by Beth White
He watched the straight line of her back as she climbed the stairs ahead of him, eschewing Schuyler’s arm to advance lightly on the balls of her feet, one hand on the rail, the other lifting her heavy skirt clear of the dusty treads. Self-reliant, economical of movement and thought, she expected perfection from herself, if not from everyone around her.
And yet . . . the cynical wartime side of Levi’s brain warned him not to take the evidence he saw at face value. Selah and Joelle both had expressed a certain disdain for Schuyler Beaumont, but that did not mean they weren’t using him for more than the immediate supply of funds for renovating the mansion and grounds or, alternatively, helping him in a deeper plot to ruin or buy out a competing rail line.
Beaumont himself was a slippery case. Overtly playful and vain, the young entrepreneur still somehow left Levi feeling mocked in return—which he both resented and found fascinating.
And then there was the identity and motive of the mysterious shooter from this morning. What connection could such an attack have with train robberies and rail sabotage? The target would have to have been visible through the window of the cupola—shadowy figures at best, even in broad daylight, taking into account the glare of the sun off the glass. But supposing the assailant knew who would be in the cupola, the target would have to be himself, Joelle, Mose, or Nathan. Joelle had been somewhat disguised in her men’s attire and broad-brimmed hat and veil. But tall, muscular black-skinned Nathan and the smaller Mose would have been clearly identifiable.
It all came back to motive—and Levi concluded that he simply didn’t know enough about the personalities involved.
Of the four visitors who had arrived shortly after the attack, he could almost certainly rule out Mrs. McGowan and Aurora as suspects. Neither seemed capable of shouldering a rifle, much less aiming and firing it at such a small, distant target.
Doc Kidd probably kept a weapon for self-defense in his wagon. He seemed to have no reason to harm anyone on the plantation, but again, Levi had yet to uncover many details about his past. He would have to rectify that omission soon.
Reaching the top of the stairs right behind Selah and Schuyler, he watched the two of them for reactions to the utter mess in the cupola.
Selah put her hands to her mouth and drew in a deep breath of dismay. “Oh my.”
Chunks of the wall had been taken out by bullets, and the carved molding around the dome was damaged in several places. The dome itself and the chandelier plate in its center were, by some miracle, intact. The two broken windows, of course, would have to be replaced.
Selah turned to Levi, her eyes shiny with tears. “How did you all make it out of here alive?”
He wanted to put his arms around her as he had on the train, to reassure her that he would keep her safe—as if he had the means to actually do so. He looked away. “The Good Lord watches out for fools and little children, they say. Beaumont, can you think of anyone who knew about this project and might want to stop it?”
Schuyler, peering out one of the broken windows, looked over his shoulder. “I can think of several people who spout things in the paper every day about how the government shouldn’t be subsidizing the rails or any other kind of progress. My family, especially my father’s influence, has long been a target of envy in the public sector. Now that he’s announced that he’ll be running for the House of Representatives—”
“What?” Levi straightened. “You didn’t tell me that!”
Schuyler shrugged. “Didn’t seem relevant.”
“What difference does that make?” Selah asked.
“It means there’s a large target on the company’s back,” Levi said. “It also means you’ll have to be very careful about appearances of corruption.”
“Oh, I’m aware.” Schuyler turned to lean against the windowsill. “And it’s true that North Carolina rail companies have funneled money to legislators in return for millions in state money for tracks that won’t ever be built. But my pa’s an honest man. His goal is reducing the tax load on land owners. But if he goes to Washington, that’s going to leave my brother and me with a boatload of extra work. I wish he’d stay in Mobile and leave the politics to Grant and his drinking cronies.”
Levi privately thought Ulysses Grant might turn out to be a much stronger president than his predecessor, the squishy Andrew Johnson. But he needed Beaumont to keep talking, not get defensive in a pointless debate. “Political figures of all stripes get hotheaded these days, especially here in Mississippi. Do you suppose someone knew you were coming here?”
Schuyler looked amused. “I would think a Yank carpetbagger would be a more likely target than a man whose family has had the run of this place for nearly two decades. Who, furthermore, is doing his best to take it into the modern era without destroying it.”
Now that was interesting. “I suppose that’s all a matter of perspective.” Levi looked at Selah, who had knelt to quietly begin picking up glass and putting it in a pile. “But it reminds me of something I’ve been meaning to mention to the two of you. I’ve been thinking about the name of this place, which has become synonymous in the community with the plantation lifestyle and culture.”
“It’s a good name,” Selah said. “Ithaca made my father think of homecoming and victory.”
“Your father is gone,” Levi reminded her, “and for so many this has been a place of sadness and death. Victory will come, though, as you rebuild it with a new vision.”
Selah’s head remained lowered for a moment. A gust of wind came through the open window, moving the chandelier chain so that the crystal prisms below tinkled like wind chimes. Finally she rose, brushing her hands together, settling her skirt. “That is a good thought. I should like to call the place Daughtry House. Plain and simple.”
Schuyler shook his head. “I don’t think the reference to your father is a good idea.”
“It’s my name too,” Selah said firmly. “However much money you pump in, it’s our property—mine and Joelle’s and Aurora’s.”
“You’ve indicated more than once that your families have had longstanding ties. Yet there still seems to be a certain . . . tension in the relationship—with Joelle in particular.” Levi sighed. “You two are essentially equal partners in this venture. Do you mind helping me understand the source of the difficulty?”
“I don’t think—”
“It was a long time ago, Selah,” Schuyler said. “It was stupid and it doesn’t matter anymore.”
Then she looked up, brown eyes glittering. Levi couldn’t tell if her anger was directed more at herself or Schuyler. “It does matter. History always matters, because it impacts the present and the future.”
“Of all the Greek tragedies!” Schuyler clutched at his lapels, as if he’d rather have put his hands over her mouth. “All right. Fine. But I’m not going to stand here and defend myself against a girl who can’t get over a practical joke.” He pushed past Levi and clattered down the stairs.
Selah was acutely aware that she and Levi were left alone, isolated in the remotest part of the house. True, they had been here before, and besides, she was hardly a young debutante who must protect her reputation. In their three weeks’ acquaintance, Levi had never once offered any sort of disrespect in word or deed. In fact, he was such a gentleman that she wondered if her person presented any temptation to indiscretion at all.
Which was a ludicrous thought after Schuyler’s dramatic exit.
“Are you quite all right?” Levi gave her a searching look. “Beaumont is a young peacock, but I won’t insist on your breaking a confidence.”
She stared back at him. There was something mesmerizing in those hooded hazel eyes, though of course she couldn’t say so. “You’re really easy to talk to.”
“Am I?” His lips curved. “I guess I’ve always been better at listening than talking.”
“Then sit here on the stairs with me for a while, and I’ll tell you the whole ridiculous story. You may be sorry you didn’t run when you had t
he chance.”
The stairway was so narrow that Selah’s dress and petticoats billowed over Levi’s legs and feet, and she could feel every muscle of his arm against hers. She couldn’t help remembering the shocking intimacy of the train wreck when she had fallen into his arms.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
Goodness, had she actually shivered? How embarrassing. “No, of course—” Glancing up at him had been a mistake, for there was a look in his eyes, a baffling look, almost like . . .
She couldn’t even complete the thought. He was looking at her lips.
“You do that a lot,” he said.
“What?”
“Chew the inside of your lip. When you are taken off-guard.”
“I do not!” She put her hand over her mouth.
He pulled it away and kept it. His hand was warm, engulfing hers. “Yes, you do, and it makes me . . .” He swallowed. “Never mind. Tell me your story.”
She couldn’t think what she’d been about to tell him. She tore her gaze away and looked at his fingers gently curling and uncurling hers. Concentrating, she pulled her thoughts together. “Oh, yes. Schuyler and Joelle. Well, every few years, the Beaumont family used to come up from Mobile, to visit us during the summer. Camilla and I were friends at school in Holly Springs, though she’s about a year older than me. I think I told you our grandmothers are cousins.”
“That’s quite a long way to travel,” Levi said.
“Yes, but they’d take the train and get here within a day. About ten years ago—the summer before the war—we had one of those visits. I was so happy to see Camilla, because I’d had to leave school without graduating—”
“Why?”
“That’s another long story. I’ll tell you some other time.” She dared to glance up at him again, found his head bent to hers, eyes intent. She blurted, “If you really want to know, I’d taken on some radically liberal views from one of my teachers, a Miss Lindquist. Joelle, too.”
“What kind of views?” He looked neither disgusted nor offended, merely interested.
“About educating Negroes. Their human rights. I was leaning toward abolitionism, when someone wrote to my papa, and he made us come home. Miss Lindquist was dismissed.”
“Selah. That was very brave of you.”
She shook her head hard, pulling her hand from his. “I was not brave. I came home and obeyed my parents and looked away when I passed the cotton fields. I let Charmion dress me and fix my hair and clean my room.” She put her head down on her knees. “At least I was kind to her. I would never think of hitting her or speaking harshly. I gave her my old clothes and shoes, which she seemed to like.”
She felt Levi’s hand on her head, comforting. “You were, what? Fifteen years old? How were you going to rebel? You were pretty restricted yourself. Here, look at me.” His hand slipped to her ear, moved to touch her chin, and she sat up, eyes closed, leaning into him. “I can tell you have grieved over that. And I know you well enough to know you must’ve asked for forgiveness.”
“I did.” Her throat ached with tears she’d held back for years. “I’m not sure it’s been granted.”
“That will come—but even if it doesn’t, you make what reparations you can, and trust God to work in the other person’s heart. As much as we’d like to, we can’t control someone else’s response.”
He sounded as if he knew that from personal experience. She opened her eyes to stare into his. She’d never known a man with such contained masculinity, who talked like a preacher and used his power to protect what was his. His hand was strong enough to have snapped her neck, but he cupped her cheek as if holding a bird. She wanted to know what it would be like to kiss him, just once, but she wanted his respect too. A lady didn’t offer herself. She was about to go over the edge of what was acceptable, even for a twenty-six-year-old spinster who had no reputation to lose.
When she withdrew, he let her go, gravely if reluctantly.
She knotted her fingers together in her lap. “Please forgive this maudlin self-loathing,” she said, trying to smile. “It doesn’t hit me very often, but it’s been rather a stressful day.”
“No apology necessary.” His tone was careful. “You were telling me . . .”
“All right. I believe I left off with the summer of 1860. The Beaumonts came, in spite of heated national rhetoric and threats of violence in some parts of the state. We would ride and play with the dogs during the day, the men went fishing in the creek, and then we’d fry it up for supper, with hush puppies and fresh vegetables and ice cream for dessert. We used to have a lovely swimming pool across the road.”
“A swimming hole? Like a creek?”
“No, a real indoor pool. Mama had grown up swimming in the creek back at her home in Georgia, and she missed the daily refreshing of a bath in clean water. So a year after we moved into the big house, Papa partially dammed up the spring over there, to make a fresh-water pond, and had it lined with Italian marble. Mama was thrilled, of course. As soon as Joelle and I got big enough, Mama taught us both to swim and had lovely little bathing costumes made up in Memphis and delivered to the plantation.”
“Is the pool still there?”
Selah shrugged. “I haven’t been over there in quite some time. It’s probably a slimy mess by now.”
“We’ll take a look tomorrow. Never mind. Keep going.”
She nodded. “The reason I mention the swimming pool is because it was the cause of the . . . kerfuffle, I guess you could call it.”
“I like that word,” he said with a smile.
“My mama used it a lot. So one day, all us girls—Jo, Pete, and I, plus Camilla—decided to go for a swim. We took our swim costumes with us and dressed in the bathhouse, where we left our street clothes.”
“I’m surprised your father allowed that.”
“It hadn’t been a problem, since the company was generally female. The area would be off-limits to any male visitors who happened to be onsite, you know. But this particular day, Schuyler apparently got bored with sitting still on the creek bank with the men. He snuck into the bathhouse, took our dresses and shoes, and hid them. Then he thought it would be fun to toss frogs into the pool. Big, disgusting bullfrogs with long legs and bulbous eyes and the ability to leap over walls.”
Levi’s eyes had lit as he followed her tale, but he winced now. “That could not have ended well.”
“It did not. Camilla took it in stride. Having two older brothers, she had endured worse. And Pete—Aurora, I mean—rather likes reptiles and amphibians for some reason. But Joelle had been sitting on the pool steps reading, and one of those poor creatures found himself roosting atop her bonnet. Jo screamed and sent the book, the bonnet, and the frog flying into the pool, then tore down the road at a flat-out run.”
“What about you? You’re not laughing.”
“I knew how terrified Jo is of frogs. You have to understand what an imagination she has. When we were little girls and first read the Bible story of the plagues of Egypt, she had nightmares for months. And then there was the ‘Diamonds and Toads’ fairytale Mama used to tell us.” Selah shuddered. “I think it was the surprise of it all, combined with being in the pool when it happened and Schuyler laughing like a hyena. He went chasing after her—and I will say, she’s quite a runner, because it took him a while to catch her—and only the two of them know what happened when he did . . . Joelle refused to speak of it, though Sky later apologized and groveled.” Selah shook her head. “I assume he has grown up to some degree.”
Levi’s lips quirked. “If I told you some of the addlepated stunts I pulled around the age of twelve or thirteen, you’d wonder how I survived to adulthood. I take credit for the fact that my sisters are made of very stern stuff.”
“You have sisters?” She’d wondered about his family but resisted the forwardness of inquiring.
“Yes, two—both a good bit younger than me.”
She turned her head to study him. Getting to know him was lik
e enjoying the novelties of a foreign country. “Are they still in Illinois?”
He nodded. “Anwen and her husband live near my parents, and Ceri lives at home.” He hesitated. “Ceri was born deaf, which is why my parents chose to settle in Jacksonville after we immigrated. They’d heard about the school for the deaf there.”
“Ah. I suppose that was . . . I mean, I can’t imagine going through life without hearing music or laughter or . . .” She couldn’t finish the sentence for the expression on Levi’s face, so tender, so sad, yet filled with indescribable love for those sisters. “How could you leave them? Clearly you’re very close to your family.”
He nodded, looking down at his hands. “I’m sure I’ll go back home at some point. I do miss them, but they write to me regularly, particularly my mother. And Ceri—she’s quite an entertaining writer.”
“So is Joelle. When we were growing up, she wrote little plays for us to act out. She loved to make our papa laugh.”
“Our family entertainment was music. Even Ceri plays drums.” He smiled. “Father is a bugler, Mother plays the harp, and Anwen was quite good on the flute.”
“And you—”
“I took piano lessons when I was younger.”
“Then we must get the piano tuned! I know Joelle would enjoy playing again too. Maybe you could play duets—”
“I don’t play anymore.” The flatness of his tone hit her like a slap.
“But why?”
“I just—j-just don’t.” She hadn’t heard him stammer in quite a while, but before she could press him further, he stood, abruptly, and offered her a hand. “Come, we’d best get downstairs and rescue Beaumont before he further antagonizes your sister.”
Letting him help her to her feet, she accompanied him down the stairs. Just when she’d thought their friendship might be deepening, she’d apparently said something to make him withdraw again. She couldn’t help wondering what was so off-putting about playing the piano with her sister.
