by Betty Bolte
"So soon! Wonderful news." Emily's eyes glowed with relief. "Frank and I plan to marry on Twelfth Night, at the end of the holiday season."
"Marrying on the traditional wedding day will ensure the scoundrel will remember your anniversary as well." Benjamin laughed. "His memory is not what it used to be."
Emily playfully swatted him with her folded fan. "Fiddlesticks, I'm sure his memory is sharper than yours."
The glint of the mourning ring Emily still wore caught Amy's attention. The slender gold band rested comfortably on her right hand, a remembrance of her late twin sister, Elizabeth. Emily had finally managed to move on after the lapse of nearly a year. Little Tommy, Elizabeth's orphaned son, was growing up, his crawling transforming into unsteady steps. Before long his running would see them all ragged. Thank goodness for the slave woman, Mary, who tended to his daily needs.
Tommy had been a surprise addition to Emily's single life, left as her responsibility after the death of both his parents earlier in the year, first Tommy's father, Frank's brother Jedediah, then Elizabeth. Although Frank had married Elizabeth to give Tommy a father, he'd left shortly after the wedding to do his duty in the militia. Amy wondered if God had some unfathomable plan for Emily, seeing as Emily did not want to have children for fear of dying in childbirth like her mother and her twin. Then little Tommy had ended up the ward of Emily and Frank. The Lord sure did move in mysterious ways to give Emily the child she'd always longed for without risking her life during pregnancy and childbirth. At least, until she realized pregnancy often followed consummation of the marriage.
"Amy, shall we?" Benjamin offered his arm to her again. His eyes crinkled at the corners as though they shared a joke.
A shiver ran through Amy, and she searched for an excuse to thwart his request. Most of the guests chatted in small groups, laughter interspersed with the murmurs of conversation. Finally, she nearly clapped her hands in relief. "I believe Mother wishes to speak with me." She affixed a smile to her face and nodded to her mother as she approached the small group in a rush of skirts.
Benjamin lowered his arm but stayed near her side, almost as though he felt the need to protect her from her own mother. Or insinuate his presence between them. Neither thought came with any sense of comfort. She greeted her mother, awareness of Benjamin's heat sizzling in her veins.
"Amy, darling, I'm afraid we must excuse ourselves from the festivities." Lucille fanned her flushed face, then noticed Benjamin's scowl. "Is there something amiss?"
"Nothing that cannot wait, Mrs. Abernathy." His gaze rested on Amy for a beat before addressing her. "I see you have matters to attend to, so I'll call on you first thing in the morning, Miss Amy. We can speak then." With a slight nod, he said his farewells and strode away.
Amy watched him cross the room in long strides and join Frank by the fireplace, where a fire burned brightly. His mysterious demeanor seemed emphasized this evening, more so than ever before. "I wonder what he wants to tell me."
Emily smiled at Amy's heartfelt sigh. "If you'd really wanted to know, you should have spoken with him. But tomorrow is another day, soon enough to find out what is on his mind. You have other things to consider this evening."
"Yes, darling, I'm sorry to end this lovely party." Lucille's fan created a low whooshing sound with each stroke. "But really, we must go home and prepare for our departure tomorrow. I hope your young man calls early so we are not delayed. I so want to reach Evelyn's by supper."
"He's not my young man, Mother." Frowning, Amy peered at her mother's flushed face and worried eyes. They'd had no plans to see her sister until Christmas, and it was only Allhallows. A frisson of fear for her sister and the unborn child snaked down her spine. "Why the sudden need to see her?"
"I do not know, but I have a bad feeling and I want to gauge the situation for myself." Lucille folded her fan decisively and took Amy's hand. "Come, we must go."
Amy said her good-byes amid hugs from her friends. Her mother's instincts usually alerted them to impending problems, so might Walter have hurt her sister yet again? On top of that concern rested Benjamin's mysterious request. She hoped he didn't intend to suggest she be included in his future plans, but something in his manner hinted he may. A worried frown settled between Amy's brows as she followed her mother out the door.
* * *
The sun peeked above the horizon, casting a wash of golden light across the road. Benjamin tied his horse to the hitching rail in front of the Abernathy's elegant three-story home on Meeting Street. The lovely red-brick building graced the middle of the block, boasting an ample courtyard of flowers and bushes below the upper piazzas. One day soon he hoped to own such a fine abode for his future wife and family. With that thought firmly in mind, he hurried up the steps and knocked on the front door.
After a few moments with no answer he heard the jangling of harness and voices wafting from the rear of the house. Recalling Amy's plan to leave town this morning, he descended the steps and strode around to the rear of the house to the stable. As he turned the corner into the yard, he spotted the single-seat carriage with its pair of heavy-bodied grays waiting, tossing their black manes, snorting dust from their nostrils, and stamping an occasional hoof. A thin black man bent over the back of the carriage, securing the ladies' luggage in place, while an older black woman busily tucked in an immense lunch hamper.
"Greetings!" Benjamin drew closer to the pair. "Might Miss Abernathy be available this fine morning?"
The man grunted in reply, though he continued his struggle to situate the two large trunks. The woman turned friendly brown eyes to him, judging him in one quick glance before smiling. "Yes, sir, Mr. Hanson. I'll let her know you're here to see her."
Benjamin tipped his tricorne in thanks as she curtsied, then scurried through the door into the house. Placing his hat back on his head, he walked over to the carriage. "Need a hand?"
"No, sir, thank you, sir," the man replied. "I's about got it in right." With a final grunt the man patted the trunks like they were well-trained dogs and walked away.
Benjamin removed his hat again, tapping it against his leg as he watched the elderly slave make his way slowly to the kitchen door. The smaller brick building sat apart from the main house, as most buildings in town did to reduce the chance of a cooking fire destroying the family home. The man returned, munching on a bright red apple as he hurried as fast as his bent legs would carry him to the stable.
Benjamin had rehearsed what to say to Amy, but now as she emerged from the house, dressed in a gray traveling cloak over a deep blue gown, words deserted his tongue. Her dark copper curls surrounded her lovely face, her eyes watching him as though taking his measure and finding him lacking.
"Benjamin, what brings you here so early?" She passed him to place a small basket covered with a cloth under the front seat of the carriage.
"I wished to speak with you on a matter of some importance." He studied her as she finished her task and then looked at him.
The sound of the man's voice languished in the chilly air, presumably talking to one of the horses. Amy's expectant eyes cooled with the lengthening silence. Blast, all the carefully chosen words evaporated like so much smoke on a windy day.
"Really, Benjamin. Mother will be out in a moment, ready to leave. Pray continue if what you have to say is so imperative." She gazed at him, blinking once as she waited.
The elderly servant led a bay mare out of the stable, a saddle strapped to the thin reddish-brown horse's sides. Its black mane and tail shone from careful grooming, but little meat hung on its bones. Benjamin regarded the pair with concern in his heart. As a guard, the gaunt elderly man seemed little better than having no one. Hard times, indeed.
"A—I mean, Miss Amy." Benjamin paused. Damn, her beauty defied words. He could gaze at her fine symmetrical features for hours, listen to her musical voice, inhale her scent forever. Her smile wilted with each second his mouth refused to form the words in his head. "Will you consider..."
&nb
sp; The back door opened, and the black woman emerged, toting another smaller food hamper. The blasted woman's presence stopped Benjamin's tongue.
"Miss Amy, your ma says she'll be out in a minute," the woman said in a raspy voice.
"Thanks, Charity." Amy's smile shone on the woman briefly before she focused on Benjamin. "You were saying?"
He must say his piece before her mother interrupted him. He took a breath then blurted, "Will you consider seeing me?"
Amy blinked, her smile turning mischievous. "I see you clearly, Benjamin."
Heat built in his neck. Swallowing his discomfort, he pushed on. "I'd like to court you proper, Miss Amy. Will you receive me?"
She clasped her hands together in front of her skirts, her smile fading as her head slowly moved side to side. "What we had, Ben, existed a long time ago. Please, don't revisit the past." Her plea tore from her, drifting into silence.
He couldn't believe his ears. She'd used his nickname, the first time since he'd returned. But she nevertheless refused him. "Amy, please, we belong together." Benjamin stepped closer, reaching for her hand. What he felt for her, he'd never felt for another woman. He must convince her to give him another chance.
Amy retreated a step, smoothing her skirts with trembling fingers. In a firmer voice she said, "Benjamin, please..."
Benjamin started to say how much he had always loved her, that he could tell she still cared for him, to beg her to give him the opportunity to rekindle her love. But the door swung open, this time allowing Mrs. Abernathy to join the tense silence stretching between them. Draped over one arm, she carried several lightweight blankets. She soon reached the crushed seashell path at the foot of the steps and marched across the yard to the carriage where Benjamin and Amy waited.
"Why, Major Hanson, how lovely to see you this morning. Two days in a row, in fact. But I'm afraid we have no more time to visit today." She draped the blankets over the trunks and then walked up to Benjamin with a smile. "Please feel free to visit in a few days, once we've returned from seeing my dear Evelyn. I'm sure Amy will have new stories to tell from our little adventure."
Benjamin saw relief light up Amy's eyes as she let her mother interrupt the exchange between them. A temporary interruption, if he had anything to say about it. Miss Lucille had left a door open to him with her kind invitation. "Yes, ma'am, I'd be pleased to spend time with you and your family upon your return."
"Fine, fine. Now, say your farewells, as we really must be off."
Amy plastered a dutiful smile onto her lips. "Good-bye, Benjamin." She dropped a quick curtsy, then stepped up into the carriage. The elderly guard climbed into the saddle and rode up beside them.
"Farewell, Miss Amy. Ma'am," Benjamin said. "I hope your journey is uneventful."
"Thank you, Benjamin," Lucille said.
Amy chuckled as her mother picked up the reins and urged the grays into a walk. Feeling a prickly irritation raising the hair on the back of his neck, he watched them disappear around the corner of the house and out of sight. But not out of mind. He exhaled his frustrations, his lips forming a grin. If she planned to be difficult in this matter, he'd simply have to take it up with her father.
* * *
The carriage bounced along the rain-rutted road leading to Evelyn's house. Amy almost wished she rode astride like old Paul did on the little mare. Fortunately they had not met any unfriendly people on the trip and the storm had stayed south, the opposite direction of their journey, so they didn't risk being soaked as well. Unfortunately the lack of rain meant the dust might choke them before they reached Evelyn and Walter's home. Amy's jaw clenched in anticipation of the impending confrontation with Evelyn's despotic husband. Situated twenty miles from town, the journey took nearly half a day.
"Your tale of woe for Evelyn's safety proved a wonderful distraction for the guard." Lucille winked at Amy. "I'm not sure whether or not I should feel proud of your ability to readily weave such fictions."
"I dearly hope it's fiction. I'm glad your reputation spared us the search of our persons by the sentry." Beneath her voluminous skirt hid needed supplies not only for her sister but also for the nearby American army. "We would never make it past such an invasive inspection."
"True. The outcome of our adventure would be very different indeed."
Being hung for a spy would surely change their plans. Amy winced at the possibility but then stalwartly shrugged the unease away. They'd have to catch her first.
"If only Walter had built his house closer to the river instead of along a small stream, the journey wouldn't take nearly as long." Amy indicated the ruts interspersed like pieces of wide noodles stretching into the distance. "We could have used the boat instead of this bumpy road."
"That may be, but we'd need men to handle the boat, whereas I can drive a team pulling this light carriage myself. Paul couldn't manage it alone, I'm certain. Besides, Walter does everything for his own benefit and never for anyone else's." Lucille produced a very unladylike snort in disgust. "I should never have allowed my girl to decide whom to marry."
"She loves him, Mother." On the day Evelyn married Walter, the weather had graced them with sunshine and blue skies. Amy had fashioned tiny flowers in Evelyn's hair to match the pale green gown the bride wore, then carefully arranged the short white veil into place over Evelyn's gray-green eyes before she walked down the aisle, her smile wide and happy. Amy had rejoiced with her then. But when she visited her sister and brother-in-law a few months ago to celebrate their two-year wedding anniversary, Evelyn barely curved her mouth, let alone shown unabashed happiness or even hope. The man her sister married had changed over such a short period of time, it deeply worried Amy. How much more abusive might he become? "Or I should say, she loved him the day she married him."
Lucille focused on driving the matched gray horses pulling the light conveyance down the lane. Dust rose in the wake of the trotting pair, the wind shifting to encourage the cloud to drift away from the women sitting on the single cushioned seat. The trunks behind them, despite the muffling blankets, squeaked and thumped as they strained against the ropes holding them fast. Old Paul rode silently along behind them, apparently oblivious to the dust and noise as he perused their surroundings.
A long sigh issued from her mother. A pained expression settled on Lucille's mouth. "What is amiss, Mother?"
"I miss the simplicity of the days before the fighting began. We listened to our parents' opinions and followed their direction in important matters. Like marriage." Lucille slowed the horses as they approached a sharp curve in the road, the dust shifting to swirl around the women.
"What of love?" Amy waved a hand before her face to break up the cloud of dust. "Did your parents ask if you loved Father?"
"Of course not. It was not a consideration because love blossoms between two people over time. You marry a good-hearted, respectful, and capable provider, and love and respect will follow." Once again on a straight stretch of road, she clucked to the horses and increased speed.
Amy considered the vow she'd taken to remain unwed. Should she share her intent with her mother? Would she understand? A quick dart of her eyes convinced her to wait to reveal her choice. Her mother fretted about Evelyn. In Evelyn's case the marriage did not appear to have led to love between the two. Nay, the exact opposite seemed the case. Could a man love yet hit hard enough to leave bruises on his wife?
"Speaking of capable providers." Lucille caught Amy's eye and mirth lightened her expression. "It's a shame your young man did not stay longer this morning. Whatever he needed to say did not take long."
"Indeed it did not." He'd managed to confirm her desire to avoid him. The thought of seeing him, knowing his intent to court her, left her knees knocking. That tidbit must remain her secret, as she did not want her parents or friends to have false hopes. "He said to be—to be safe on our trip."
"I see." Lucille glanced at her with a quirked eyebrow reflecting her disbelief. "Sweet of him to care."
"Yes
." What more could Amy say without telling an out and out lie?
The overcast sky added to the dreary feeling weighing her down. Anxiety filled her as she contemplated what they might find upon their arrival. Wind gusted against the small carriage. The horses' black manes tossed on the breeze as the sound of their hooves rhythmically pounded the dirt road.
Evelyn's home rose up in the distance, massive and gloomy against the sky. The stone foundation supported a whitewashed, wood-framed house huddled in front of a shadowy forest stretching away into the distance. Two stories tall, the panes of glass in the many windows reflected the threatening clouds hanging above. A circular drive ornamented the front of the house, a statue of the mythical winged horse Pegasus in the center, with flowers and an array of bushes planted around the base. The longer she looked at the woods, the less she liked it. Amy imagined it slowly sucking the house into its bowels, consuming everything inside. Her sister standing on the steps screaming as Walter stood cursing and beating on an upstairs window. But the doors and windows would not open, and the forest would eventually win its battle to take over the massive abode daring to sit on its doorstep.
"Do you see Evelyn yet?" Lucille broke into Amy's fantasy. "I sent word we'd be arriving today, so she should be expecting us."
Two large black dogs raced around the corner of the house, barking at the approaching conveyance. Amy worried about Walter's dogs, with their quick obedience to him and their skills for hunting. Would he tell the dogs to attack the women if provoked? She wouldn't put it past him. At least they offered some protection from renegades and others roaming the land. Unless the soldiers used their guns to shoot the dogs; then the house would be unprotected and anything could happen.
"I see her maid." Amy shivered and forced the foolish daydream out of her mind. Her imagination ran away with her at the worst times. "Mayhap Evelyn did not want to be outside on such a day. Wait. There she is, coming down the steps."
