"Er, how exciting. Is Mr. Nolan planning a trip soon?" she asked, hoping her face displayed appropriate enthusiasm for a project that filled her with dread.
Jason shook his head. "Nolan is at present in New Orleans, and Blood Drinker and I have just returned from Texas only a few days ago." He glanced at Morgan and smiled. "Before heading home to New Orleans, we decided to inflict ourselves upon Morgan for a brief visit."
"And you were lucky to find me at Bonheur and not Thousand Oaks," returned Morgan, grinning.
"Oh, that's right," Arabella said, turning to Morgan Slade almost with relief. "I remember hearing of Thousand Oaks—your father gave you the land upon your marriage a couple of years ago, didn't he?" At Morgan's nod, she added, "But isn't it quite a distance from here?"
Morgan nodded again. "Indeed it is—Thousand Oaks is situated almost halfway between Natchez and Baton Rouge. It is at present very wild country, I can tell you that! My wife, Stephanie, is not at all happy about the proposed move from Bonheur. She likes being close to Natchez." He smiled. "I hope to convince her to change her mind. Civilizing the land is satisfying work, but it has been lonely. I miss her and my son, Phillipe."
Jeremy was not the least interested in Morgan's domestic arrangements, and he said airily, "Oh, I am sure once you have finished the house, she will be very happy there." Turning eagerly to Jason, he asked, "Do you have any idea how soon it will be before Nolan goes again to Texas?"
Jason shrugged. "Nolan's current reason for being in New Orleans is to meet with the Spanish officials to get permission for a new trip to Texas." Jason made a face. "But I think that any journey to Texas by him—or anyone else, anytime soon—will depend upon how quickly the situation here in Natchez is resolved."
A strained silence fell.
Though Spain had agreed under the terms of the Treaty of San Lorenzo, signed the previous year in 1796, to give up her claim to the lands east of the Mississippi River above the thirty-first parallel, which included the Natchez District, she was proving maddeningly reluctant in actually relinquishing control.
Andrew Ellicott, whom President Washington, before he had left office last year, had selected to survey the new boundary line between Spanish territory and the United States had arrived in Natchez in February. Initially, the American had been greeted cordially by the district's Spanish governor, Manuel Gayoso, but to Ellicott's requests that Gayoso and his garrison of sixty regulars depart for New Orleans, Gayoso had turned an amazingly deaf ear. At present, Ellicott and his small band of Americans were camped on a knoll overlooking the bluff where Natchez lay. During the ensuing weeks since his arrival, Ellicott had made no overt moves to physically dislodge the stubborn Spanish, but he had defiantly raised the United States flag above Connelly's Tavern, where it could be clearly seen by the Spanish from their fort at the south end of the esplanade. Gayoso had, of course, demanded that the flag be removed. Ellicott had bluntly refused.
At the moment, no one was certain how the standoff was going to end. Tension was mounting daily and had not been eased either by Gayoso's call for the loyalty of the local citizens, or Ellicott's recent circular urging the inhabitants of Natchez to join him in pressing the Spanish to leave. The arrival a few weeks earlier of "Crazy" Percy Smith Pope with his troop of soldiers to reinforce Ellicott's small band only increased the volatile and strained situation. The hope was that one side or the other would blink before outright battle commenced.
The current standoff between Gayoso and Ellicott was bad enough, but there was also a faction of planters and land speculators who were quietly pushing a separatists' movement. They wanted neither Spain nor the United States to rule the district. It was their hope to create a third entity, and their machinations only added to the rumors and tensions permeating the area.
"I suppose you are right," Jeremy said glumly, breaking the silence.
"And I think on that note we should be leaving," said Morgan. Jason concurred, and a few minutes later the three, Morgan, Jason, and Blood Drinker, had left the house and ridden away.
There was a little more conversation between Arabella and the others before Tom and James also took their leave.
They had hardly left the room before Jeremy said, "Bella, don't you think that if I were to join up with Nolan that it would be an excellent way in which to recoup our fortune?"
Arabella had only met Philip Nolan once or twice, but she did not like the man. He was clearly an adventurer, and while she could not give any examples of untrustworthiness, she did not trust him. He seemed to be well connected and brushed shoulders with Governor Gayoso and the New Orleans governor, Baron de Carondelet, and others of that ilk. He was also considered to be the protégé of General James Wilkinson, one of the top-ranking officers in the United States Army, but since Arabella was not particularly impressed with Wilkinson either, this connection did nothing to improve Nolan in her eyes. And if there were any likelihood that Nolan could entice Jeremy to leave the safety of Natchez and hie off to chase wild horses, he would certainly top her list of people she detested.
Reminding herself that her bargain with Tony made any scheme of Jeremy's to recoup the family fortune unnecessary, she took a deep breath, and said calmly, "There is no need for you to consider such extreme measures. I was very busy yesterday, and I can assure you that your vowels are safe—your fortune and the family are saved. You have nothing to worry about anymore. I have taken care of everything."
"Bella! What have you done?" Jeremy demanded, his young face tense and uneasy.
"Oh, nothing for you to worry about," she replied. Turning away from him, she added casually, "I did speak to Leyton, but it was a futile effort on my part—he had already lost the vowels to someone else."
Jeremy blanched. "Someone else! Good gad! Who?"
"Er, Tony Daggett."
"Tony Daggett! And you tell me that the vowels are safe? Have you gone mad?"
Turning back to face him, she said levelly, "No. Tony is not quite the dishonorable wretch others would have you believe." And that, she admitted to herself, was a great bouncer considering what he had demanded of her for the return of the vowels.
Jeremy looked worried, He had only been sixteen that summer, when the engagement between Bella and Tony Daggett had ended, but he remembered vividly the heated arguments between Bella and his parents. He particularly remembered Bella's strained, pale appearance for weeks after the abrupt end of the engagement.
She had been like a little wraith, drifting ghostlike through the house, her ready laugh vanished and the expression in her eyes making his heart ache for her.
He had been too young at the time to know all the details, but he'd learned bits and pieces over the years. He knew from his own observation that Daggett had broken his sister's heart and that it had taken her a very long time to recover from it. He knew, too, of Daggett's reputation—everyone in Natchez did. And that many people, including their uncle Richard, had been adamantly against the match. His lips twisted. Considering how the affair had ended, they'd apparently had good reason to oppose Bella's choice of a husband.
"Are you telling me," he asked quietly, "that when you approached Daggett and requested the return of the vowels—and I'm assuming that is what you did—that he gave them to you?"
Her eyes not meeting his, she muttered, "That is exactly what happened. When I explained the circumstances of Leyton's winning the vowels in the first place, he understood completely." Meeting his skeptical gaze, she added defiantly, "He was, in fact, a perfect gentleman about the entire affair."
"I do not believe you," he said softly, his tone of voice and the expression on his face reminding her uncomfortably of their father.
Her jaw set. "Are you accusing me of lying? What reason would I have for doing so?"
He hesitated. "I do not know. But from what I know of Daggett's reputation, it seems highly improbable that he would just give what is a very large fortune to you." Deliberately, he added, "Especially to you. Considering the pa
st that lies between the pair of you, he has no reason to show you a kindness."
Arabella ignored the stab of pain that slashed through her at his words. But they had given her an idea. Her chin lifted, and she said, "Not kindness, I agree. But has it occurred to you that the man might feel guilt, perhaps even remorse, for what happened? And that feeling guilt, he might be willing to do something to lessen that feeling?"
It was a notion that had obviously not crossed Jeremy's mind, and he stared at her, dumbstruck. "Are you telling me," he finally got out, "that he gave back the vowels because he felt guilty?"
Arabella shrugged her slim shoulders. "Perhaps. I do not know—nor do I care. I only know that when I confronted him and told him of the manner in which Leyton had tricked you he offered to return the vowels."
Jeremy stared at her, his indecision plain. He desperately wanted to believe her; he had no reason to believe that she was lying, and it was possible that Daggett had felt guilt and remorse over their broken engagement. Yet something was not quite right.
"Bella, did he really give you the vowels back?"
"Yes, dear brother, he did indeed give the vowels back."
"You already have them?"
"Uh, well, no. Not yet," Arabella admitted reluctantly. "He has only promised to return the vowels."
Jeremy's eyes narrowed. "Do my ears deceive me? You are willing to trust the word of a man accused of killing not one, but two wives? A man who has already betrayed you once?"
"He didn't kill Mercy!" Arabella said sharply. "If she hadn't been so stupid as to try to run away with James Terrell, Tony wouldn't have been chasing after them and their vehicle wouldn't have plunged over the bluff into the river. It wasn't Tony's fault that she drowned! He tried to save to her—and James, too."
"So he said," Jeremy replied dryly. "We have only his word for it. Besides, there are plenty who believe that it was his actions that drove her to run away from him in the first place." Seeing that Bella was ready to leap once more to Daggett's defense, Jeremy added hastily, "But even if we set aside the death of his first wife, what about his second, poor Elizabeth Fenton? Do you really believe that it was some robber who broke into the house and shot her? I know that was the ruling at the time, but no one thinks that it was a stranger who killed her. Everyone says that she and Tony were fighting like savages. And don't forget, he only married her because of a wager—there was no love lost between the pair of them."
At the stricken expression on Arabella's face, Jeremy cursed himself. Crossing to her, he put his arm around her shoulder, and muttered, "Gad! I am so sorry, Bella. I forgot. I never should have said such a thing."
Her eyes suspiciously bright, Arabella said, "It doesn't matter. Tony does seem to have a penchant for making foolish wagers, doesn't he? First Elizabeth, and then me." Flashing him a smile, she said, "I cannot argue with you about Tony's past, but I do not believe that he cold-bloodedly shot Elizabeth—do not forget she was carrying his baby at the time. No matter how much he may have hated her, he would not have murdered his own child."
In a far more adult voice than she had ever heard from him in the past, Jeremy said, "If it was his child. And if it wasn't, it gave him good reason to want her dead."
Tiredly, Arabella said, "You seem to have heard a great deal about Tony's past. I would remind you that much of it is gossip and that there has never been anything proven." She met Jeremy's gaze steadily. "I would never have thought myself in love with him if I had the slightest suspicion that he had murdered Elizabeth—or Mercy, for that matter. No one will ever convince me that Mercy's death wasn't a tragic accident. Remember he was only twenty-one, just your age, and they had been only married for six months when she tried to run away with Terrell." She smiled sadly. "There is no pretending that Tony has not been spoiled and petted all his life, or that he has a formidable temper. I'm sure that he was furious when she left him. It doesn't surprise me that he went charging after them—pride alone would have demanded that he do so. I am also certain that he never meant for her and James to die."
Arabella paused and took a deep breath, before going on softly, "And as for Elizabeth, he swore to me that he had nothing to do with Elizabeth's death. Besides, he had dined at Blackburne's place that evening and was not even at home. It was his butler who heard the shot and found her dead. I believe Tony—he may be a blackguard, gambler, and ne'er-do-well, and I cannot deny that he has acted reprehensibly, but he is no murderer. Hotheaded, arrogant, impetuous, careless upon occasion, even foolish, but not a murderer."
Jeremy wasn't about to argue with her. It was obvious she felt deeply about these matters, but he could not help saying, "Even if I were to agree with you—and I don't—what makes you so positive that we can take his word on the vowels?"
Arabella sighed and slipped out from under his arm. Walking over to a pair of French doors that opened onto the small rose garden at the side of the house, she pulled aside the gauzy drape which covered the glass, and said, "You gentlemen will forgive each other many things, but the one thing that labels a man beyond the pale, a veritable pariah, is not keeping his word. No one has ever questioned Tony's word." She smiled faintly. "It is the one thing everyone agrees upon. For all his faults, Tony Daggett would never go back on his word. Believe me, you shall have the vowels."
Jeremy wasn't happy with the situation and sensed that there was a great deal his sister had not told him. But she seemed confident that Daggett would return the vowels, and for the moment, he would have to accept her word.
Deciding that nothing would be gained by further discussion on the morals and manners of Tony Daggett, he asked, "Did he tell you when he would return the vowels?"
Arabella nodded, her gaze on the roses beyond the French doors. "In six months. But to—"
"In six months!" Jeremy exclaimed, his blue eyes kindling. "That's nonsensical. If he means what he says, why doesn't he just hand over the vowels immediately?"
She had hoped that Jeremy wouldn't ask that question, but anticipating that he might, she said coolly, "He, er, we, felt that you needed to be taught a lesson. Simply having your vowels returned to you so quickly and easily, might not make you fully appreciate just how unwise you were." Not meeting Jeremy's outraged stare, she continued gamely, "We decided that, um, having possession of the vowels denied you for six months would teach you to be more cautious in the future."
"And if something were to happen to him during that time?" Jeremy asked grimly. "What then?"
"He is writing a letter to the effect that the vowels are yours and that if anything unforeseen should happen to him prior to that time, they are to be returned to you immediately." She glanced back at him, her expression wry. "I am not a fool, Jeremy. I did not just take him at his word."
"Well, then," Jeremy muttered, "it seems as if our troubles are behind us, doesn't it? Or will be in six months."
Arabella nodded. "So it would seem—and I hope you have learned a lesson from all this."
"I'll have six months to find out, won't I?" Jeremy replied almost sullenly.
Annoyed with herself for having slipped in that little homily, Arabella smiled, and said, "It shall not be too bad. No one except the three of us knows that Tony is holding the vowels for you. On the surface, everything will be as it was—the bank accounts, everything is still in your name and will remain so. Tony will not change anything."
"I suppose so," Jeremy admitted unhappily, "but I do not like it. I feel as if I have a sword hanging over my head. I tell you, Bella, I will not rest easy until those vowels are back in my hands."
"Once we have the letter you may rest easy. We will then have proof that Tony means to do as he says. Even if he were so inclined, he will not be able to refute his own words."
Jeremy nodded, his mood lightening a trifle. "That's true. His letter will be almost as good as actually having the vowels themselves." A glimmer of anxiety in his blue eyes, he asked, "Er, when will we have this letter?"
"Friday afternoon." And
she refused to think about what else was going to happen on Friday afternoon.
Jeremy took an agitated step around the room. "I shall feel like I am in a state of limbo until then, I can tell you!"
"I know precisely how you feel," Arabella said in a hollow voice, reality and the knowledge of what she had committed herself to hitting deep. Once she actually became Tony's mistress, she hoped that she would feel more confident about the decision she had made.
"So, what are we to do in the meantime?" Jeremy asked uncertainly.
"What we do," Arabella said, "is go on as if everything is progressing as it should." Taking a deep breath, she added, "Since the vowels are to be returned and we are no longer in danger of losing Highview, there is no reason for you to remain here at Greenleigh. In fact, in view of Cousin Agatha's impending arrival, I think that you should go home and be there to greet her when she arrives. If she has already arrived"—Arabella's eyes danced—"you shall tell her that as soon as you remembered that she might arrive today, that nothing could keep you at Greenleigh—you felt compelled to ride home posthaste to greet her."
Jeremy laughed. "Oh, Bella! No one can tell a whisker like you can."
"Which is not a talent one should be proud of," she replied with a twinkle.
They spoke for a few minutes longer, and then Jeremy, too, departed Greenleigh. Arabella promised to have his clothing sent back to Highview, along with his servants.
After Jeremy left, Arabella was busy for some time. A meeting with the Tidmores followed Jeremy's departure, and if they were surprised to find that young Master Montgomery had returned home and that Miss Montgomery would be staying indefinitely at Greenleigh, neither gave any indication of it.
At Long Last Page 10
