Midnight Rose (18 page)

She held up her hand, reeling at the sight of the huge diamond sparkling in the lights of the glittering chandelier above. It was pear-shaped, set with tiny rubies, and was without a doubt the most impressive ring she’d ever seen on any woman’s finger.

He signaled to the musicians to begin playing, and Erin was only dimly aware it was a valse. She was baffled, not only by his generosity, but also by the extent to which he was going to impress. The ring must have cost a fortune.

He held out his arms to her, and she was locked into his gaze. They began to move rhythmically to the lilting strains of the violins, and all eyes were upon them as they swung gently about the floor.

Despite everything, all her doubts and fears, Erin could not help but be fascinated by this handsome, enigmatic man who would soon become her husband.

“So you have the beginning of what you want out of this marriage, my dear,” he told her gently as they continued to glide fluidly around the dance floor.

Despite the sarcastic innuendo, she graciously responded, “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

“Next Sunday night”—his appreciative gaze went to her bosom, so lusciously emphasized by the Empire style—“I’ll have the beginning of what I want.”

“Oh, really? You seem to forget that what you wanted was to have me for your mistress, not your wife.”

“You
don’t intend to let me forget, do you?”

“I have to admit it stings to know you wouldn’t be marrying me if you could’ve had me on your terms.”

“Well, we’ll never know, will we? But as I said, next Sunday night is only the beginning.”

She blinked as though baffled, smiling with enjoyment at the sensual banter. “And what about the ending?”

“There won’t be one, Erin. I could never get enough of a woman like you. Remember that, and never be so foolish as to refuse me. You’re going to belong to me—for always.”

Chapter Twelve

Arlene’s happiness over the coming wedding
was dimmed only by concern for Letty. Her heart also went out to Rosa, who was more than just the household slave Zachary had bought for her as a wedding gift so long ago. Through the years, Rosa had become a dear and cherished friend—as much as decorum allowed. Unlike Erin, Arlene had never dared go against Zachary’s decree that there was to be no fraternization with his slaves.

“I wish I could say, or do, something to make you feel better,” Arlene offered one morning as Rosa brought in the usual breakfast tray of tea and toast. She was sitting at her desk, going over her list once more, to make sure everyone she knew from church had received a personally handwritten invitation to the wedding that Sunday. Gesturing to a nearby chair, she urged, “Stay awhile and let’s talk. Mr. Tremayne is still away, so that means they haven’t found her.”

“And they aren’t goin’ to, either.” Rosa flashed a confident smile as she took the offered seat. “I got a feelin’ that she ain’t nowhere near where they’s lookin’. She’s long gone from there by now.”

Arlene glanced up sharply, surprised by the lilt in her voice. She was even more baffled by her expression—eyes shining, lips curved in a smile that was sanguine. “You…you sound almost happy, Rosa,” she said hesitantly. “Is there something I don’t know?”

A shadow passed as Rosa checked herself. She realized she was arousing suspicion by letting her pleasure show. She trusted her mistress. Lordy, yes. But there was no way she was going to let her know about the Free Soilers, or let her become involved in any of it, not with her poor health. “No ma’am,” she responded, lowering her head as she began to clasp and twist her hands, as though nervous, worried. “There’s nothin’. I just leave it all to the Lord, put it in His hands, and I know He’s got to be lookin’ out for my little girl. After all, it was His will she was able to escape.”

Arlene bit down on her lip thoughtfully. There was just something about the way Rosa was acting that made her feel she was hiding something. “Have you heard from her, Rosa?” she asked softly. “Has she got a message to you, telling you where she is?” She reached to cover her folded hands in assurance. “You know you can trust me. If there’s anything I can do to help—”

“No, ma’am,” Rosa repeated, raising her head to look her straight in the eye and say, “I ain’t heard from her, and it’s not likely I’m goin’ to, and there’s nothin’ you can do. And if I never hear from her again, I’ll still have a feelin’ in my heart that she’s better off wherever she is, than if the mastah had sold her on the block.”

Arlene turned to pour herself a cup of tea. “It’s not right, Rosa. Any of it. And you know you’ve got my sympathy. I’ve tried through the years to make things easier for you and the others, but I’m afraid I haven’t been very successful. Mr. Tremayne is a stubborn, willful man. I was never able to persuade him to my way of thinking, though Lord knows, I tried.”

“I know that, and so do all the others. We all love you, Miz Arlene, and we think you’re a fine, Christian woman. We know the way the mastah treats us ain’t none of your fault.”

“If I had my way, Rosa, every one of you would be set free.”

“We know that, too, and forgive me if it hurts you for me to say so”—she dared to add—“but there ain’t a one of us what don’t pray every night of our lives that the mastah will die befo’ mornin’, so you’d set us free by sunset.”

Arlene closed her eyes, drew in her breath, and let it out slowly, washed with guilt over the inability to voice loyalty to her husband. All she could do was remain silent, lest her own loathing be revealed. Finally, she looked at Rosa and said, “Maybe it’s best we don’t talk about this anymore.”

Stiffly, Rosa nodded but ventured to ask, “Aren’t you glad the mastah ain’t here right now? Aren’t you hopin’ he don’t come back before the weddin’ is over?”

“Oh, yes. As selfish as it might sound, Letty escaping when she did made things a lot easier for me right now. All I want is to get Erin safely married and out of the house before he comes back.”

“I hope…” Rosa began, then hesitated, but finally decided to come right out and say it, “I hope you move off with her, Miz Arlene.”

Arlene had been tipsy on champagne when Erin had mentioned the same thing at the engagement party, but she had not forgotten and dared to hope such a possibility might become reality…if she lived long enough. Ryan Youngblood was a fine man, she believed, as well as strong and powerful and rich. Although he didn’t realize it yet, he was going to fall desperately in love with Erin and become absolutely devoted to her. And if she wanted her mother to move in and live with them, he not only wouldn’t protest, he would also, Arlene felt sure, stand up to Zachary should he try to prevent it. “We’ll just have to wait and see,” she told Rosa. “We’ll just have to take one day at a time.

“But,” she hastened to add, “if that happens, you’re going with me. I’d never leave you here. Remember that.”

“He wouldn’t let me go, but don’t worry, I wouldn’t stay after you was gone, Miz Arlene. I’d run away and try to find my girl.”

Arlene gave her a probing look as she lightly accused, “I think you’d know where to look, too, Rosa. I think you know more than you’re telling me, and—” She was struck by a coughing spell.

Rosa leaped to pat her on the back, try to get her to sip some tea. Arlene gestured wildly, desperately, to the bottle of green horehound syrup on the bedside table.

Even after she took a deep swallow, it was a few moments before the coughing subsided. As she gasped, trying to fill her lungs with air once more, there was a shrill, wheezing sound. Rosa watched her with wide, frightened eyes, saw the blood on the linen handkerchief she’d used to cover her mouth during the spasm. It was getting worse, Rosa realized sadly. Gently, she related that Tulwah had told her only the day before that the potion he was brewing was almost ready.

“He’s been coming almost regularly since Mr. Tremayne has been away,” Arlene warily pointed out, still struggling to get her breath. “You need to warn him that Mr. Tremayne could come back anytime, and if he catches him here, there’s no telling what he might do.”

“Tulwah ain’t afraid.”
Rosa lifted her chin in a sudden flash of defiance. “If it won’t fo’ him, none of us would have no doctorin’. The mastah won’t never let no doctor come for a sick slave. And he ought to be grateful, ’cause Tulwah has sho’ kept some of his slaves from dyin’.”

“Another plantation owner might care if their slaves die,” Arlene said, more to herself than to Rosa. “Other men value their slaves and consider it a loss of property when one of them dies, but he doesn’t care. He just goes out and gets another one.”

“I think he’s scared of Tulwah.”

“I don’t know about that, but he does feel Tulwah is a bad influence, that he teaches witchcraft and voodoo. The last time he caught him around the compound, he was in a rage for days, and I overheard him tell one of the overseers to shoot him if he came back.”

Rosa shivered with instinctive fright. “I’ll tell him to be careful. I knows where he lives, and I’ll slip down there and get the potion myself, soon as it’s ready.”

Wearily, weakly, Arlene shook her head. Rosa was the only person in whom she dared confide. “It won’t help any more than this juice the doctor gave me. The attacks are coming closer together, lasting longer, and it takes more juice to ease them. I have good days and bad days, but the bad days seem to be getting closer together. All I pray for is to have the strength to get me through this wedding, and then I think I can curl up and die happy.” She smiled wanly.

“Mastah Youngblood, he’s takin’ care of everything?”

“That’s what he said. And I’m grateful, to be sure. I couldn’t chance having anything here. What if Mr. Tremayne walked in right in the middle of the reception?” She shuddered at the thought. “Believe me, Rosa, I am very grateful Mr. Youngblood took charge.”

“Were you surprised he didn’t want to have it at the church? I thought most white folks got married in the church.”

Arlene had to laugh at that notion where Ryan Youngblood was concerned. She might not be a member of the elite inner circle of Richmond society, but she prided herself in keeping up with what went on. It was said that Ryan Youngblood was a nonconformist, a rebel. So like Erin, she mused with private delight. And Arlene was not at all surprised he did not want to have a church wedding. “It’s to be in the formal gardens at Jasmine Hill, quite lovely this time of year.

“You’ll see it all,” she went on brightly to assure her. “I want you to go with us, so you can help Erin with her dress and her hair.”

That made Rosa remember. “There were two wagons here, first thing this morning, to deliver lots of packages.”

“Two?” Arlene’s brows shot up in bewilderment. “That’s strange. I was only expecting a delivery from Madame Cherise’s shop. Not only is she the best couturiere in the state, but she also happens to have Erin’s measurements from her fitting for the Rose Ball. Erin isn’t exactly cooperating in all of this, you know.”

Rosa nodded in agreement. She had overheard Miss Erin say she saw no need in spending a lot of money on fancy clothes before the wedding. She’d just let Master Youngblood pay for them afterward. Rosa also knew Miss Erin’s reasoning was, no doubt, to get her hands on shopping money and then slip part of it out to Mahalia, but she wasn’t about to say so.

Rosa described the boxes that had arrived, spelling out the few letters she knew that were marked on each. Arlene stared at her incredulously and asked, “Are you sure? It sounds like you’re spelling out Fine Things, and I’d never shop there. It’s run by Madam Estelle, and it’s not just a boutique for intimate apparel, it’s…” Her voice trailed off. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to speak to Rosa of such things.

Just then, however, Erin walked into the bedroom to finish the sentence angrily for her. “It’s a whorehouse!”

Arlene and Rosa both whipped their heads about to stare at her; her face was livid with rage. She was carrying several pink boxes, all trailing lavender-colored tissue and red satin ribbons. She crossed the room to dump all on the bed as though they were garbage. Turning to Rosa, she went on to explain, “Fine Things is a shop where very revealing lingerie is sold. Things like this.” She reached among the boxes to pluck out a red lace gown with holes for nipples to protrude. Flinging it down in disgust, she extracted other items with equal exclamations of disrelish, then curtly said, “Madam Estelle runs a house of prostitution on the second floor.”

Arlene’s hand went to her throat, aghast that such garments had inadvertently been sent to her home and also surprised Erin knew so much about the place.

Erin guessed what she was thinking and snapped, “Don’t look at me like that, Mother. I do hear gossip, you know, and I don’t think there’s a girl over the age of ten in all of Richmond who doesn’t know what goes on upstairs over Estelle’s boutique. They eavesdrop on grownups every chance they get, just like I did, because they’re curious, and that’s how they find out.”

“Well, I wonder why they made a mistake and sent those things here,” Arlene said.

“It was no mistake.”

Arlene blinked, confused. “It wasn’t?”

“No! Don’t you see? Those things were sent by that—that reprobate”—she sputtered indignantly—“that you insist I marry, and, oh!” She whirled around, threw up her arms, and began to pace furiously about the room. “I just can’t believe he had the nerve to do such a thing.”

Arlene and Rosa glanced at each other nervously. Finally, Arlene endeavored to change the subject. “Well, did you see your wedding gown, dear? I liked it when Madame Cherise showed it to me in her shop, and she said she could alter it to fit you. There wasn’t time to design one, and—”