Elizabeth rolled onto her side and shook her head. “Not really. It was all politics and children and then more children. I swear it's like everyone here is a Duggar.”
Simon had no idea what that meant.
“Everyone here has lots of children,” she explained with a sigh. “Flocks of children.”
She shifted onto her back and Simon could sense there was something wrong. He waited for her to elaborate and when she didn't he pushed himself onto an elbow and regarded her in the faint light. “What's wrong?”
She looked at him, almost shyly and then back at the ceiling. Her words came out in a torrent. “I know we never discussed it and I was so busy being in love with you there wasn't room for much else and then we were traveling and I wasn't thinking about it, but now that we're here and I can't stop thinking about it.” She rolled her head to the side and looked at him pleadingly. “You know what I mean?”
Simon blinked. “Not entirely.”
She bit her lip and then continued. “How do you feel about children? Having them, I mean. Us having them? Together.”
Simon was stunned. Of all the things he'd expected her to say that was not one of them. He stared at her numbly for a moment.
“It's okay if you don't. I just—”
“Do you want children?” he asked. He could tell by her expression that the answer was yes, but also that she was almost afraid to admit it.
“Not right away, but I think someday, I would. But—”
He reached to brush a lock of her hair away from her cheek. “You're afraid I don't, is that it?”
She nodded slowly. He could hardly blame her for thinking that. His childhood had not exactly been an advert for the joys of family. Not to mention that he'd spent the larger part of his adult life avoiding any sort of messy emotional entanglements.
His fingers brushed against her neck and then he traced the edge of her jaw as he spoke. “The only thing in this world I can imagine loving as much as I love you would be our child.”
Emotions welled in her eyes. “Really?”
He chuckled softly, leaned down and gave her a gentle kiss. “Really.”
She gazed back up at him with such love and tenderness his heart lurched in his chest. The thought of her with his child threatened to overwhelm him. As if she sensed it, she pulled him back for a deeper kiss, and he poured his soul into it. Someday, he thought. Someday.
~~~
As tense and frenetic as the previous day had been, the following morning was its perfect counterpart. Hot and muggy and slow. After breakfast the entire house lay about in a dreamy haze of Southern luxury. Well before noon, Mint Juleps with plenty of alcohol were served on the veranda as slaves catered to their whims and worked as human fans to blow away the hot, sticky morning. Elizabeth felt indulgent and drowsy, and more than a little guilty. As long as her comfort came at a slave's expense, she couldn't truly relax.
They rest of them happily waited for the day to come to them. All of them, except James, who never seemed idle or without work, relaxed. This morning he pored over some papers as he had tea instead of a Julep. Eli tipped back his chair and balanced on the back legs as he told Rose and Elizabeth a story about his adventures in Jamaica. Meanwhile, Simon was the very picture of a man of leisure, power and confidence. His cream-colored suit made him look every inch the Southern gentleman. He leaned back into his deep, white wicker chair with the grace of privilege. His long legs stretched out in front of him, casually crossed at the ankles, his chin nearly resting on his chest. To the rest of the world, he looked bored, even on the verge of falling asleep. But Elizabeth knew he was keenly observing everyone and everything around him. His eyes subtly shifted to hers and glimmered with a hidden smile before resuming his quiet observation.
Elizabeth had always been too restless and engaged with the world to separate herself the way Simon could. As Eli finished his story, she shifted in her chair and took another small sip of her Julep and sighed with contentment. It was heavenly.
“I told you my Juleps were the best in Mississippi,” Eli said.
“I have very few points of comparison,” Elizabeth said, “but I can't imagine one better.”
Eli grinned and Elizabeth saw Simon's jaw twitch. He'd told her about his conversation with Eli. What she would have given to have been a fly on the wall for that!
“Will you be joining us for the hunt this afternoon?” James asked.
Elizabeth could hardly fathom the idea of riding a hunt in her corset, sidesaddle in this heat. Not to mention the idea of chasing a poor little fox around the forest was not her idea of fun.
“I think I'll stay here, if that's all right?”
“Good,” James said. “Rose could use the company.”
Rose looked as if she were about to say something, but thought better of it. She smiled instead and said, “I do welcome it.”
She sounded sincere, but there was definitely an undercurrent of something. Elizabeth just couldn't quite pinpoint it. Rose looked unusually pale and drawn, and her usual natural grace to all and to all things seemed a little pinched today.
Missy, the cook, appeared at the bottom of the stairs to the yard. “Your pies are ready, Miss Rose.”
“Thank you, Missy. Would you bring them into the house?”
Missy bobbed her head and hurried back to the kitchen.
“Pies?” James asked.
“For Mrs. Clay.”
James frowned. “Too far. Have one of the servants bring them over. You should rest.”
“I want to give her my condolences in person.” James shook his head, but Rose continued. “You worry far too much about me, James. I'm fine.”
James ignored her and called out to one of the servants. “Sally, you tell Missy to have Jacob bring those pies over to Mrs. Clay. Miss Rose will give you a note to take along.” Sally yassir'd and scurried off. “Now, I won't hear more of it,” James said to Rose with a look that said he fully expected his word to the final one.
Elizabeth felt sorry for Rose. She was a prisoner of her sex, her era and her husband. James was indeed master of the big house and all in it.
Rose apparently had little choice but to let him have his way and nodded. James rose from his chair and then leaned down to kiss her cheek. “You can pay a call next week. Now, there's real work to be done before the hunt, gentlemen.”
“Maybe I'll stay here with the ladies?” Eli said with a wink to them, clearly knowing the rise it would get out of his brother and Simon as well.
James glowered at his brother who sighed and reluctantly stood.
“Cross, I thought you might like to choose your own horse this time,” James said. “I'm sure you'll find one to your liking.”
“I'm sure.”
James waited expectantly. “I'd also like to discuss a small business matter.”
Simon arched an eyebrow and then nodded. Slowly, he stretched, letting James stand there waiting for him. “You'll be all right?” he asked Elizabeth as he stood.
“I doubt I can get into much trouble here,” she said.
Simon snorted and brushed a kiss against her cheek. “Please be careful,” he whispered before joining the men.
Rose turned to her after they'd left. “He loves you very much.”
“The feeling is very mutual,” Elizabeth said, pulling her gaze away from Simon.
Rose's smile faltered just a bit before she forced it back into place. “How did you meet?”
“He was giving a lecture,” Elizabeth said, remembering that the truth was far easier to remember than lies. “And I raised my hand to ask a question. It annoyed him,” she said with a laugh.
“He didn't stay annoyed for long, did he?”
Elizabeth smiled at the memory. “No, not for too long. And you and James?”
Rose leaned back in her chair and smiled at the memory. “I was young, barely thirteen when we moved to Natchez. I thought all of the Harper boys were terribly handsome.”
“But, one m
ore than the others?” Elizabeth asked.
Rose nodded and Elizabeth saw a slight blush steal into her cheeks. “Yes.” She remained silent, lost in the memory for a moment before continuing. “James was already a man when we met. So sure of himself. He's a fine husband and a loving father.”
The choice of modifiers wasn't lost on Elizabeth. “I can see how besotted he is with your daughter.”
“She is very precious to us,” Rose said and then looked at Elizabeth as if she were weighing whether to speak more on the subject or not. Elizabeth waited patiently for her to continue, afraid that if she said anything, Rose might reconsider sharing whatever it was she seemed about to reveal.
After a long pause, Rose spoke again. “It was a near thing, bringing her into this world. I'd lost several children before and Doctor Walker warned me that it was a great risk to try again, that the likelihood of our child surviving was…He said sometimes a child isn't meant for this world.”
Her head dipped down and she toyed with a bit of lace from her dress. “But we both wanted a child so badly. We come from large families and the idea of an empty home…”
Rose shook her head and let out a shuddering breath and lifted her head. “But then Louisa came. And she was perfect. A beautiful, healthy child. That is the greatest gift a woman can ever receive,” Rose said. “Perhaps some day, you'll know how it feels?”
Elizabeth knew a leading question when she heard one, but Rose's honesty and openness drew the same from her. “I hope so.”
A contemplative silence followed and then was broken by a bird's song in a tree in the garden.
“A mockingbird. Teaching her chicks to sing,” Rose said. “Out there in the—”
The words died in her throat. They'd both turned to look out into the garden to find the source of the birdsong, but saw something else instead. Half-hidden amongst the bushes and flowers stood Mary. She peered up at them with such sadness that it seemed nearly a living thing.
Rose gasped and looked away.
“Are you all right?” Elizabeth asked.
Rose looked back into the garden, but Mary was gone. “I'm fine. Just—” She put a quivering hand to her head. “Perhaps my husband was right,” she said as she stood on shaking legs. “I am feeling a bit tired.”
Elizabeth stood and helped steady her. “You seem upset.”
“No,” Rose said quickly. “I didn't sleep well last night, that's all. Forgive me, I'm such a poor hostess, but I seem to have come upon a headache rather suddenly.”
Elizabeth debated being frank with her and asking about what she saw, but decided against it for now. “I'll be fine. You get some rest and I'll see you later.”
Rose nodded and gave one last look to the garden before going inside.
Elizabeth waited until she was gone before walking down the stairs and toward the bushes where they'd seen Mary. “Mary?” she whispered. “Are you there?”
No one answered.
Chapter Thirteen
By midday, River Run was overrun with men and horses and hounds. After a frenzied gathering near the front of the big house, dozens of men and just as many dogs trotted away to a field to the North where they'd start the hunt. Elizabeth knew Simon would have much rather stayed with her, but he had his part to play and that meant riding with the Harpers. He'd chosen a handsome, high-strung roan as his mount and fell in next to James and Elijah as the group disappeared down the shadowed corridor of oak trees and out of sight.
Elizabeth watched him and the others ride away. That left her with the other womenfolk who were left behind to talk with and, thankfully, drink with. The drinks that were served on the veranda did little to quell her restlessness. Even if she hadn't seen Mary that morning, the idea of sitting and waiting for the men to return was irksome. She did her best to smile and cull what information she could out of the other guests, but there wasn't much to be gained. She found herself distracted and watching the garden, hoping for another glimpse of Mary.
The brief rest Rose had taken hadn't helped her much. She still looked drawn and tired. She smiled as she excused herself from the group, but Elizabeth could see how drained she really was.
Mrs. Turnbull watched her go and then spread out her fan with a flick of her pudgy wrist. “It is lovely here, isn't it?”
It took Elizabeth a moment to realize that she was talking to her and sat forward at attention. “Yes.”
“Rose married wisely. That Elijah is handsome, I suppose, but like a lost pup when it comes to business.”
“Oh, so true,” chimed in Mrs. Goode. “James has a fine head on his shoulders. Her father made the right choice by her, I think.”
Elizabeth sipped her drink. “Her father?” she asked casually.
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Turnbull said. “He arranged their marriage. A fine match, I think.”
Mrs. Goode nodded in vigorous agreement. “It takes a strong hand to run such a grand plantation. Rose is a lucky woman her father had such foresight.”
Mrs. Turnbull looked at Elizabeth. “I'm sure your father ensured that your husband was the right sort of man for you.”
“Well, he is a baron, isn't it?” Mrs. Goode said enthusiastically.
Elizabeth was about to correct her when Mrs. Turnbull chimed in, “Royalty. Hard to go wrong there, I'd say. You're quite the lucky girl.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Yes, I—”
“Speaking of royalty,” Mrs. Goode said, as if Elizabeth hadn't spoke. “Did you hear about Virginia's last trip to Saratoga? Scandalous!”
Elizabeth waited a moment and then quietly excused herself. Having lost her appetite for their company, Elizabeth went in search of Rose.
She caught her in a private moment on the side porch between tending to her guests and ensuring the elaborate dinner planned later was coming along as scheduled. “Is there anything I can do to help?” Elizabeth asked.
Rose smiled and shook her head. “You're a dear for asking, but I'm fine.”
“You're sure?” Elizabeth asked hopefully, casting a glance back at Mrs. Turnbull who was busy spreading the latest gossip and prying new bits out of anyone she could corner.
Rose followed her gaze and smiled in understanding. “Why don't you go for a walk? She leaned in closely. “I would if I were you.”
The thought of escaping the ladies for an hour was tempting and the idea that she might be able to see Mary again irresistible. “You're sure that would that be all right?”
“Between Mrs. Turnbull and Mrs. Goode, there won't be a moment of peace to be found here. There's a shady path near the river I like to walk when I can.”
“My dear!” Mrs. Goode called. “We're out of canapés!”
Elizabeth laid a grateful hand on Rose's arms and got quick directions to the path. She made her escape and wound her way through the garden, hoping Mary might show herself. But it wasn't to be. Eventually, Elizabeth found the footpath Rose had mentioned. It ran along the bank of the river and Elizabeth headed south away from the hunt and away from the house and the swamplands farther north.
Elizabeth walked down river and watched as the current rushed past. The Mississippi was mighty indeed. It had to be over a mile across here, looking more like a lake than a river. Flatboats, keelboats, steamboats and rafts traveled up and down winding their ways around the snags and shoals that made piloting the river the stuff of legends. She could just imagine Tom and Jim or Huck riding on one of the rough-hewn rafts that hugged the shores.
The River was hypnotic. She walked on and on, pulled down river with the current that seemed to reach even on to the shore. She stopped once at a small footbridge that reached over a stream and played a game of Pooh Sticks. It wasn't quite the Hundred Acre Wood, but it was an enchanted sort of place. Calm and peaceful. It felt timeless. Maybe that was part of why the Old South thought their way of life would never change. Standing here now, she felt it too. Maybe it was the river or the heat of the day, but each moment seemed to last just a bit longer here, as if time its
elf was lingering, unwilling to move forward.
After another twenty minutes walking, the midday sun bore down on her with increased intensity. She'd left the cool canopy of trees as the path wound its way inland. In more sunlight than shade now, and having lost the cool breeze from the water's edge, the heat was becoming oppressive. The layers of her clothing felt suddenly heavier and constricting.
Elizabeth was about to turn back when she came across a small, quiet pond protected by a grove of shade trees. It was barely thirty feet across and clear. She could just hear the babble of a nearby stream. The pond must have been spring fed.
She knelt in the grass at its edge and scooped up handfuls of water to cool her face. Droplets ran down her neck and she wiped them across her overheated skin. A large rock sat nearby sloping down into the water. Perfect for dangling her feet. The idea of the cold water on her hot and cramped feet was too much of a temptation to pass by. She unlaced her boots and pulled off her stockings.
A contented sigh escaped her lips as her toes dipped into the water. She splashed more water onto her neck and face, succeeding in wetting the front of her dress in the process. Elizabeth unbuttoned the front of her blouse and pulled the damp edges of the cloth away from her skin and fanned herself.
It felt good, but she knew what would feel better. No one was around. No one would ever know. She'd have one heck of a time getting back into her corset though. But she hadn't had a real bath in four days and the clear cold water sang its sirens song so sweetly. Before she knew it, she'd shucked off every last layer.
Wearing only a smile, Elizabeth waded into the water, giggling at the strange sensation as her toes squished in the muddy bottom. Careful to keep her hair dry, she walked in deeper until the water came to her shoulders. She closed her eyes and listened to the quiet.
It was idyllic and just what she needed. If there were a pond like this near the house, she'd use it every day. She swam out to the middle of the pond letting the cool water renew her.
On the far side of the pond, a frog leapt onto a log and croaked at her.
“Well, hello,” she said.
“Hello, yourself.”
Thursday's Child (Out of Time #5) Page 12
