The Pattern of Her Heart (38 page)

“Nonsense. Whether you attend the dance or remain at home does not change anyone’s circumstances,” Mrs. Brighton said as she started peeling some potatoes. “You had best take a few minutes to rest. I’m guessing you’ll be tired after an evening of dancing.”

Mary Margaret waited until the other girls were eating supper before donning her dress for the dance. Bridgett had loaned her a green plaid silk gown with black piping that edged the bodice and waistline. She tied a wide black ribbon around her throat and another around her red curls before looking in the mirror.

“It will do just fine,” she told herself before rushing downstairs.

She remained in the hallway until Paddy arrived and then called her good-nights to the girls.

“I can wait while ya go and bid them a proper goodnight,” he said.

She shook her head and hurried him out the door. “I feel a wee bit of discomfort going out ta have fun when some of the girls have fallen upon such hard times. I do na want ta go prancing in front of them all dressed for the dance. It does na seem proper.”

“Ya have a kind heart, Mary Margaret.”

“Thank you,” she said as a faint blush colored her cheeks.

When they arrived at the hall, many of the Irish celebrants were already shouting for the music to begin. The music of fiddles and accordions soon filled the air and couples took to the floor, some dancing jigs while other enjoyed a polka or hornpipe.

“Would ya care ta dance?”

“Aye,” Mary Margaret replied.

They twirled around the floor with Paddy holding a firm grip around her waist as they performed the intricate steps in time to the music.

“Ya’re looking a wee bit warm, Paddy,” Timothy Rourke said as he drew near. “Perhaps I should take Mary Margaret as my dancing partner.” He attempted to take hold of her hand.

“I do na think so,” she told him. “I’ve been escorted to the dance by Paddy, and I do na wish ta be dancing with another.”

“I canna believe ya’d turn down the likes of me for Padraig O’Neill,” Timothy said mockingly.

“Ya best believe it, Timothy Rourke. I’ll na be having any dances with ya this night,” she replied haughtily before turning her attention to Paddy. “I’m a wee bit thirsty. Shall we get something cool ta drink?”

“Aye. That sounds fine,” he said, grasping her elbow and leading her to a table where a group of women were serving punch and cookies directly across from a counter where several men were serving ale.

Paddy ordered two cups of punch and picked up several cookies. “We can sit down over there,” he said, nodding toward a row of wooden chairs.

“Thank ya for turning down Timothy Rourke,” he said. “Though I do na expect ya to turn down every lad asking for a dance, I canna deny I was pleased ta have ya turn him down.”

“Ya’re welcome. I have no interest in dancing with anyone else, Paddy.” She took a sip of her punch. “Have ya been busy at the farm?”

He nodded. “ ’Tis always busy, but as spring begins to arrive there’s always more ta tend to. We’ve a lot of horses ready to foal, and it’s always a worry—ya do na want to lose the mare or the colt.”

“And what of Mr. and Mrs. Houston? Have they returned home?”

“We expected them at least two weeks ago, and I was beginning to get a wee bit worried thinking something might’ve happened to them—what with them saying in their last telegram they’d met with troubles. But I stopped to see Mr. Wainwright when I was in town a few days ago, and he said he’d received another telegram that morning. He said the Houstons will be arriving in the next couple of days.”

“That’s good news for ya then,” Mary Margaret said.

“Aye. It’s been a load of responsibility for me while they’ve been gone. I’m na complainin’, mind ya, but still I’ll be glad to have them home.”

“Mr. Houston is lucky to have someone like ya to depend upon.”

“Thank ya,” he replied. “The band’s warming up ta begin. Shall we try another dance?”

“Aye,” she said, taking his hand.

Above the music, the sound of laughter and chattering voices could be heard throughout the hall. They danced and talked and then danced even more as the hours quickly passed. They were stepping onto the dance floor when they turned at the sound of an angry shout. A mug of ale came flying through the air and crashed to the dance floor, and the rest was a haze—men shouting and throwing punches, glass breaking and women screaming.

“Take hold of my hand and don’t turn loose,” Paddy shouted above the din.

She grasped his hand and followed close on his heels— down the stairway and out the front door into the cool, starlit evening. They stopped and looked at the upper windows of the building, where flying fists could be easily detected.

“I hope no one comes crashing through one of those windows,” Mary Margaret said.

“We best move from here; I would na want to be the one to break a lad’s fall should such a thing happen.”

They walked a short distance down the street as other couples began to exit the building, likely afraid they, too, would become injured in the donnybrook.

“If ya had not escorted me to the dance, ya could have remained upstairs instead of waiting down here and wondering what’s happening up there,” Mary Margaret said.

Paddy grinned and gently pulled her into a warm embrace. “I think I’m more interested in the one who’s standing right beside me. We can have our own good time down here.”

Before she could reply, he drew her closer. She gazed into his eyes and felt the blood course through her veins as he lowered his head and caressed her lips with a tender kiss.

She leaned heavily against his broad chest and knew she was both safe and protected. How she could have ever thought this sweet man anything but gentle and kind was now beyond logic.

“J
ASMINE
! N
OLAN
! Over here,” McKinley shouted while waving a hand above the crowd gathered on the train platform.

Jasmine spotted her brother and waved in return before leaning down and whispering to Spencer. “Do you see Uncle McKinley? Run over—he’s brought a surprise along with him.”

She watched her son run fleetingly through the crowd, knowing she was presenting him with the greatest of pleasures upon his return home—seeing his very best friend. Above the train’s whistle and commotion of passengers, she could hear her son’s shouts as he called out Moses’ name. This one thing had gone as planned, and her heart was filled with abundant joy.

They worked their way through the throng, finally reaching McKinley’s side several moments later. “McKinley! I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to see you,” she said while pulling her brother into a warm embrace.

“It has been far too long,” he agreed. “Nolan!” he greeted, grasping his brother-in-law’s hand warmly and then swinging Alice Ann up into his arms before planting a giant kiss upon her cheek. “How is Clara?” he asked, noting the sleeping child in Henrietta’s arms.

“She’s fine. We all are—especially now that we’re back in Lowell,” Jasmine replied.

“And who is this?” he asked, nodding toward Prissy.

“Prissy; she was one of Father’s house slaves. She is married to Toby,” Jasmine explained.

“Truly? It doesn’t seem possible Toby is old enough to take a wife. Did you not bring him also?”

“No. We were unable to do so. Once we get home to the farm, Nolan and I will explain the difficulties we encountered. I do hope you have ample time—it’s quite an adventure and one that is not yet over, I’m afraid.”

“I’ve been intrigued ever since I received your first telegram, but I must say you all appear in good health and certainly in the height of fashion,” he said while appraising Jasmine’s traveling suit.

Jasmine gave a harsh laugh. “Your opinion would have differed greatly had you met us in Boston. I fear even the hotel clerk had not seen such a beggarly-appearing group in a long time. Nolan thought it best we telegraph you and then spend a few days in Boston recuperating from the journey. We purchased our clothing while we were there.”

“I see. The carriage is out in front of the depot. I had one of your men bring a wagon for your trunks.”

“There are no trunks, McKinley. We have only what we’re carrying,” Jasmine told him.

McKinley’s confusion was evident, but he didn’t question them. “I’ll send the driver back home then and join you in the carriage.”

The ride home seemed endless. When the carriage finally rolled to a stop in front of their house, Jasmine felt as though they had been away for years. The house appeared unchanged yet strangely foreign as she walked through the doorway. She smiled broadly at the group awaiting their arrival. Kiara and Rogan, along with Paddy, Maisie, Simon, and a host of servants, cheered their arrival.

As Jasmine circled the group, hugging each one, she stopped several times to silently thank God for their safe arrival home. The journey had been treacherous, and both she and Nolan knew that without the hand of God upon them, they would never have safely returned to Lowell.

“We’ve prepared a feast ta celebrate yar homecoming,” Kiara said. “We did na want to overwhelm ya, so we thought to wait a few hours before the celebration,” she added.

“Thank you all so much,” Jasmine replied. “Mr. Houston and I do need to spend some time alone with my brother, but before we go into the library, I want to introduce you to Prissy. She was a house slave at The Willows, but now she is free. I would be appreciative if you’d show her the house and make her feel welcome.”

Maisie stepped forward and embraced Prissy. “D’you ’member me, Prissy? Me and Simon was at da big house for a little while right after you come dere to work.”

Prissy stared hard at Maisie and then looked at Simon. “You was in the kitchen,” she said.

Maisie nodded. “Dat’s right. I’m right glad to see you, chile. You gonna be mighty happy here. Come along and I’ll show you around, and den we’ll go out to our house and have us some coffee. Moses, you and Spencer go on over to da house with your pappy. I be along soon.”

Jasmine smiled at the boys as they hurried toward Simon. “Can we go see Larkspur before we go to the house?” Spencer asked.

Simon gave them a toothy grin and nodded. “We’s gonna go there right now.”

McKinley and the Houstons went into the library. Once the doors were closed, the three adults settled into the leather chairs.

Jasmine hesitated a moment before addressing her brother. “I’m trying to think of where I should begin,” she said.

It took nearly an hour to relate all that had occurred throughout their time at The Willows and during their journey home. McKinley listened intently as the story unfolded, never interrupting. When Jasmine finally leaned back in her chair, emotionally exhausted from the telling, her brother hunched forward and gazed into her eyes.

“Am I to understand that both The Willows and the entire crop were completely destroyed in these fires? That you’ve returned with
nothing
? No money from the sale of the crop, no money from the sale of the plantation—
nothing
?” he asked, his voice frantic.

“We’ve returned with our lives,” Nolan replied. “I count that alone a miracle and worth more than any amount of money!”

“Yes, yes, of course. I didn’t mean to imply your safety was worth nothing, but I was relying upon those funds.”

“I’m sorry, McKinley,” Jasmine said. “Though the plantation was in the hands of a broker, Rupert forged my name on documents to suggest that we had given him the property. Cousin Levi promises to help, but I do not expect we’ll see anything for some time—if ever. There is grave hostility toward us. Surely you understand that by now.”

“Yes, but it is difficult for me to believe Rupert would be in the midst of this. Surely you’ve misunderstood. He would never forge documents or threaten our family. I’m convinced you were both distraught with the circumstances and misunderstood his intentions. We were, after all, boyhood friends as well as cousins. Rupert and I enjoyed a closer kinship than I had with either of our brothers when we were growing up. I’m certain if I go to Mississippi, I can reason with him. We need to take back what is lawfully ours,” McKinley insisted.

Jasmine looked at her brother in great frustration. “Believe what you will, McKinley, although I would have expected you to believe your own sister over a cousin who’s had nothing to do with you since you’ve come north. Both Rupert and Lydia have changed. They are not the same people we knew as children—no more than you and I remain the same. And what is it you hope to gain by going to Mississippi? You can’t regain a mansion and crop that have been burned into nonexistence. Do you think you can convince these men to pay you for their dishonorable actions? Surely you don’t believe men who have acted in such a manner will now step forward and offer you money for their unjust deeds.”

“Then what is it you referred to when you said you feared this matter was not yet finished?” he asked.

Nolan stood up and walked to the doors leading to the garden. He looked outside for a moment before turning toward McKinley. “The slaves. We signed over the papers granting all of them their freedom. In addition, we promised to divide the funds from the cotton crop among them in order to assist them with their new beginning in the North. But as your sister told you, except for Prissy, they were all taken away in shackles and have been either enslaved by the men who committed these crimes or turned over for sale in the New Orleans market. Either way, we are determined to regain their freedom.”