“Maybe.” He didn’t think so but was afraid disagreeing might make him wonder if something else was wrong. “I’m just upset about her losing the baby, that’s all. Don’t worry about me. You just take care of yourself. Doc didn’t like how upset you were.”
“I couldn’t help it. The truth is, I’ve come to love Angele, and I was scared she was seriously hurt. It’s sad about the baby, but there will be others. We just have to be grateful we still have her. She could have been killed, you know.”
Ryan had thought of that, again and again as he had sat beside her bed, praying she would not die. And, despite what she had done, he knew he still cared about her deeply. He didn’t want to lose her but, sadly, feared he already had.
Suddenly he felt the need to prepare his father for what might happen. “It’s nice you think so much of her, and I’m glad, but the fact is, she seems homesick for France.”
Roussel was quick to respond. “Then for heaven’s sake, take her and go back for a visit. Stay as long as she wants to. Corbett can look after things here, and I’m feeling stronger every day. We’ll manage fine without you. Now, go tell her so she’ll feel better.”
Ryan only wished it were that simple. But he’d said all he intended to for the time being. His father didn’t look as well as he would have people believe. There were deep circles under his eyes, and his hands had a slight tremor. It would not do for him to worry about Angele any more than he already did.
“Go on. Tell her you’ll take her home.” Roussel slapped his knees and grinned. “Who knows? You might make another baby while you’re over there. And wouldn’t that be something—my grandchild conceived in France?”
“Yes. Yes, that would be something.” Ryan wanted to get out of there, afraid if he didn’t, the pain he was trying to hide would show. “Well, I’d better be going. I have things to do.”
“I’d like to see Angele as soon as she feels like having company.”
“I’ll let you know. She still needs to rest. Maybe in a day or so.”
Roussel nodded. “Of course. But be sure to tell her that I’m thinking about her.”
“Of course I will. Now, stop worrying.” Ryan crossed to the door.
“Son, wait a minute.”
He paused.
“Do you want to go with her?”
Ryan cocked his head to one side, not understanding. Roussel made himself quite clear. “I’m asking if you want to go with her to France or if you’d rather let her go alone.” Ryan knew what he was getting at but didn’t know how to respond.
“I’m asking you, goddamnit, if you even care if she leaves,” Roussel then irritably snapped. “Maybe you’re such a fool you think you’d rather have Denise, who’s nothing but a spoiled brat. I’d as soon have a goat for a daughter-in-law.”
Ryan could not help laughing, then quickly sobered. “No, I don’t want her to leave. I love her. I didn’t when I married her, but I do now…with all my heart. As for Denise, I thank my lucky stars she turned me down when she did. Otherwise, I’d probably be the most miserable man on earth.
“And another thing,” he said, pointing a finger. “You’d better thank your lucky stars Angele didn’t hear your blasphemy just now, or she’d have told you off good.”
Roussel’s smile was placid. “I look forward to the day she can. And I’m glad you love her, son, because I do, too.”
Ryan went downstairs and stopped by his study only long enough to take some money from the safe. He was almost out the front door when Corbett caught up with him to ask where he was going.
“Richmond,” he said tersely. “I may be gone overnight.”
“But it’s getting dark. You have no business riding alone. Let me get my hat and holster, and I’ll go with you.”
“What about Clarice? She might not like you staying out all night.”
Corbett said it didn’t matter. “She’s got Denise to keep her company.”
Hearing that, Ryan was even more anxious to be on his way. The last thing he wanted was to fend off Denise again.
Denise was reclining on the pink velvet divan in her room.
She was bored and ready to go back to Richmond, but Clarice wouldn’t hear of it, promising the opportunity they were waiting for would come soon.
“Well, it better hurry up,” she grumbled out loud and reached for the wine bottle again. “Or I’m leaving before all my beaux think I’ve dropped off the face of the earth.”
Suddenly Clarice opened the door without knocking and hurried to sit down at the foot of the divan. “I’ve something to tell you.”
“Before you do, I want you to know I’m going home tomorrow, and there’s no point in arguing about it.” Her voice was slurred from too many glasses of wine to remember.
“No, you aren’t.” Clarice flashed a coy smile. “Because tonight’s the night. Ryan finally came home today, and—”
“I know, I know. I saw him from the window. I was going to meet him on the stairs to ask him to walk with me a bit, but before I could, he had already gone to see her.” She tossed down the rest of the wine in her glass.
“Selma eavesdropped and heard everything, just like I told her to, and I know everything that was said.”
Impatiently, Denise prodded, “So tell me. I know he had said he wanted to be the one to tell her about the miscarriage when Doctor Pardee thought she was strong enough. What happened?”
“According to Selma, she denied knowing about it—just like we knew she would—and he told her she was lying. But nothing was said about a divorce, so we have to follow through on our plan.”
Denise sighed, disappointed. “I might as well go home now. I just saw him leave with Corbett, and you know he won’t be back tonight, so there’s no chance we can have Angele find us together.”
“Of course there is.”
Denise was bewildered. “You aren’t making sense. How can I sneak into Ryan’s room after he goes to bed and have Angele find us together and think we’re making love if he isn’t even there?”
Clarice grinned. “It isn’t important that he be there, dear cousin. It’s only important that Angele thinks he is. And don’t worry. Selma is going to take care of that little detail for us.”
Selma hated what she was doing but kept telling herself over and over she had no choice. She had told Toby about the baby, and he was so happy he had cried. Then he had told her over and over how much he loved her. So she had to do what Miss Clarice told her to because she couldn’t leave him. He’d die. She just knew he would.
Miss Clarice had explained exactly how she was to sit in the parlor between Miss Angele’s room and Master Ryan’s room and watch the big case clock. When the little hand got to a certain spot, and the chimes started, she had to say her piece, real loud, so Miss Angele would hear. And then she was supposed to get out, no matter if Miss Angele got to the door in time to see her and told her to come back. She was to keep on going, then tiptoe back and listen to see what happened. And if nothing did, if she didn’t hear anything, she was to pretend to look in on Miss Angele a little while later to see what she was doing.
It all sounded strange, but even though Selma had no idea what was going on, it had to be something bad…something that would hurt Miss Angele. And she hated doing it, but, like she kept telling herself, loving Toby like she did and with his baby inside her, she had to do whatever it took to stay with him.
Finally, the little hand pointed where it was supposed to, and then the chimes began.
Selma rose and walked to Master Ryan’s door and yelled real loud, “Master Ryan, I got the extra pillow you told me to get you, and I’m leaving it outside your door, like you said. You have a good night, sir.”
And then she walked as fast as her shaking legs would carry her out of the parlor and down the hall to wait a few minutes before easing back to finish what Miss Clarice had told her to do.
Angele was not sleeping very soundly. She awoke in time to hear everything Selma said and was elated to kno
w Ryan was back.
She sat up and reached for her robe, then went to her dresser and brushed her hair. She even used a dab of perfume, wanting to present herself as nicely as possible.
She had rehearsed the words she would say to him until she knew them by heart.
She was going to tell him how truly and deeply she loved him, and how having his baby would be the greatest gift God could ever bestow.
Maybe then he would believe she had not known about the one she had lost.
To hell with pride and everything else, Angele was bent on making her husband see this night that her heart belonged to only him.
Crossing the parlor, she saw that the door to his room was ajar, and light came from within. But before she could call out, the sound of a woman’s voice turned her blood to ice. She froze where she stood, unable to move.
It was Denice.
“Oh, Ryan,” she was cooing in that annoying way she had. “It’s sad your father won’t let you divorce Angele, but at least we’ve realized how we love each other.”
Angele forgot to breathe, and an invisible fist closed about her chest.
Her eyes grew so wide she felt her skin tearing as she caught sight of Denise through the open door.
She was naked.
“I’ll pour more Champagne.” She made her voice husky. “I love it when you lick it off my breasts…”
Angele stumbled backward, almost fell, but righted herself in time to keep from falling, making noise, letting them know she had heard.
She made it back to her room, closed the door and leaned against it, fury and heartache rolled into one as she began to tremble.
For long moments, she stood there as the shock of what she had just seen…heard…rolled over her.
At the sound of a knock on the door, she hurried back to bed. If it was Ryan, pretending to be solicitous by checking on her, she was not sure she could bear to look at him. Probably he had realized he had failed to lock his door and wanted to make sure she was still asleep and unaware of what was going on.
But it was Selma, instead, and she poked her head in to whisper, “Are you all right, missy? I was passin’ by and thought I heard you call me.”
“No…” she managed to say past the choking knot in her throat, “No, I didn’t.”
“Then I’ll see you in the morning.”
“No,” Angele called sharply. “I do want you. Close the door and come here.”
Selma did so, but, again, she would not look directly at her.
Angele sat up to clutch her arms and pull her closer as she tersely whispered, “Now, listen to me carefully. I know what I saw the other night. That was a runaway slave who came out of the woods near your cabin. And I think BelleRose actually is the first stop runaways make on their way north.”
Selma’s lips parted to attempt denial, but Angele gave her a rough shake.
“Don’t lie to me. You can’t, because I need your help. You have to help me take the same route they take, because I want to go north, too.”
Selma did look at her then to cry, “What are you talkin’ about, Miz Angele?”
“I’m leaving—running away—and I don’t want Master Ryan to know about it, because he might try to stop me.
“After all…” she said brokenly, releasing Selma and falling back on the bed, “I’m only chattel.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Selma cowered before the three of them—Miss Clarice, Master Corbett, and Mr. Fordham.
“Now, you are sure you know what to do tonight,” Clarice said, keeping her voice gentle, because she did not want the girl to get nervous and make Angele wonder why. Everything had to go according to plan with no slip-ups, because there would be no second chances.
“Yes, ma’am. I know by heart. I lead Miz Angele to the old pier, down by the bend in the river, and I leave her there. Then I come back to the house and sit in Master Roussel’s parlor in case he gets sick in the night and needs me.”
Clarice was pleased. “That’s right. Now, can you tell me why you are the one to sit in the parlor and not Willard?”
Selma nodded, confident of her role. “Because I’m the only one you trust to do it. And Willard and Mammy Lou have been askin’ to sleep with their families, anyway, and you said they could take a night off to do it.”
Clarice waited, then prodded, “Yes? What else?”
Selma thought a minute, then snapped her fingers. “I remember. If Master Ryan asks how come I’m the only one in the house, I’m to say Miz Angele run me off and sent me to stay with Master Roussel.”
Corbett patted her on the head. “Very good. You can go now.”
In a voice laced with warning, Clarice added, “Don’t forget what will happen if you tell a soul about this.”
Selma ducked her head as terror danced across her scalp. She knew, because Miss Clarice had repeated her threat many, many times. “I won’t say anything. I swear it.”
As Selma passed by Roscoe, he growled, “You say anything, I’ll take the whip to your hide, girl…”
She took off running, his taunting laughter echoing in her ears.
Clarice whirled on Roscoe. “Are you sure you have everything taken care of?”
“Yes. As soon as Selma gets her to the pier, I’ll tie and gag her and throw her in the buckboard. Someone will be waiting about an hour down the road to take her on to North Carolina.”
Corbett told them Ryan would be in Richmond all night. “I made sure he got invited to a big poker game.”
“Well, the way he’s been drinking lately, he’d probably gamble away BelleRose if he had the deed in his name now,” Clarice sarcastically remarked.
“I’ll just be glad when it’s over.” Corbett frowned at Roscoe. “And don’t forget the most important thing—how you’re to make Angele think it’s all Ryan’s doing. We don’t want her to ever come back here should she get away.”
“Get away?” he guffawed. “By the time she’s sold into slavery as a mulatto all the way down in Louisiana, she’d never find her way back.”
“Well, we can’t take any chances.”
Clarice backed him up. “That’s right, Roscoe. You do your job or you won’t have one.”
His expression turned mean. “Don’t you ever threaten me, damn it. I can have you kicked out of here just like that”—he snapped his fingers under her nose—“because I know about too many graves that are empty, remember? Where slaves are supposed to be buried but actually aren’t dead and got sold down south without Ryan and his old man knowing about it.”
“I…I don’t like your threatening me,” Clarice sputtered. “Now I think it’s time for everyone to go about their business.” Dismissing him, she began to gather her things. “Corbett, little Danny and I are ready to go to Richmond.”
Roscoe left, grinning confidently that his position was secure for as long as he wanted.
“I don’t like that man,” Clarice hissed when she and Corbett were alone. “He frightens me.”
“It’s nothing to worry about. He’s getting paid extra for this.”
She raised a brow. “And where did you get the money?”
His eyes were twinkling. “Out of the safe in Ryan’s study. I’ve peeked over his shoulder when he was opening it enough times to know the combination. I took all he had in there, which was a tidy sum, to make him think Angele stole it before she ran away.”
Clarice grinned and patted his cheek to congratulate him, then sobered, holding out her hand. “Give me the rest of it,” she said. “You’ll only throw it away.”
Disappointed, Corbett knew he would never hear the end of it if he didn’t.
Angele finished packing the one bag she was going to take with her. She closed it with a click of finality, then looked about the room. Leaving all the opulence meant nothing.
She went to the window and gazed out at the lush gardens and the rich, rolling land beyond.
None of it mattered without Ryan’s love. And, since he did not want her and neve
r would, she would not stand between him and Denise.
Bless Roussel, she thought with a smile despite her misery. From what she’d heard Denise say that night, she had seen her naked in Ryan’s room, Ryan must have gone to him and told him he wanted to divorce her. No doubt he was using her causing the miscarriage as an excuse, his true motive being that he was still in love with Denise. But Roussel had refused, and Angele deeply regretted not being able to tell him how she would always treasure his loyalty.
It had been a week since that night, and the only time she left her room was to visit Roussel and read to him. Always she pretended nothing was wrong, trying to be cheerful. And if he suspected she was dying inside, he didn’t let on.
As for Ryan, it hadn’t been a problem avoiding him, because he seemed to be in Richmond all the time. Denise had left the very next day after Angele had found them together, so obviously he was spending all his time with her.
Angele would have preferred to have left with dignity, but had Ryan objected to her going out of pride, it would only have prolonged the agony. She couldn’t stay knowing he loved someone else, and the sooner she left, the quicker her heart could begin to heal—if that were possible.
She had no idea where she was going. Neither did Selma. Some people thought the runaways wound up in Philadelphia. Others said they might make it all the way to Canada. No one knew for sure, and Angele actually did not care. In the back of her mind she thought maybe she might like to live in New York. In such a busy place, surely there was work for a woman, if only cooking and washing dishes. But she wasn’t concerned with the future—only the here and now and running away before her heart changed her mind.
Darkness fell, and her tension increased. Selma had said they would leave as soon as light faded.
She paced about, anxious to be on her way. If Ryan did return, she would have to postpone everything. Selma said a lot of people had gone to a lot of trouble to help her along the way, and to hope and pray that didn’t happen.
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