Concealing Grace (The Grace Series Book 1) (14 page)

While Martha tightened the laces of her corset, Jessica said, “This is a treat. I haven’t had someone help me dress in years.”

“Yes, miss.”

All too soon, thanks to Martha’s assistance, Jessica was standing in front of the mirror, taking in her appearance. The gorgeous gown, purchased by her father for this occasion, was made of red velvet and silk. It had a plunging neckline that exposed more of Jessica’s bosom than she’d ever exposed before. Nestled on her bared chest was the elegant gold necklace with the ruby pendant Jon had given her a few days earlier. He’d given her matching ruby earrings, too. Jessica was pleased with what she saw, even if she was a little uncomfortable with the low cut front. She hoped Jon would be pleased as well. The only thing left to do was dress her hair.

Jessica took her seat at the elegant vanity—a much grander piece of furniture than hers at home—and Martha picked up the brush. Having her hair brushed reminded Jessica of Maybell, except, she thought wistfully, Maybell had never been as gentle as Martha. And, the whole time Maybell worked on her, she talked. Of course most of Maybell’s chatter was to scold Jessica for one infraction or another. Regardless, the silence felt wrong. To Martha, she said, “It must be difficult to be away from Willy. You must be worried about him.”

“No, miss. Ruth’ll take good care o’ him.”

“I’m glad there are people at the manor you can trust,” Jessica said. “Have you known Ruth and Ditter long?”

“No, miss.”

“So you met when you came to work at the manor?”

“Yes, miss.”

“Do you like working at the manor, Martha?”

“Yes, miss.”

“From what I’ve seen, you do a wonderful job. Everything is so clean and well cared for.”

“Yes, miss.”

“Please call me Jessica, Martha.”

“Yes, miss.”

Jessica could think of nothing else to prolong this lopsided conversation. It saddened her that Martha didn’t want to talk to her. It did, however, quickly become apparent that Martha was quite adept at dressing hair. Soon enough, Jessica was turning her head this way and that to view the complicated stylish arrangement in the mirror. “Martha, this is amazing! It’s so much better than I could have done myself. Thank you.”

“Yes, miss.”

Rising, Jessica went to a table where a pitcher of water had been left. She filled two of the glasses and turned to hand one to Martha. “You must be thirsty? Please have some.”

“No, miss. Is dare anythin’ mo’ I kin hep ya wit?”

Jessica shook her head, and she watched Martha pick up her carpet bag and take it to the alcove. This was wrong! Martha should be with her husband, not stuck by herself in a closet! She’d told Jon it wasn’t fair, but there was nothing she could do about it. There was nothing Jon could do either.

Caught up in her thoughts, Jon’s light rap at the door startled her. Jessica called out, “Just a minute.” There was something of dire importance she needed to see to first. She went straight to Martha and said, “Will you have something to eat? I will be happy to bring a plate back for you.”

“No, miss.”

“But you must have some dinner. I’ll talk to the captain to see that a plate is brought to Herlin, too.”

“Yes, miss.”

“Please help yourself to anything in the room while you’re here. And have a drink of water whenever you’re thirsty.”

“Yes, miss.”

“Please don’t be afraid of me, Martha,” Jessica implored. “I would like to be your friend.”

Martha looked at her. She actually looked at her. Right in the eye. Propriety wouldn’t allow Jessica to jump up and down to express her joy, but that’s exactly what she felt like doing. Smiling widely, she said, “Thank you, Martha. Thank you so much for coming with us today, and for everything you’ve done for me this evening. I would have never been able to get myself together without you. You’ve been wonderful.”

Martha said, “Ya does look nice, miss. It be easy ta see why da cap’n be so taken witchya.”

* * *

Dinner was excellent. What made the experience even better was that when she mentioned her concerns about meals for Martha and Herlin, Jon said, “It’s already taken care of, Sweetheart. They will have plenty to eat.”

With her worries momentarily behind her, she was able to indulge in her own private fantasies. Jon looked wonderful. He was wearing a black suit with a white shirt and stylish cravat. The pin in the center of it, like his cufflinks, was gold. His vest was a very dark red, and so exquisitely embroidered, he looked like royalty. As they rode along in the grand coach, she pretended she was a princess seated next to her prince charming. At the thought, she almost giggled aloud.

Their seats in the elaborate theatre were in a small private balcony to the right of the stage. Jon insisted she take the closer chair. From the angle, when he was seated, too, it was almost as if he was behind her.

“Can you see well enough?” he asked.

Peering over the railing, Jessica said, “It’s perfect.”

A waiter brought wine, along with a plate of bread and cheese for them to nibble on, and shortly thereafter the opera began. The music was very powerful and very loud, and Jessica was so enthralled, she was almost disappointed when the curtain came down for the intermission.

“Are you enjoying the music?” Jon asked as he refilled her glass.

“Oh, yes, very much. Are you?”

He smiled. “I love music. I always have. If I could I would come here every day.”

The few times Jessica glanced at him during the first act, his eyes had been closed. He did this at church, too, while hymns were being sung. She’d believed perhaps he was tired and taking the opportunity to rest his eyes. Now she knew differently. He was just absorbing the wonderful sounds.

The waiter appeared with another bottle of wine and a tray of strawberries and chocolates.

“Help yourself, Sweetheart,” Jon said, and he grinned when she chose chocolate over strawberries.

“Mmmm,” she murmured as the sweet taste hit her senses. She told him, “I don’t know anyone who likes music as much as I do. My mother did, I think, but by the time she was teaching me, she was too ill to play anymore. My father and brother don’t seem to care. Years ago, before he sold the piano, my father would sometimes listen to me practice, but he never stayed more than a minute or two.”

“You are so talented, you amaze me,” Jon said. “I heard you play and I—” He stopped short, but then went on, “I could listen to you play every day. It’s like heaven.”

Tickled, Jessica said, “I will be happy to play for you anytime you like.” She picked up one of the chocolates on the plate, handed it to him and said, “Have a little of this heaven for now.”

He grinned, shook his head and said very quietly, “For you.” Then he tenderly dropped the succulent morsel on her tongue. Jessica closed her mouth over the treat, catching the tip of his finger. In that moment, his smile vanished. There was something else in his eyes. Something she’d never seen before, kind of like a hunger or a craving. The temperature in the theatre was comfortable. If anything it was a little on the warm side. Still goose bumps formed on Jessica’s arms. She could even feel them on her legs beneath her petticoat. But then, just as quickly as it appeared, the odd glow coming from his eyes vanished.

Very shortly, the theatre lights dimmed and the curtains rose. As Jessica turned her attention to the stage, Jon leaned close and whispered in her ear, “You take my breath away.”

By the middle of the second act, Jessica had a difficult time concentrating on the opera. Somewhere along the line Jon stopped paying attention to the stage, too, at least that’s what it felt like. She was sure he was staring at her because that same strange tension surrounded them. She gulped at her wine, but rather than helping to assuage the bizarre static feeling, downing the drink only seemed to worsen it. Chills sporadically caused her to shiver, the hair on the back of her neck was standing on end, and there was a funny pressure low in her stomach. It made her want to turn to him, to put her hands on his chest, to feel his heartbeat like she had in the coach. What she yearned for the most, however, was his kiss.

The end of the opera was almost a blessing in disguise. The strange suspended whirlwind holding Jessica in its grips was interrupted. Looking at Jon, she wondered if he experienced the same mysterious sensations she did. But, as he escorted her out of the theatre, it became apparent that whatever she’d been feeling must have been one-sided. During the ride back to the hotel, he was the same polite gentleman he always was.

Standing in the hallway outside of her room, however, Jessica thought perhaps she was mistaken. Jon took her hands in his and while stroking the back of them with his thumbs, with his mesmerizing eyes holding her captive, he leaned close and murmured, “I want so badly to kiss you.”

There was no way Jessica could say no. Unlike the chaste brush of lips they shared in the parlor, this kiss was more. With his mouth he opened hers, and tentatively his tongue explored. His hands came to the back of her head and held her there. All that spine-tingling tension encircled them again. Jessica’s limbs felt like they were melting, numb, unable to move. The kiss was incredible, so soft and special, and she didn’t want it to end.

But it did end. Slowly he opened his eyes. “I love you, Jess,” he whispered.

The moment was precious, and overwhelming, and Jessica was unable to utter a sound.

The next thing she knew he was unlocking her door. “Good night, Sweetheart,” he said. “I hope you sleep well.”

Inside her room, Jessica fell back against the door. Several deep breaths later, her heart finally began to beat less erratically. She was so unraveled, she forgot Martha would be waiting for her.

“Are ya alright, miss?”

“Oh, Martha,” Jessica breathed. “The captain… I don’t know what to think… oh, the things he says… he… he told me he loves me.” She opened her eyes to see Martha cringing. The expression was brief and disappeared quickly, but it struck a chord in Jessica. “Is something wrong, Martha?”

“No, miss.”

“Do you not like Captain Kinsley?”

“No, miss. I mean, yes miss,” Martha stuttered.

This time there was no mistaking the stricken look on Martha’s face, but Jessica was still too overwrought to believe Martha’s upset was due to anything other than stumbling over her words. “It’s okay,” she said. “Will you help me with my dress and corset?”

Hours later, while lying in the big red bed, which was very plush indeed, Jessica’s mind and body were too agitated to sleep. She was awake, but lying quietly, when she heard Martha sneak out of the room. Martha, it seemed, was going to join Herlin after all. That, at least, took Jessica’s mind off her husband-to-be for a few moments. She was glad Martha was going out. In the morning, she decided, she would tell her so.

The sun was just breaking when she arose, so she knew it was still very early. A quick glimpse into the alcove showed her Martha had not returned, but Jessica wasn’t upset. She didn’t need Martha’s assistance to take care of her morning routine. Before long, she was dressed and ready to go. The only thing left to do was wait for Jon’s knock. She grabbed the only book she could find—a Bible—and settled into a comfortable chair near the window, but it wouldn’t have mattered what she tried to read. She couldn’t concentrate.

All too soon her patience was wearing thin. Going to Jon’s room would be highly inappropriate, but she tittered over whether to do it. At the very least, she decided, she would open her door and peer out into the hallway. Perhaps she would see something to indicate he was up, or at least beginning to rouse.

What she saw caused her jaw to drop. Jon was there, with his back to her, standing halfway in and halfway out of his doorway. He was wearing a long, dark green dressing gown, and he wasn’t alone. By the rustle of skirts at his feet, she knew his companion was a woman. Jessica only caught the tail end of what this lady, whoever she was, was saying to him, “…I won’t tell.”

Jon reached up to pat her shoulder, and he said, “Very good.”

Jessica didn’t recognize the woman until she slipped past Jon and came fully out into the hallway. It was Martha! At the same moment Martha spotted her, too. The look on Martha’s face was one of horror. Jon must have noticed, because he abruptly turned around.

Unlike Martha, however, he didn’t seem the least bit upset at seeing Jessica. His features softened instantly into a warm smile. “Good morning, Sweetheart. Looks like I slept longer than I should have. Please forgive me for being in my nightclothes. If you’ll excuse me, I will get dressed. I promise I won’t keep you waiting long.”

“Yes, of course,” Jessica stuttered.

Turning to Martha, he said curtly, “And you, hurry up with that breakfast tray.”

Submissively, Martha lowered her eyes. “Yes, suh. Right away, suh.”

Jessica was cleaning, one of her many chores, and she was finished with everything except Trent’s room. After making his bed, something he never bothered to do himself, she found herself sitting on the edge of it, nostalgically remembering the days he and she played there as children.

They used to build forts using Trent’s sheets and blankets. When it was dark, they would hide in the fort and Trent would tell her ghost stories until she giggled and shrieked. Afterwards they would sneak out of Trent’s bedroom window to meet up with Sammy. Trent and Sammy had this cuckoo call they used to make so they could summon each other at night. Eventually, once Trent and Sammy were together, she became a tag-along nuisance. They would hoist her back up into the window and take off on their own. She would curl up in the fort and wait for Trent to come back. Never once could she remember hearing him come in, but in the morning he was always there, fast asleep in his bed.

Thinking of Trent in bed reminded her of the awful condition he’d been in when he came home from the war. Of course, he was much older then. With Maybell’s help, Jessica did her best to care for him, changing his bandages, brushing his hair, shaving him, bringing his meals on a tray. His wound hurt him terribly, and his misery only worsened after Christine broke his heart.

Jessica had been so excited on her brother’s behalf when he received Christine’s note, asking if she could come by to see him. That day, as difficult and painful as it was, Trent struggled to wash and dress and make himself presentable. Wistfully, Jessica recalled how he yelled at her for not tying his hair back exactly the way he liked it. She had to redo it several times before he was satisfied.

But then, in the parlor, Christine told him she couldn’t marry a crippled man because he wouldn’t be able to work to support her.

After that horrible meeting, all Trent wanted to do was sleep. When he first came home, he was filled with frustrated belligerence, often shouting at Maybell and Jessica while they were trying to do things for him. Those outbursts stopped. For weeks Trent didn’t seem to care about anything anymore. Jessica had much preferred his raging to this silent lifelessness. To cheer him up, she did silly things, sometimes dressing in her father’s clothes, stuffing pillows in the overly large attire. It took a lot of imagination and many efforts, but one day she was successful. Finally, she made Trent laugh.

All this woolgathering, however, wasn’t getting her chores done. In Trent’s room, as usual, she had quite a lot to do, too. There was no other way to put it. Her brother was a slob. There were clothes, boots, shoes and other unmentionables strewn throughout. The laundry she took down from the line two days before was still sitting neatly folded atop the dresser, not put away. Over the years she’d become used to picking up after him, and though sometimes it annoyed her, today it did not. This was the last time she would have to do this.

She put his shoes in the closet, then gathered his dirty clothes and made a pile near the door to take down to launder. Next, she went to put his clean clothes away. This was one chore she stopped doing for him, because, she told him, it was extremely frustrating to open the drawers to find all the clothes inside in shambles. To put his clothes away she would have to refold everything in the drawers first. Sighing, Jessica opened his top drawer and saw the task ahead of her yet again.

She re-folded and straightened and re-folded and straightened until only the bottom drawer, where he kept his underclothing, remained. Kneeling by the dresser, she dug out several pair of bunched up long johns. She was reaching in again to grab the last of them when something caught her eye.

Stuffed under his clothes, at the very bottom of the drawer, were photographs. Jessica shoved the long johns aside, curiously picked up the small pile of photographs and began to peruse them one by one. They appeared to be of the same woman, a pretty woman with dark hair, who had a much more voluptuous figure than Jessica. This she knew because in each photograph the woman was completely naked. Some of her erotic poses were quite shocking. Jessica’s jaw didn’t drop, however, until she looked at the sixth one.

In the sixth photograph, the woman wasn’t alone. A man was with her and he was naked, too. He was thin, almost to the point of being boney, and he had a thick mustache with ends that curled down to his chin. Jessica got up and went to sit on Trent’s bed where the light from the window would make it easier for her to see. In the first photograph of the couple, the man was lying on the sofa and the woman was sitting on top of him, straddling him. In the next one, the man was standing behind the woman, but reaching around to cover her breasts. In the third photograph, they were again on the sofa. The man was lying on top of the woman, who had her knees bent up around his hips. Jessica was just about to flip to the next one, the last of the pile, when Trent came striding in.

The second he saw what was in her hands, he exclaimed, “What are you doing?”

He tried to snatch the photographs away, but Jessica was too quick for him. She hid them behind her back. “Where did you get these?”

“That’s none of your business! You shouldn’t be looking at those! Give them back!” Trent’s entire face was beet red.

“Why can’t I look at them?”

“Because,” he said.

“Why do you have them?”

“Just because. Give them back!”

“The people in these photographs are… are making love.”

When Trent finally took a resigned step away, she withdrew the photographs to look at the one Trent’s untimely arrival prevented her from seeing. In it, the man was sitting on the sofa and the woman was kneeling on the floor in front of him. It wasn’t clear what exactly she was doing to him because her head was in the way, but the man’s eyes were closed and he was leaning back like he was very, very comfortable.

“Give them back, Jessica!” Trent repeated sharply.

“Here.” Reluctantly, she handed him the stack.

Trent stomped over to his dresser, dropped the photographs in the bottom drawer, shoved his long johns over them and slammed the drawer shut with his foot.

“I just finished folding those,” Jessica glowered.

He shrugged.

“Is that what men like?” she asked. “What that woman was doing with that man?”

“I don’t know, Jessica!”

“Yes, you do. You must know. Why else would you have those photographs?” Jessica patted the bed beside her. By the way Trent was grumbling under his breath, she didn’t think he would sit, but he did. “Please tell me, Trent. Please. Is that what men like?”

“I guess so,” he muttered.

“Have you ever made love, Trent?” she asked.

“I’m not answering these questions!” Trent started to stand up, but Jessica grabbed his arm. Reluctantly he sank back to the bed.

“Please explain it to me. I have to learn someday. Soon,” she said.

“You’re supposed to let your
husband
teach you.”

The emphasis he placed on that word clearly indicated his dislike for her soon to be spouse, but this was nothing new. With some degree of irritation, she thought if Trent wasn’t so pigheaded when it came to Jon, she would have told him about Martha being in Jon’s hotel room in Nashville. Even though Jon had a reasonable explanation, the incident still bothered her. She would have liked to confide in someone.

Jon’s explanation was that he’d been giving Martha their breakfast order. Martha did bring their breakfast, which they shared together in Jessica’s room. Later on, before they left Nashville, Jon told her he had a surprise for her, and he took her to a place that served ice cream. Jessica had never tasted ice cream before and she thought it was absolutely divine! This, she subsequently deduced, was the secret Jon had wanted Martha to keep. Martha and Herlin would have to know where they were going in advance, and Martha, saying she wouldn’t tell, was simply agreeing not to ruin Jon’s surprise.

But Jessica didn’t want to think about any of that now. There was something else on her mind. To Trent, still seated on the bed next to her, she said, “Please explain it to me, Trent. I don’t want to be a ninny when the time comes.” Again she asked, “Have you ever made love?”

“Yes,” Trent admitted somewhat guiltily.

“With who?”

He scowled. “I’m not telling you that!”

Trent started to get up but Jessica caught him a second time. “Alright, you don’t have to answer. I’m sorry. But please tell me what men like so I will know what to do. I want to do it right.”

“I really don’t want to have this conversation with you, Jessie. Why don’t you ask Pop?”

Jessica gaped at him. “You know I can’t ask Papa about this! If you’ve made love, then you should be able to tell me what to expect. You’re a man, so you should be able to tell me what men like.”

“How in the world do I get myself into these things?” Trent muttered and Jessica grinned.

“The people in the photographs are probably not really making love,” he went on. “The photographs just make it look like they are.”

“Oh.” Expectantly, she stared at him.

“I don’t know what else to say!” he barked.

“Please. Please, Trent. This is important to me. Tell me what it feels like?”

“Jessica!”

“Alright, I’m sorry. But please tell me anyway. Do you like it?”

“You’re making me very uncomfortable, you know. But yes I like it, and yes it feels good.” Then he added, “There, are you happy now?”

Jessica rolled her eyes. “Does it hurt?”

“It’s not supposed to. But it can, I suppose. It can be painful for women the first time. Sometimes women will bleed a little the first time.” Jessica guessed she must have looked stricken, because Trent explained, “If the woman is stimulated enough, it shouldn’t hurt.”

“What does that mean, Trent?”

He took a deep breath and released it. “Women have a natural lubrication when they are ready to make love.”

“How do I make it happen?” Jessica asked.

Trent smirked, and Jessica realized, even though he was irritated, she was amusing him. “You can’t
make
it happen,” he said. “It just happens. Let me ask you this. Are you attracted to your captain? Do you think he’s handsome?”

“Oh yes!”

“Have you ever kissed him?” Trent asked.

“Yes,” she admitted.

“Did you like it?”

“Very much. My whole body tingled.”

Trent patted her shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Don’t worry. And I’ve said all I’m going to say on this subject.”

This time when he rose, Jessica didn’t stop him. To his retreating figure she said, “I still don’t understand why you have those photographs.”

“Men like to look at women sometimes. I don’t have a wife to look at,” Trent said.

“You could ask Emily to marry you. You’re attracted to her and she’s attracted to you,” Jessica suggested.

Trent shrugged his armless shoulder. “I’ve relegated myself to photographs. That’s just the way it’s going to be.”

“Emily thinks you’re silly to be concerned about your arm. She told me it doesn’t bother her that you don’t have an arm. She thinks you’re handsome and she was impressed by what you did at the fair. She said you’re strong and brave.”

“Did she really say that about my arm?” Trent murmured.

Jessica nodded. “She thinks you’re mad at her for yelling at you. She thinks you don’t like her.”

“That’s not true,” Trent blurted.

“You’ve barely said two words to her since the fair. When you see her at church, you mumble a pathetic hello and walk on by. If I didn’t know better, I would think the same thing. If you like her, Trent, tell her you would like to court her. If you don’t do it soon, Emily will find someone else. She has several admirers, you know.”

Trent looked away and muttered, “She’ll be better off.”

“Why do you say things like that? What are you so afraid of?” Jessica asked gently. Trent didn’t answer her, so she said, “What have you got to lose? The worst thing that can happen is Emily says no, but I don’t think she will.”

Trent stared at her for a long second, then shrugged his armless shoulder and trudged out of the room.

* * *

In the woods on the south side of town, not far from the Crescent River bridge, the man in black found them. The meeting place was obviously one they’d used before. There were five of them, seated on tree stumps around a small campfire. It was well past ten o’clock at night.

“Tobias will do us right,” one of the men said.

“I am glad to accept da responsibility and I’m grateful for all o’ yer confidence in me,” Tobias said. “Tomorra I’ll go to da police and let dem know what we’s talked ’bout.”

“It’s gettin’ late,” another interjected. “We needa git home.”

“Yer right, Ray,” Tobias said. “None o’ us is safe out here with da Klan ’round. We should be goin’ on home.”

“I agree.” The man in black stepped forward, just enough so they would be able to see his form in their campfire light. As he knew they would, all five of them reacted instantly. Two of them scrambled to rise. A third grabbed the rifle from the ground by his feet. “Don’t shoot. I am a friend.” He took another step closer to their fire, bringing himself more fully into their view. “I’m looking for Carl Robbins and Jeremiah Brooks,” he told them.