The Liberator Series Box Set: Christian Historical Civil War Novels Page 43

  Even as she said it, she wondered if she could just leave it all behind. Why continue to fight a losing battle? She could just leave the crumbling place to Grandfather and Andrew. Grandmother might let her stay here, if she asked it. The Smith home seemed entirely untouched by the war. Why not just stay here and start over? But even as she thought it, the ache in her chest told her she could never be happy if she did not try to keep all that her father had built. If she ran and hid, she would always bear the stain of guilt.

  “I see,” George said. “And this was not an agreeable match?”

  Did men never think of love? Only on whether or not a match was profitable? Matthew’s face as he’d once again rejected her and pushed her toward his brother rose in her mind. No, love meant less to them than the advantages marriage brought.

  Annabelle leveled a cold gaze on the elder Daniels brother, trying to speak in terms a man would understand. “Andrew is not a good man. Not only do I suspect he would not treat a wife gently, he is lazy and far too fond of the drink. Rosswood needs a man who can run it properly, not see its assets squandered. Restoring the business will most certainly require more work than Andrew would be willing to give. So, no, Mr. Daniels, I am afraid that my grandfather sought the match out of his own greed and not for the good of the plantation.”

  George seemed to consider this seriously, and Annabelle was pleased that she had presented an argument that was based on a man’s logic and not a woman’s emotion. In this, Grandfather seemed to have been right. Her woman’s feelings were of little use. If she had pleaded wanting to marry for love, he would have looked at her with that patronizing expression she so hated.

  “I see,” George said at last. “Which brings us to the arrangement my brother mentioned.”

  Annabelle tried to keep her nerves in check. “It does.”

  “Forgive me, Miss Ross, but you seem to be a rather pretty young woman with your head about you.”

  Annabelle frowned, wondering why words that seemed complimentary would need forgiving.

  “So,” George continued, “I cannot understand why a lady such as yourself would have any trouble finding a suitable husband who would not mismanage her father’s holdings.”

  Annabelle could feel the heat in her cheeks rising. “Time is of great importance, and there are few men left in the South who are not away with the army or dead in the ground.” The bitterness in her words shocked her, and she pressed her lips into a line.

  George did not seem surprised. “I feel for your situation, Miss Ross.”

  Annabelle relaxed a little, and some of the tension eased from her shoulders.

  George offered what she assumed to be a reassuring smile. “I am deeply grateful for your part in helping me be reunited with my brother. I give you my word that Matthew and I will do whatever is needed to be sure you are not left destitute.”

  Relief washed over her like a wave. “So you are agreeing to the arrangement?”

  “Something tells me that you needn’t worry over it,” he said vaguely.

  Annabelle didn’t want to push. Wasn’t it she who had said she would agree to courtship only and not yet marriage? He had said they would help her, and that was all she needed. She lifted her chin. “I cannot ever hope to express the depth of my gratitude.”

  George watched her closely. “My brother is most fond of you, as most surely you are aware. You never needed me nor this arrangement at all. Matthew would find his grave before he let you come to harm.”

  Annabelle swallowed hard, feeling her pulse quicken. She tried to laugh, but it sounded forced, even to her own ears. “You are quite mistaken, Mr. Daniels. Your brother is an honorable man and brought me under his protection when I needed it. From there, he has kept his word to see me safe. But do not mistake his obligation for affection.”

  George stroked his chin. “Well, I wouldn’t be too certain of that.”

  Annabelle sighed. Must she continue to stress the fact that Matthew didn’t want her? It hurt badly enough that despite his rejection, her heart still strained toward him. She’d tried time and again to stomp the pitiful hope that he would change his mind, and that the interest in his eyes would prove to be more than simple attraction. Peggy had forced him to admit he cared for her, but as the time passed without him ever saying more, she knew that Matthew did not look on her as a man looked upon a woman he would want to take to wife.

  She squared her shoulders. Protection was all she needed. Once the Daniels men saw Andrew thrown from her lands, she would be able to care for herself. She and Peggy would be fine on their own. Her features hardened as she met George’s steady gaze. “Your brother has made it quite clear, on several occasions, that he has no interest in me as a man would be interested in a woman. He does not want to court me, and he does not wish to be shackled to me. He is quite ready to be free of me as soon as possible. I am very sorry that he has put you in this situation,” She said, rising. “I do not expect either of you to be forced to marry me.”

  He rose with her, but she held up her hand and turned toward the door, making it clear she did not wish for him to follow. “If you will excuse me, now that this situation has been resolved, I really must get back to Peggy.”

  George opened his mouth to respond, but the look on her face must have changed his mind. Instead, he replied, “As you wish, Miss Ross. We can always discuss these things at another time.”

  Irritation seethed in her, but she kept her face passive. Dense man! Did he not see there was nothing more to discuss? Not trusting herself with words, Annabelle simply inclined her head and strode toward the door.

  She stepped out into the entryway and pulled the door closed behind her. Before she’d even had a chance to breathe freely, her grandmother appeared on the stairs.

  “Ah! There you are, child.”

  Annabelle struggled to keep her features smooth. “Yes, ma’am?” She failed to keep the tension from her voice, but she hoped Grandmother would not notice. How could Grandmother know that calling Annabelle “child” only dug at her wounds? Did no one see her as a woman?

  “The girls are ready to wash your things.” Her gaze traveled down Annabelle’s dress and she narrowed her eyes. “Why are you in the same gown as yesterday?”

  Annabelle bristled. Apparently her attire was not something Grandmother had taken note of at breakfast. “Because it is the only gown I have.”

  Unaffected by the bite in her tone, Grandmother lifted her brows. “Well, now, I thought your father did well enough for himself that his only daughter should not have to be reduced to rags.”

  Rags! This gown was beautiful, made by her dearest friend’s own hand. It was a good thing she had listened to Peggy and not worn the tattered skirt! If Grandmother thinks this is rags, she thought, her hands traveling down the fabric, then she would have really… her thoughts tumbled to a halt as her fingers discovered that the edges of the lace down the front of her skirt had started to pull free, and the fabric had become frayed in several places. Perhaps she had been harder on the gown than she’d realized. She felt the heat rise up her neck and settle in her cheeks.

  Grandmother noticed her discovery and looked infuriatingly smug. Annabelle looked at her flatly. “I’m sure it is easy for you to have forgotten this country is at war, seeing as how your lands are untouched, but in Mississippi our homes were raided, our things stolen, and our men lost. Even if there were time to make new gowns between trying not to starve and keeping wounded men alive, there wouldn’t have been fabric enough anyway.”

  Instead of the sharp retort she expected, Grandmother’s eyes softened. “I am sorry, dear.”

  Annabelle hung her head, her anger flowing out of her in a gush, her puffed chest immediately deflating. “Forgive me. It seems I have become a brash woman with a harsh tongue. Just the opposite of what I promised my mother I would be.”

  Grandmother reached out and awkwardly patted Annabelle’s shoulder. “Do not fret over it. There’s nothing wrong with a woman speaking
her mind.”

  Annabelle crossed her arms. The men in Grandmother’s life must have been very different from the men in her own. “Momma always told me that a lady carries more weight with a soft touch and a well-placed phrase than she does with harsh looks and rash words.”

  Surprisingly, Grandmother laughed, a full-belly sound that washed over Annabelle like a balmy breeze. The sound was so genuine and infectious that, despite herself, Annabelle couldn’t help but smile. “What?”

  “Is that what my Katherine told you?”

  Annabelle nodded, confused. Grandmother dabbed at her eyes, still chuckling. “I must have told her that a hundred times. Usually after she had let her tongue run away with her, making a scene with one of her fits. I guess she finally got the hang of it in her later years.”

  Annabelle’s mother had always been calm and gentle. Nothing ever riled her, and Annabelle could not think of a single time Momma had raised her voice. She couldn’t picture her mother ever pitching a fit. She could only stare at Grandmother, incredulous.

  “What? Don’t believe me?”

  Annabelle looked down at the floor. “Well, it’s just that I never once saw her act as you’ve described. She was the perfect picture of a lady, and I’ve tried so hard to be like her.”

  Suddenly, Annabelle was wrapped in a tight embrace as her grandmother crushed her against her chest. “Oh, you are so much more like her than you know.” Grandmother gave her back a pat and then held her out at arm’s length. “And more than in just the fact that you look like her. You have the same spark in your eyes and the same strength. You try to channel it better than she did, though. Katherine could be a very selfish girl. But that was our fault, I think. We never denied her anything, and she became demanding.”

  Annabelle tilted her head in confusion. “But, she made me promise that I would always put others before myself. That I would strive always to be fair, honest, and to treat other people with respect, no matter their station. She told me seek the Lord and be a woman of gentle spirit.” Annabelle hung her head, tears suddenly flowing down her cheeks.

  Grandmother pulled her close again, whispering in her ear. “I should have come to you after she was gone. I shouldn’t have been so set in my foolish pride. My girl learned to be a lady of more class down there than she would have ever been here, and I sorely misjudged your father. Oh, sweet girl, I am so sorry.”

  Annabelle sobbed and clung tight as Grandmother stroked her hair. When the tears quieted, she pulled back and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “I failed her. I have not been able to keep that promise.”

  “Come now, you are the very image of a lady.” Grandmother grinned. “Just one in dire need of a new dress.”

  A laugh hitched in Annabelle’s throat and she shook her head. “If you only knew how many deceptions I’ve woven of late, how quickly I’ve loosed my ire, and how I’ve driven people away, I don’t think you would still believe that.”

  “Ha! Child, if you did what you must to survive and still managed to keep your honor intact, then I say you have more than fulfilled your promise to your mother. My eyes might be old, girl, but even I see that the people under your care have been well tended to. To a one, they look at you with affection and respect. Do not dismiss such loyalty so lightly.”

  A weight seemed to slide from her, and Annabelle straightened, drying the remaining moisture from her face. Her grandmother did not seem to be one who spoke such words thoughtlessly, or one who offered false compliments. That a lady of such presence would think those things about her filled Annabelle with pride. She lifted her chin and received a nod of approval from Grandmother.

  “Now,” Grandmother said, taking her arm and leading her up the staircase, “let’s see what we can find for you to wear.”

  Annabelle laughed and allowed herself to be led away, deciding she could learn a great deal from her elder.

  “The very boldness of the movement will strike terror in those around and prevent anyone from coming to the rescue.”

  John Surratt

  George could hear the women talking in the entry, just on the other side of the door. He’d planned on stepping out just after Miss Ross had gone on her way, but she had stopped in the entry and once he heard sobbing, he was trapped inside. He certainly didn’t want to step out there in the middle of that.

  George turned away from the door and glanced around the richly furnished space and marveled at how quickly life could change. One day he was starving and almost dead on his feet as he worked, and the next he was contemplating the best place to spend his leisure.

  George eyed the door to the dining room and wondered if they were finished cleaning in there. He might be able to exit from the dining room and find another way to get back to his room upstairs. Deciding it was a better option than sitting in the stuffy parlor, he opened the pocket door and poked his head inside to find a curvy blonde woman dusting the china hutch and Lilly seated in a chair at the table polishing silver. Both looked up at him.

  “Oh. I’m sorry to bother you,” he said, though he didn’t retreat.

  Lilly rose from her seat. “What can I do for you, Mr. Daniels?”

  George stepped into the room and pulled the door closed behind him. “I don’t require anything, thank you. I only wondered if I could pass through this way, and perhaps find a different route to my room.”

  Lilly frowned, but before she could answer George, the other woman finished her work and addressed Lilly. “Going on to the next chore, Fraulein,” she said with a strange accent.

  Lilly turned toward her. “Make sure you tell Sue not to use so much spice in the meat pies this time. It don’t sit well with Mrs. Smith.” The other woman bobbed her head. “Oh,” Lilly said as the blonde one turned to go. “And please don’t let Frankie have too many sweet rolls. You know how they make him.”

  The blonde woman giggled. “Yes, Fraulein. I’ll be sure to tell.” She went out the rear set of pocket doors opposite from where George waited. Lilly turned her focus back to him, leveling her warm brown eyes on him and making his chest tighten. He smiled, but she didn’t return it. She laced her fingers in front of her gown, looking uncomfortable.

  Fool! He looked like a boy swallowed by his daddy’s clothes, not a man giving a charming look to a lady. The sudden thought caught him off guard. How many years had it been since he’d thought of charming a woman? Sure, he’d admired beauty a time or two, but had kept his distance otherwise.

  He dropped his gaze, clearing his throat. “I, uh, just wanted to see if there was another way out of the sitting room,” he said to remind her of why he was here, though she surely hadn’t so soon forgotten.

  “You cannot go up the main stair?”

  George looked up at her again. Confusion pulled at her brows, and she tilted her head, putting the curve of her neck on display. His pulse quickened, and he had to divert his eyes again. Never had he seen a woman more beautiful. He was used to women who shaded their skin from the sun’s light, but this one appeared as if she had let it caress every inch of her, turning pale tones to golden warmth.

  She was looking at him expectantly and he realized he’d let his thoughts wander without answering her question. He shrugged. “Mrs. Smith and Miss Ross are…talking in the entryway. It seemed to be a conversation of a private manner, and I do not wish to disturb them.”

  The frown dissipated and she seemed pleased with his response. “Come, then. I’ll take you around the other way, though you’ll have to take the servants’ staircase.”

  “That’s fine.”

  She turned with a swish of silky blue fabric and led him through the rear door and through a narrow room filled with serving platters, plates, and cups of every shape and kind. The narrow hall continued past the servants’ pantry and around to a much smaller staircase than the grand one in the entry. Lilly gestured toward it. “This will bring you out at the end of the upper hall.”

  She turned to go, and words tumbled out of George’s mouth in an effort
to keep her company a moment more. “Are you a part of the Smith family?”

  She looked at him as though he were daft. “Of course not.”

  George shoved his hands into the pockets of his oversized trousers. “I meant no offense, I was just unsure of your relationship with Mrs. Smith.”

  “I work here.” As if that were answer enough, she turned away. She took two steps before hesitating, looking back at him over her shoulder. “I have duties to return to, but if you need anything, there is a bell in your room that will send for someone.”

  Already George was thinking on things that might call her to him. He brightened. “If it is not too much to ask, perhaps I could get a bath today?”

  “Of course. I will see that it is done.” She dipped her chin and slipped away before George could say more. He shook his head. Here he was acting like a smitten youth. What had come over him? Perhaps it was just the fact that he was so thankful to be alive and free that he was acting like a boy.

  He topped the stairs and knocked on Matthew’s door, but his brother was not within. He must be out tending the horses. Well, they could talk once he returned. Feeling tired, George turned to his room and decided some time alone in front of his fire to kick up his feet and open the paper was just exactly what he needed. At least until he could think up some way to spend more time with Lilly.

  Annabelle frowned as Grandmother pulled a gown out of the armoire and thrust it toward her. “This should fit you well enough, dear. Try it on.”

  Biting her lip, Annabelle gave a small shake of her head and stepped back. “Thank you, but I cannot.”

  Grandmother scoffed. “And why not?”

  She glanced around the large room, its ceiling-height window flanked by rose-colored velvet drapes and its marble floors warmed by a massive floral-print rug. She’d thought her guest room was elaborate, but this was a room meant for a princess. Annabelle had grown up as a lady of means, but the fineness of Rosswoood felt nearly humble by comparison.