The Pattern of Her Heart (43 page)

“I’ll deal with Jasmine,” McKinley declared.

“Well, you also need to deal with a couple of other things. I have some concerns about the contract to purchase.”

With every fiber of her being, Jasmine wanted to burst through the door and condemn their appalling behavior. Instead, she forced herself to remain calm and keep her wits.

“I thought we had reached a satisfactory agreement,” McKinley said.

“After further consideration, I believe there are a few conditions that I can’t possibly agree to.”

“And what would those be?”

Rupert’s voice lowered and Jasmine strained to hear. She heard him mention buying the slaves and then McKinley replied, yet she couldn’t hear his comment. Oh, why wouldn’t they speak up—especially now when she wanted to hear what they were saying about the slaves?

Jasmine remained outside the door as they continued to speak in muffled tones. She had no choice but to go inside the room and make her presence known. After all, Violet would certainly ask questions when she returned to the garden. She inhaled deeply and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” McKinley called.

She opened the door, prepared to give the acting performance of a lifetime. Neither of them would know she’d heard a thing!

McKinley’s eyes opened wide as she walked into the room. “Jasmine! I wasn’t expecting you,” he blurted.

She smiled sweetly and turned her attention to Rupert. “Why, Cousin Rupert! Violet didn’t tell me you were visiting. She said McKinley was working on his ledgers. When did you arrive?”

“Yesterday. And I’ll be in town only briefly. I assumed you’d have little time available, what with your
social
involvement,” Rupert said eyeing her cautiously.

Jasmine only offered her most pleasant Southern belle face. She watched her brother begin to fidget as she sat down opposite Rupert. “I’m so surprised you would come north.” She held her tongue, not saying the things she really wanted to say. So many times McKinley had told her he thought her reaction and feelings toward Rupert were based solely upon a misunderstanding. Especially after Cousin Levi wrote to say that he had managed to clear up Rupert’s supposed takeover of The Willows. She steadied her nerves and looked her cousin in the eye. “So what brings you to Lowell, Rupert?”

“Ah . . . well . . . I’m interested in the possibility of investing in the mills. McKinley extended an invitation so that I might gain firsthand knowledge about the operation. I don’t like going into any investment without have a thorough knowledge of the business venture.”

His smugness and deceit annoyed her. “I’m surprised you’d be looking to invest in the mills at this time. The outlook is rather bleak right now for investment purposes, wouldn’t you think?”

“Not at all. Investing during a downturn can yield huge returns when the economy stabilizes.”

“So long as one invests properly,” she added.

He smiled at her as though she were a young child to be tolerated for a short time. “I believe my assets show I’ve had no difficulty in that regard. Speaking of assets, how is my little Prissy faring these days?”

Jasmine grasped the chair arms, her knuckles turning white as she forced herself to remain civil. “Prissy was never
yours,
Rupert. However, she is doing quite well as a free woman. And how is Toby?”

“I really wouldn’t have any idea,” he said caustically.

McKinley rose from his chair. “I’d like to continue this reunion. However, Rupert and I are expected at the mills within the next half hour.”

“Feel free to take your leave. After all, I wouldn’t want to keep my dear cousin from investing his money in our
Northern
mills.”

Rupert cast an irate look at Jasmine as he departed the room. She waited until the front door closed and then sank back into the chair, her mind reeling. She didn’t know if Rupert had actually come to discuss investing in the mills, but there was little doubt he and McKinley were negotiating the sale of The Willows—and possibly even the slaves. And why had Rupert shown such interest in Prissy? She had noted a contemptible glint in his eyes as he had spoken of the girl. Remembering his attempts to take possession of her when they were in Mississippi, coupled with his question this morning turned her thoughts to baby Emily.

She covered her mouth to stifle the scream threatening to escape her lips.
Rupert Hesston
had fathered Prissy’s baby!

Jasmine kissed the children good-night, then hurried back downstairs to the parlor. Before supper, she had spoken with Nolan and related the details of her morning visit to McKinley’s home. When she had completed the distasteful tale, she had asked for his advice. But instead of taking her side and condemning McKinley, he had requested additional time to think on the matter. After pressing him further, Nolan had agreed they would talk after the children had gone to bed for the night.

“Have you come to any conclusions?” she asked as she sat down in her rocker and picked up her stitching.

“I think the only answer to this entire dilemma is truthfulness. You need to tell McKinley you overheard a portion of his conversation with Rupert. Tell him of your suspicions. Explain that you abhor thinking he could turn against the abolitionist movement and that you have a deep concern that he is planning to sell The Willows without consulting you and perhaps even deal in the sale of the slaves. If you approach him honestly, I believe he will feel obligated to answer you in kind. Your brother is a devout Christian man who has renounced slavery, Jasmine. I can’t believe he would so easily turn against his beliefs.”

Jasmine shrugged, not sure she agreed. “I hope you’re correct. I’ll go to him tomorrow.”

“I’d wait until you’re certain Rupert has departed.”

She nodded. “When we spoke earlier, I failed to mention that Rupert asked about Prissy. From his behavior regarding her, I’ve grown to believe he is Emily’s father.”

Nolan sighed. “It’s true his obsession with her was odd. When we were in Mississippi, I truly feared his interest in her went beyond proper boundaries, and I don’t doubt your assumption. However, with your capable intervention, Prissy has made great strides in accepting the baby, and we don’t want to do anything that would disrupt their bond. No one need know of our suspicions.”

She carefully knotted her thread before meeting Nolan’s gaze. “I agree. I want to honor Prissy’s wishes. It was clear she did not want to name the father, and I now understand why.”

It was midafternoon on Thursday when Jasmine approached the offices that fronted a row of brick textile mills. Nolan had suggested she visit McKinley at his office, thinking it best to keep Violet unaware of any possible problem. And Jasmine knew he was correct. This was a matter that was best resolved on neutral ground, away from friends and family.

Her brother’s name had been printed upon the glass pane in his open office door—bold black letters surrounded with gold, proclaiming that the office belonged to McKinley Wainwright. He glanced up as she approached, and she noted his look of surprise as he motioned her in.

“I hope you don’t mind my calling on you unannounced,” she said.

“No, this is fine. Is there some problem?” he inquired cautiously.

“Actually, there are several. May I?” she asked while pointing at one of the wooden chairs.

He jumped to his feet. “Yes, of course. Please be seated.”

“Let me begin by saying that I have an admission to make.”

He stared at her intently and waited. “Go on,” he urged.

“When I visited you at your home the other day, I had been standing outside the library for a short period of time before I entered.”

“Eavesdropping?”

“Not intentionally—at least not at first. But as I stepped to the door, I heard you discussing a sale and then I recognized Rupert’s voice. The two of you were discussing The Willows—and the slaves,” she added.

“If you remained by the door once you knew we were in private conversation, you
were
eavesdropping. Not an admirable quality. I’m surprised you would conduct yourself in such a manner,” he said heatedly.

Her eyebrows arched and her jaw went slack. “
You’re
surprised by
my
conduct? You’ve entered into the business of selling our inheritance to a man who tried to steal it and then deal in the buying and selling of human flesh, and
you’re
surprised by
my
conduct? Come now, McKinley! You can’t believe you’re in good standing to take the offensive in this argument.”

“I believe that I am, dear sister. You know I have been in dire straits, what with my financial losses and the . . .”

“There is no explanation you can provide that will excuse your behavior, McKinley!”

“Will you let me finish at least a sentence before you interrupt?”

Jasmine fastened an unyielding gaze upon him. “I’m listening.”

“As you know, I have been desperate for The Willows to be sold, and that land agent you hired has been of no assistance whatsoever. Even you must admit he’s useless.”

“I will
not
agree Mr. Turner is useless. I believe he’s made every attempt to sell the plantation, and I’ve notified you each time I’ve received word from him,” Jasmine countered.

“And each time his report is the same. That man will never find a buyer for The Willows. In any event, shortly after you received Mr. Turner’s first letter, Rupert and I began exchanging correspondence. I asked for an explanation of all that had occurred while you and Nolan were in Mississippi.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he motioned for her to remain silent.

“As we corresponded, Rupert explained that there had been misunderstandings on both sides. He never meant to threaten you or cause you to believe he was taking The Willows by force.”

“He’s a liar.”

McKinley shook his head. “Perhaps, but it doesn’t matter now. Other things have happened. Rupert expressed a desire to purchase the property and said he would also be willing to pay me a tidy sum for the slaves—provided I would return Prissy to him. His offer was extremely generous. My share would be more than enough to free me of any financial woes for many years. The offer was tempting, and I admit I wrestled with accepting his offer. However, after much prayer, I knew it was far more important to free our people than secure my finances. I told him I could not accept his offer. So you see, this wasn’t exactly as you thought.”

Jasmine’s features had softened as he spoke. “I am so very proud of you, McKinley, and I’m sorry I ever doubted you. Can you ever forgive me?”

“Yes, of course I forgive you.”

“How do matters now stand between you and Rupert?”

“We’ve reached another agreement. I have agreed to sell the plantation at a reduced cost in exchange for the slaves.”

“And he agreed?”

“Yes, he agreed. He says there may be one or two he cannot locate, but the remainder will be turned over.”

“What can I do to assist? While I dislike the idea of Rupert owning the land, if it means freeing our people, I must relent. Do you want Nolan and me to travel south and escort them back here? Or perhaps I can write to Rupert and express my thanks and offer to send clothing and supplies for the journey north,” she suggested.

“No, Jasmine. What you must do is remain completely uninvolved in this process. Rupert and I have a history that goes back to our childhood days. I can deal with him much more easily on my own. You will only complicate matters. There is far too much animosity between you and Rupert.”

“But I want to help!” she proclaimed insistently.

“What is more important, sister? That you be involved or that our people regain their freedom?”

“You’re right. I’ll stay out so long as you promise to advise me if there is any way I can lend assistance.”

“I promise.”

“One other thing: since your inheritance will be greatly diminished by the bargain you’ve made with Rupert, I’m going to insist you retain all of the money from the sale. Nolan and I have been most fortunate in our business dealings, and I can well afford to give up my portion of the inheritance. It is the very least I can do.”

McKinley shook his head. “No, I won’t consider such charity. Father intended for you to have a portion of the inheritance.”