Midnight Rose (43 page)

Erin set the tray on the table next to the bed, then propped herself against the pillows. She gulped the tea eagerly. It was wonderful to have something besides Tulwah’s heavily herbed potions, even though she noted a rather slick taste to Eliza’s brew. But no matter. It was still delicious. She poured another cup and nibbled at the cake with equal relish, knew that by the time she’d had her bath, she’d feel like going to look for the symbolic rose. Maybe, she dared hope, Sam would be back with good news.

She realized that getting something tasty in her stomach made her feel optimistic. All she needed was a few moments of rest, and she’d be fit and ready for anything. The only thing that could make her happier in that relaxing moment would be to lay her head on Ryan’s shoulder and feel his arms, so tender, so protective, about her…

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath—and that was when she heard the sound of a door slamming loudly, and she sat straight up, alert and alarmed. It seemed to have come from the direction of Ryan’s room.

She got up and went into the parlor, glanced about to see a few of his personal belongings scattered about—the cheroots he enjoyed with brandy, a glass, a book he’d been reading. Her heart leaped with joy to think he was back. But why hadn’t Eliza told her?

Running to the connecting door to his room, she was stunned to find it locked. Ryan never locked his door! She knocked loudly, happily calling, “Ryan! It’s me! Let me in. I have to talk to you. Oh, I’ve missed you so…” Tears of joy were filling her eyes, and she bounced on her toes impatiently at the sound of footsteps responding to her call.

A key turned, and the door jerked open, but instead of Ryan’s dear face, she found herself looking into Ebner’s bodeful eyes.

“Ebner, where’s Master Ryan?” She tried to look around him, beyond him, into the room, but he stepped this way and that to block her view, as well as entry, should she attempt. “I thought I heard him in here.”

“You did.” He made his voice sharp, brusque, impatient, wanting to get the lying over with. “He said his trip was delayed due to some sudden, urgent business, but he’s not here now.”

“When did he return?”

“Yesterday.”

She shook her head in an attempt to dispel the creeping shadows, for she was feeling terribly sleepy and unsteady. “Does he know I’m home?”

“Yassum. He knows.”

“And he didn’t come to me?” None of it was making sense, unless—

No!

She would not allow herself to think, even for a moment, that he’d turned back because he’d somehow heard about her mother and was angry. It just couldn’t be so. “I want to come inside.” She made her voice strong, even though she was feeling weaker by the moment. “I’ll wait for him in there.”

Ebner swallowed hard and made himself stand very straight in an effort to look imposing. “He said you wasn’t to come in.”

“But that can’t be.” She swayed and caught the doorframe to steady herself. “You have to let me in…”

Quickly, swiftly, Ebner reached to grab her under her shoulders and gently turn her about to guide her back to her room. She was slipping away fast, he knew. No doubt from the laudanum Miss Victoria had Eliza put in her tea. He helped her all the way to her bed, and she was only able to protest feebly as he sat her down and lifted her legs up.

“Ebner, why?”

She looked up at him, pitiful and beseeching. He handed her another cup of tea, just as Miss Victoria had ordered. He was to get her to drink as much as possible. “I don’t know.” He gave the answer he’d been told to give to any of her questions. “He seemed real upset And mad. He said not to let you in, that you were the last person he wanted to see right now, that he needed time to think about what he was gonna do, what he had to do,” he emphasized, as instructed.

Erin could almost hear her heart breaking. Dear God, it could mean only one thing—that he had somehow heard about her mother passing for white and now faced the reality she was also of mixed blood. She was hurt and disappointed for many reasons. Mostly because she’d dared to think she knew Ryan to be a liberal and beneficent man, one to whom it would not have mattered. Now she sadly feared she’d made a terrible mistake in judgment.

Ebner was heading for the door. Erin struggled to get up and follow him. She had to see Ryan, talk to him. If she told him the secret in her own heart, how she’d come to realize she loved him, and how deeply, perhaps it might make a difference. There had been times when she felt he really cared for her, and if they could only talk…

Ebner walked out, and she heard the sound of a key turning.

“No.” She stumbled to fling herself against the door and twist the knob, but it was locked. Slapping her palms against it in protest, she said, “Please, Ebner. Don’t do this to me. I have to see him, talk to him. I have to tell him I love him.”

She went to the hall door and cried to find it, too, was locked from the outside. Moving to the French doors leading to the veranda, she found the same. There was no way out. But why? Why was Ryan doing this to her? Did he think she’d known all along and kept it from him? Did he now despise her? Hate her?

A heavy, invisible shroud was descending, making it difficult to think. A great roaring had begun in her head, and she felt as if she was going to collapse if she didn’t get off her feet. Wearily, slowly, she made her way back to the bed, lifted the cup and saucer in hopes the tea would help clear her head so she could think of some way to fight this nightmare.

She was not aware when the cup fell from her lap, the remaining drug-laced tea soaking into the mattress. Neither did she hear the saucer when it clattered to the floor beside the bed as her hand dropped to one side.

Eliza unlocked the door to bring in the first pail of water. Two of the downstairs servants were coming up behind her. Peering into the room and seeing Miss Erin was sound asleep, she waved them to go back. There would be no need for a bath. As much laudanum as Eliza had poured into the tea, Miss Erin would not need anything before morning.

Victoria kept a vigil at her parlor window. And yes, she silently avowed, it was still her parlor. Tomorrow, every reminder of Erin would be removed. She would tell Ryan her motive was to ease his pain. It would have been awful, she planned to point out sympathetically, for him to have to come home to face his wife running away with another man and then have the added torment of being surrounded by memories of his broken dreams.

There was much to do, she thought excitedly, besides temporarily moving herself back in where she belonged. The divorce shouldn’t take long, not when Judge Tillingham heard Ryan’s tale of woe. But Victoria didn’t intend to wait till then to start making plans for the wedding. She intended to consult Ermine as to her thoughts on how to redecorate the master suite. Maybe the connecting parlor should be turned into a nursery. Ryan and Ermine wouldn’t need a private parlor all their own. They were going to be a close family, and they would all gather in one of the rooms downstairs.

Victoria just felt so much better about everything, now that the nightmare was nearly over. At first, she had to admit, she’d gone to pieces, not knowing what to do, but then she realized perhaps it was best she hadn’t caught Erin with another man. She might have lied her way out of that, and Ryan might have been so foolish as to believe her. After all, he’d admitted he loved her. But hearing the deep, dark secret, Victoria had known she could take no chances. Nate Donovan was providing the final solution.

She wasn’t worried any longer about gossip, either. If her circle of friends and associates were even to hear about what had happened to Arlene Tremayne, they would have the decency not to mention it around her. Also, they’d have much compassion for her when the story spread about Erin’s alleged adultery. In time, it would all be forgotten anyway, and she and Ryan and Ermine, and all their wonderful and beautiful children, would live happily ever after.

Victoria was satisfied she had taken care of everything. Checking on Erin herself, several times, she had found her sleeping so soundly that calling her name did not even penetrate her drug-induced stupor. Ebner had reported he’d followed Victoria’s orders, so when Erin did awaken in her new surroundings, she’d remember—and blame Ryan.

At last Victoria saw Nate coming up the road. Gleefully she rushed to meet him at the steps and lead him inside. “She’s drugged,” she assured him. “Laudanum. She won’t know anything. All you have to do is pick her up and get her out of here.”

“I’ll tie and gag her anyway, just to be safe,” he said, following her as she took up a lantern and headed for the curving stairs leading upward.

Victoria unlocked the door and held up the light so he could see his way to the bed.

“Yeah, she’s out.” He nodded, satisfied, then proceeded to take a rag from his pocket and stuff it in her mouth. Quickly, he bound her hands and ankles, finally hoisting her over his shoulder.

Erin was not aware of anything that was happening.

“Say good-bye to your daughter-in-law, Mrs. Youngblood.” Nate laughed as he headed out.

“Not good-bye,” Victoria said gleefully, “good riddance!”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Jason Harnaby looked at Erin and knew,
beyond
a doubt, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. And if she was a mulatto, which was the reason Nate said her husband was getting rid of her, then mixed blood had served her well. She was truly a sight to behold, and her husband was a goddamn fool.

Nate had placed her in a corner of the grist house during the night. Jason was there because they were awaiting the arrival of yet another mulatto who was being sold by her husband.

Nate wanted her left tied and gagged, because he wasn’t about to take any chances on her getting away, especially since they were hiding out on her stepfather’s property. That was when Jason was jolted to find out who she was.

Nate had left, saying he was going to ride out and see what was holding up the other one. He wanted to get moving at first light.

Jason thought Erin favored her mother. A lot. Her mother was bound to have been a head-turner in her day. She wasn’t so bad when he’d seen her maybe a week ago, either. Sick and pale and beat down in spirit, she was just a shadow, but with proper rest and food, she might come out of her miserable state.

Erin stirred, moaned, as the first rays of morning light streamed in through the grist house windows. Jason knelt beside her and began untying her wrists. Damn it, it wasn’t right leaving her trussed up. He didn’t see any harm in letting her arms free.

He felt her stiffen, cringe, and turned his head to see she was awake, pop-eyed with fear. She started making whimpering noises against the gag stuffed in her mouth. “You don’t need to be afraid,” he soothed, removing it. “I’m not—”

Erin screamed. Again and again. Jason had no choice but to stuff the rag quickly back in her mouth as he tried to tell her she had nothing to fear from him. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, and—”

“What the hell is going on in here?” Nate lunged through the door and crossed the tiny room to cuff Jason on the shoulder and send him sprawling backward. “I told you, goddamn it, she stays tied and gagged till we get her to the coast. I’m not taking any chances with her.”

Jason bit back his anger. So many times he’d wanted to ram his fist in Nate Donovan’s face but didn’t dare. It was to his advantage to play the role of big, clumsy, dumb ox, because it prevented a lot of tension he didn’t need. “I’m sorry. So sorry.” He shook his head wildly, as though overcome with contrition. “I forgot, boss man. I thought since we’d be leaving soon, she might need to tend to herself.”

“You don’t get paid to think,” Nate growled. “I decide when these wenches hit the bushes, remember?”

“Yes, boss.” Jason shuffled away, shoulders hunched, in pretense of spirit broken.

Erin’s wide-eyed glare changed from terror to anger as Nate taunted, “Well, now, you don’t look like you feel so good this morning, Mrs. Youngblood. But I reckon that’s what happens when you let your husband make your tea.

“My goodness, you look surprised;” he continued with a chuckle. “Surely you didn’t think your mammy made that drink that knocked you on your pretty ass, now did you? Why, no, ma’am, she didn’t. It was Mister Ryan Youngblood himself who made that tea, and a very special brew it was, too. I gave him the recipe myself.

“You see,” he dropped to a squatting position beside her, trailed a fingertip down her cheek as she struggled in revulsion, ”when a wife finds out her husband wants to sell her, ’cause he’s decided he doesn’t want to be married to a high yaller after all, she can sometimes get pretty upset and make a lot of noise. And it’s best to keep things as quiet as possible, ’cause it’s embarrassing for everybody. You understand? Like with your mother. Zach fixed her a cup of my special tea, and I just carried her out in the middle of the night without a fuss.”

Erin had stopped struggling. She lay very still, absorbing his words with every nerve, every fiber of her being, to hold and preserve and remember and fuel the fire of hatred and revenge with every breath she would live to draw in this life.

Nate saw, knew her reaction was what he was after, and enthusiastically continued. “Yeah, when Zach got word to your husband before he got out of town about your great-grandma being a full-blooded Negro, he just about went crazy, he was so mad. And he understood and appreciated Zach’s reasoning for telling him, too. He said he wouldn’t have been at all happy to have a little high-yaller baby, maybe even a full colored. So Zach, he put him in touch with me, and, well—” He smiled, pinched her cheek, and stood up. “You’re on your way to a whole new life, sugar.”