"Well, Mr. Beaumont? Do you care to tell us what this man speaks of?" asked one of the gentlemen in the crowd.
"I should be happy to. My plantation is unique, because we do not own slaves. We have free men and women of color who have chosen to remain and be paid as workers."
A collective gasp arose from the crowd. Henri raised his hands. "Please gentleman. The choices I have made here at Beaumont Lane are my own. I do not presume now or ever to tell another how to run his own plantation." He cleared his throat, sent an annoyed look in Chandler's direction, and said, "Shall we proceed?"
The group continued toward the river. Stephen and Charles hung back.
"Can you believe that young man's audacity?" whispered Charles.
"He obviously wanted to make a stir."
"So it would seem. I thought Mr. Beaumont gave a stellar reply." Charles paused and added, "And what of the man calling Miss Beaumont, Millie?"
"He merely wanted his relationship with the family to be known," said Stephen with a shrug.
"And what of your relationship with the young lady? I dare say you know a sight more about Millie than Chandler every thought about knowing."
"Probably," said Stephen.
"Have you decided when you will make your first move?"
Stephen shook his head. "You do worry so."
"Not at all. But I can't stay longer than a week. Remember?"
"Of course. Even now your uncle is no doubt running your household amuck. I dare say when you return, confusion will abound and your house staff will be walking around befuddled."
Charles laughed.
"However, there is no need for you to worry on my account, Charles. Tonight you will see I speak the truth."
****
Sunlight streamed into Millicent's room. Amelia stood over her. "Get out of this bed."
"No," said Millie shielding her eyes.
"You've wasted the entire day. Everyone has entertained your guests except for you. It is almost time to receive your gifts."
Sluggishly, Millie climbed from the bed. Her legs trembled and her head hurt. She grabbed the bed post to keep from toppling over.
Amelia shook her head and handed Millie a gown of pale pink. Millie groaned. "You can't be serious."
"I am. Mother insisted you wear her old gown at least once. Now is the best time because you will only have to wear it for a few hours before you're released."
"Humph." Millie didn't resist Amelia's ministrations. Dressed, she and her sister descended into the parlor. The dwindling crowd of prospective suitors was settled around a central chair. Millie dropped into the seat and noticed her mother's disapproving frown.
The first gift placed in her hands was from a young man as yet to be introduced to her. She smiled at him and he blushed. She unwrapped the delicate package and lifted the duel gift; a set of matching figurines decorated with an intricate design.
She thanked the gentleman and reached for the next gift. One-by-one, each present proved to be either some sort of domestic household item or something for her personal use. There were doilies, handkerchiefs, and ribbons. Millicent just wanted to get through to the last one. Finally, it rested in her hands. She read the attached card and removed the wrapping. She gasped.
"What is it?" asked Cora, trying to peer over her shoulder.
"It's paper and an ink well."
"Is that all?" asked Cora.
"No." With two fingers, she lifted a beautiful emerald necklace. Sunlight struck the gems and the room sparkled in green shards of light. Millie gulped and directed her eyes toward Stephen.
"Thank you," she mouthed.
He nodded.
Chapter Twenty-One
"Don't you think that was a bit over the top?" asked Charles as they walked back to the stables.
"No."
Stephen couldn't wipe the grin off his face. Chandler had almost collapsed when Millicent had lifted the emerald necklace. Henri had beamed. And the look on Millie's face had been priceless. Her eyes had widened and she'd placed the jewels against her heart.
It was clearly the best gift of the lot.
"You know you've made Chandler angry."
"Understandable. He gave her a pair of porcelain, ill-painted doves. I know her father calls her his little dove, but between you and me, she isn't fond of the reference."
Charles engaged in a hearty laugh. "I'm sorry I ever doubted you."
Stephen bowed at the waist. "It was one of my finer moments to be sure. I purchased the gifts before leaving home."
The two of them discussed the next day's agenda. Three days had passed since their arrival and Millie liked him well enough, but that was about it. He needed to step things up.
"I think you should approach her father and ask for her hand."
"Hmm, I'm not certain about that. I was thinking something more subtle."
The next morning, Stephen joined Henri and the other male guests for a special meeting.
"I've asked all of you here to discuss your intentions."
Several of the men said, "We came for the festivities." Others admitted, "Our families sent us."
A few more answered, "We came for the tour. Always wanted to know what a plantation without slaves would be like."
Still others responded, "We came to see your daughter. Heard lots of interesting things about the young lady."
Stephen remained silent.
Chandler stood. "Henri, I believe I should speak my mind."
"But, of course," said Henri, holding his palm out and offering him the floor.
"Our families have been friends for years and Millie and I are very close. It may seem odd but I've come to ask for Millicent's hand."
A gasp echoed throughout the room. Stephen shifted his gaze and saw a young woman staring at the gathering from the doorway. She wore the same surprised expression she had the morning Charles exposed his shirtless frame to her viewing.
"Amelia, come inside and stop gawking," said Henri.
Amelia entered and found a seat, folding her hands in her lap.
"Honored guests, for those of you who don't know, this is my second daughter, Amelia."
Everyone said hello and Amelia nodded her acknowledgment. Charles stepped behind Stephen.
Henri spoke. "Amelia, what you have just heard goes no farther than this room."
"But father,–"
"No buts my dear. Your sister will know soon enough that Chandler has asked for her hand. Let him be the one to tell her; not you."
Charles nudged Stephen and whispered, "You need to say something."
Stephen cleared his throat. "Mr. Beaumont, while I realize I do not have the family history of this young man, I would also like to make a request for Millicent's hand."
Henri's mouth gaped and he said, "Very well, I guess we must–"
Suddenly, several other young men threw their hats into the ring. By the end of the session, six eligible bachelors had asked to marry Millicent.
Henri said, "I don't know what to say. This turn of events has thrown me. I will need to retire and ponder your requests."
Henri and Amelia took their leave.
Voices among the men rose as they discussed their intent. One gentleman said, "I might as well leave, with so many offers for Millicent's hand, I haven't a chance."
Another responded, "I think not. I traveled all this way and I intend to stay until the party is over. Besides, what if there is a duel. I wouldn't want to miss that."
Stephen frowned at what he heard.
Charles tapped him on the shoulder. "Let's go outside."
The temperature had dropped and Stephen pulled his coat tight as the cool air hit him.
"Worried about the competition?" Charles asked with a smirk.
Stephen stared at the big house. "Maybe a little."
"You might not have to worry. Henri may decide to allow Chandler to marry his daughter because of the family connection and let that become the end of it."
"I don't th
ink so. I think he will talk to Millicent first."
"And you think you have a shot if he does?"
Stephen sighed. "I don't know."
****
Tuesday brought cooler weather. Millie struggled to leave her warm bed. Dressed, she stalled before going downstairs so her mother could direct her activities.
What would it be like to be in command of her own home? To run a household as she saw fit?
Pacing, she stopped when Amelia stumbled into her room.
"Millie! I must talk with you."
Millie studied her sister. Normally a stalwart of decorum with everything in place, Amelia's hair fell loosely over her shoulders and her eyes were wide and wild, her clothing rumpled.
"What's wrong?"
Amelia grabbed her arm and pushed her into a chair. When Millie sat, her sister paced from one side of the room to the other. "You won't believe what I've come to say."
"Amelia, you are worrying me."
She stopped, placed her hands on either side of Millie's chair, and stared into her face. "You should be worried. Six eligible men have asked for your hand!"
"What?" Millie erupted, placing her hand over her mouth.
Amelia moved away, running an agitated hand through her hair. "You heard me. Six!"
"Who?"
"Three of them I've never seen before. One is Priscilla's brother. One is the man you keep making eyes at, and the other is Chandler."
Millie frowned.
"Father is in his study contemplating what to do. He may follow the path of least resistance and give you to Chandler. He's the only known person and it keeps Father from having to investigate the rest."
Millie jumped from her seat. "He can't do that!"
"Then maybe you should–"
Amelia's words faded as Millie ran from the room and down the stairs. She burst into her father's den. Henri Beaumont sat behind his desk with his chin in his palm. He looked at her as she skidded to a halt.
"Millicent, what's wrong?"
She rounded his desk and knelt at his feet. "Father, please don't make this decision for me. Allow me to decide my own fate."
Henri placed his hand on her head and she lowered her gaze. "What are you talking about?"
"Please allow me to decide whom I marry."
Henri said with exasperation, "I told Amelia not to say anything." Patting Millie's head, he continued, "Child, you don't know what you ask of me."
"Yes, I do. I ask that you give me the chance to be the woman you raised me to be."
Henri pushed back from her and stood. "What if you make the wrong choice?"
"I'll make a deal with you. If you allow me to meet each man and spend time with him, and if I find one of them acceptable, I'll discuss my choice with you."
Her father paced, tapped his index finger to his forehead, and faced her. "Agreed."
Millie sighed with relief and raced back to her room. She had six men vying for her hand. She gnawed on her lip. She might be in over her head.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The announcement that Millie would be choosing her own husband came as a relief to Stephen. He still had his greatest weapon, the intimate knowledge she'd shared in her letters.
Henri gathered the men together and announced, "In order to be fair, Millicent will spend half a day with each of you so she can get to know you on a more personal level. She will be chaperoned at all times. I've taken the liberty of drawing names. Here is the order."
Stephen listened as Henri called out names. He thought about what he knew of each gentleman. Peter happened to be Priscilla's brother; Thomas was a young man from Bayou Sara; Jacque, a Frenchman on holiday; Michael, an elderly widower; and Chandler, the family friend. Stephen's name was called last.
Henri finished with, "Let us all be considerate of each other and allow each man his allotted time without interruption. Peter, Millie is ready for you to join her."
Peter, a short gangly boy of around eighteen, stepped forward, his grin showcasing a row of crooked upper teeth. He held out his arm, Millie accepted it, and they walked toward the gardens. Isaac discretely followed.
"I hope you're proud of yourself," said Chandler to Stephen.
"Excuse me?" Stephen replied.
"If you had kept your mouth shut then Millie wouldn't be with the likes of him. Imagine her beauty in the arms of pock-faced Peter."
"Millie will survive," Stephen said curtly.
Haughtily, Chandler replied, "Of course she will, but the game will end when she reaches me."
"Game? This is no game. This is the young lady's future. She deserves to be happy."
"Please. Happiness doesn't–" Chandler stopped talking, clenched his teeth, and said, "Forgive me. I forgot my manners."
Stephen nodded and watched Chandler approach Henri and engage him in conversation. Stephen went in search of Charles. His friend leaned against a wall in the sitting room with Amelia Beaumont standing beside him. Cheeks rosy red, she stared at his chest and giggled.
"Charles, I must speak with you."
"Now?"
"Yes, now."
"Excuse me, Amelia."
"Of course," Amelia said petulantly.
"What are you doing?" asked Stephen.
"I'm making friends." Charles winked in Amelia's direction and she giggled again.
Stephen pulled Charles into another room. "I'm asking for your help."
"All right, what can I do?"
"I need you to go to New Orleans and investigate Chandler."
Charles arched his brow. "Can't this wait? I was just getting to know Amelia. Sure, she's a little different from most of the girls I like, and she is a little young, but–"
Stephen placed his hand on Charles' forearm. "Trust me. I have a feeling Chandler Wright is not what he appears to be."
Charles reluctantly agreed. Soon, he had gathered his bags, mounted his weary horse, and set off. As he rode from the plantation, he glanced over his shoulder and waved to Stephen and Amelia. Amelia sadly waved back and Stephen staunched his guilt.
Deciding he couldn't wait three days before spending time with Millicent, Stephen made up his mind to break a few rules.
****
Millie guided Peter to the water's edge. A frog jumped across the trail and Peter squealed.
"Sorry, Miss Beaumont, but I'm afraid of frogs. There was this time when I slept outside—we have to do that sometimes when Mother gets upset with Father and she throws us all out, except Priscilla—anyway, you see I was asleep on the ground and this frog jumped on my chest and scared me so much I wet my spread. 'Course I don't do that as much as I used to. Wet my spread, I mean. Mother used to say bad dreams caused a person to do that but mine has always been triggered by real things and not bad dreams."
On and on Peter prattled. Millie forced herself to appear interested. She guided him along the river bank until Peter got so scared they had to turn around and head home. They reached the outhouse and Peter ducked inside. Millie found a tree and leaned against the rough bark. Something hissed and she glanced upward.
"Don't look."
Quickly, she lowered her head. "Who's there?"
"It's me, Stephen."
"What are you doing in the tree?" she whispered.
"I'm following you and it hasn't been easy. Your chaperone takes his job seriously."
Millie coughed to cover her laugh.
"So how are you enjoying your visit with young Peter?" he asked.
Millie let her shoulders slump.
"That good, huh?"
"I will say he is very young and immature. He is not as I expected."
"Are you saying you don't want to become better acquainted with Peter?"
Millie nodded. "I am."
"That's what I thought. But you were right in giving everyone a fair chance. Your future happiness depends on selecting the right man to spend the rest of your life with."
Stephen stopped talking when Peter opened the door of the outhouse.
> "Who were you talking to?" he asked.
Millie cleared her throat and fought the urge to search the tree limbs above her. "Just myself."
Peter cocked his head. "I do that, too." He offered his arm. "I feel better now. If you want we can walk some more."
"Where would you like to go?"
Peter tapped his head in thought. "Might be nice to go back inside because the outdoor plants bother me."
Struggling not to look over her shoulder, Millie allowed Peter to lead her. They settled on a couch in the living room and Peter faced her.
"Priscilla doesn't like you very much."
Millie frowned. "She doesn't?"
"No. Mother thinks it has something to do with jealousy and all. But I told her when we marry she won't have to worry because I plan on leaving home."
"You told her that?" said Millie, not stifling her curiosity.
"Of course. Why would I want to stay at my home when your house is so much nicer? And bigger. I bet I wouldn't have to sleep outside if I lived here."
Millie turned her face away from Peter and rolled her eyes heavenward. The rest of the afternoon proceeded in the same vein. When her father came to tell her it was time for her next suitor, she exhaled a sigh of relief.
Peter gushed, "It sure was nice getting to know you. I hope we can court again soon."
Millie curtsied. "Thank you for your time, Peter. It was interesting talking with you."
Peter walked backward from the room and Millie plopped onto the couch, cradling her head in her hands. A pair of shoes walked into her line of sight.
"Bad experience, huh?" Stephen asked as he knelt in front of her.
Millie anxiously looked around the room.
"Don't worry. Your next suitor won't be here for a few minutes."
"Did you do something to him?"
"Who me?" he asked, innocently pointing to himself.
"Why do you keep following me, Stephen? You know the rules. You are supposed to wait your turn."
"True. But I've never been one to follow rules."
"I see."
"Don't get me wrong, I'm not bad; I just don't always do everything to the letter."
He emphasized the last word and Millie wondered why. The sound of footsteps drew her attention and she turned around to glance at the door. Returning her gaze to Stephen, she sighed. The drapes swayed as he disappeared through the side door.
Millicent, Southern Hearts Series, Book One Page 11
