in-law regarding Paddy. If he accomplished nothing else, he’d be certain Kiara knew who was in charge of this household and that he was a man of his word.
It would take all night to transfer the figures, but he had little choice. Pulling the books from his desk, Bradley began the tedious task of calculating and reentering figures into a new ledger book that he would present to Malcolm the next day. A ledger that would reflect figures matching those Malcolm believed the Associates were paying for his cotton. It would take little to alter the contract figures. But his thoughts were jumbled, and he’d not yet reconciled how he would explain the higher price he’d negotiated with the Associates. Malcolm, however, had never seen the contract, and Bradley would be safe so long as no one ever mentioned the higher figure. Bradley still maintained hope he might be able to convince the Associates he was to remain the payee on the later contract he’d negotiated for an additional percentage.
The entries were rushed and sloppy, smudged, and hopelessly illegible in places. Although he was exhausted and overwhelmed, Bradley completed the task just before sunrise. He checked his last entries, doubting Malcolm would be able to decipher the final pages of figures.
‘‘He can recalculate for himself,’’ Bradley murmured, looking for a fresh piece of blotting paper.
Finding the last of his blotting paper spent, Bradley spread the open ledger upon his desktop to dry, tucked the old ledgers into a drawer, which he carefully locked, and after turning down the wick of his lamp, shuffled up the stairs. He hoped for at least an hour of sleep before revisiting the ledger books with Malcolm.
Jasmine returned the baby to his cradle and heard Bradley’s door opening. Then the bed creaked, followed almost instantaneously by her husband’s snores.
Something was amiss. She wondered what Bradley could have been doing downstairs at this hour. Returning to her room, Jasmine was overcome by an irresistible curiosity. Candle in hand, she slipped into her robe, crept down the stairs, and entered her husband’s study. She touched the lamp’s glass globe and found it still warm. So he had been working in his study, she surmised.
She sat down in his large chair and looked at the ledger that lay open on the desk in front of her. This wasn’t the ledger Bradley normally used when figuring the accounts. She held the candle closer, looking at the barely legible figures that were so unlike Bradley. Could he possibly be altering the books? Dare he be stealing from her family? She attempted to open the desk drawers.
They were locked. If Bradley was stealing, there was no way she could prove her statements without the original ledger. Yet why would he be entering figures from two months ago if he weren’t falsifying the books? Her husband was always careful to complete his records and present them to the Associates, for one thing Bradley always expected was immediate payment.
Bradley’s sloppy entries left several blotches of ink on the page that had not yet dried. If she closed the books, the pages would smear against one another—proof the entries had all been made at one time. Without a second thought, she closed the book, pressed it tightly together, and left the room.
Bradley awakened with a start. A column of sunlight was streaming through his bedroom window, cutting a wide path across the room. ‘‘It must be at least ten o’clock,’’ he muttered while pouring water from a china pitcher into the matching bowl.
Thankfully he’d slept in his clothes. He splashed his face with water, quickly finger-combed his hair, and straightened his tie before exiting the room.
It seemed breakfast was long over, although a plate remained on the table at his place. Sarah appeared from the kitchen and offered him coffee. ‘‘I’ll heat your breakfast,’’ she offered. ‘‘It won’t take long.’’
‘‘Just coffee, Sarah. I’m not hungry. Do I hear voices coming from the library?’’
‘‘Oh yes, sir. Mr. Cheever and Mr. Wainwright asked if they might take the liberty of using the room for their meeting.’’
‘‘Matthew Cheever? What meeting? How long has he been here?’’
Sarah furrowed her brow. ‘‘Forty-five minutes—maybe an hour.’’
‘‘And no one awakened me?’’ He pushed aside the cup of coffee and hurried off.
Matthew Cheever was exiting the library as Bradley entered the hallway. ‘‘Matthew! I was just coming to join you and Malcolm.’’ ‘‘Good morning, Bradley. No need to hurry. We’ve already completed our conversation, and I must get back to the mills.’’
Matthew retrieved his hat from the hallway and without further discussion took his leave.
Bradley hurried back to the library, where Malcolm was placing a folded paper in his breast pocket. ‘‘Why the early morning meeting with Matthew Cheever?’’
‘‘Oh, it was nothing of importance, Bradley. Jasmine informed me you had been up until the wee hours, and I certainly didn’t want to disturb your sleep. You obviously needed your rest. Perhaps we should get started on the ledgers.’’
Bradley breathed a bit easier. Apparently the meeting with Matthew didn’t impact him, and the ledgers had been completed last night. Everything would be fine if he kept his wits about him.
‘‘The ledger is in my study, Malcolm. I’ll just go and retrieve it.’’
The sound of chatter caused him to look into the hallway, where Jasmine and Paddy were making their way toward the door.
‘‘Come in here, Paddy,’’ he ordered. ‘‘Jasmine, would you retrieve the ledger from the top of my desk, please? Your father and I need to go over some accounts.’’
Jasmine nodded and walked away while Paddy entered the room. ‘‘This is the boy I mentioned, Malcolm,’’ Bradley began, ‘‘the one I want you to take to Mississippi. His name is Padraig O’Neill.’’
‘‘If I’m to have charge of him,’’ Malcolm said, ‘‘I’ll want to buy out his indenture contract. I’ll not take him with you still holding his papers in your name.’’
‘‘If you want to buy the papers, I won’t object. I was merely offering him to you free of cost, but if such an arrangement makes you uncomfortable, I’m willing to take your money.’’ Bradley flashed a look of self-satisfaction toward Paddy. ‘‘I’ll get his papers after we’ve gone over the ledgers.’’
Paddy’s shoulders slumped, and he hunkered down near the door. ‘‘Ya can na be doin’ this to me, sir. I love takin’ care of yar horses. Why are ya sendin’ me away?’’
‘‘Nooo!’’ Kiara cried, dashing into the room and clinging to Bradley’s arm. ‘‘Please. I’m beggin’ you, do just this one thing for me. Do na send him away. I’ll do anything. I promise I’ll make it up to you.’’ She met his hardened gaze with pleading tear-filled eyes.
Just when he thought he could take no more of Kiara’s whining, Jasmine entered the library with his ledger tucked under her arm.
‘‘Kiara, what’s wrong?’’ She hurried to the girl and wrapped her in an embrace while handing the ledger to Bradley.
‘‘Malcolm and I are attempting to conduct business. All of you need to leave the library,’’ Bradley ordered.
Kiara ran from the room with Jasmine close on her heels, calling her name. Obviously unable to comprehend the situation,
Paddy remained in place, staring after the two women.
‘‘Get on with you!’’ Bradley shouted. ‘‘Get back to the barn.’’
Startled, Paddy darted from the room like a fox being chased by hounds.
‘‘How much did you want for the boy’s contract?’’ Malcolm inquired.
‘‘I want to be fair,’’ Bradley replied, producing Lord Palmerston’s original paper work.
Malcolm examined the papers and said, ‘‘I’ll give you an extra fifty dollars for the room and board you’ve provided since his arrival.’’ ‘‘Of course, he did receive excellent training in handling horseflesh,’’ Bradley submitted.
‘‘An additional seventy-five.’’
‘‘Agreed.’’ Bradley felt a sense of smug satisfaction at the arrangement. Malcolm wasn’t such a shrewd businessman. Bradley would have taken nothing for the boy. It appeared matters of business were improving. ‘‘Now, then, shall we begin working on the ledgers?’’
Jasmine couldn’t keep pace with Kiara, and by the time she rounded the house, the girl was nowhere to be seen. Her cries for Kiara went unanswered even though she called out that there was a solution for Paddy’s predicament.
Tracie Peterson & Judith Miller - [Lights of Lowell 01] Page 32
