“Your mind is wandering again.” Millie gave her a forgiving smile. “Perfectly understandable at the mention of your intended. You must be so excited with the wedding just a few weeks away!”
Jorgine gave her a halfhearted nod. Terrified might be a more fitting description. Not for herself. Win had made it perfectly clear that once his senatorial campaign was over, she was free to live at Piney Brooke, which suited her just fine. With the inheritance her father had left her upon her marriage, she might just manage to make their land profitable again.
No, her concern was for her maid, Sally. If the whispers about her future husband’s relationships with his female slaves held even a grain of truth, Sally’s virtue was in danger.
“You never did tell me how he proposed.” Her friend giggled behind her lace glove. “Did he get down on one knee when he asked you to marry him?”
Poor Millie. If she was hanging all her romantic dreams on Jorgine, she’d be so disappointed. The proposal had been more like a business arrangement. “We just agreed that we suited each other. He proposed, and I said yes.”
“But he did tell you he loves you?”
She nodded slightly. Not as much as he loved the large campaign contribution her uncle had promised once they said their vows. Jorgine understood her papa’s concerns for her future, but why did Uncle Richard have to pick her husband? And why someone as vile as Win Wakefield? Yes, the Wakefields had political clout, but what did her uncle hope to gain from her marriage?
“I’ve lost you again.”
Jorgine caught sight of Millie’s hurt expression and sighed. “I’m so sorry. With everything that’s going on, I can’t keep my thoughts straight.”
She relaxed. “It’s all right. I can’t imagine putting on a wedding of that magnitude. How are you handling it?”
“Fine.” If the truth be told, it had been frustrating. All the simple touches she’d wanted for her wedding had been systematically vetoed by Win’s mother. “Mother Wakefield has taken over most of the planning.”
“What a lovely gesture!” Millie’s eyes sparkled. “Your fiancé is a very important gentleman in our state and deserves a wedding befitting his esteemed position.”
An esteemed man with a horrible habit, one she couldn’t share with anyone. If this news got around town, Jorgine would be more humiliated than she already felt. “Mother Wakefield has more experience arranging such things. As I don’t have a mother to advise me, I thought it best to leave it in her capable hands.”
“That’s so kind of you.” Millie studied her for a long moment. “I don’t know if I could step aside and let another woman plan every detail of my wedding. Unless it was my mother.”
“Of course.” Millie’s mother chased society’s whims like they were the last crust of bread in South Carolina. But Millie had a point. If things had been different, if this union had been blessed with love, Jorgine would have taken great joy in planning all the details of her wedding. As Uncle Richard had told her, this wasn’t about silly emotion but the joining together of two great Southern families. “Mother Wakefield enjoys this kind of thing more than I do. Besides, Piney Brooke needs my attention now.”
Millie leaned back and snapped open her silk fan. “I can’t believe your father left it to you to manage. Mother says it’s unseemly for a woman to partake in business.”
“It’s not as if I’m doing the planting myself, Millie.” Jorgine chuckled, tugging at her gloves. “Big Jim tends to all that.”
“Don’t you ever feel nervous being in that big house all by yourself?”
Jorgine gawked at her. “Since when did having a cook and a lady’s maid as well as Big Jim constitute being by myself?”
Millie pressed her lips together. “What I mean is it’s nothing like when your father was alive, so why stay when you could live with your uncle Richard?”
“Maybe I want to stay in my own home.” Which was the truth. Piney Brooke was the only home she’d ever known. But Millie was right. Piney Brooke was a shell of its former self since her papa’s death from a heart seizure five years ago.. It held none of the laughter and joy that had infused the place while Papa was alive, maybe because he always wanted her to know the great love he had for her. Family, though it was just the two of them, meant a great deal to him. “Piney Brooke is where I belong.”
“I know. Just be careful.” Millie straightened as their carriage turned through the gates of the Wallace Plantation. “I’ve heard shocking things that no moral, upstanding young lady should hear.”
Jorgine’s lips twitched. “You were eavesdropping again.”
Her cheeks turned pink. “Well, maybe a little. Still, some of those stories about Negro men are terrifying to think of. So please, be careful.”
She knew Millie meant well, but she had heard those stories too, tales meant to scare children into behaving. But Papa’s slaves had always been so good to her, treating her like she was one of their children, swatting her backside when she misbehaved and kissing her scraped knees when she fell. Big Jim had shared God’s saving grace with her when she was still a child. And no one could ask for a better friend than Sally.
She glanced at Millie. Any reassurances she could offer would fall on deaf ears. Best to help her make a profitable match, and the best way to do that was a little confidence. “That green muslin looks lovely on you. It brings out the color of your eyes.”
“Why, thank you!” She smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt. “I heard that anyone who is anyone will be here today, so the rumors must be true.”
“What rumors?”
Millie snapped her fan together and tapped Jorgine’s knee. “Supposedly, Hudson Wallace has returned home.”
Dear goodness. The last time she’d seen Hudson, she’d made a cake of herself. She’d been so silly, giving her heart to a man she barely knew. He probably didn’t even remember her. “Last thing I heard, he was still in Atlanta charming the ladies.”
“His father called him home.” Millie opened her fan again. “He wants Hudson to manage the daily running of the plantation while he takes Mrs. Wallace down to Savannah for medical treatment.”
“She never has recovered from her bout with pneumonia last winter. Maybe the sea air will help her,” Jorgine replied. “Still, Hudson is a poor substitute for his father. His parents may wish they’d left Olivia in charge.”
As the carriage pulled up to the brick walkway, Millie let out a tiny squeak. “I wasn’t expecting to see Mr. Raley here. He was supposed to be in Charlotte on business.”
Jorgine fought to keep from cringing. Why did all her friends act so silly when it came to men? She’d never understood it, maybe because she’d spent her girlhood following her father around the plantation or in Charleston while he worked. She felt at ease with men, enjoyed talking with them—much to her father’s chagrin. If love meant acting foolishly, she’d take duty, family, and honor—things that truly mattered—any day of the week.
A servant in red and gold livery waited as the carriage came to a halt. It rocked softly as first Millie then Jorgine was helped down. The other girl didn’t waste any time. With a glance toward Mr. Raley, Millie sashayed over to a young man Jorgine didn’t recognize and smiled up at him. The gentleman must have realized his good fortune as he offered Millie his arm, and together they walked over to the refreshment table.
Jorgine shook her head. Why couldn’t Millie simply be truthful with Mr. Raley and confess her feelings? But she already knew the answer. It wasn’t the proper thing to do.
Movement in the far upstairs corner of the house caught Jorgine’s attention. She could barely make out Olivia’s slender shadow, but the bright colors of the wedding ring quilt she held were unmistakable. Why would her friend be hanging such a blanket from the window of her balcony?
Jorgine sucked in a quick breath. Papa had mentioned a group of people who used quilts and such as a system of welcoming runaway slaves and helped ferry them north to freedom. An underground railroad he’d called it. Was it poss
ible Olivia and her family were involved? But what if she was wrong?
All she could do was ask. Like Papa always said, nothing ventured, nothing gained. If anyone could help her, Olivia would. It was a well-kept secret that she’d taught her father’s servants to read. Maybe she could give Jorgine advice on how to help Sally.
Jorgine glanced up at the window once more then hurried toward the front hallway.
Chapter 2
You have to be more careful, Liv,” Hudson Wallace scolded his sister as he folded their mother’s treasured quilt. “What if one of the guests saw it hanging off the balcony and knows what it means?”
“When did you turn into a handwringer?” Liv grabbed the blanket out of his hands and refolded it. “And if anyone asks, we’ll tell them it had just been washed and was hanging out to dry. As if anyone would dare.”
“Still, be careful. You know the penalty for helping runaways escape.”
“I know, and I will be more careful, I promise.” She laid the quilt on the edge of her bed then turned back to him. “We really need to get downstairs. Pa will be calling up the South Carolina Regulars if we don’t put in an appearance soon.”
“You go on.” Hudson strolled over to the double doors leading to the balcony. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
Liv gathered her hat and gloves from her dresser and headed for the door. “Don’t be too long. Mama’s invited most of Abbeville today. I think she’s hoping you’ll fall in love with one of the local girls and settle down.”
“I would’ve figured every woman of age in Anderson County would be under lock and key given my reputation.”
“You and I both know you’re using your ‘reputation’ as a disguise.” She leaned against the doorframe. “If any of these women knew what you were doing, they’d fall at your feet and pledge their eternal love.”
Hudson scoffed. “I highly doubt that, considering I’d be tarred and feathered if not dead.”
Liv pulled the door open then turned back to him. “Dear brother, you simply haven’t met the right kind of woman yet.” She gave him an affectionate smile as the door closed behind her.
His sister and her romantic tripe. Didn’t she realize it was all a lie? Hudson stared out the balcony window at the growing crowd below. Look at them, the pinnacle of Anderson County society trampling through his mother’s beloved rose garden, only here to see if the rumors were true that the wayward son had come home.
He took a sip of the warm lemonade Amos had brought him when Father had sent his man to fetch him. Hudson knew his father’s reasons for calling him home. Yes, Mother could use a bit of sea air after her brush with pneumonia last winter, but more importantly, they were to organize a sea escape for runaway slaves through the Port of Savannah. A dangerous undertaking to be sure, but his parents were up to the challenge. He and Liv would “conduct” former slaves through their “station” while Father and Mother were gone.
But it couldn’t be out of the family home anymore. Running the operation out of Mount Paran was too dangerous. He would inform the conductors that he would be moving the operations to his property at Thorndike Hall.
A glimpse of honey blond curls below caught his attention, but she was gone before he could discover who it was. He only knew one person with that glorious shade of hair. Jorgine Emerson. His heart sped up at the thought of her. She’d been seventeen last time he’d seen her, tall and slender with an air of girlish innocence about her. The memory of that afternoon seeped through him. She’d come to give him her heart, and he’d ripped it to pieces like a page of thick parchment. Even now, all these years later, he could see he’d had no other choice.
A light knock on the door startled him. Someone looking for his sister? Or maybe a quiet place to escape the crush downstairs? Hudson walked across the room. “If you’re looking for the ladies’ salon, it’s downstairs in the ballroom.” He opened the door to find himself staring into a pair of familiar violet-blue eyes. “Jor…I mean, Miss Emerson.”
She looked as surprised as he felt. Her cheeks were flushed, and her full pink lips parted in a slight O. “Mr. Wallace. I wasn’t expecting to find you here.” She glanced down the hallway then back at him. “I thought this was Liv’s room.”
“It is.” He hesitated slightly then turned toward the balcony. “I’ve always liked the view from her room.”
When he turned back, he found her staring at the folded quilt on the chair. “I was looking for your sister. I need to speak to her on an urgent matter.”
That spiked his interest. “What kind of matter, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Her eyes snapped up to meet his. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
This wasn’t good. Any minute now, someone could discover them, and then what? Jorgine’s reputation would be left in tatters. But he had a part to play, a disguise of carefree rogue. Hudson threw open the door and stepped aside, almost daring her. “As you can see, my sister isn’t here.”
Instead of turning tail and running like he had hoped, Jorgine walked inside.
This isn’t the same girl who offered me her heart. Unsure what to do, Hudson closed the door. “Dear heavens, woman, have you gone mad? If someone were to catch you here with me…”
“Calm down. No one’s going to see me.” Her gaze caught on the quilt again, and she walked over to the chair. “Liv and I used to play hide-and-seek in this room when we were children.” She picked up the corner of the blanket. “I think I could find a way to conceal myself.”
Tarnation! Jorgine was a bright woman. If she put two and two together, his days of helping runaway slaves would be numbered. Best to scare her off. Walking toward her, he gave her a wolfish smile. “A gift from a widowed lady in Atlanta. She thought it might keep me warm at night.”
She blushed to the roots of her blond hair yet pushed on. “Why was it hanging from the window?”
A good question, one he had a ready answer for, but Jorgine muddled his thoughts. Turning the questions on her would give him time to think. “Why do you think it was there?”
Jorgine hesitated, almost as if she were weighing her response. Finally, she straightened slightly, her chin tilted in that stubborn little way of hers. “Papa told me of a group of people who use quilts as signals to help slaves travel north. I was hoping Liv might be able to help me with that.”
“Why?” The question was out before Hudson could stop himself. Though he knew of Jorgine through Liv, his sister had never mentioned Jorgine’s thoughts on slavery.
“I need to get Sally away from here.”
“Sally?”
“My maid,” she whispered, then added almost as an afterthought, “My friend.”
She spoke with such sincerity, Hudson almost believed her. But a conversation he’d overheard between his father and Elliott Emerson, especially the part where Emerson had refused to free his slaves because “it would hurt Jorgine,” still weighed heavy on him. Had she truly had a change of heart concerning slavery? Or was she one of those trying to stop Miss Tubman’s work?
Hudson folded his arms over his chest. “Why her?”
“I’m to be married in a month.”
There was no hint of excitement in her voice, no longing. Only dull acceptance. Something about it didn’t sit right with him. For all her faults, Jorgine deserved to be happy. “Congratulations. Who is the lucky man?”
“Win Wakefield.”
No wonder she seemed to dread her wedding. The Wakefields held power in Columbia and were wealthy as Midas, but their riches were built on the backs of slave hunters who trapped runaways like animals for a bit of coin. And Win? There were tales of illegitimate children among his slaves attached to his name. “A state senator, no less. Your father would be proud.”
“Papa would be appalled,” she bit out then pressed her lips tighter. “He never would have allowed this to happen if he’d lived.”
“I see.” Though he didn’t, not really. “His death freed you to make your own choice of a husband.
”
“My choice?” Her voice strengthened. “Whenever does a woman have a choice, Hudson? Her entire life is managed by men.” She drew in a deep breath. “I just want to make sure Sally is safe.”
Dear heavens, had Jorgine heard the rumors about her intended? How could she marry such a man? “Does she have family in the North?”
She shook her head. “I just feel with my impending marriage, Sally might be happier away from here.”
“You mean away from Win?”
Color infused her cheeks again, but her gaze never faltered. “Yes.”
“You know your fiancé’s reputation yet you’re going through with the wedding?” Hudson wanted to shake some sense into her. “Are you that desperate for social standing?”
Her head snapped back as if he’d physically slapped her, but there was a fire in her eyes that Hudson found appealing. “You’re one to speak on the matter. Look at how your behavior has affected your family’s reputation. Why, poor Liv hasn’t had a male caller since you left for Atlanta.”
Hudson fought to keep from laughing. “Really, Jorgine. I can understand why Win would press for a quick wedding. You look positively magnificent when you’re in a snitch. I hope Win realizes what a prize he’s won.” He gave her a slight bow. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have guests waiting downstairs.”
Jorgine grabbed his arm as he turned to leave. “Please.”
There was a vulnerability in her voice that made the muscles around his heart clench. She’d never been one to ask for help. None of the Emersons did. Too much pride, his father had once said. Yet Jorgine was here, begging not for herself but for her servant girl.
He shouldn’t do this, not with so many lives hanging on his every decision, but he couldn’t help himself. “I might be able to help you.”
Hope lit in her eyes. “You will?”
For some strange reason, he felt a swell of satisfaction that Jorgine Emerson needed him. “You remember the large blueberry bush at Thorndike Hall?”
“Miss Lucille’s place?” Confusion wrinkled the smooth skin between her brows. “It’s been deserted for years.”
The Underground Railroad Brides Collection: 9 Couples Navigate the Road to Freedom Before the Civil War Page 29
