“Jared?”
He looked up at the sound of her voice. Grinning at his own folly, he hurried toward her. “Rebecca, I didn’t see you.”
“You looked as if you were on an important errand.” She tilted her head to the side. Her emerald eyes twinkled.
“Yes I was. In fact, I was on my way to see you.” He took her hand, and she stepped closer. “Why is it you look more lovely every time I see you?”
Her cheeks flushed. “Do I?”
“Oh yes.” He lifted her hand to his lips, brushing them gently across her gloved knuckles. “Where, may I ask, were you going?”
“I was on my way to hire a carriage so I could pay Mrs. Paxton a call. I didn’t see her the last time I was at Oak Hill as I had planned.”
“Were you? How fortunate for you that I’m in town on business. Would you consider sharing my carriage so we may talk...privately?”
She nodded.
“Excellent.” He placed her hand in the crook of his arm and led her back to his carriage. “How is Lucas doing?”
“Very well. The rash is gone and his first tooth is visible under the gum.”
“Good for him.” He smiled and stopped beside the carriage. Motioning for Higgins to stay put, he opened the door and helped Rebecca inside. Instructing the driver to return to Oak Hill, he settled next to her.
He took her hand in his again. “I’ve missed you.”
“You have? Even after I…”
“Yes.” He turned to face her. “I didn’t like the way our visit ended. Something upset you, dear Rebecca, and I apologize if I somehow caused it.”
She smiled. He’d called her dear. Her pulse quickened and she covered his hand with her other.
His blue gaze met hers. Heat radiated off his body, enveloping hers in a warm cocoon. Her mouth dried, and she yearned for him to pull her into his arms and kiss her like he had in the library.
“You said you wanted to speak to me in private?” Her voice wobbled.
Abruptly, his smile vanished. He released her hands, and leaned back, his shoulders squared as if preparing for battle.
“Oak Hill is in danger. I’m afraid I’m about to lose the plantation.”
His flat tone sent a chill racing along her skin. “Surely not.”
“The bank refuses to extend any further loans on the property to cover a new debt I’ve accrued at my cousin’s negligence,” he continued, staring at the opposite seat. “He’s gambled and lost a small fortune, and he’s signed my name to cover the note. To make matters worse, a river boat gambler holds Rory’s markers and is coming at the end of the month to auction Oak Hill if I don’t come up with the money to purchase the markers back.”
“How awful.” She reached for his hand and held it tight between hers. “Is there any way I can help?”
His mouth set in a grim line. “No, there isn’t. Oak Hill and the Hollingsworth name are facing ruin. I dare say you will not want to be associated with me once the plantation is gone.”
“Don’t say that. There has to be another way. Isn’t there someone you can approach to borrow the money from? A friend? A relative?”
He stared at her. “That isn’t an option.”
“Surely there is someone? What about Mr. Cooper?”
He shook his head. “I couldn’t ask him to make that kind of sacrifice. He has to support Elizabeth now.”
“There has to be another option,” Rebecca insisted. “Your land alone has to be worth the bank’s interest.”
“It’s more complicated than you can possibly understand.”
“How?” She asked as the carriage rambled along.
“Do you remember the wedding, when those around us were talking in whispers, giggling behind their fans?”
She nodded.
“And how Mrs. Calhoun turned when I spoke with her?”
“Yes,” Rebecca said slowly, remembering the slight. “Perhaps she was preoccupied with Elizabeth’s wedding.”
“No. That wasn’t it,” he said. “Did you not notice when we were at the hotel dining room later that evening and the couple asked to be seated at another table?”
Again, she nodded, trying to make sense of these clues and what they meant.
“I’m not accepted among the other plantation owners because I use hired labor instead of slaves. If it weren’t for Mitchell being my friend and attorney, I wouldn’t have been invited to the wedding. Mrs. Calhoun was showing her guests that even though I was there, I wasn’t welcome.”
“So that explains it,” Rebecca said slowly. “I’d wondered why they treated you so. How perfectly awful.” A wave of tender affection for this man surged through her. She couldn’t change the town’s opinion of him, but she could save Oak Hill.
“Let me help you, Jared. I want to buy Rory’s markers.”
Jared’s lips parted in surprise. “That’s out of the question. I couldn’t possibly—”
“—lose Oak Hill?” she interrupted. “That is exactly what will happen if you don’t come up with the resources. I want to do this, Jared. I want to make a difference. Let me help you.”
He took hold of her forearms and looked her square in the eye. “I didn’t tell you about Oak Hill to solicit money from you. The fact that you would offer proves you are so very special, Rebecca.”
Her cheeks warmed, and she thought she would wilt at his scrutiny. The way his gaze raked over her made her feel faint.
“I know this isn’t the most opportune time to ask. Not when I’m facing total ruin. But—”
“Yes?” Her voice caught in her throat.
“I want you to be a part of my life, Rebecca. I want you and Lucas to come live at Oak Hill. I’d be honored if you’d agree to be my wife. Will you marry me?”
She had waited for so many years to hear those words spoken by a man she loved. It was all she could do not to fling herself into his arms and shout yes. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t accept his proposal. There was too much at risk for her to seek her own happiness and pleasure when she still had to see Ruth to safety.
“Oh Jared, I think I could be falling in love with you. And even though I want more than anything to say yes, I can’t. Not now.”
“Because of Oak Hill?”
“No. I love Oak Hill. The first time I saw it I knew I’d love living there.”
His brow creased and he searched her eyes with a long look. “You’ve just come out of mourning. Is it too soon?”
“I don’t care about that.”
“Then what?”
She cupped his cheek with her hand. She couldn’t risk telling even him about her involvement with the Vigilante Committee. If she were caught during her assignment, it would be far better for him not to know. For him to answer truthfully to not being aware of what she was really doing in Jackson.
“Darling, I can’t tell you. I wish I could, but I can’t.”
He flinched out of her reach, as if her words stung him. “Don’t you trust me?”
“I’d trust you with my life.”
“Then why won’t you tell me why you can’t marry me?”
She shook her head.
“Is it Ruth?”
His accusing stare pierced her to her core and she swallowed back a sob. “I’m sorry. You must accept my answer without questioning me.”
A moment of silence passed between them and she watched his jaw tighten.
“Higgins!” Jared yelled.
His driver pulled them to an abrupt stop and dismounted, hurrying to Jared’s side of the carriage. “Yes sir?”
“Take Miss Davis to the Paxton’s, then see she gets back to town,” he ordered, opening the door and stepping to the ground. “I’ll walk the rest of the way to Oak Hill.”
“Jared, please, you must understand,” Rebecca pleaded, reaching to touch him.
He stepped away, his gaze cold and hard. “I thank you for your company, Miss Davis, and your offer to aid Oak Hill, but like you I cannot accept the offer.”
His tone stung and she bit back tears as she watched him turn and walk away. He had every right to be upset by her refusing his proposal. She wasn’t happy about it either, but she couldn’t agree to marry him and endanger Ruth. She shivered at the thought.
“Are you all right, miss?” Higgins asked, closing the carriage door.
She forced a weak smile. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Then we’ll be on our way.” He gave a nod and disappeared to the front of the carriage.
After he was gone, she covered her face with her hands and gave into her anguish and pain, letting the tears of frustration flow. Why did this have to happen now? Jared’s timing couldn’t have been worse.
This wasn’t the way things were supposed to happen.
Chapter Ten
Josephine tied her bonnet and reached for her gloves. She turned when the maid entered the parlor.
“Charlotte, I’ve run out of thread. I’m going to the general store to get another spool. I hope I can get the right color. The quilt will be ruined if I don’t.”
“Yes, Miss Josephine.” The girl carried an empty bottle to the wash pan on the dining table by the window.
“I won’t be long.” Josephine closed the suite door behind her still worried over the color of the thread. She had just enough left on the spool to make a match. If the mercantile didn’t have the color, then perhaps one of the women in the Ladies’ Auxiliary would.
“Josephine Davis.”
She looked up and forced a smile when she saw Constance Fletcher and two other women from the auxiliary coming down the corridor.
“Good afternoon ladies.”
“Good afternoon to you, Josephine,” Constance said, stepping closer. “We were just coming to pay you a call.”
“Were you?”
“Oh yes.” Sybil Macklin confirmed.
“We apologize for not sending word ahead of our arrival,” Constance offered. “But the matter is of the utmost urgency.”
Josephine nodded. “I understand.”
“It’s about your niece,” Sybil spoke in a low voice.
Her niece? Josephine’s spine stiffened.
How could they have found out about Mariah and Stuart Delaney?
“What about my niece?”
“We really hate to be the bearers of bad news,” Constance began, “but we feel it our Christian duty to help a fellow sister out when we see danger approaching.”
“Danger? What kind of danger?” Josephine’s voice rose. She took a step back and bumped against the door.
“Now, now. Don’t get excited,” Jenny Silvers, the other woman in the trio, soothed.
“We really only wanted to warn you. We just saw Rebecca getting into a carriage with Mr. Jared Hollingsworth.” Constance looked pleased at the pronouncement.
“Without a chaperone!” Sybil interjected in a whisper.
“Not to mention the man is less than desirable as a suitor,” Jenny added.
Josephine swallowed, slightly relieved it was Rebecca and Mr. Hollingsworth they meant. She didn’t find being cornered friendly in the least. “I see. And what makes the man less than desirable?”
Constance touched her arm. “Since you are new to town we realize you have no way of knowing what kind of person your niece is associating with. Perhaps we should go inside where we can talk more candidly.”
“More candidly? How can you be
more
?” Josephine asked.
Sybil and Jenny snickered.
“May we come in?” Constance asked.
She pressed her lips together and reached behind her to open the door.
“Charlotte, change of plans. I’ll be having company for a while. Will you run down to the store and see if you can get me the spool of thread?”
“Yes, miss.” Charlotte dipped a curtsey. “Should I order a pot of tea sent up from the dining room?”
Josephine looked at her guests and when they nodded in agreement she consented. “Yes, please do.”
“Anything else, miss?” Charlotte asked, taking the spool from her and a coin.
“That will be all.” Josephine removed her bonnet and turned to the ladies. “Please, have a seat.”
“You’re servant is well mannered,” Constance commented.
“You were saying about Mr. Hollingsworth?”
“It’s really quite simple,” Constance continued. “He’s not accepted in polite society.”
“And why is that?”
“Really, Josephine,” Jenny scoffed. “Do we have to spell it out for you?”
“Yes, I’m afraid you do. What has Mr. Hollingsworth done to receive such disapproval from the
Ladies’ Auxiliary
?”
“It isn’t just the auxiliary,” Jenny pointed out.
“Have you been to his plantation?” Constance asked.
“As a matter of fact I have.”
“Did you notice anything
strange
?” Sybil inquired.
“Strange?”
“Yes, strange,” Jenny added.
Josephine thought on this a moment. She’d been in his house and then in the garden. She drank coffee. Then his driver brought her and Rebecca back to town.
“Nothing peculiar comes to mind.”
“Nothing peculiar,” Sybil and Jenny said in unison and giggled.
“The servants…?” Constance prodded, sounding impatient.
“What about
the servants?
”
Constance pursed her lips together. “Most of his servants are like
your
Charlotte. And we won’t speak of the others.”
My Charlotte? The others?
“Oh, you mean...” Realization dawned on Josephine and she didn’t like it. “What’s wrong with that?”
Jenny folded her hands in her lap. “What’s wrong with it is no other plantation is run that way.”
“It just isn’t done,” Sybil remarked.
A knock on the suite door stopped Josephine from commenting.
“Come in,” she called and a waiter rolled in the tea trolley then exited, shutting the door.
Her ire with the women for their narrow mindedness rose. The audacity that they came to visit her out of Christian duty was laughable.