He was, by God, going to sit by Angele’s bed and hold her hand so he would be there when she awoke. And the second she did, he planned to look her straight in the eye and tell her that he loved her, and beg her, if need be, to give him a chance to prove it.
He was willing to do anything in his power to make her happy. If she wanted him to take her riding, he would, by damn. And if she didn’t want to tat and sew and do all the other things she found so boring, he wouldn’t ask that of her, either. He had probably been a clod to expect her to conform, anyway. She was a free spirit, and that was one of the reasons he loved her, and he knew now he had been wrong to try to change that.
He only hoped it wasn’t too late.
As for whatever it was in her past she found too painful to share, he would respect her need to lock it away.
They would go forward, together, into the future.
There would be other babies, as many as they both wanted.
And nothing else would matter.
If she would only let him love her…
Selma had been standing rigidly outside the door to Angele’s bedroom so long that her legs were numb.
Even if she could count, she wouldn’t remember the number of times she had raised her hand to knock but hadn’t mustered the nerve.
It was getting very late, and she knew she had to do it or Miss Clarice might make good her threat.
She could be on her way south by morning, in the back of a buckboard wagon, heading for a slave auction.
The deep breath she took seemed to come all the way from the tips of her toes.
Her arm was shaking, her hands trembling, as she finally tapped on the door.
When there was no response, she thought Master Ryan might be sleeping but knew Miss Clarice would tell her to knock louder till she roused him. So she did. And it wasn’t long before the door swung open, and he was glaring down at her.
“Yes, Selma, what is it?”
She pulled her voice from somewhere deep within. “I wanted to sleep near Miz Angele. On the floor. I want to be here if she needs me…if you need me.”
“I suppose that’s a good idea.” He waved her inside. “And if anybody else comes, you can be the one to tell them to go away.”
Selma sat on the rug near the empty fireplace and hugged her knees to her chin. Miss Clarice had told her to wait till the right time before saying anything.
It was not long in coming.
“I’m going to stay here till she wakes up,” Ryan said soberly, absently, as though talking to himself “I want to be the one to tell her about the baby. She’s going to be so hurt.”
Selma tried to speak but no sound came.
Then the image of Toby’s dear face swam before her tear-filled eyes.
She also thought of the tiny life growing inside her.
And she knew she had to do it for Toby’s sake…and her baby’s.
Finally, she was able to say, “I expect she’s gonna be real upset, but I warned her she might lose her baby, and she wouldn’t listen.”
Ryan winced. “What did you say?” Dropping Angele’s hand, he whipped about to stare at her, hoping he’d not heard right.
Selma drew a sharp breath. She had gone too far to stop even if she could. “She said she was gonna ride anyway, ’cause she could jump a horse as good as any man, and—”
“Wait a minute.” He reached her in a flash to grab her by her shoulders and yank her up, leaving her feet dangling inches from the floor. “Are you saying Angele knew she was going to have a baby? She told you that?”
Selma had never been so scared in her life as she repeated the lie Miss Clarice had coached her to say over and over till she knew it by heart. “She was sick a lot…throwin’ up…and said she was afraid she was gonna have a baby.”
“Afraid? She said she was afraid? You mean she didn’t want to?”
“…can’t speak for her…” Selma wished he would put her down, afraid he’d go crazy and throw her across the room, because he had a scary look in his eyes.
He shook her so hard her head bobbed to and fro. “Did she say she didn’t want the baby? Answer me, damn it.”
“Sorta…” she managed despite the terrified sobs racking her body. “She sorta said she didn’t want no baby…”
To her surprise, he suddenly, and gently, set her down on her feet and backed away.
Covering his face with shaking hands, he whispered, “I’m sorry, Selma. I shouldn’t have grabbed you up like that. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I…I’m not hurt,” she stammered, edging toward the door. “But I think maybe I’d like to go sleep in my own bed if you don’t think you need me.”
“No. It’s all right.” He sighed. “The only thing I need is a drink.”
Opening the door, Selma watched as he shuffled across the parlor to his room, head down, shoulders curled.
She knew she had never seen such a broken man.
And prayed she never would again.
She also asked God, if He could, to forgive her for what had to be the biggest sin she had ever committed.
“Now for the coup de grace,” Clarice said happily, after telling Corbett how she’d had Selma lie to Ryan about Angele. “All that’s left is for him to find out she’s only half French and she’ll be gone as soon as she’s well enough to travel.
“Maybe even sooner,” she added, giggling. “He might be so angry he won’t wait that long. He might make her pack her things and get out now.”
It was after midnight. Clarice was sitting on the side of Corbett’s bed. Too excited to wait till morning, she had awakened him as soon as Selma reported the deed was done.
But, to her surprise, he did not share her elation.
“Don’t count on it.” He yawned and rubbed his eyes. “It might not make any difference to him at all.”
“Are you out of your mind? Of course it will. He’s going to be absolutely furious that she dared do something so foolish when she knew she was going to have a baby. Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said?”
“Yes, but you need to calm down and remember we don’t want to look like we’re a part of any of this. If I show him the letter right now, he’s liable to get angry with me for meddling in his business.”
“He’ll do no such thing,” she yelped. “He’ll be grateful you cared enough to find out the truth about the deceiving little tramp. And that, in addition to believing her recklessness caused her to lose his baby, will make him want to be rid of her once and for all.
“And I’ve asked Denise to stay the week,” she added. “I want her close by to offer him comfort when he needs it.”
“Well, I’m not willing to take any chances. How many times do I have to tell you he loves Angele? And love makes men do foolish things sometimes.”
“Then go to your uncle. Tell him the truth. Tell him how Ryan met Angele…how it worried you so much you hired someone to see what they could find out about her. Tell him how her uncle in England even offered a reward after she and her mother ran away, because they probably stole from him. When he hears that, he’ll order Ryan to run her off.”
Corbett sighed wearily. “We have already discussed this, Clarice. Angele’s got the old man wrapped around her little finger. It might make him angry at me for meddling, too. I just can’t take the chance. We have to look innocent in all of this.”
She rolled her eyes. “Then what good is the letter if you aren’t going to use it against her, for heaven’s sake?”
“I plan to when the time is right.”
“And when will that be?”
“After she’s gone, in case Ryan wants to go after her and bring her back. I’ll tell him it’s for the best to let her go and then show him the letter. I’ll say that after he told me he loved her, I decided not to say anything about it. Then, if he still wants her back, I’ll promise to keep it a secret so the old man doesn’t find out. He’ll be undyingly grateful and never suspect either of us tried to do anything except he
lp him keep his marriage together.”
“Are you still asleep?” Clarice asked incredulously. “Is that why you aren’t making any sense—or have you lost your mind? You mean to tell me that you’d actually help him get her back after he made her go? That you’d then try to get along with her in hopes she’d never make him tell us to leave BelleRose? You have to be crazy, Corbett, and—”
Suddenly he lunged to sit straight up and grip her shoulders and lean into her face. “Listen to me, damn it. You’re the one who’s crazy if you think for one minute I will ever allow that little sewer rat to stay here and take anything away from us. I have an alternate plan in case all else fails.”
“And what might that be?” she asked dubiously.
“Roscoe will take her away, and I have to make sure Ryan doesn’t try to go after her. Now do you understand?”
Clarice relaxed and breathed easier. It was going to be all right. Corbett was sane, after all, and what he said made good sense. “So all we do now is wait and see what happens, and if he doesn’t run her off, Roscoe will take her by force. Is that it?” she asked.
“Not quite. We can’t just have her disappear. It might look suspicious. It has to look as though she left of her own free will. But we can use Selma for that, if need be. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Ryan may surprise us and toss her out on her deceitful little funny. It would make things a lot easier that way.”
“And meanwhile?” Clarice asked.
A wry smile curved Corbett’s lips. “It was a good idea—your having Denise stay on awhile. Just make sure she’s around if he needs a shoulder to cry on…or anything else.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
It had been four days since the accident, and Angele was bewildered—and hurt—that she hadn’t seen Ryan.
She had awakened sometime the day after, groggy and sore all over. Selma was the only one in her room at the time and had immediately gone to tell everyone the news.
Dr. Pardee came a short while later, and, after a cursory examination, said all she needed was plenty of rest.
No one else came. Not even Clarice. Angele’s only contact was with Selma, who brought her trays of food but hardly said a word. She did, however, finally mention that she thought she heard Willard tell Mammy Lou that Master Ryan had gone to Richmond for a few days.
Angele was hurt to think he could leave her that way but reasoned it might be for the best. He was probably furious over what she had done, and his anger needed time to fade.
She still couldn’t dispel the notion that something was wrong. Selma was so nervous she jumped at the least little sound and also seemed to be avoiding meeting her gaze. Then there was Dr. Pardee’s strange behavior. Ordinarily he was a gruff old soul, and she had expected him to chide her not only for jumping but beating him out of the saddle, as well—because she had no doubt but that she had won. Instead, he was quiet and said little except to urge her to rest as much as possible.
“Everyone must really be upset with me,” she remarked when Selma brought her supper tray that fourth day. “I would’ve thought Clarice would come to rail at me for borrowing her saddle without asking. Has she said anything to you?”
Again, Selma would not look directly at her. “No, ma’am. She wouldn’t say nothin’ to me, no how. She don’t talk to none of us except to tell us what to do or fuss about something. I try to stay out of her way as much as I can.”
“And Master Roussel,” Angele pressed. “Have you heard whether he’s angry that I rode his horse?”
“If he is, Willard didn’t tell me.”
Angele pushed back the tray and sat up. “Then it’s time I went to see him and found out. Clarice stays peeved over something all the time, anyway, but I don’t want Master Roussel irritated with me. Get my robe and slippers, please.”
“You can’t, missy,” Selma argued. “You know the doctor said you’ve got to stay in bed a week, and I know it can’t have been that long ’cause Sunday hasn’t come yet, and I always know when it’s Sunday ’cause Mammy Lou fries a chicken.”
Angele lifted her chin stubbornly. “Will you hand me my robe like I asked you to?”
“No, she won’t. Because you aren’t going anywhere.”
Angele turned to see Ryan standing in the doorway. His face was tight with anger. “I’m feeling better,” she offered gingerly. “And I want to tell your father I’m sorry if he’s angry at me for taking his horse.”
“Don’t you care that I am?”
His glare was blistering. Glancing away, she began to pick absently at the sheet. “I was hoping to talk to you, as well, and try to make you understand why I did it.”
“I’m listening—not that anything you say will be the truth. But let me hear it, anyway. You’re so creative that your lies are always entertaining, if nothing else.”
Angele was fast becoming annoyed, herself, because he was not giving her a chance. She faced him again, no longer intimidated. “Did it ever occur to you that I wanted to prove to you that I can ride—jump—a horse? I happen to be quite good at it, and I’ve missed it. All you want me to do is stay in this house all the time. I’ve wanted to scream from boredom.”
“That doesn’t excuse what you did.”
“What else could I do? You wouldn’t let me ride. Now you know I can, and there’s nothing to worry about. And I wouldn’t have fallen,” she added petulantly, “if I’d been more experienced with that particular horse.”
His upper lip curled in a sneer. “That particular horse has never been ridden by anyone but my father.”
“Then you see? That proves I’m a good rider, because I stayed on him long enough to make every jump. And I won, didn’t I? That special saddle is mine, and that’s why you’re angry—because a woman won.” She dared a smile, thinking she might be able to tease him out of his wrathful mood.
“I am angry,” he said harshly, “because your recklessness caused you to lose our baby…a baby I wanted very much but you obviously didn’t.”
At that, Selma bolted by him and disappeared.
Angele reeled and gasped, “No…no, that’s not true?”
“It’s cruel to tell you this way, but, quite frankly, I think you deserve it. What you did was unforgivable.”
“I…I didn’t know,” she managed to chokily deny. “Ryan, if I had, do you think I’d have done it? I swear to you—I didn’t know I was going to have a baby.”
He stepped on into the room to point an accusing finger and lash out, “You want to know what I think? I think you don’t care about anyone but yourself. The baby, me, our marriage—none of it matters so long as you get your way, and you’ll stop at nothing to do it.”
“That’s not true,” she protested above the roaring in her ears as she tried to grasp the horror of what he was telling her about the baby. She’d had no idea she was pregnant. Miss Appleton had never discussed symptoms. Neither had her mother. She’d never been around childbearing women, so how could she have known?
“I can’t believe you still have the gall to lie even now.” He ran his fingers through his hair in agitation. “Hell, I’ve got to get out of here…”
Angele scrambled to her knees, the tears she had vowed never again to shed welling in her eyes as she pleaded, “Please, Ryan. You’ve got to believe me. I never dreamed I might be having a baby. I’d been nauseated, but I don’t know about things like that. No one ever told me, and—”
“Stop lying!” he shouted. “Damn it, I should have known you’d never appreciate what I was offering you.”
“I did—and I do—and my heart is breaking, Ryan.”
Suddenly he asked, “Who helped you? Damn it, I’ll break the son of a bitch’s neck. Who told you about my father’s horse? Who helped you with him?”
Remembering her promise to Roscoe and terrified of what Ryan might do to him, she swallowed hard and lied, “No one. I chose him myself.”
“And I suppose you knew my father’s horse was a good jumper, because you heard so
meone say once upon a time what a good jumping horse looked like.”
“Yes…that’s true…”
“To hell with it.”
“Please believe me, Ryan—”
He sneered. “You’ve never told the truth about anything yet. Why should I believe you now?”
“Because I—”
The door slammed on her last words.
He didn’t hear her say that she loved him.
He went straight to his father’s wing. He had avoided him since learning Angele had known she was pregnant before she rode. And he did not intend to tell him now, because he would be so hurt and disappointed. But Ryan knew if he continued to stay away, he would wonder why.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Willard greeted when he opened the door. “I’ve been afraid if somebody didn’t tell him somethin’ soon about how Miz Angele was doin’, he was gonna go see about her himself.”
“Well, he won’t have to do that now.” Ryan breezed by him and into the bedroom.
“It’s about damn time!” Roussel bellowed from where he was sitting in his usual spot by the window. “How’s she doing? Doc said she’d be fine, but since you haven’t been to tell me yourself, I was afraid she might’ve taken a turn for the worse. Losing a baby can be hard on a woman, you know, and that was a hell of a fall she took.
“But she rode my horse, didn’t she?” he added, grinning broadly…proudly. “He’s never let anybody else stay on him that long. And as soon as she’s able, I’m going to tell her she can ride him all she wants to. Hell, I might even give him to her, because nobody else will ever be able to control him.”
“She didn’t control him,” Ryan reminded his father.
“She did for a while, and it was just her first time.” Roussel noted how bitter he sounded…how angry he looked. “Say, what’s wrong with you, anyway? She was just trying to show off in front of Denise. I figured that out, and you should have, too. Women are like that. And I saw how Denise was following you around at the party the night before. Angele was just fighting back, that’s all.”
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