Millicent, Southern Hearts Series, Book One

by Felicia Rogers

  Millie wiped away her own tears. "What are we going to do?"

  "I have it covered. I sent out requests to all the local plantations for their daughters to attend. With any luck, you won't have danced your feet off before the night is over."

  Her mother leaned back and smiled, smoothing Millie's hair away from her face. "My dear child, don't worry. Your father will not allow some stranger to steal you away. While this may be the time you meet your suitor, your father will require at least six months to a year of courting before he will even consider allowing you to marry."

  Relieved, Millie hugged her mother again.

  "Child you must get ready. The party will start soon. Disregard what I said earlier. You wait until the last minute and then come down the stairs to make a grand entrance."

  "Yes, Mother."

  Alice Beaumont lifted her handkerchief to wipe Millie's cheeks and then her own, straightened her shoulders, and left the room with her regal air intact.

  Millie pulled out her gown and held it aloft. The mirror reflected the deep blue and she smiled at the perfection of the dress.

  Placing the gown on her bed, she slipped out of her day dress and freshened with the water brought earlier by a servant. With the pull of a bell, Mary arrived and assisted her into her corset, pulling the strings tight. Finally, Millie stepped into the crinoline and Mary lifted the gown over her head. Millie twirled in front of the mirror. It was everything she'd dreamed. All that was missing was her best friend.

  ****

  "Perhaps arriving late was a mistake," commented Charles as he studied their surroundings.

  "It's not that bad," said Stephen as he placed his bag on the floor.

  "It's the stable, Stephen."

  Stephen rubbed the bridge of his nose. "So it is."

  "What did Mr. Beaumont say when you explained this was unacceptable?"

  "I didn't speak with him."

  "What? I thought–"

  "Charles, I don't want to draw undue attention to myself, remember? I have the advantage at present. I just need to bide my time a little longer."

  "I hope you know what you're doing."

  "So do I," he whispered under his breath.

  They settled into the tack room where two wooden frames filled with hay stuffed sacks were placed against the wall. Charles sat on one of the makeshift beds and leaned his head against the rough siding.

  "My uncle would laugh his head off if he saw us. Talk about the mighty falling."

  Stephen opened his bag and pulled out a white shirt, waistcoat, and cravat. Next came an embroidered greatcoat. Lastly, he pulled his trousers free. He picked up each piece and shook out the wrinkles.

  "Should we dress?' asked Charles.

  "I'm going to," replied Stephen.

  Charles sighed and pushed himself off the pitiful bed. After unpacking his own clothes, he drew his old shirt over his head. A loud gasp had both men facing the entry.

  A young woman with dark brown hair and a somewhat portly frame watched them. Her eyes widened and her hands trembled.

  Charles asked, "Are you all right, Miss?"

  She shook her head sending a mass of hair draping across her shoulders.

  Charles took a step forward and the girl stepped back.

  "Sir, your shirt," she said, pointing a trembling finger at his chest.

  Charles glanced down. When he lifted his eyes, he smiled. "What about it?" He let his arms dangle at his sides, exposing his body further.

  "Y-you need one," she stuttered.

  Charles laughed as the woman's youthful face flushed scarlet.

  Stephen said, "Charles, dress and stop embarrassing the girl."

  Charles shrugged, turned his back to the girl, and put his arms through his shirt sleeves.

  Directing his attention to the young woman, Stephen asked, "Can we help you?"

  She placed a bowl of water on a low table along with a bar of soap and towels. "Everyone was busy so I volunteered to bring you something to wash with."

  "Thank you," said Stephen.

  "You're welcome," she responded, turned, and fled the room.

  Charles observed, "That one was a little on the round side, but cute."

  Stephen raised a brow.

  "Well, she was."

  "And also young."

  "Maybe, but I wonder how much younger she is than Millicent. Do you think Millicent will be greatly upset that you are twenty-five?"

  "Not really. From her letters I know she wants someone mature with an established future."

  "You certainly have that with the house in South Carolina, but what if she thinks you're too old? Or what if she discovers you are really her secret friend."

  "Charles, stop worrying and get dressed. Just because I want to make an entrance doesn't mean I want to miss the party altogether."

  Chapter Thirteen

  Millicent drew the blue gown back over her head, flung it across the bed, and changed into a day dress. A quick glance at the balcony revealed no one about and she climbed onto the trellis, shimmied to the ground, and raced into the garden.

  Arriving at her private spot, she paced. She couldn't go through with it—the party, the men, the expectations. What if one of the men wanted to marry her? What if her father agreed?

  Millie sat on a bench. Through the dense brush she could just make out people. They carried drinks and strolled through the gardens. Happy laughter floated toward her.

  Standing, she pressed her face to the foliage and peeked through. Women in fancy dresses and men in party frocks conversed on the lawns. Musicians plucked instruments in a corner of the elaborate gardens.

  The ballroom inside the house was too small to accommodate the size of the party, so Mother had deemed the weather appropriate to host the festivities outside.

  Two ladies in finery strolled close to where Millie peeked through the leaves. "Millicent is so lucky," crooned Priscilla.

  Melanie sipped her drink, her head nodding in agreement. "Personally, father is disgusted by the display but I find it fascinating. Imagine all this attention focused on just one person."

  "Indeed. Men fawning over you and offering to fulfill your every desire. I would gladly trade places. By the way, have you seen Millicent today? Amelia and Cora spoke of her making a grand entrance, but keeping her guests waiting fifteen minutes past party time is undignified," Priscilla said as she flipped her hair.

  The girls moved away and Millie pulled back. Fifteen minutes of waiting and Priscilla was ready to tar and feather her?

  Turning, Millie placed her hand over her heart in surprise. The man from New Orleans and Bayou Sara stood in front of her. Dressed in celebration finery he held a wineglass in his hand. His mouth gaped.

  "What are you doing here?" he gasped.

  Millie didn't answer. Gathering her skirts, she ran toward the house.

  ****

  Stephen watched the strange girl sprint away and the wineglass he'd been holding slipped from his fingers and onto the grass as he took off after her. Around a corner of neatly trimmed hedges he skidded to a halt. Several yards away, long brown hair flared as she raced on. He lunged forward, all rational thought leaving him as he rushed to keep up.

  Arriving at where he'd last seen her, he stopped and turned in a circle. His heart beat wildly as he struggled to breathe normally.

  She was gone.

  "Stephen, what are you doing? You're all sweaty and people are staring." Charles walked toward him, knitting his brows together.

  "Did you see her?" Stephen placed his hands on his hips and gazed frantically around.

  "See who?"

  "The girl from New Orleans. The girl from Bayou Sara. She was here."

  "Stephen, my friend, I think you need more sleep. That girl is miles away. Come to the party with me. Millicent is scheduled to make her appearance soon."

  Hesitantly, he agreed, but didn't make a move to follow Charles. Something wasn't right. Why did this girl keep reappearing everywhere he went?


  Charles returned and nudged him in the ribs.

  "Snap out of it. Did you hear the good news?"

  "No."

  "Millicent is on her way."

  Stephen shrugged, not sure if he cared any more. He replied, "Go. I'll catch up with you."

  ****

  Heart hammering against her ribs, Millicent ran. The hedges masked her progress and she found a place to secret herself away until the man gave up.

  She watched him as he stopped and looked for her. A blonde man walked up to him, whispered, and dragged him around the corner.

  Sighing, Millie scooted from her hiding place and rushed to the trellis. No sooner had she reentered her room than her mother burst in. Mouth agape, her mother berated her for not being ready. On and on she rambled until Millie pleaded, "Mother, I can't!"

  "Millicent Jane, put that dress on and go downstairs this instant." Her mother planted her hands on her hips. "I cannot believe that after everything we've gone through to schedule this party—running to the city at the last minute to purchase a gown, trying to find places for all these people to sleep, and everything else—that you think you have the right to skip it. Is that what you think?" she demanded.

  "No, Mother." Millie washed quickly and then Mary tightened the corset once again. Finally, the blue dress shimmered over her body like liquid, clinging to her youthful frame.

  Her mother gasped. "Millie, you look beautiful!"

  Heat rushed to her cheeks and for the second time that day, she studied her reflection. Mother adjusted the gown to her satisfaction. "That should do it. I'm going to tell your father you're ready. Don't dally."

  Millie nodded obediently as her mother walked out the door and Mary followed.

  A whoosh of air entered the room when Amelia rushed inside, and slammed the door shut.

  "What's wrong with you?" asked Millie.

  "I-I met the most handsome man."

  Millie lifted her brow.

  Amelia paced, tapping a finger to her chin. "He was in the stable and he wasn't fully clothed and–"

  "What?" Millie gasped, taken aback.

  "You see Father told me to take them water. I think they were placed in the stable because we ran out of rooms, or something, but it doesn't matter. He stood there with his shirt off. Blue eyes, tan skin, blonde hair, by far the best looking man I've ever seen."

  "Amelia! Mother would be appalled."

  "Maybe, but just because it's your birthday doesn't mean I can't look. I only have a few years left before I wed."

  Millie shook her head.

  Cora opened the door and entered. "Millie, everyone is waiting. Aren't you coming?"

  Millie faced her sister and nodded before stepping into the hallway. Fortunately, her dress covered her knocking knees as she descended the stairs. Her father waited on the bottom step.

  "Millicent, happy birthday." He leaned forward and planted a kiss on her cheek.

  "Thank you, Father."

  "I hope the party is to your liking. The weather is perfect. The food is divine. And the company is decidedly wealthy and very interested in meeting you."

  "That's what I was afraid of," she mumbled.

  "What, my little dove?"

  "Nothing, Father. I'm ready to be introduced."

  Her arm wrapped around her father's as they proceeded toward the front door. Vast numbers of people congregated outside and the guests stopped moving when they emerged onto the wide veranda. Heat infused Millie's cheeks and she attempted to turn around.

  "Come, my dove," said her father as he escorted her down the broad stairs to the front lawn.

  A line formed in front of her as guests waited to be introduced. Millie smiled and nodded. While looking for the mystery man, she shook hands and welcomed people, immediately forgetting their names.

  The procession of people disbursed when the musicians struck a tune. Her father dragged her to the dance area.

  "I would say this party is a success. Your mother will be pleased."

  "Yes, Father."

  "And you look lovely as always. I don't want you to worry about anything today. Just enjoy yourself and your admirers."

  Glancing at the crowd, Millie picked out people she knew. Several families from nearby had come, as well as town's folk and others she'd never seen. Men of various ages and sizes roamed the grounds. A few winked at her. Some bowed or nodded. Everyone seemed to be trying to gain her attention.

  Cora skirted the edges, skipping between the groups of bachelors, smiling, and then flitting away like a butterfly. Millie placed her hand over her mouth to hide a giggle.

  Her father released her. "Go visit with your guests, dear. I'm going to check on your mother."

  Millie nodded. Unsure where she should go, she stood near the dance floor. Turning in a full circle, she sucked in a breath when she saw the mystery man! What should she do? If Father discovered her indiscretion with this man in New Orleans, he would never allow her another ounce of freedom. And what of the man himself? Since he now knew her identity, would he make it a point to tell her father?

  Instead of running, like she wanted to, she gathered her skirts and attempted to exit the lawns, but was waylaid by guests. Glancing over her shoulder, she watched a strong hand wrap around the top of her arm. The man from New Orleans gave her a fake smile. Between gritted teeth, he muttered a strange question, "What are you doing here and why did you run from me?"

  Millie tried to pull away but his grasp remained firm. Imitating his expression, she said, "What are you doing here?"

  He laughed low and pulled her amongst the dancers. Wrapping her in his embrace, he drew her close and whispered in her ear. "This is a pleasant surprise."

  She leaned back and stared at him. "Indeed?"

  "Yes."

  "And what part do you find pleasant?"

  "All of it."

  "Would you mind explaining?"

  "Not at all. Imagine—my first time in New Orleans—I run into a most beautiful woman and then discover she is so determined to know me that she is willing to travel great distances to do so, and then taunt me at every meeting."

  Millie's eyes widened but she didn't respond. It appeared as of yet he didn't know who she was. That wouldn't last.

  "Well, what do you think? Am I correct? Have you followed me from New Orleans so we can become better acquainted? If so, I will not disappoint you."

  "I'm sorry to say your assumptions are incorrect."

  "Is that right?"

  "Yes."

  "Then perhaps you wouldn't mind clearing up the issue. I would love to know why I see you at every junction in my travels. This entire situation baffles me."

  Millie opened her mouth only to be interrupted by Amelia yelling.

  "Millicent! Mother is looking for you."

  Amelia skidded to a halt in front of them. The mystery man dropped his arms and took a step backwards. Bowing he said, "Millicent Beaumont, happy birthday."

  Millie dipped in a curtsey and followed Amelia with only one betraying glance sent over her shoulder at the man she left behind.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Stephen watched the two girls disappear into the crowd while he tried to reconcile this new piece of information. It seemed impossible that the woman he had been chasing was none other than the woman he had traveled across states to meet.

  Finding an empty chair, he clasped his hands together and stared at them. Charles joined him.

  "What are you doing?" Charles whispered.

  "I'm sitting here staring at my hands."

  Charles scooted his own chair closer. "Why, pray tell, are you doing that?"

  "Because I don't know what else to do."

  Leaning back, Charles folded his hands behind his head. "Are you already tired of these high society women? I agree. The girls back home are prettier and much more humble."

  "That's not it." Stephen faced his friend.

  "Then what?"

  "I met Millicent Beaumont."

&nbs
p; The sound of the chair striking the ground reverberated. "You did? Count yourself lucky. I've been talking to people who are madder than a wet hen because they've waited so long to meet the birthday girl, but when the announcement came, they couldn't see her for the crowd. At least you met her. So what's wrong? I thought this is what you wanted."

  "It was."

  "Does this melancholy attitude have anything to do with the mystery girl?"

  "Yes."

  "Look, I know you like being private, but if you want my help, you need to explain what is going on?"

  Stephen stared at his friend. "What's going on is that the mystery girl and Millicent Beaumont are one and the same."

  ****

  Amelia's interruption couldn't have come at a better time. Millie followed her sister until they found their mother in the kitchen.

  "Take that tray to one of the tables, Amelia. And then come back and help Mary with the preparations. What was I thinking to allow Henri to invite so many guests?"

  Millie stood with her hands folded in front of her and waited for her mother's acknowledgement.

  "Oh, Millie, there you are. Good. I need for you to do something."

  Millie raised her brow.

  "Yes, I know it's your special day and you shouldn't be expected to have duties, but a Southern lady always has responsibilities."

  Millie nodded. "What would you have me do?"

  "Thank you. I need you to play the piano."

  "Mother?"

  "I know there are men who have come to petition for your hand, but there are also ladies of refinement who wish to witness your abilities. And at this moment they await you in the music room."

  "Must I?"

  "Of course. Some of these fine gentlemen brought mothers, sisters, and aunts with them. The way to win any young man is through the female members of his family. This can only be accomplished by showcasing your feminine talents."

  Millie sighed, "I will do as you ask." She nodded at her mother and left the stuffy kitchen. A brisk breeze tugged at her skirt as she walked back to the main house. Inside the music room a crowd had gathered. Elderly women with powdered coiffures sat in plush chairs. Younger women stood alongside the walls. Priscilla, a neighbor from upriver, lifted her glass in salute.