A pair of white silk gloves lay on the counter. They’d been embroidered in dark blue with flowers.
Light footsteps approached. Phoebe appeared in the door. “How may I…? Mr. Lewis.” She ran forward, offering me both hands. “I am delighted to see you.”
“Hello, Phoe…” Maybe that was wrong. “Miss Marsh.”
She gave a quick squeeze of the hands and then stepped back. “Tell me, do you have news of my sister?”
“I do.”
“Is she well?”
“She is.”
Her voice lowered. “Do you bring me happy news?”
“Like what?”
“You have not married.” Her smile faded.
“No.” Why were these people hung up on that?
“Does she still work in your parents’ home?”
That was one way of putting it. “She does.”
Her face hardened. “Why do you treat my sister so?”
“What do you mean?”
“She wants to be your wife. She claims to love you.”
“I love her too.”
“She has followed you to a place I cannot visit. She lost me and I lost her—for you.”
Damn. Phoebe had grown up pretty intensely. “Susanna left Worthville because she was in danger.”
“I do not see that she is more secure.” Phoebe shifted closer to me, a scary glint to her eyes. “Why do you make her wait?”
Getting mad now. “I want to finish college before marriage, but I love her, Phoebe. She is my future.”
She studied my face closely and then sniffed. “Very well. I see the truth of it in your eyes. It is not right, but I can do no more.” She bobbed her head curtly. “Peter says you have a message to deliver.”
Susanna had made me practice what she wanted me to say, carefully worded to hide that she had inside information. “Susanna has advice for you as you decide what life holds in store.”
“Shh.” She looked over her shoulder and pulled me closer to the door of the shop. “How could she know that I face a solemn decision?”
“I’m not sure.” The lie came easily.
A woman appeared from the back, a smile wreathing her face from ear to ear. “Who is our visitor, Phoebe?”
“Mr. Lewis, this is my employer, Mrs. Nance.”
Mrs. Nance’s gaze sharpened. “Are you family?”
“I am—”
“Mr. Lewis is my sister’s husband.” Phoebe dared me with a look.
“Oh, indeed.” The warmth returned to Mrs. Nance’s smile. “What brings you to Raleigh?”
“I am passing through.”
“Welcome, welcome.” She wobbled back into the darkness of the shop’s workroom.
“I am sorry,” Phoebe said. “I cannot let her think poorly of my sister.”
“Sure.” My three hours were ticking down. Better get on with it. “Susanna wrote you a letter.” I handed it over.
Phoebe unfolded it slowly and backed up to the light, her lips moving as she read silently.
I hadn’t read the letter myself, but it must have been powerful for Phoebe’s face changed with each paragraph. Happy, sad, confused, sad again.
Her hand dropped until she clutched the letter to her chest. “This is most peculiar. It is almost as if she knows.”
“Knows what?”
“I have indeed reached the age where gentlemen wish to court me.” She moved her head slowly from side to side, as if in a daze. “This very month, I have received two offers of marriage, both quite tempting in their own ways.”
I would have to pry information out of her—information she might be reluctant to share with me—but it had to be done. “Have you made your choice?”
She nodded slowly. “You may tell my sister that she knows him well. I have accepted an offer from Mr. Jacob Worth. He will return to fetch me in three days.” Her smile was slight. “Jacob will be a good husband. He will farm the land and plant an orchard. I shall tend our family and create beautiful needlework. We shall have a good life.”
Now came the part I hated to bring up—the part Susanna and I had argued over. “Your sister worries that you might move to a place with no one to help if you become ill.”
“It is true, I might.” Her forehead creased with concentration. “So here is a message for my sister. Tell her that, when I chose my husband, I did not confer with my fears.”
I wouldn’t have any trouble remembering Phoebe’s message, but I wouldn’t want to repeat it. “Does the other man know?”
Her eyes welled with tears. “I shall try to find the words when I see him today.”
“Phoebe, your sister—”
Her fingers gripped my wrist, surprisingly strong. “Susanna wrote in her letter that I deserve the best from life. That I should listen to my heart.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I have listened to my heart, and it tells me that the men I love deserve the best too. Assure my sister I have made the correct choice for
three
people.”
If Susanna had been here, she would’ve argued, but I wouldn’t. Phoebe didn’t need our help. “All right. I’ll tell her.”
She nodded briskly, swiped at her tears, and gave me a big smile. “Thank you most kindly for your visit.” Her fingers groped along the shop’s counter, snagged the gloves I’d been noticing, and held them out to me. “Please. A gift for Susanna.”
I nodded as I took them. “She sent you a gift too.” I untied the bag of buttons from my belt and handed them over.
Phoebe looked inside and gasped. She scooped up a few and let them slip back with a slow
click-click
. “So many and so beautiful. A true treasure.”
Clasping the bag to her chest, she darted forward, kissed my cheek, and disappeared through the rear door.
* * *
There were no travelers on the road the entire way back. It was almost too good to be true. When I pedaled past the narrow lane leading to the Marsh family farm, I admired its condition. It looked much better now than when Susanna’s mother had owned it.
I thought about Susanna’s visit to her brother as I rode the last stretch to the cutoff near Whisper Falls. It had been brave and humiliating for her to visit Caleb, although I still didn’t understand why she hadn’t set him straight. I wouldn’t let Marissa talk to me like that.
Of course, I’d been raised in the twenty-first century. We didn’t let our siblings talk trash to us and get away with it. Also, Susanna was a girl. Maybe they had both been raised to believe the girl—the sister—was lesser somehow. Susanna hadn’t been in my world long enough to rid herself of all of that old crap yet.
I braked to a complete stop.
Caleb was a lot older than Susanna. Maybe he’d remember the day she was born. I had my phone on me. I could capture a video affidavit.
This could be the final piece of evidence we needed. A witness. And the risk was minimal. I was already here. I had the time.
It was worth a shot.
C
HAPTER
F
ORTY
-N
INE
S
IMPLE
R
EPAIRS
It was noon and still Mark had not returned.
For five hours, he’d been gone. What could be taking him so long? It should only take an hour or so for travel, unless he’d had a broken tire. But surely that would be a problem quickly solved. Mark would’ve taken what he needed for simple repairs.
Even if I allowed for three hours of travel time, that left the remaining two hours to speak with my sister and, truly, that was not reasonable.
If she were working at her job, she wouldn’t be allowed a break of that length.
If she’d left her position, propriety wouldn’t permit them to do more than exchange a few words.
And if she were already married, his mission would’ve ended before it began.
Where could he be?
“Susanna?” Sherri shouted up the stairs.
Mark’s mother had stayed around the house for her day off, an unfortunate circumstance. I had expected her to leave, but she had not. Instead, she’d done an unusual number of chores in the kitchen and laundry room. I could not slip out to wait at the falls.
I walked down the stairs from my apartment, displaying a calm that I didn’t feel.
Sherri stood in the kitchen, waving a small note at me. “I found a cryptic note from Mark. Do you know where he is?” Her voice was tight enough to snap.
“Yes, ma’am, I do. He visits my sister.”
Her brow went from smooth anger to bewildered creases. “Why?”
How much longer could I skirt the truth? “He will deliver a letter for me.”
“You can’t mail it?”
“She won’t receive it if he doesn’t hand it to her.”
“Why didn’t you go?”
My throat ached with guilt. I should not have involved Mark. “I might be recognized.”
She tossed the note on the table. “I thought all of those people were gone,” she said, her back to me.
“They are. My sister is away from them. She is truly safe.”
“If she’s safe, why can’t you see her?”
“I’m no longer welcome.”
She snorted. “So you sent Mark in your place. Have you tried his phone?”
I hesitated. “It wouldn’t be wise to call.”
“Did you expect him back by now?”
I nodded.
She crossed to the sink and peered out the windows, hands braced against the countertop. “He could be hurt.”
“I do not think it likely.” My voice was husky with the fear I’d hoped to hide.
“Do you plan to look for him?”
“I shall leave soon.”
She brushed past me, heading for the front stairs. “Wait until I’ve changed. I’m going with you.”
“No, ma’am. You may not go with me. You would only slow me down.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You can’t stop me from following you.”
I lifted my chin in challenge. “I shall not leave this house until you promise to stay.”
“I won’t promise.”
I sat down at the kitchen table and folded my hands in my lap, my gaze never wavering from hers.
“Let’s go, Susanna. We’re wasting time.”
“I shall not take you.”
A furious hiss seethed through her teeth. “Why don’t you turn these people over to law enforcement?”
I shook my head. “Mark’s path will not cross that of anyone from the village.” I said this with more confidence than I felt.
She stormed from the room, the thudding of her footsteps echoing loudly through the house.
I raced up the stairs and changed into my Federalist costume, yet I chose to keep on the sneakers. They would serve me well if I had to run.
Moving as quickly as I dared, I slipped from the house and hurried along the greenway. People strolled or rode past, glancing curiously at my costume, but I paid them no mind. I had to find Mark and had no idea what that entailed.
C
HAPTER
F
IFTY
T
HE
M
OST
C
RITICAL
P
ARTS
I circled back until I reached the lane to the farm, hid the bike, and jogged the last few hundred yards to the house.
The change in this place was amazing. It looked great, painted and repaired with smoke billowing from the chimney. There was a large vegetable garden to one side of the house. Pumpkins and squash were being harvested by an older woman who had a small girl and baby cradle nearby. A man in dark breeches and a simple linen shirt worked on a fence on the opposite side of the barn, assisted by two middle-school-aged boys.
One of the boys spotted me first. “Papa,” he shouted.
The others swung around. The man let the hammer drop to his side as he walked closer, his attitude wary. The woman gestured at the boys to come to her.
“How may I help you?” he asked.
“My name is Mark Lewis.”
The man’s eyebrows lifted. He exchanged a startled glance with the woman. They recognized my name, which I’d expected.
“How is my sister? The whore?”
Fury jolted through my body with lightning speed. Was that what he’d called her? To her face? No wonder Susanna had been crushed. “If you repeat that, sir, I’ll make you regret it.”
“Pardon me. How is the runaway who lives with a man who is not her husband?”
What a self-righteous prick. “What makes you think we aren’t married?”
“Then you have married Susanna?”
I smiled tightly. Phoebe had warned me, and here it was again. In my century, Susanna was the purest person I knew, and there was nothing I could truthfully say to make these people understand. “Indeed. We’re committed for life.”
“Well, then.” He frowned. “What is your business with me?”
From the corner of my eye, I saw his wife hurry into the house, dragging her children with her. What was that all about? Had she gone to get a gun?
I eased my body to place him between me and their front door. “Susanna grieves your estrangement.” I paused, rather pleased with how that phrase came out. She must be rubbing off on me. “I had hoped to explain about her life now—”
“Cease.” He chopped the air with his hand dismissively. “I do not care to hear your explanations. Now, go, before I tie you up and turn you over to the authorities.” He started to turn away.
I wasn’t leaving until I had him on video. “Would you like to see her picture?”
That got his attention. “Pardon me?”
“I have a portrait of Susanna.” I pulled out my phone and swiped in the photo gallery to the gorgeous shot where she was dressed in costume at the Avery-Eton House, laughing into the camera with gold ribbons in her hair.
“Let me see,” he said.
I held it up to him but drew my hand back when he reached for it. “I don’t trust you any more than you trust me.”
He leaned forward and squinted for a long moment. “What kind of painting is this?” Despite the gruff voice, his face had softened.
“It is a new type of painting we have in our city. Very expensive.” I pointed the phone camera at his face and turned on the VIDEO RECORD function.
“She can afford to have her portrait painted?”
“
I
can.” Damn. That sounded so caveman. It probably made perfect sense to him, though. This would be a good way to get him talking. I gestured to his home. “So is this the house where you and Susanna grew up?”
“Indeed, though I moved to Orange County when she was still a young girl.”
He was chattier than I expected. “Was she born in that house?”
“We both were.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I moved back to Wake County when my mother died two years go.”