“Do you enjoy Italian?” he asked as they descended the staircase to the hotel lobby.
“Yes. I spent two months in Rome many years ago. I became fond of the region’s food.”
“Have you traveled extensively?”
“I’ve enjoyed two trips to Europe. Once in my youth and two years ago with my d-niece Mariah.”
“Mariah?”
She saw questioning in his eyes as the waiter showed them to a table.
“Rebecca’s sister. I mentioned her the other day. She passed on last Christmas.”
“Yes, I remember. I’m sorry for your loss, Josephine.” He pulled out a chair for her.
“Thank you, Ancil.”
The waiter handed them both menus and poured water in two glasses. “I’ll give you a moment to decide what you’ll have.”
Josephine made her choice and laid the menu on the table in front of her. She casually glanced around the dining room, noting the change in décor to resemble an Italian Bistro. Tables were draped with red and white plaid tablecloths. A display of Chianti bottles wrapped in twine lined one wall and a single violinist roamed the dining area playing an exotic tune, entertaining the guests. In her perusal of the room, she recognized a few faces as others staying at the hotel. The rest she knew from around town. She’d come to enjoy her visit to Jackson and for many reasons she wasn’t looking forward to leaving. However, Constance Fletcher and her followers could make it impossible for her to stay.
“Is something wrong, Josephine?” Ancil asked, concern a little too heavy in his voice. To her surprise, he reached across the table for her hand. His touch was light, but warm.
“Why do you ask?”
“Your walk today. You were clearly preoccupied with something or you wouldn’t have ended up at my house.”
Josephine sighed and nodded. “Ancil, do you believe that a church official would bend to the desires of one parishioner over the good of the whole congregation?”
He drummed his fingers on the table top before answering. “I’ve seen it happen before, but the outcome was not good. Why?”
“I’m not one to spread gossip or even start it. I’m concerned by what I’ve heard though. Do you think Father Bohannon is the type who would?”
“Father Bohannon is a good man. He is faithful in his service to the Lord. I’ve known him as long as I’ve lived in Jackson.”
“That’s the opinion I have of him as well, but I haven’t known him that long so you see why I would ask.”
He nodded.
The waiter returned and took their order. When he left, she asked, “How well do you know Constance Fletcher?”
“Quite well. Her mother married my father when I was a young man.”
Josephine’s mouth suddenly felt dry and she was sure her cheeks had flushed at his revelation.
Constance Fletcher was his step-sister.
The thought was extremely unnerving. She reached for her glass of water and took a long drink. “I had no idea,” she finally said.
“Few make the connection without being told.”
The waiter returned quickly and set down their food, refilled their water glasses and left without a word.
“Has Constance done something?” Ancil asked.
She didn’t want to admit she’d been handed an ultimatum, but she couldn’t pretend nothing had happened either. “Constance and her friends have their opinion on how certain people should carry on with their lives. In the same accord, they feel others should not associate with those who live outside social barriers. If they do, then they should be banned from attending church or participating with church functions.”
“Like the auxiliary?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Constance opposes Jared Hollingsworth’s preference of using hired labor and she has seen Rebecca with him, am I correct?”
Josephine blinked and put down her fork. How had he suspected the reasons for her questions? She wiped her mouth on her napkin feeling less ill at ease with the subject. “Yes. She also claims if I do not discourage Rebecca from seeing him then she’ll go to Father Bohannon and we’ll no longer be welcome at St. Anna’s. I hate to imagine what Constance would do if she learned you and I have become friends.”
A grim smile formed at his mouth. “Constance has a high opinion of herself and the lofty standing she claims within this community. Much of this came from her husband’s position before he died. However, please know that she doesn’t dictate how I view others. Especially those I choose to associate with and call my friends. Is that clear, Josephine?”
She slowly nodded. Knowing he considered her his friend should have made her happy, but she wanted desperately to know he considered her more.
“Good. And while we’re speaking on this, I wouldn’t worry about Father Bohannon giving one fig as to what Constance has to say either. He admires Jared’s stand and has said so to Constance’s chagrin.”
“I’m so glad to hear it, Ancil. I’ve worried all afternoon on what I was going to tell Rebecca if we should be turned away from the church.”
He reached for her hand again and squeezed it. “Don’t worry further. As for our seeing one another, I’ll have a talk with her myself and make sure she understands my feelings on the matter.”
“Your feelings?”
Ancil half-grinned and squeezed her hand again. “I like you, Josephine. I hope the feeling is mutual?”
She nodded. Her stomach did flip-flops and she couldn’t eat another bite. “Very mutual.”
“Good. I’m not one to beat around the bush either. I’d like to call on you for a drive Sunday afternoon. Have you seen much of Jackson other than your visit out to the Hollingsworth plantation?”
“No. I haven’t. I’d enjoy going for a drive with you.”
“Excellent.”
She pushed her food around on her plate for a few moments and tried to contain her excitement. She looked up and found him watching her. “Rebecca will be out of town for a few days. Would you like to have Sunday dinner with me before we go for that drive?”
“That would be nice.”
“I think so too.”
After coffee and dessert of gelatos, Ancil invited her for an evening stroll before he walked her back to her suite.
“Will I see you at Mass tomorrow?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Until then.” He said, taking her hand and brushing a light kiss across her knuckles.
“Until then.”
She lingered in the hall watching him descend the stairs until she couldn’t see him anymore. When she entered the suite Charlotte was preparing a bottle for Lucas.
“Would you like anything, Miss Josephine?”
“Hmm? Oh. No, Charlotte. I’m fine. See you in the morning.”
“Good night to you.”
“A very good night.”
Chapter Twelve
Rory checked his pocket watch and rechecked it a few minutes later as he waited for Miss Davis to arrive at the Lady’s Chapel located off from the High Altar inside St. Anna’s Church.
In the distance he heard the clicking of heels only a female’s shoe would make. He ducked behind the statue of The Virgin Mary and watched as she stopped momentarily before the stoup, dipped her fingers in the holy water and crossed herself before entering the chamber. When she had seated herself in the back of the chapel, he imitated a cricket’s call.
In answer, the woman sneezed three times. He approached slowly, admiring her profile and fair complexion. The color of her hair was hidden beneath a dark lace prayer shawl.
“Miss Davis, I presume?” he whispered.
She nodded without looking in his direction. “Mr. Hollingsworth?”
“At long last.”
“Yes, I—” her words stumbled as she turned, emerald eyes widened. “Jar—Jared?”
Puzzled by her calling him his cousin, he settled in the pew beside her and asked the simple question, “You know Jared Hollingsworth?”
“Yes. But you look like—”
“I know. It’s a curse, I assure you,” Rory explained.
She stared at him for a moment and then her features changed as if she suddenly realized something important. “It was you. You sent me the letter when I first arrived to town. You were supposed to have met me at Elizabeth’s wedding. Not Jared. Yet he was there because he and Mitchell are friends. Not because of our mission. It all makes sense now. No wonder he didn’t know about Ruth.”
Rory stiffened as her babbling made sense to him. “You told Jared about Ruth?” He reached out and grabbed her by the arms and shook her. “Good God, woman. What were you thinking?”
“I thought he was you!” She glared at him and flinched away from his hold causing the prayer shawl to drop to her shoulders. “Your letter said
you’d
be contacting me soon, and
you’d
be wearing a yellow rose. How was I supposed to know the man I later met wearing the flower in his lapel wasn’t you? He was introduced to me as Mr. Hollingsworth so naturally I thought he was my contact.”
“What irony!” Rory exclaimed rising from the pew. He leaned over her and demanded in a softer voice. “How much did you tell him about Ruth? Is the mission in jeopardy?”
Her back stiffened at the question and she shook her head, boldly looking him in the eye. “What about you, Mr. Hollingsworth? You were several days late upholding your end of the bargain. How do I know you didn’t jeopardize the mission?”
“Touché. I ran into a little problem, but I assure you it did not put Ruth in danger.” His hand went to his side where the cut still smarted even after a few days of being stitched.
“Are you certain my brilliant cousin didn’t figure out what you were talking about?”
“Yes. I dropped a few hints about her, but when he didn’t comprehend, I ended the conversation. I was certain I’d put her life in danger until I received your letter a few days later about the delay. I was ready to send an abort letter to the committee.” She shook her head. “He must have thought I was daft, and yet, he still wanted to marry me.”
“He wanted to marry you?” Rory looked at his cohort more closely. He could understand why his cousin would want to marry her for she was a beauty and she had spunk. “You must be an amazing woman, Miss Davis. The last time I saw Jared, he was heartbroken over losing his wife and child. All he could talk about was throwing himself into making Oak Hill prosperous and turning a profit without using—”
“You’re quite the scoundrel, double-crossing your cousin. Oak Hill’s facing ruin because of you and your gambling debts,” she spat, her emerald eyes growing dark.
He smirked. “Good to know my cousin spoke so highly of me.”
“Don’t pride yourself in your folly. He confessed his financial burden to me so I’d know what I was getting myself into if I accepted his proposal.”
“And did you?”
“Not that it is any of your concern, but no. I couldn’t. Not when I didn’t know how this assignment would turn out. I couldn’t risk connecting him more than I possibly had. Now knowing you too are associated with him proves I was right in my hesitation.”
Rory nodded, grateful for her admission. Women who worked for the Vigilante Committee were always courageous and compassionate for those in need of assistance. Her commitment to the cause was worthy. And yet she obviously loved his cousin. Why did Jared have all the luck? First, Charisse and now Miss Rebecca Davis loved him.
He mentally shook himself and refocused his attention on the matter at hand. “About the assignment, have you made arrangements for your passage?”
She nodded. “We leave tonight. There’s a late train departing at eleven that will take us to Grenada. From there we will go on to Memphis.”
“Perfect.” He took a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. “Meet me at this location no later than ten and I will deliver the package to you. Do you have a cloak? If not, get one. You will not want anyone seeing you at this establishment.”
“Then why—”
“Sh-h-h. Someone’s coming.”
The sound of approaching footsteps grew louder. The murmur of voices faded into silence and the footsteps retreated. When he was certain they would not be overheard he answered her question.
“Because no one will expect it.”
Miss Davis stared at him before speaking again. “You take pleasure in this don’t you?”
Rory grinned. “It’s the chase that makes the game pleasurable. Just like chasing a woman. The pursuit is more satisfying if there’s a challenge. You’ll find Delia waiting for you.”
“Delia?”
“Her new name. It fits her disguise.”
Rebecca watched as Rory turned and left the chapel. A chill crept over her as she waited a safe amount of time before she followed, replacing her prayer shawl on her head. Once again she feared for her safety and Ruth’s as she passed through the corridor leading into the sanctuary.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw a priest approaching her. Alarm that he’d overheard her conversation with Rory filled her and she turned her head in his direction.
Her sudden movement startled the man. He stopped at the end of the pew. “Are you troubled, my child?”
She swallowed. How could this man take one look at her and read her soul? She slowly nodded.
“Father, I know it isn’t the appointed hour, but will you hear my confession?”
“Of course.”
Taking a deep breath, she followed him to the nave and the nearest confessional, going inside.
Kneeling, she bowed her head. “Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been four weeks since my last confession. My life is a lie. I pretend to be a mother when I’m not for the good of the child. Now, I must journey for the sake of another to have freedom. I seek guidance and deliverance for my deception.”
“Kindness, compassion and humility are virtues to seek. Do you love this child?” the priest asked.
“Oh yes, with all my heart.”