While she had clung to the fading hope that one day the ugly duckling would turn into a beautiful swan, common sense told her that biologically it was unlikely, if not impossible.
And then suddenly, her whole life had changed. In her own defense, she’d been young, inexperienced, and still stunned by the loss of her family when Robert had wangled an introduction and offered his condolences.
She still couldn’t recall those first few weeks after the accident clearly. She did remember that her parents’ friends had been kind, and that the middle-aged bachelor she’d been encouraged to call Uncle Harold, even though he was no relation, had invited her to stay with him so that he could help her in her hour of need.
Fortunately, Robert had talked her out of that, telling her it might be perfectly innocent, but it wouldn’t look right. He had offered advice without a hint of implied criticism, held her when she needed to cry without making her feel weak or homely or vulnerable, even though she’d been all of those things.
It hadn’t helped that her father’s lawyer had been out of the country, and that her father’s record-keeping had been even worse than her grand-mother’s. Perhaps it was a Littlefield failing.
In all the confusion that followed, Robert had been there, offering comfort, advice, and then marriage. She had never once questioned his attentiveness until it was too late.
Matt, she reminded herself now, was nothing at all like Robert, yet she was beginning to wonder if she could have misunderstood his intentions, too. She’d been so certain he had forgiven her for deceiving him. He had accepted her as his wife. He’d come to her bed. He’d shown every evidence of enjoying it, too, and goodness knows, she certainly had. It had been wonderful beyond belief. Even now she had only to look at him to recall in vivid detail the intimacy they’d shared. The aching, throbbing, desperate drive for completion that had far exceeded the meager bounds of her limited imagination.
She could understand why he wouldn’t come to her bed with a stranger in the house, but why was he avoiding her?
Because he was. There was no longer any doubt of that. He would take one look at her, mumble something about work to be done, and disappear. Every single animal in the horse pens, even Angel, had been polished to a high gloss.
They had enough firewood to last a hundred years. There had once been seven dead oak trees bordering the sound, killed, according to Luther, by the encroaching tide. Yesterday Matt had chopped down and cut up the last one.
Rose tried to convince herself that it was only the wretched heat that was making him act so strangely. It affected them all. Tressy sulked. Annie fussed, but then she was probably cutting another tooth. Crank grumbled. Normally the kindest of men, he had taken Tressy in dislike from the first, the feeling being entirely mutual.
Thank goodness for Sandy. As he didn’t seem to object to Tressy’s mindless chatter, Rose left them to entertain each other. The woman irritated her beyond bearing, but she couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. As someone who had lost her own immediate family in a tragic accident, Rose knew how she must feel. She herself had Matt and Annie now. Poor Tressy was alone in the world.
Annie clicked her newest tooth on her cup and grinned, dribbling milk from both sides of her mouth. With absent-minded patience, Rose blotted her chin. They had come early to breakfast because it was too hot to sleep much beyond sunrise.
“I woke up wringing wet,” declared Tressy, who had wandered into the kitchen in her dressing gown, her hair a disheveled mess that managed to be wildly becoming.
“I know, it always seems worse just after sunrise. Never a breath of air.” Rose, fully dressed and groomed, watched the other woman attack a plate filled with fried croaker, fried potatoes, pickles and crusty biscuits. Rose herself had eaten so much seafood lately, she was heartily sick of it. Crank had stewed a chicken yesterday, but in this heat, no one had been particularly hungry.
“That bed’s got bugs in it.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I got bites all over me.”
The two women and Annie were alone at the moment, Crank having stepped outside to refill the kettle.
“It’s probably mosquitoes. We’ve had rain lately, and now there’s no wind to blow them away.”
“You think I never seen a mosquito before? These is all over me, under my corset and ever’wheres.”
Rose had suffered her share of bites, but only where her skin had been exposed to the pesky devils. “You didn’t…well, no, of course you wouldn’t do that.”
“I didn’t do what?”
“Well, I saw you and Sandy walking down by the sound side yesterday evening. Did you—”
“—did I what, Miss Priss? Take off my clothes the minute we was out of sight behind the bushes?”
Rose gaped at her. “I didn’t mean—”
“For your information, Miss La-de-dah, we just talked. We sat down in that patch of grass behind the net shed and I told Sandy all about how I was going to better myself by reading books and going to church and all, and he told me how he was going to fix the roads and the schools. It wouldn’t surprise me none if he didn’t end up as governor one of these days. He might not look like much, but he’s real smart.”
“I think he’s a nice-looking young man, and you’re right, he is smart. He’s also kind.” Despite her own concerns, she felt sorry for the poor girl, who was scratching first her waist and then a place behind her knee. “I suspect it’s chiggers. The grass is full of them. I’ll make you a poultice after breakfast, but first, if you’ll excuse me, I’d better see to getting Annie cleaned up.”
Just as she swung Annie up from her chair, Crank came back inside. He set the kettle on the range to heat, looked at her untouched plate, lowered his brows and shook his head. “Off yer feed again, are ye?”
“It’s the heat, I suspect.”
It wasn’t the heat that troubled her, it was her heart.
Miss La-de-dah?
Matt was fit to be tied. He no longer believed the Riddle woman would actually try to take Annie from him, but she wasn’t above using her as a pawn. She was after something. He was beginning to believe she might have lined him up in her sights. Him and young Dixon and any other unattached male. There was nothing to be gained from her sister’s estate, Dixon had explained all that. And if she didn’t want Annie, then why the devil was she still hanging around the Point? He’d offered her no encouragement.
So far, he’d avoided a direct confrontation by keeping his distance, but he’d run out of chores to do and wood to chop. He could have caught a boat across the sound and then headed up to Norfolk to see how the work on his ship was going, but he didn’t dare leave her here with Rose and Annie, with only Crank to protect them. Not until he knew what she was after.
Dipping his discarded shirt into the bucket of water he’d been about to pour into the horse trough, he mopped his face, then slung the wet shirt around his neck, reveling in the momentary coolness.
He’d be the first to admit he was no good at dealing with women. He’d proved that much when he’d tried his hand at revenge and ended up falling in love with his victim. Men he could deal with, having lived in a man’s world all his life. If Tressy Riddle had been a member of his crew he’d have kicked her off his ship before he ever left port. He’d sized her up right away as a snoop and a troublemaker.
Crank said he’d caught her going through the locker in his bedroom. Claimed she’d been looking for a handkerchief. Matt had been tempted to drive her to the village and load her aboard the first outward-bound boat right then, but the woman had him over a barrel. Any way you looked at it, her claim to Annie was stronger than his.
There had to be a way, dammit. If he and Rose were married…The trouble was, he didn’t know if they were or not, and not knowing, he didn’t know which tack to take. He’d been on the verge of declaring himself—of declaring something, anyway—when Dixon had dumped the Riddle woman in his lap. Now, every time he tried to get Rose alone, Tressy was
there with her confounded meddling and her endless questions.
“How big is your ship?”
“Big enough.”
“My, I bet it cost a heap, didn’t it? I never met a man that owned a whole ship before. I’ve knowed—known lots of sailors, though.”
No wonder Crank was threatening mutiny and Rose was looking so peaked, if they had to put up with that prattle all day long. He would like to blame it on the summer doldrums, but this wasn’t the first hot spell they’d had since Rose had been here. The heat had never seemed to bother her before. She wasn’t eating enough, according to Crank, who put it down to the fact that the Good Book warned against eating seafood and drinking milk in the summertime.
Matt couldn’t help but wonder if there might be another reason. How long did it take for a woman to catch? How long before she began to show symptoms? Was a week long enough?
God, he wished he knew more about women. All men, especially those without mothers or sisters, should be forced to take a course in the subject of women, understanding how they were put together, how they functioned, what made them different from men.
From the woman who had deserted him as a child he’d learned that women smelled good, cried a lot, and weren’t interested in anything a little boy had to say. Growing into manhood, he’d been too proud to ask questions, afraid of revealing weakness, but he’d learned a few more things from the whores he’d done business with over the years. He had learned still more from a woman who had played him for the fool he was.
His aunt Bess didn’t count. She defied all understanding. But now there was Rose, and he was more at sea than he’d been in all his seafaring life.
Rose dragged herself in to breakfast the next morning, but regretted it almost immediately. Leaving Annie with Crank and Tressy, she hurried from the kitchen, her face almost as green as it had been the day she’d arrived at Powers Point.
Matt, on his way inside from seeing to the livestock, heard rapid footsteps on the bare wood floors followed by the slamming of a door. He peered into the kitchen. Tressy’s scowl turned instantly into a smile. Annie was patting globs of burgoo on her head.
“Rose?” He looked to Crank for an explanation.
“Sick, I reckon. Looked like she was headed for the rail.”
Oh, hell, he’d fouled his own nest. Got her with child before he could settle the marriage question. Even with his meager knowledge of society’s rules, Matt knew what that meant. The proof was right there before him.
Annie.
“I never been sick a day in my life,” Tressy declared proudly. “Stop that,” she snapped at Annie, who had leaned over to share a handful of cereal with her aunt.
Matt turned to follow Rose, but Crank called him back. “Leave her be, Cap’n. Women don’t like a man to see ’em on their knees, heavin’ into a chamber pot.” When Matt hesitated, the old man went on to say, “I had me five sisters, all older’n me. Why’d you think I went to sea when I was no bigger’n a gnat’s behind?”
While he was still trying to make up his mind whether to go after her, Rose returned, her face pale as new canvas, but quite composed. “Good morning, Matt,” she greeted him.
He studied her intently, searching for some sign she was breeding. Against all decency, his groin tensed at the thought that they might have made a baby.
“I need to talk to you,” he said softly. They were standing in the kitchen doorway, close enough to touch, but carefully not touching. Matt wanted to hold her, not necessarily to make love to her, just to hold her and promise her that everything would be all right, but he didn’t dare, not until he knew he could keep that promise.
“Crank says you’re fixin’ to go back to Norfolk to see to your ship, Matt.” Tressy broke the tension, a coy note in her thin, nasal voice. “I never been to Virginia. I heard it’s a real pretty place, though. I wouldn’t mind seein’ it.”
Rose slipped past him to take her seat beside the high chair and Matt managed not to swear aloud. “I won’t be going anytime soon,” he said.
Crank served him a cup of steaming black coffee, strong enough to dissolve nails. Then the old man touched Rose on the shoulder, and Matt watched Rose incline her head toward his gnarled hand and felt a stab of jealousy.
What in hell was happening to him? He’d all but banished Luther, sent John on his way, and now he was worrying about a man old enough to be his own grandfather?
“Anybody home?” Sandy Dixon called out. There was a pause as he stomped the sand off his shoes, then let himself in with the ease of familiarity. “Brought you a letter, Cap’n Powers.”
With a nod that was barely polite, Matt took it, glanced at the return address, then hastily excused himself. A moment later they heard his office door slam shut.
Sandy looked from one to the other. “Must be important. You ladies mind if I join you? How about you, Annie, you want to share your breakfast cereal with me? Mama had the headache this morning. The heat, I reckon. She didn’t feel like cooking breakfast.”
Crank had no sooner set a plate of fish, potatoes and the few remaining biscuits, cold by now, before the magistrate’s son when Matt returned. He paused at the door to say, “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Rose, be here, will you?”
As if she had any choice.
“Wait for me to get dressed and I’ll go—” Tressy stood eagerly, then sank back into her chair. “It wouldn’t have took me but a minute,” she grumbled as he left the house and headed out to the horse pen.
Sandy picked up his fork. “Boat got in just before dark yesterday. I probably should’ve brought the mail out last night, since nobody came in to collect it, but there was just one letter. Some lawyer in Norfolk, probably something to do with his ship.”
“We’ll need to throw out the chicken stew,” Rose told Crank.
“We got ice boxes in Beaufort, with ice delivered fresh ever’ day.”
“Electric ice boxes, that’s the coming thing,” Sandy announced, and would have elaborated on the topic had Rose not cut him short.
“That will hardly do us much good until they can bring electricity out here on the freight boat.” She lifted Annie from her chair and excused herself. “It’s tinned milk and burgoo for you, young lady, until this awful weather breaks.”
Rose removed the wet diaper and sticky nightshirt, bathed and powdered the plump, squirming body, then selected the plainest of the fancy gowns the men had ordered from the mail-order catalog. Annie had outgrown most of them, thank goodness, but Rose still felt like crying, picturing four rough seamen, Matt, Crank, Peg and Luther, poring over the layette section of the catalog, ordering the fanciest, most expensive things available without the least notion of what was suitable.
“Your papa will be home any time now. He’ll want to see your new tooth, so let’s practice our best smile.”
Dear Lord, she loved this child. Rose was quite certain Tressy didn’t really want her, even though she was a blood relative and the courts would probably side with her if it came down to a fight.
It was this awful uncertainty, she decided, as much as the weather and the spoiled chicken that was making her feel so wretched. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.
What was bothering Matt?
Why was Tressy still here?
Rose lingered as long as she could, throwing back the covers to air the bed, gathering Annie’s laundry, taking a few of her own gowns out onto the back porch to sun. With the awful humidity, everything was prone to mildew.
Just as she turned to go back inside, she saw Sandy ride off. She really should have stayed to entertain him, but she no longer thought of him as company, not when he came every day.
Returning to her bedroom, Rose found Tressy standing in front of her dresser. Ignoring Annie, who was sitting up in her crib chewing on a knotted rope toy Peg had made for her, the woman had uncapped a bottle of lilac toilet water and was sniffing the contents.
“Were you looking for me?” Rose asked politely.
Tressy whirled around, dropped the cap, but mercifully hung on to the bottle. “You didn’t tell me you two was married,” she accused.
Rose’s mouth opened, then closed. Cautiously, she said, “I…was married before I came here.” Which was both true and ambiguous. By the time she’d picked up the cap from the floor, replaced it on the bottle and set it on the dresser, her mind was racing, trying to pinpoint the danger she sensed.
“What happened? Why’d he get it annulled? I bet I know—he got tired of your la-de-dah ways, didn’t he? A man wants more than fancy manners in his bed, I can tell you that much, and I’ve not ever been married.”
Rose instinctively placed herself between Annie and the younger woman. Her palms were damp, but her voice remained calm. “Tressy, if you’ve something to say, then I’d appreciate your saying it straight out.”
Tressy held out a sheet of paper. Managing to sound both spiteful and triumphant, she said, “Here then, is this straight out enough? I come across it accidental when I was looking for a—a piece of paper and a pencil. I reckon now you won’t be so high and mighty.”
When Rose made no effort to take the letter, Tressy stepped closer and waved it under her nose. “Well, don’t say I never done you no favors. He’s going to send you packing when he gets back. Know what I bet? I bet he went to fetch the magistrate, to run you off his property.”
Rose couldn’t help herself. She snatched the letter and read it. It took only a moment, for there were very few lines.
My dear sir:
You will be pleased to know I have annulled your marriage to Mrs. Augusta R. L. Magruder as you requested, effective as of the above date.
The rest was blurred by the tears in her eyes.
Chapter Eighteen
I will not beg, I will not, Rose vowed silently as she stood beside the cart Crank had hitched up at her insistence. Pride, even pride that was tattered almost beyond recognition, was all that had carried her through the last hour. She had packed one of Annie’s outgrown gowns in with her own, while tears blinded her eyes. She had held her small body, not too tightly, and whispered love messages, then sat her in her crib with all her toys around her. Her own bed was still unmade, and she had left every single black gown she possessed hanging in the wardrobe. They could rot there for all she cared.
The Paper Marriage Page 21
