by Denney, Hope
“He gets his wandering foot from my side,” Lawrence told them. “My great-great-grandfather could never stay anywhere for more than ten years’ time, and a couple out of every generation turned out the same. Phillip is the same way. It caught him early. He scratched out a life of ease and wealth in a city where he didn’t have a soul he knew. Our Sawyer will be the same.”
Somerset sipped her madeira and waited for the conversation to pass. The old anger returned. Words fumed inside of her, words that she couldn’t utter to another human besides Sawyer.
Murderer! interjected her mind and she sat her glass down. Her hands were shaking.
Philip looked at her with disquiet.
“I like this boy of yours,” said Thomas. “We’ve enjoyed having him at Orchard Rest. He proves that people who say you can’t have old-world charm in the new South are all wrong.”
“We had a long time alone with Phillip before the other children,” said Sarabeth. “I guess we were able to impress upon him what is important, although all our children turned out sweet.”
“We’re going to miss him when he goes,” said Lawrence.
“I’m going back a few days sooner than I anticipated,” said Phillip. “My foreman telegraphed me about some petty theft and rivalry. My absence has never been a shrewd course of action.”
“I regret that,” said Somerset. “Your absence will be felt.”
Laura smiled in Sarabeth’s gentle way, but Eve continued to look stone-faced at her.
“I regret it too. To think I came home to see my family and found a remarkable lady that all of Charleston doesn’t contain a rival for.”
“You’ll send word that you arrived safely, won’t you?” asked Somerset.
Her heart flitted in her chest like the wings of the bull bats that swooped over Orchard Rest in the evenings. If only he cared for her enough to return once.
There will never be another man like him, either here or Richmond when I make my inevitable journey there, she thought. How quiet things will be.
“I will send a telegram the second my boots hit Charleston soil,” avowed Phillip.
“I wish you didn’t spoil the meal with telling us,” mourned Sarabeth.
“I wish to convey cheerful news,” said Phillip.
“You purchased another mine?” asked Lawrence, reaching for a cigar.
“No,” laughed Phillip. “Maybe in a month but it’s irrelevant now. I want to say that I intend on coming to the Grove often.”
Somerset looked up from her half-eaten meal with curiosity. Perhaps she would have a chance with him if he was going to visit on a regular schedule.
“I’ve been so harried with making a name for myself that I’ve overlooked the important family connections that make life pleasant. I think I’ve enough success and assets that I can relax now and again, come home, and find out what life holds besides working.
“I never expected to find a woman adaptable to my lifestyle, but she’s sitting at this table with us tonight.”
Phillip stood and Somerset’s heart walloped her in the chest with such force that she didn’t know how she remained upright. She gripped the edge of the table.
She looked at Thomas’s face, smooth despite its lines, and saw he looked at her in approval.
He knows, she thought. He asked for my hand. He’s about to propose marriage in front of the whole family.
Phillip walked around the table to her.
“I know that we haven’t known each other long, Miss Forrest, but I don’t think I’ll be able to run my business, period, for worrying about what you’re up to. I apologize if I’ve read you wrong or been presumptuous, but I believe you care about me the same way that I care about you.”
He knelt before her and still seemed tall to her while kneeling, but her senses were so scrambled that she wouldn’t notice if the house was burning over their heads. She pushed back her chair from the table and stood to get a better look at the expression on his face. She heard Sarabeth’s gasp and Lawrence’s rusty chuckle. Her knees knocked with a distinct lack of grace under her frothy gown.
“I am asking you to be my wife.”
Somerset reached out and took his hand.
“You know the answer,” Somerset said. Her voice shook. Her eyes swam in hot tears. “I can’t imagine how I’d feel without you in my life. You’re right. It’s only been a short time, but it has righted so much wrong for both of us, hasn’t it? You know my answer. Yes.”
Phillip handed her a heavy ivory envelope that bore her name.
“What’s this?”
“You’ll have a ring in time,” he told her. “You’ll get something suitable from a proper jeweler when I’ve had time to go home and order it. In the meanwhile, I hope you will enjoy your engagement present.”
Somerset pulled a single piece of paper from the envelope and Phillip caught her just as she fell sobbing into his arms in front of everyone.
In her hand, she clutched the deed to the Unnamed House.
***
Chapter 17
“I’ll return in no more than a month,” laughed Phillip.
Somerset hung onto his arm with the tenacity of a sticktight.
“We should have run off into the night. It made everyone happy for Joseph.”
“You wouldn’t deprive your mother of the joy of a big wedding, not when she loves planning them. You might have stayed satisfied with an elopement for a day, a week at the most. And remember, it will be good business to throw a big wedding in Charleston. People will be presented to you that will open doors and make your path easy there. Most importantly, stop tempting me to run away because I’d like to.”
“Bother them. You’ll make my path easy. Kiss me one more time.”
With their engagement announced, Somerset made full use of all the privileges accorded them. They sat in the parlor all day together without a chaperone, although Blanche sent Franklin or Bess into the room to retrieve imaginary items for her every half hour. They were allowed to kiss now, and Somerset indulged at every opportunity.
“What will you do while I’m gone?” he asked.
“I’m going to our house and looking at all the ways I can decorate it, and Mother insists that I get started on a trousseau. Ivy hardly has a stitch to put on her back so I think Mother will be buying her one as well.”
“Where will you be going?”
“Mother isn’t supposed to travel, period, but she’s cast aside Dr. Harlow’s recommendations. I don’t imagine she’ll brave anything more exotic than Tuscaloosa or Atlanta. It doesn’t matter. Either one will give me the opportunity to post some more inquiries about nursing.”
“You’ll be too busy to miss me. The second you begin planning with a professional I’ll become a secondary detail. Wait and see.” Phillip’s sky blue eyes were amused.
He made no mention of Blanche’s poor health. Thomas wanted to spare Somerset relaying the agonizing details of Theodore’s death date and, without directly saying so, had delicately relayed to Phillip the suggestion that Mrs. Forrest was unwell and no one knew if she would ever be herself again since Theodore died. Phillip could read between the lines better than anyone Somerset knew. He continued to stand behind his belief that every family had something terrible to hide.
“A whole month.” Somerset’s eyes were doleful.
“I’m bringing back a brilliant engagement ring for you,” Phillip consoled her.
“I’d go without a ring if it meant you’d stay another month.”
“I believe you.”
Phillip kissed her on the nape of the neck as she leaned forward to pick up her cup and all the skin on her neck crawled with desire. She turned from the low cherry pedestal table and raised her mouth to his. They were absorbed in each other for a couple of minutes until Somerset heard Joseph approach and then move away from the door when he saw them uttering a muffled guffaw.
“Walk me out. It’s a late train but I want to reach the depot before sundown.”
> The entire world looked burnished and coppery from the porch of Orchard Rest. The sun was sliding westward in the sky through banks of apple red and opal pink clouds.
“The whole world is on fire,” said Somerset.
“I’ve seen what looked like the world on fire and this isn’t it,” said Phillip. “You and Joseph are always talking mythology, though. You could say the sky is stained with blood because the gods warred all day, and the sun is setting in mourning.”
Somerset regarded him with awe. Each time she thought that she had a complete handle on who he was, he would say something profound or fanciful and prove there was as yet another undiscovered layer to him. The notion that she would spend the rest of her life discovering him filled her with a blitheness she hadn’t experienced since she was first stepping into adulthood.
“See the trees in their stained dresses embrace each other in consolation?” she asked.
He stroked her hair.
“I only see you and it will only be your face that I see as I sleep on the train tonight.”
“Kiss me good-bye then,” she choked.
He exercised more caution and less enthusiasm in their final embrace. Thomas might come walking up from the fields at any time, and Somerset was gratified to have a final memory of sweetness between the two of them before he left.
This is only the first chapter, she thought. There will be thousands of days like these, a lifetime of feeling eighteen.
“I love you,” he whispered. “Good-bye, Somerset.”
“I love you. Good-bye, Phillip.”
***
“Century Grove is ringing with news of your impending marriage,” said Blanche as she presided over the table.
Thomas was staying in Atlanta overnight to receive counsel from an engineering firm and they were eating an assortment of odds and ends to clean out the pantry. He thought it best if he got ahead of his planned work for the winter in light of Somerset’s engagement.
“Everyone wants to know about your wedding. The news has only been generating for less than two days now and I’ve received no less than fourteen notes extending good wishes.”
Somerset ate the last of her bacon biscuit and reached for a crumbly slice of coconut cake.
“I thought everyone gave up on me, and I was considered on the shelf,” said Somerset through a mouthful of coconut and pecans.
“He may not be a Virginian, but I know all about him,” said Myra. “I can’t believe he’s been slipping in and out of here and I haven’t gotten an eyeful of him. Women are always murmuring about Phillip Russell, but I never connected him with the Russells here. Aren’t they, well, I hate to be rude but aren’t the Russells a little—”
“Average,” finished Blanche. “They’re genteel and have a respectable pedigree—English like ours, though you’d never guess it—but when it comes down to it, they’ve never done as well as they might. Phillip came long before the others and inherited more of the Rutherford stock, which probably makes all the difference in his drive and success. He is the picture of a self-made man, and on a family tree his branch would stand well alone for all of his accomplishments and the literal distance he put between himself and his roots.
“Dear, Mrs. Garrett was up here to see Ivy this morning and she described for me in the most colorful terms just how the two of you came to meet. I’d compliment you on your designing mind, but I’m well aware that you truly didn’t want to play Blind Man’s Bluff, so I will thank the Almighty for your chance encounter instead.”
“There are women who have devoted their entire youths to trying to snag him and lost out on other good matches by taking the gamble,” continued Myra. “To think that I was scared to come out here and live. I’m witnessing two great loves. In Richmond all we have are convenience and political marriages.”
“How did he convince the Rutherfords to give up the house?” asked Ivy. The emerald ring, a Marshall heirloom that Blanche gave to Joseph for her, glinted on her long finger as she lifted her fork.
“They were behind in payments on it because they’re still paying for Margaret’s Glade,” explained Somerset. “When he offered to pay them fifty percent more than it’s worth they were thankful for the opportunity to get ahead financially. It was an added advantage that Phillip is a cousin so they can say it’s still in the family.”
“Does it do you any good to own it now if you’ll be living in Charleston?” asked Joseph.
“We’ll be coming back to visit,” said Somerset. “I’ll come back more often than Phillip, but it will be nice to have a place to call my own.”
“The house was hers from the beginning, dear,” added Ivy in her hushed voice.
“You both need a trousseau,” said Blanche. “Ivy, you have some lovely things, but you don’t have one thing for winter and nothing for a proper reception. Somerset, I get a sick headache just contemplating the kind of wedding dress you’ll need and all the finery to go with it. Is your engagement to really be so short?”
“I can’t wait any longer than six months,” sighed Somerset. “Six months is a lifetime when I have a whole other life waiting on me. I want to see Turning Tide as soon as possible.”
“There’s nothing against a February wedding. They’re supposed to endure, according to English tradition. My work is cut out for me to get you ready in time. Now that I’ve met the gentleman I can see why you’re in such a rush to have it settled. He takes over a room. Have you ever had a clear thought around him? I hear Turning Tide is one of the finest old homes in the South. I worry that Orchard Rest hasn’t given you enough practical experience to manage such a large place, you know.”
Somerset laid her cheek on her palm and shut her ears as her mother continued to unravel the particulars of her new life. It was well they chose February. She had tasted love, bright and hot now twice, and it left her stomach empty and her soul starving. This time would be different. There was no war on and her intended had a head full of thoughts just like her own. He recognized it; his bouquets said so. They were in harmony with one another. They would be able to weather the course together.
“Somerset? Somerset, aren’t you listening?” asked Blanche.
Myra’s modish blue boot kicked Somerset’s calf to attract her interest.
“I’m sorry. I was thinking about the wedding.”
“I can’t think of any place more appropriate than Richmond to order your new clothes, Somerset. We’ve always shared mixed feelings about that great city, but I can’t think of a better place to share your announcement. Don’t you agree?”
Somerset raised her chin in the amber light of the dining room.
“Mother, I think we’re finally in agreement that we make our presences known.”
***
Blanche decided that Joseph should escort them to Richmond in case Thomas needed to return to Baton Rouge on short notice. Victoria and Warren would stay at Orchard Rest to look after it, and Mr. Garrett would drop in twice per day to be sure she managed well in the event that Thomas needed to leave her. Somerset’s and Ivy’s only responsibilities were looking at fabric and talking with dressmakers and milliners while Blanche and Myra made social calls. Blanche hadn’t thought it wise of Myra to visit so soon, but Myra thought testing the waters would help her know how soon she might return to Richmond and pointed out that Birdy would be a valuable resource while traveling because she could maid for everyone. Birdy wanted to make sure Richmond survived without her, and she welcomed the opportunity to wait on Ivy.
The storied land of plenty that Somerset found dreadful and Blanche yearned for no longer existed. Somerset’s last visit was months before Fort Sumter’s shelling, and she remembered little more than fanning herself in the corner of Grandmother Marshall’s ballroom while being forced to turn away lavish delicacies to impress others with her nonexistent appetite and the figure she cut in a corset that was as much whalebone as it was fabric. Blanche’s last visit was in 1863, and her memories were sharper because the bread riot
s forced her to flee the city, fearing for her safety.
“I can’t believe it was brought to this,” Blanche murmured, her face pressed hard to the carriage window as they passed through the middle of town.
“I have so much to tell you,” Myra said. “So much. Some married man kissing me? That’s nothing compared to what went on during the war. Nothing at all. Each time I see the city with fresh eyes I want to prostrate myself and kiss the sidewalk that I’m still here. There are many who didn’t live to tell the same tale.”
Blanche’s hand pressed to the window as if caressing the city the same way she caressed Warren’s face when he was sick.
“It’s ruined. Mother sent me the papers and I read them. I know what I read and believed it, but it’s ruined.”
“The Marsh still stands,” Myra said in a low voice.
Blanche squared her shoulders, her dress looking loose despite her alterations to make it fit her smaller, weakened body.
“I don’t know how it stands, but I look forward to seeing it.”
The Marsh was the name of the collective homes of the Marshall family situated on a compound of hundreds of acres outside the city. Grandmother Marshall’s home, Uncle David’s home, and the home that Uncle Theodore inherited from Grandfather Marshall—although he drowned before he could move into it—all rested there. Upon seeing the great stone fence that encircled the entire property, Somerset could see why the houses were all still there. The fence had taken Grandfather Marshall fifteen years to complete, and she had heard tell of the hundreds of slaves armed with weapons ready to defend their home as they gathered with war cries on the front grounds of the Marsh. It was an unlikely tale. She knew no love was there but fear of Grandmother Marshall’s retribution if they allowed one stone to scorch. The fire had reached the Marsh. Somerset could see blackened areas of fence all around the compound. Three years later and there was ash still sifting from between the stones where moss and twigs caught fire. There were places where the limestone looked melted. An army of goblin feet marched up Somerset’s back as she waited for the gates to open. Had anything happy happened at the Marsh?
