Elysium: The Plantation Series Book IV (25 page)

"I’ll see you,"
Alistair said and pushed his neatly stacked chips into the pile.

Palmer’s eyes on Juliana
reminded Alistair of a pup who’s chewed the master’s slippers. But aren’t I
loveable, the puppy was saying.

Juliana dealt.

"Card, Major Whiteaker?"

"I’m good."

"Mr. Palmer?"

"One."

Palmer didn’t grimace or
wince or whimper, but his face went pale.

"Straight flush,
nine high," Alistair said.

Juliana quietly took the
cards from Palmer’s hand, looked at them, and placed them face down on the
table.

"Congratulations,
Major Whiteaker. If you gentlemen will excuse me, I have business elsewhere."
Juliana rose from the chair and without a glance at Palmer, she left the table.

"That’s it for me,"
Ed said. "Missus will be wanting me home for supper."

"See you Sunday,"
Lawrence said. "Whiteaker." He stuck his hand out for a shake. "Nice
to see you."

"You too, Mayfield."

Palmer sat stone-faced,
his eyes on the scratched table top.

Alistair withdrew the
documents and the money from his pocket. He shoved the envelope into the middle
of the table.

"Five thousand
dollars, Palmer. Sign these papers, the money is yours."

Alistair took no pleasure
watching Palmer face the dismantling of his manhood. His pallor took on a green
tinge. He looked at Alistair with absolute desolation in his eyes. Then he gazed
across the room where Juliana, hand on her hip, flirted with another man. His
eyes moist and reddened, Palmer’s lip trembled.

Take it!
Alistair
wanted to shout.

Lily’s husband, elbows on
the table, leaned his face against his clenched fists. His shoulders heaved.

Quite suddenly,
unexpectedly, Alistair was ashamed of himself. To have brought a man to this.

Palmer wiped his face,
unashamed of the tears on his cheeks. He looked again at Juliana laughing,
leaning in to the other man.

"She really won’t
have me back, will she?"

He meant Lily, not the
bar girl. Alistair shook his head.

His hand trembling,
Palmer reached for the documents. Alistair withdrew a pen from his pocket and
passed it over. Without reading a word, Palmer found the lines requiring his signature
and signed.

Alistair gathered up the
papers. "You’re doing the right thing for Lily and Maddie, Palmer. This is
a good place for them."

"And you’ll take my
wife."

"If she’ll have me."

Palmer laughed. "You
bought her, didn’t you?"

"I bought her freedom.
She decides what to do next."

When Alistair left,
Palmer still had not touched the money. Juliana had watched from the corner of
her eye, Alistair was sure. She no doubt knew what was in that envelope.

She brushed shoulders
with Alistair as she sauntered back to Palmer’s table.

He told himself he had
done only what was necessary. Lily deserved to be free of an abusive
relationship she could no longer tolerate. Maddie’s well-being was at risk, and
so then was Lily’s. And he had no reason to expect Frederick Palmer to do the
right thing and leave them in peace.

But in those moments when
Palmer yielded and signed the divorce papers, he saw what it cost the man.
Alistair had destroyed him just as surely as if he’d put a bullet in his gut.
How was the man to go on after succumbing to such a shameful transaction?

The shame stuck to
Alistair as well. Because he had money, he had acted the despot. And if he had
not wanted Lily, and Maddie, for himself, would he have laid a fortune in front
of Palmer for the sake of a woman’s peace of mind?

His notion of himself as
a just man, one who tried to be kind, who tried to be thoughtful was tarnished.
He had the means to buy what he wanted. That didn’t make him just.

Had Palmer gone yet?
Would he say goodbye to his wife and child before he left? Would he have
re-masked himself with that sneering, cocky manner he wore to disguise how weak
he felt?

Alistair was aware Lily
might feel more than relief at obtaining the divorce. She might have residual
affection for the man. She might even feel sorry for him if she got a look at
the despair Alistair had seen in Palmer when he signed the papers.

She might, by the time he
saw her again, realize just how high-handed Alistair had acted. If she believed
the worst – that Alistair assumed he had bought her -- she could not feel easy
with that. The woman had taken control of her own life when she left
Philadelphia. He couldn’t imagine she’d welcome feeling he now controlled her.

In short, Alistair felt
none of the satisfaction he had expected to feel when he handed Judge Beauchamp
the signed documents.

"Sit down, Alistair.
Let me look these over."

While Beauchamp read the
documents one by one, occasionally making a note on a pad, Alistair
concentrated on the testimonials and certificates decorating the judge’s
chambers. ‘Distasteful,’ his friend had called the bribe. Yes, it was.
Distasteful and perhaps dishonorable. But what else was he to do when otherwise
Palmer might have reclaimed Lily and Maddie?

He was too selfish to let
that happen. That’s what it came down to. He had interfered in a marriage, come
between a man and his wife and child. There wouldn’t be a clergyman in
Louisiana who would excuse that. And yet, he would do it again.

Beauchamp stacked the
documents and straightened the edges.

"Everything in
order?" Alistair asked.

Beauchamp nodded. "A
statement from Mrs. Palmer herself alleging abuse would have strengthened the
file, but that issue is for my own satisfaction. I do not lightly deviate from
procedure without believing there is ponderous need, but I take the husband’s
agreeing to the divorce as an indicator of his character. As for the
legalities. Palmer’s allegation of her abandonment as cause for divorce will
stand."

Alistair let the breath
out of his lungs. "Thank you, sir."

Beauchamp waved his
thanks away. "I need a drink. Join me." Alistair did not hear that as
a request. Likely he was in for one of his colonel’s famous lectures. Well,
that seemed fair.

The judge poured them
both two fingers of whiskey and sat back in his leather chair. "
Á ta
santé."

"Et à la tienne,"
Alistair said, raising his glass.

"My son-in-law gave
me this. What do you think?"

"Very smooth. Better
than Peppers, I think."

"Well, if that’s
your standard," Beauchamp said and laughed.

"I’m very fond of
Peppers," Alistair said with a smile.

The judge took another
sip and put his glass down. "My wife was newly widowed when I met her."

"I didn’t know that."

"I’d known her
husband for years. Knew him to be a gambler, a drinker, and a womanizer."

"Was he."

"I had it from my
sister, a credible witness, that his wife was quite miserable with him. Don’t
know that he abused her as your Mrs. Palmer was abused, but he led her a dreary
life, no doubt of it."

"Yes, sir."

"I see that busy
brain working, Alistair Whiteaker. What is the old man’s point, eh?"

Alistair smiled. "I
figured you’d get to it in time."

"Patience, they say,
is its own reward. Now, Evie was in widow’s black when I met her, so I couldn’t
court her till her year was up. But I was smitten, I kept coming round.
Luckily, she had a brother whom I could happen to call on when I knew she’d be
home playing hostess. What are you grinning about?"

"The picture of the
terrifying Colonel Beauchamp being smitten. If only the lads could have seen
that!"

"They thought I was
terrifying, did they?" Beauchamp turned that over in his mind and smiled. "Very
gratifying."

"I can imagine.
Always envied the way you could make a cocky captain quiver in his boots."

"Yes. A useful skill
on occasion. But you had your own methods as I recall. A look from you was
worth a hundred words from another officer."

"You ever miss it,
Colonel? The sense of purpose, the camaraderie, the men?"

"No. Thank God
that’s over. You?"

"Not the fighting,
of course. But the sense of purpose was heady, I found. But peace time has its
own satisfactions."

The judge drew in a
breath, ready to tackle the issue. "Alistair, the point I’m trying to
make. About Evie. As bad as her husband was, the woman grieved."

Alistair tilted his head,
interested.

"She’d invested
herself in that marriage. Had stood by the cad for eleven years. Had shared the
man’s bed, saw to his meals, raised his children."

"I see."

"I hope you do. Give
your Mrs. Palmer time to grieve, if not for the loss of the man himself, then
for the loss of all her hopes and dreams when she married him."

Alistair looked into his
glass. "You think she’ll forgive me, for the bribe?"

"You set her free,
didn’t you? Just don’t rush your fences. She likely has to work through it –
maybe accept that you’re not some perfect knight after all. Maybe decide it’s
okay if your armor is a bit tarnished."

Alistair stood and
stretched his arm across the big desk. "Thank you, Colonel."

Beauchamp shook his hand
and held on to it a moment. "You are welcome, Major Whiteaker."

The next afternoon,
Alistair collected a copy of the documents the clerk had registered in the
state archives. He mounted his horse, took the ferry across the river, and rode
homeward.

Lily sat on the edge of the
bed. Frederick’s hairbrush and shaving mug were on the dresser. His valise was
on the floor. A black tie hung from the back of the chair.

Maddie had become a happy
six year old again since they’d come to live with Uncle Garvey. She slept
straight through the night, no bad dreams. She played and laughed all day. But
since Frederick had turned up, she had become quiet again.

Lily walked to the
dresser and fingered her husband’s hair brush. She hadn’t seen him since
Alistair offered him all that money. A terrible lump rose in her throat. They’d
been a family once. But no more. In the last years, she had learned to feel it
was normal to live in fear, to feel guilty when he was angry and abusive.
Living here, she remembered what normal really was.

She gripped the brush.
Dear God, if he should try to take Maddie from her. If only he would take the
money and be gone.

But she had to face it: His
things were here. He hadn’t come to say goodbye. Frederick had not taken
Alistair’s offer. How could he? Alistair had put him in an unthinkable
position. Five thousand dollars to leave his wife and child? A monstrous amount
of money, but how could he accept? Even if he didn’t want her, he had his
pride, and who could live with the shame of such a deal?

She was overwhelmed that
Alistair would make such an outrageous offer. He’d been splendid, sitting at
the kitchen table, calm and absolutely certain he would prevail. Beautiful and
generous and kind. And formidable.

She was in love with Alistair
Whiteaker, she didn’t deny it. But. For days she’d felt resentment simmering
beneath the love.

How dare he? With those
few words, he had put a man to shame. And did he think he’d bought her with the
same money he offered Frederick? Did he think she was so weak a person she
could not survive on her own much less solve her own problems?

She drew a deep breath.
If Frederick wouldn’t leave her and Maddie, then the solution was simple. She
and Maddie would leave him.

She would borrow the
money from Uncle Garvey, and he would be the only living soul who knew where
she was going. It’d have to be someplace big so she and Maddie could disappear.
Maybe New York City. People could lose themselves in a place that big and never
be found.

Lily told Uncle Garvey
she was leaving. Dear man, he didn’t want her and Maddie to go, but he hugged
her and told her she had to do what she thought was best for Maddie. He had
enough money in the safe built into the floor under his bed to give her a good
start.

"I’ll pay you back
as soon as I can, Uncle Garvey."

He kissed her forehead. "What
nonsense. I’m your uncle."

Uncle Garvey went down to
the barn to hitch the wagon. He’d take her to Donaldsonville to catch the late
afternoon steam boat. Lily wanted to leave today – it would tear her in two to
tell Alistair goodbye. It was better if she just left.

Maddie was playing out
back with Dawn. She’d pack first, then call Maddie in to get her face washed.

When Frederick’s form
filled the doorway, she startled and stepped back. A part of her mind was clear
enough to appreciate the symmetry of his coming in while she was packing to run
away. The rest of her mind was aboil with fear and frustration and anger.

"My God, Lily. I’m
not a monster."

She narrowed her eyes,
taking him in. He looked like a man who had not slept in days. Like a man who
needed a good meal and a kind word.

"I wasn’t expecting
you, that’s all."

He saw the two valises
open on the bed and winced. "You were running away again."

Unbelievably, she saw
tears well up in his eyes. Where was the blustery mocking Frederick? Where was
the man whose every answer to frustration was an angry blow? At least she
didn’t smell whiskey on him.

"I won’t let you
have Maddie," she said.

He nodded, his eyes on
the floor. "Where were you running to this time?"

"You’re the last
person I’ll tell."

Frederick walked slowly
into the room and sat in the straight-backed chair.

"You don’t have to
go, Lily. I’m going."

Lily’s fingers turned
cold as she stood there, staring at him.

His elbows on his knees,
he dropped his head. "I took the money, Lily." He covered his face
and a sob erupted from deep in his chest. "I didn’t know what else to do."

Lily gulped down tears of
her own. She could hate him when he acted the bully, sneering and mocking. But
to see him reduced to this.

"I’m sorry," he
said. "I’m so sorry. I wanted to start over with you and Maddie, but . . ."

But he’d found her
kissing Alistair.

"You must despise
me, taking the money." He drew in a shuddering breath. "I despise
myself."

She sat on the bed
between the two valises. "It’ll be for the best," she said, her voice
hoarse.

"I never meant . . .
Lily, I don’t know why I . . . "

She could see him now
that she wasn’t angry or frightened. Sad, of course. And perhaps, eventually,
forgiving, but what she realized was how small he was inside. He’d lost his
position, his very good salary, and he’d turned into a self-pitying man who
beat his wife.

When she married him,
she’d thought him the smartest, the strongest, the most wonderful man, but when
times got hard, he proved himself a weak man. Perhaps if she’d understood that
sooner. But it was over. Truly over, and she was glad.

"When are you
leaving?"

He wiped his face with
his handkerchief and put it back in his pocket. "Today." He glanced
at the dresser. "I’ll get my things. You’ll let me say goodbye to Maddie?"

"Of course I will.
Frederick." She hesitated. "Don’t tell her you’ll never see her
again. Just tell her you’ll be gone a long time. Someday, when she’s grown,
maybe . . . "

"Whatever you want."
He stood up and took an envelope from his inside pocket. With a crooked smile,
he handed it to her. "Believe me when I say I am aware of the irony of
offering you any of my ill-gotten gains, but I want you to have this."

Lily opened the envelope.
"Five hundred dollars, Frederick?"

"So you won’t be
beholden, Lily. To anyone."

She couldn’t help it.
Tears spilled over her cheeks. "Frederick. I don’t need it."

"Take it for Maddie
then. Please."

Laughing while she cried,
she said, "This will buy a lot of shoes and bonnets, Frederick. Thank you."

"Lily. Will you let
me hold you? Just for a minute."

"Oh, Frederick."
She stepped into his arms and wrapped hers around his waist.

When they could both be
calm again, Frederick stepped back. "I’ve got to go." He looked down
at her and she saw the misery in his eyes. "Lily. There’s someone waiting
for me in town.  I expect you’ll hear that."

The terrible weight in
Lily’s chest eased. She was not sending a selfless man away. He might believe
he wanted what was best for her and Maddie, but he was a man who, in the end,
looked after himself.

"But I want you to
know, Lily. Whatever my faults, I was faithful to you all those years. I swear
it."

"All right,
Frederick. All right."

Both of them were
composed when they went downstairs to call Maddie. There was a package wrapped
in blue ribbon on the kitchen table. "For Maddie?"

"Yes. One last
present."

Maddie came in, Dawn
behind her. "Dawn, sweetheart, will you take a jar of water out to your
mama? It’s thirsty work hoeing that garden. And Dawn, darling, Maddie needs
time with her father this morning."

"Yes, ma’am,"
she said.

Maddie opened the
present. It was a beautiful yellow-haired doll whose eyes opened and closed.
She touched the blue eyes carefully, and ran her finger along one long golden
curl.

"She’s very
beautiful. Thank you, Daddy."

"You’re very
welcome, darling. What will you call her?"

"This is Rebecca.
Rebecca Palmer."

Lily saw Frederick blink
hard and swallow. She was glad it hurt him. It would make it easier over the
years. Whenever Maddie wanted to talk about her father, Lily could say how much
he hated to leave her.

Frederick hugged his
daughter and kissed her and called her his good girl. "I won’t see you for
a while, but I will send you letters and postcards so you’ll always know where
I am. And when you’re a little older, you can write me back."

Maddie was very pleased
at the idea of writing letters. One more tight hug, and Frederick let her go.

Maddie tucked Rebecca
under her arm, called out a quick good-bye, and ran out to find Dawn

"Thank you,
Frederick. That was a good farewell. I’ll make sure Maddie remembers it."

"You won’t mind if I
write to her, will you?"

"I hope you will.
And I’ll help her write you back. I promise."

He stared at her, his
dark brown eyes glistening. "I guess this is it, then."

God, this was awful. Much
as she’d wanted it, she’d had no idea how painful it would be to end her
marriage.

She could only nod, her
fingers pressed to her lips.

"All right. I’ll
just go." He stepped in close and gave her a quick kiss. He could barely
speak and his voice came out in a hoarse whisper. "I do love you, you
know."

He turned on his heel and
climbed into the carriage he’d rented at the livery. She watched him drive
away, and she was glad he didn’t turn back for one last look.

It was done.

She walked back behind
the barn and leaned against the rough boards as she cried out all the regrets
and sorrows of the last years. By the time she walked back to the house, she
knew her eyes were swollen, but Maddie and Dawn wouldn’t notice. They were busy
drinking tea and introducing Rebecca Palmer to Dawn’s Miss Pitty Pat.