by Leanne Tyler
“Are you all right?” Josephine asked. “You’re cheeks are flushed.”
“I’m fine,” she assured her. “It’s a very warm day. Let’s go change into something cooler for our outing.”
“It’s not proper to appear so eager to see a man,” her aunt scolded, “especially one you just met.”
“I wa—,” Rebecca began, but realized she was eager to see him. Mr. Hollingsworth had made an impression on her. Taking a deep breath, she silently chastised herself then conceded, “You’re right. I need to hold my enthusiasm so he doesn’t get the wrong idea.”
“Enthusiasm is good, but not too much. I can’t endure another Mariah incident.” Josephine pressed fingertips to her temples as if another headache brewed.
Rebecca bit her tongue and ignored the comment, not wanting to spoil the day. She wished her aunt would forgive Mariah. It would make their lives together so much easier.
****
Jared hesitated before climbing down from the carriage as it stopped in front of the Bakersfield Hotel. His housekeeper had outdone herself preparing the picnic lunch, and he wondered if his invitation to Miss Davis wasn’t a rash decision. If Mitchell hadn’t suggested he consider remarrying, would he even be contemplating spending time with her?
Yes. He believed he would. His interest in her had nothing to do with Mitchell suggesting he remarry. He wouldn’t mind if their acquaintance turned into more.
“Mr. Hollingsworth!” Miss Davis called, startling him out of his reverie as she came out of the hotel.
Despite her pretty smile, he recognized a note of concern etched on her face. “Miss Davis, is something wrong?”
“Aunt Josephine has come down with a dreadful headache. I was just going to get her a tisane when I saw you arrive. I’m afraid she won’t be joining us after all.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Should we have our picnic inside so she can at least eat with us and then proceed on to Oak Hill for a tour?” he asked, motioning to the basket on the carriage seat.
“What a splendid idea. That would be lovely.”
He turned to his driver. “Change of plans, Higgins. I’ll be staying in town for a while. You can go around to the carriage house.” He lifted the basket from the carriage seat. “I’ll send for you when we’re ready to leave.”
“Yes sir,” Higgins replied.
Once inside the hotel, Jared waited while Miss Davis ordered the tisane to be delivered to her suite, then he followed her upstairs.
He watched closely as she took the stairs before him, trim hips swaying as she moved, exposing a tiny glimpse of her ankle with each step. Her hair, swept into a chignon showed off the slender scope of her neck. She was a fine specimen of a woman. Whenever she was near he couldn’t stop watching her closely.
When they reached the suite door, Miss Davis stopped and looked at him apologetically. “I had better go in first and prepare Aunt Josephine that we have company. I won’t be but a moment.”
He found waiting in the hallway odd while she announced him, but thought better of it when raised voices came from the other side of the door. He tried not to eavesdrop, but when a high-pitched shriek sounded, he dropped the basket in the hall and burst through the door.
“Aunt Josephine!” Miss Davis exclaimed, kneeling before the woman on the floor. She patted her aunt’s pale cheeks quickly, but it did not rouse the woman.
“What happened?” he asked.
“She fainted.” Miss Davis looked at the maid who held an infant. “Charlotte, bring Lucas to me and hurry down and see if there’s a doctor near.”
“Yes miss,” the maid replied.
“I’ll go,” Jared said. “I know where Doctor Gordon’s office is. That’s where he’s likely to be on a Sunday afternoon if he isn’t at home.”
Miss Davis looked at him, their gaze locking for a moment, her gratitude evident for his assistance. “Thank you, Mr. Hollingsworth.”
He gave a quick bow and backed out of the room, reappearing with the picnic basket. He quickly set it inside the suite and left again.
“Charlotte, please get me a wet cloth,” Rebecca reached for Lucas, then set him on the floor next to her. “I don’t know why Josephine has these spells.”
The maid shot her a look.
“All right. I do know,” Rebecca admitted. “I just wish she wouldn’t overreact. What’s wrong with inviting Mr. Hollingsworth to our suite to have the picnic indoors? How can that be improper? Isn’t he the one taking a chance being alone with three females and a baby?”
Charlotte snickered. “That he is, miss.”
Josephine stirred and tried to sit up. “Oh my head,” she muttered. “What am I doing on the floor?”
Rebecca supported her aunt and helped her to the chaise.
“You passed out, dear. Just lay still until the doctor arrives.”
“Doctor! I don’t need a doctor. Why…Who is fetching him?” Josephine asked, glancing around the room.
“Mr. Hollingsworth ran to get Doctor Gordon for us,” Rebecca explained.
Josephine raised her hand to her head and moaned. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“Kill you?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Bringing a man you hardly know to our suite. Wasn’t it bad enough you accepted an invitation from him for a picnic without a proper chaperone?”
“But you were going to be there. What more of a chaperone would I need?” Rebecca asked, leaning forward and pulling Lucas away from the rocking chair where he tried to pull up.
Josephine moaned again. “I feel an attack of the vapors coming on.”
“Vapors?” a gruff voice barked, causing Josephine to stop in mid-swoon.
“I beg your pardon. Who are you?” she asked, her eyes enlarged at having a strange man enter their suite unannounced.
Rebecca watched her aunt closely as she got to her feet, surprised the woman didn’t faint dead away.
“Doctor Ancil Gordon at your service, Madame,” he answered. “What seems to be the problem?”
“My aunt is a very delicate lady, Doctor Gordon. She doesn’t take to excitement well,” Rebecca explained, bouncing Lucas on her hip. “She’s been suffering with headaches since we arrived in town a few days ago.”
“Are you prone to fainting?” Doctor Gordon looked over the rim of his spectacles.
“Not as much as she’s taken with the vapors,” Rebecca replied.
“Rebecca, I can speak for myself,” Josephine said tightly, accepting Doctor Gordon’s help to stand.
“Yes. You most certainly can,” Rebecca remarked. She turned and acknowledged Mr. Hollingsworth’s return with a smile. “Charlotte, help my aunt into the bedroom so Doctor Gordon can perform his examination.”
“Yes, miss.”
“Mr. Hollingsworth, let’s have our picnic at the table here,” Rebecca said. “Would you mind holding Lucas while I set out the food?”
“N—no, not at all,” he stammered, taking the boy from her.
“Good, we’ll be eating in no time,” she assured him, picking up the basket and placing the food onto the small dining table on the far side of the suite.
****
Once inside her bedroom, Josephine settled on the bed, never taking her eyes off of the doctor. She didn’t like doctors. Never had. And she despised the whole profession ever since that charlatan let her precious Mariah die.
“Your niece said you’ve been having headaches for a few days. Is that correct?” Doctor Gordon asked.
“Yes. Since we arrived in Jackson,” she responded.
“And where do you call home?”
“Memphis.”
The doctor nodded, and opened his worn leather bag.
“Did you suffer from headaches there?” He glanced at her over the rim of his spectacles again.
“Occasionally. I have a very full schedule. I do volunteer work in the local parish,” Josephine said. “The work can be tedious, but those of us who are more fortunate are expected to give our time to help those
in need.”
“Do you always wear your hair pulled back so tightly in a bun?” he asked, digging in his bag.
“What does the way I wear my hair have to do with my ailment?” she demanded, shooing Charlotte away as the maid tried to fluff the pillows and make her more comfortable on the bed.
“Everything if you’re suffering from headaches as badly as you claim,” he informed her. “Are you always so high-strung? Your facial expressions indicate you’re suffering from tension. What do you find so worrisome?”
Indignation at his questioning prickled up Josephine’s spine. She clenched her fists and remained silent, looking away from this annoying man she’d met less than five minutes ago. What made him think he could read her so well?
“From the looks of you, I’d wager you wear the latest fashions in women’s undergarments, which isn’t advisable in this climate. Do you also wear your corset as tight as you coif your hair?”
“Well! Is that the way you talk to ladies?” Josephine leaned away as he tried to put a bell-shaped object at the high collar of her dress.
Stopping in mid-examination, the doctor eyed her over his spectacles. “It’s not just talk, Madame, its practicality. There is nothing wrong with you that a little softening of your garments, hair style, and demeanor will not cure.”
“I didn’t ask your opinion. I didn’t ask you to come here. I do, however, ask that you leave at once,” Josephine said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and standing up as quickly as she could.
The sudden movements made her sway, and she found herself clutching at the doctor’s arms as he steadied her.
“Miss Josephine!” Charlotte rushed to her side.
“Hush girl,” Josephine snapped, staring into the doctor’s amber-colored eyes. The room seemed to spin, and her breathing became shallow as he slowly eased her to a sitting position on the bedside.
“I’d suggest you refrain from sudden movements until you loosen your corset.”
“Yes, doctor.” She swallowed hard and took a closer look at him. Despite his salt and pepper hair around the temples, he wasn’t as old as she’d first thought when he entered the suite.
“I’ll leave you a few packets of powders you can take if the headaches become too unbearable. But I’d recommend my other suggestions first.”
“Yes.” She slowly nodded. “I’ll consider your suggestion.”
“You do that. I’ll check on you later in the week.” He closed his bag.
Josephine watched him leave and then fell back on the pillows, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. Heavens above!
Chapter Four
Heat from the summer sun beat down upon their heads as the open Victorian carriage pulled up outside the manor house at Oak Hill. Rebecca stared in awe from beneath the shade of her parasol at the splendor of the large two-story home before her.
“Amazing,” she breathed, counting the windows on the upper floor. The house had two circular verandahs, one on each level.
“Did you say something?” Mr. Hollingsworth asked.
“I thought the Calhoun’s home was the most elaborate I’d seen, but Oak Hill is astounding,” she explained as the carriage slowed to a stop.
“Is that a fact?” He grinned. “Bigger isn’t always better, but the extra room is helpful when holding a ball or barbeque.”
“I can imagine the elegance of a ball given at Oak Hill.”
He descended the carriage step and helped her down. “Yes. When my mother was alive, she was the best hostess around Jackson. Let’s have a bit of refreshment and get Master Lucas out of the sun.”
“That sounds divine.” Rebecca slipped her arm through his as they walked to the verandah. “Perhaps Charlotte can use your swing to rock Lucas to sleep?”
“Certainly,” he agreed. “If you’ll wait here, I’ll go see about something to quench our thirst.”
While he was gone, Rebecca explored the perimeter of the house as she walked along the portico. Studying the large baskets of ferns hanging from the eaves and the inviting, yet protective, foliage planted close to the porches’ edge, she wondered how many gardeners it took to keep the grounds looking so perfect. She knew Mr. Hollingsworth used hired labor on his land, which did not come as cheap as purchasing laborers at auction. If appearances meant anything, Mr. Hollingsworth was a wealthy man. Yet he risked it all to help those in bondage by the color of their skin. That fact alone held her in awe of him.
With all the excitement over Josephine’s ailment she’d almost forgotten to discuss Ruth’s plight further with him. She had to keep her head about her and mention it to him again at the first opportune moment.
Walking back to the front of the house, she smiled at her maid who held a sleeping Lucas in her arms.
“Couldn’t you imagine living here, Charlotte?” she asked, stopping about a yard away.
“That I could, miss.” The young maid looked relaxed as the swing moved back and forth. “The cottage is nice, but living on a plantation would be a world different for us.”
Rebecca nodded. “Lucas could run and play to his heart’s content during the summers.”
“That he could.”
She sighed, leaning her back against the stoop post. “A place like this comes with much responsibility. I suppose that is why I have a small place in Memphis. It’s enough to keep a body from being weary.”
“Being weary from what?” Jared asked, coming up behind where she stood staring out over his land. Tightness formed in his chest at the memory of his late wife doing the same on many occasions. He suddenly missed her desperately. And he wondered what he’d been thinking bringing Miss Davis and her son to Oak Hill. Was he really ready to forge forward and put his past behind him?
“Goodness, Mr. Hollingsworth, you startled me,” Miss Davis said, her cheeks flushed. “I was being wistful. Speaking my thoughts aloud and no doubt, boring poor Charlotte with my prattle.”
“Ah, I see,” Jared replied, smiling. “My housekeeper will be out shortly with lemonade.”
He pushed his previous thoughts away as he offered her his arm and led her to the wicker settee. He couldn’t live in the past forever, and living alone at Oak Hill was not the answer either. He had to move on. Mitchell was right. It was time he began thinking about remarrying and living a normal life again. Not just to replenish his coffers, and keep the Hollingsworth bloodline going, but because he was lonely. He needed a companion, someone to make him feel alive again. Meeting Miss Davis had proven that to him. Besides, he couldn’t expect the duty of producing respectable heirs and carrying forth the Hollingsworth name to fall upon Rory.
“I want to thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Hollingsworth,” Miss Davis said, bringing him back to the present. “You’ve gone beyond what would be expected of an escort at a friend’s wedding.”
“It has been my pleasure, miss… Shouldn’t we dispense with the formalities, Miss Davis?” He took a seat in the wicker armchair. “I know we only met yesterday, but I feel as if we are going to know each other for a long time to come, being Mitchell and Elizabeth’s friends. Won’t you please call me Jared?”
She smiled and her green eyes sparkled. “Then please call me Rebecca.”
Jared reached across the table for her hand as a gesture of camaraderie. She slid her fingers along his; heat reverberated from their silky touch, jolting him in his seat. He pulled back his hand, abruptly breaking the contact.
Still smiling, she tilted her head and closed her eyes slightly. Had she felt it too? He watched her closely for several moments, but she gave no sign.
“Here you go,” a plump woman in a gray dress and crisp white apron said, sitting down a glass pitcher of pale liquid on the table before them. “There are cookies cooling in the kitchen if you get a sweet tooth later on.”
“Thank you, Mary,” Jared replied, glad for the momentary interruption.
“I hope it isn’t too tart.” Mary poured three glasses and took one to Charlotte.
/> Rebecca accepted the glass he handed her and took a sip. “Just tart enough, don’t you agree, Mr.…I mean, Jared.”
“Just right.”
After finishing their lemonade, they left Charlotte and Mary to visit on the verandah while Lucas slept. Jared escorted Rebecca around the grounds. On the far side of the stables he showed her the empty bins awaiting the late summer harvest of cotton. Then he took her down to where the field hands lived, boasting of the improvements that he’d made to the two rows of quarters in the six years since his father passed away.
“Why’d you decide to change from your father’s way of running the plantation?” she asked, twirling her lace parasol, as they strolled past the small houses.
A few field hands lingered nearby under shade trees, taking advantage of the lazy Sunday afternoon. They called to their employer, and Jared acknowledged them with a courteous nod before answering Rebecca’s question.
He picked up a small twig and snapped it in two as they walked. “I neither liked nor respected my father. He abused my mother as well as those who worked his land. His drinking only made things worse.”
He stopped and stared across the field before continuing. Despite his resolve, his voice cracked when he spoke, recalling the unhealed pain of his youth. “My father’s hand was responsible for my mother’s early death. A body can only heal so much before it is broken.”
He pulled at tall grass near his knees. “After my mother died, I vowed I would be different. No matter what it took, I would not become like my father and would never raise a hand to another.”
Her silence was expected, but he wouldn’t stand for her pity. Jared glanced at her. Instead of pity he thought he saw admiration in her eyes.
“You’re very brave to take this stand when your neighbors cling to the accustomed way of life. Do they treat you differently?”
“Brave? Is it really brave to live by your convictions?”
“It takes courage to go against the grain. Not many men would do it, yet you have made it your way of life. Is that why you decided to help Ruth?”
“Ruth?”
Rebecca nodded and pointed to the larger house on a small hill in the distance. “Who lives there?”
