Pride, Prejudice, and Cheese Grits (Austen Takes the South)

by Mary Jane Hathaway

  “No, I just...” Shelby struggled with the tiny rhinestone encrusted pin and sighed. “I’m going to head to the ladies room. I’ll be right back.”

  Ransom lifted his head as she moved away from the little group. She pointed toward the exit, lifting one finger and he nodded. She would just be a minute. Passing the large, paned windows, she could see the wind had risen and heavy drops thudded against the glass.

  As she neared the large French doors that led to the hallway, Shelby saw David Whitcomb slip through. Everything about his posture seemed wrong, almost fierce. She followed a few steps behind and saw a young woman in a maid’s uniform try to grab his arm. He angrily brushed her off, his face contorted.

  “... just deal with it. There’s nothing you can do anyway.”

  His words were flung at the pretty blond girl like they were stones. Then he was out the front door. Shelby watched as the maid stood at the door, hands clenched, watching him leave. She spoke to herself, her words were soft, but dripped with bitterness.

  “Left right quick, didn’t you? Too bad Stevie couldn’t get down here fast enough. He’d sure like to have a word with you. Just you wait, we’re gonna make sure you pay.” Her tone was pure venom, her eyes bright with hatred.

  “My dear Jane, Mr. Collins is a conceited, pompous, narrow-minded, silly man; you know he is, as well as I do...”

  -Elizabeth

  Chapter Thirty

  Shelby cleared her throat.

  The young woman whirled around, her hand on her heart. “Mercy! You scared the daylights out of me.”

  “I’m sorry. I was just trying to find the restroom. But that man sure didn’t seem like he wanted to talk,” she said, adopting an innocent expression.

  “No, no he didn’t.” Her face was a mixture of fear and mistrust. “And I’m sorry about what you just heard. Please don’t tell my boss. I really need this job,” she said, voice trembling.

  “Don’t worry. I understand venting a bit of frustration. But- “ and here Shelby decided to take a chance, “why are you so angry?”

  Her eyes narrowed, as if judging whether she could be trusted. “My brother had to sell his house to cover that loan, and we still didn’t get all the repairs finished.”

  “What loan? I thought David worked in real estate.”

  It was impossible for the pretty maid to look any more furious. She was so angry she was having trouble forming words. “I don’t know what he really does, but he told us he would lobby to get it on the national register of historical buildings. We signed all sorts of papers.” Her hands were shaking as she pushed her blond hair back from her brow.

  A bad feeling settled in the pit of Shelby’s stomach. “Go on.”

  “So, we got it appraised. My grandpa was so worried about fixing the upper floors, he just didn’t have the money to make those kind of repairs. He trusted David. We all did. Grandpa signed everything he told him to sign. It was going to be the best thing ever.”

  She lowered her voice.

  “Well, then David said the money came through and gave my grandpa twenty thousand dollars. He spent it right away, making the repairs he needed to the top floor so it was safe. We were thrilled. It’s been in our family for 150 years.” Her voice trailed off. Her blue eyes were unfocused, gazing out the hall window into the stormy darkness. Shelby held her breath and waited for her to continue.

  “Then, we started to get papers from the bank. It was so confusing. At first we just thought it was a mistake. But when he wouldn’t answer his phone, we knew that David hadn’t told us the whole truth. We just had no idea how bad it was going to be.” Her eyes began to fill with tears. She didn’t even seem to know Shelby was there.

  “My grandpa went straight to the bank, to ask about the papers they were sending. It wasn’t grant money we got. It was a loan. For seventy thousand dollars. He had signed all those papers, there was no way to get out of it.”

  Shelby felt faint. “So, the loan had to be repaid?”she whispered.

  The young woman nodded, tears spilling out from under her lashes. “We had to pay it off directly, or they’d charge interest. My grandpa didn’t have that kind of money. So, my brother Steve, he sold his house. He and his wife and their three kids moved into the top floor. I had a college account that was going to get me through my last year. I drained that. Between us we got most of it paid off, enough to get the payments down. But I had to drop out and get a full time job. Maybe in a year or so I can finish my degree.”

  “You’re probably thinking we’re idiots for doing everything he told us to, without even checking. But we trusted him!” She suddenly grabbed Shelby’s hand. “He was so convincing. He knew all about the history of the house and we really thought... “ She shook her head, words finally failing her.

  Shelby stood still, her mind struggling to accept the story. All of David’s lies loomed hard in front of her. It sounded impossible, but yet the truth of it grew heavy in her heart.

  “Please, you have to make sure he doesn’t do this to anyone else! When we went to the police, they said there wasn’t enough evidence. All we had were the papers with Grandpa’s signature on them.”

  Shelby squeezed her hand back. “Oh, believe me, I aim to.” A few minutes later she had found the women’s room, a note tucked into her clutch. On the slip of paper was the contact information of Marissa LeJeune, victim of David Whitcomb’s realty scam. She knew just the lawyer she would call when morning came.

  Ransom appeared at Shelby’s shoulder as she re entered the ballroom. He glanced at her hair, and tucked an errant curl behind her ear. Shelby shivered at the warm touch of his hand and struggled to focus on what he was saying.

  “I think my aunt is about to speak. Let’s move farther to the front of the room so you can see,” he smiled down at her.

  “Of course.”

  Shelby allowed herself to be led to the front of the room. Margaret, carrying a tidy stack of note cards, stood apart from the crowd. Soon, a young man asked for their attention in a loud, clear voice. Margaret glided forward and the crowd hushed immediately. Shelby was surprised that she did not use a microphone but the room’s acoustics seemed good enough for her voice to carry naturally.

  “When Albert Hardy asked me if I would have a fund raiser at Collier House, I couldn’t contain my enthusiasm. My dear friend has always known when the time is right to bring our community together. As we explored the idea during dinner at Alice LaRoche’s mansion that night-

  Shelby could feel her eyes losing focus and wondered how many names would be dropped in the course of the speech. She glanced at Ransom, wondering if he was listening. He seemed to be absorbed in the tale of how they had all come to be in this room.

  “- and I told Mark Lutie that if there was anything I could possibly contribute to the preservation of our Society, than I was at his service. The next day Angeline Frankel, who runs the planning business La Petite Fete, called from Charleston with some wonderful ideas. I was struck by-

  Really, how many people in this room want to know who organized the caterer and the music? But that short man over there was nodding his head off. He was going to lose his glasses if he didn’t take it down a notch. And the wolfish looking lady in the black sequined dress seemed completely captivated.

  “As a Southerner, a woman whose great-great-great grandfather returned to a ruined city, I feel a kinship with the refugees of the world. Ten percent of the proceeds from tonight’s fund raiser will be donated to the Red Cross.”

  Shelby’s eyes widened. Oh, she was not all bad then. Feeling guilty now....

  “- hope we will be able to exceed Mariah Parker’s foundation.”

  Back to the bull pucky. Shelby noticed Finch, tie knotted tight and gray hair slicked down, near the long table of food. He hadn’t said he was coming to this. But then, she wasn’t exactly on his short list of confidants.

  “- so that the battlefield of Samfer Hill will be protected against corporate exploitation and development.
”

  But Samfer Hill was granted protection from development six months ago. She remembered the article when it appeared in the Flea Bite Creek Gazette because her friend Brooks Webber, the editor, called her for a quote. Shelby frowned and looked across the room at Ron. His brows were drawn down as he peered into his wine glass. Shelby couldn’t tell if he was listening or just wishing for another refill. She turned to Ransom, a questioning look on her face.

  He leaned down and whispered, “What is it?”

  “Isn’t Samfer already on the list of protected sites?” Shelby leaned into his shoulder, using her hand to shield her mouth.

  “Is it? But I think she would know if it had. ” He said, leaning down. His breath tickled her ear and she turned to tell him that it most certainly was when a voice rang out.

  “Is there something important we need to know, Ransom?” His aunt’s voice boomed out over the crowd, venomous and haughty.

  “But it is not merely this affair,” she continued “on which my dislike is founded. Long before it had taken place, my opinion of you was decided.”

  -Elizabeth

  Chapter Thirty One

  Shelby’s mouth dropped open in shock. Like a third grader caught cheating, she froze, her breath caught in her throat. Ransom straightened, his broad shoulders now turned away from her. She wasn’t sure what he was going to say, if anything, but it was her fault his aunt stopped her speech.

  She quickly stepped forward and said cooly, “We were just discussing the fact that Samfer has recently been added to the list of protected sites. Perhaps there’s another battlefield that could benefit from your generosity.”

  The flicker of fury on Margaret’s face was quickly covered with a mask of amusement, her lips curled in a tiny smile. “Still lobbying for that backwater, Flea Bite Creek? Our little friend, always the center of attention. I’m almost done, my dear. Then you may have your turn.”

  It seemed as if all the air had been drawn from the room in one great whoosh. She had a vague impression of dozens shocked faces, heads shaking back and forth. Murmurs arose in the silence, one that went on and on as his aunt stared down the great empty space at her. With that she swiveled slowly on the spot, redirecting the end of her speech to the other side of the room.

  The ground was dropping away under her feet. Had Margaret Greathouse really just called her a liar? Her eyes searched for Ron and he was there, across the room, eyes wide and a pained expression on his face. Tansy stood beside him, one hand pressed to her mouth and the other clutching his arm. They couldn’t have looked more shocked if they had witnessed a terrible roadside accident.

  Polite applause spattered around the room as the speech was concluded. Shelby numbly turned to go, not sure where, but somewhere other than this room.

  “Why did you say anything? I was going to handle it,” Ransom said, voice low and urgent, one broad hand on her shoulder. It was soothing and electric at the same time and she repressed a shiver.

  She shook her head dumbly. The words she wanted to say stuck in her throat, causing a lump that was making it hard to breathe.

  “Geez, Shelby.” Ransom’s expression was a mixture of disbelief and amusement. He raked his fingers through his hair and let out a short bark of laughter. “You just can’t do that sort of thing, correcting people in public.”

  Something in the way he said that, the words ‘that sort of thing’, rang a bell deep inside her. She hated the idea that she should always be coy and use flattery, that she should nod and smile while dishonest people trample over the weaker ones. She whirled on him and shook off his hand.

  “I’m not the kind of person smiles at a lie, who flirts with power and hopes some bone gets thrown my way. You should know that, Ransom. I don’t now why you invited me, but if it was because you wanted a show, you got it.” Somewhere in the back of her mind, the voice of reason shouted a warning but she was too angry. “ Maybe you already knew that field was protected and that she was still raising funds for it. Maybe you knew I’d open my big mouth. How was it? Did I live up to your expectations?” Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes flashing.

  He took a deep breath and seemed to be counting in his head. Some of the guests moved closer, as quickly as they could get to the conversation between the fiery woman in the green dress and the famous Ransom Fielding.

  “How was I supposed to know you would interrupt her speech?” His eyes were so clear, so blue she had trouble focusing on them. She yearned for them to look like they did for that moment under the tree, the sky darkening, his eyes deep with possibilities. The sudden memory, side by side with the present moment when everything had gone horribly wrong, made her throat squeeze shut. She turned away and lifted trembling fingers to whisk traitor tears away from the corners of her eyes.

  “Maybe you two planned it,” she said, her back turned. She knew it was crazy as soon as she said it, but she couldn’t fight the pain that was welling up in her chest.

  Ransom turned her around, one hand gripping her bare shoulder once more. His eyes widened, then narrowed to slits. “Really? That’s what you think of me? That I would drive you all the way up here so my aunt could commit a bit of public humiliation? Revenge, I suppose. But that’s an awful lot of effort for some silly antics in front of my class. How important do you think you are?”

  She gasped as if he had slapped her. Wordlessly, she turned and walked toward the foyer. Out of the corner of her eye, just as she turned, she saw him shake his head and reach out for her.

  “Shelby!” Tansy was there, grabbing her hand and pulling her to the side. “Are you okay? What was that about?”

  “I just- I don’t know. I can’t tell you any more than what you saw. Are you guys going home now?” Shelby stuttered. Ron was there, a reassuring presence, his somber expression mirrored Tansy’s.

  “We will if you want, if you need a ride.” Tansy glanced behind them at Ransom.

  Shelby knew he was there, feet behind her. She refused to look at him, his angry words ringing in her ears.

  “Please, I’ll take her home.” His voice was low, subdued.

  “No, the party just started. You should stay. Thank you for inviting me.” Shelby’s Southern manners rallied for a moment and she managed a wobbly smile. She could feel tears on her lashes and hoped he couldn’t notice. She didn’t meet his eyes but looked somewhere over his broad shoulders.

  “Shelby, please. That came out wrong. I’d be glad to take you home. I’m sorry for what-“

  “We’re leaving anyway, Ransom. See you Monday.” Ron gave him a look, something between a brotherly smile and a warning nod. He fell silent, and stepped aside.

  Tansy slipped Shelby’s arm through hers and they made their way out to the foyer, then to the car. Numbly, she settled into the back seat and stared out the window as they drove the same road she had just traveled a short time before. The bright bubble of happiness she had felt so briefly had gone without a trace. All her hopes for the evening, all her plans, ruined. Her friends loyally argued that Margaret was a tyrant, a bully. But she shook her head and said nothing, her face felt heavy with unshed tears. The drive seemed to last forever.

  As the door closed behind her, she finally let hot tears slip down her cheeks. The house was dark, Rebecca already asleep. She clutched the satiny fabric of her dress between her fingers as the dam of emotion broke over her. After what seemed like hours, she stooped to loosen her sandals and stared unseeing at the fanciful decorations.

  She felt like such a fool. She should never have accepted his invitation. Shucking the dress from her body she stepped into the shower, where her tears mixed with the scalding hot water.

  Lying awake, staring at the ceiling, Shelby resolved to straighten it all out. If she got the chance.

  “We must not be so ready to fancy ourselves intentionally injured.”

  -Elizabeth

  Chapter Thirty Two

  After the rough night, Shelby felt as if she had an emotional hangover. Rebecca listen
ed to her moan and groan, then told her to get back to work. Worse had happened, she was sure, although Rebecca admitted she couldn’t think of anything at the moment. Monday arrived with a vengeance and Shelby wished she could curl up in her closet for the rest of the semester. Instead, she struggled to ignore the dull throbbing near her temple and got ready to face the day.

  The phone rang just as Shelby tucked her lecture papers into her satchel, coffee mug balanced in one hand. Sirocco wound around her ankles, tripping her as she turned to grab the receiver.

  “How are you getting along, honey? The beginning of the term runs pretty smooth, if I remember correctly.” Her Aunt Junetta’s warm voice was like a sedative to Shelby’s frayed nerves.

  “Good so far.” She tried to inject some enthusiasm into her voice and hoped it didn’t sound as flat as it did in her own ears.

  Aunt Junetta chuckled. “Now that’s a whopper if I ever heard one.”

  She grinned in spite of herself. “I never could lie to you.”

  “You never could lie to anyone, honey. So, is it something you want to talk about?”

  Shelby perched on the edge of the sofa for a moment and squeezed her eyes closed. Where could she possibly begin?

  “Is that historian giving you a hard time again? The one from the magazine?”

  She sighed. “Sort of. I mean, yes, that’s who it is. But he’s not really giving me a hard time. I made a mistake. I don’t even want to tell you what it was, but then everybody was giving me the cold shoulder, and he said that maybe we could pretend to be friends and things would settle down...” She trailed off as she realized how little sense she was making.