Warren continued to hover nearly all the time.
“Amelia, haven’t you got a moment for me?” he asked. “I have something important to talk with you about.”
I had just finished washing the evening dishes and longed to change out of my damp dress and to meet Patrick in his room for our last night together.
“Maybe tomorrow. I’m tired.” I sighed and left him standing bewildered, looking hurt by my rejection.
I hurried to change, slipping into my nightgown and dabbing some of Eugenia’s perfume behind my ears. I had managed to take a bottle from her room and stash it away in my armoire. I brushed out my long hair and powdered my nose and then peeked out the door to the hall to make sure no one was around.
Patrick was lying in his bed with his hands propped behind his head, staring at the door, waiting for me to enter.
There were several candles lit and a warm fire ablaze in the hearth. I eased the door shut and hurried to him, falling into his welcoming arms as our lips instantly met. Knowing this night was our last for an indefinite time, we made every kiss, every touch, last. We drank in one another’s scent and pressed our bodies as close as we could so our hearts would beat as one. There was nothing to say. We fervently loved one another into the wee hours of the morning, then fell together into a light sleep.
The wind outside restrained me from a deeper sleep and finally pulled me awake. The shutters to the windows were loose, banging against the mansion with each gust of wind. The drafts were bone chilling and blew through the room, causing the candles to flicker madly. Shadows danced along the walls and ceiling, and I blinked my eyes madly, swearing I saw Warren’s shadow lurking about. I thought I heard the creak of the door closing.
I anxiously sat up, holding the blanket against my body, and listened closely. Were those footsteps I heard in the hall? Was the wind playing tricks on me? I asked myself.
Instead of fearing the unknown, I lay back down and cuddled next to Patrick. He was warm, and I felt safe with him. His light breathing soothed me back to sleep; he woke me a short time later.
“My sweet darling, you must return to your room. The sun is about to rise,” he whispered as he stroked my cheek.
I turned into him and we began to kiss. I realized it would be our last long kiss and tried to fight back my burning tears, but I couldn’t contain them. The tears streamed down my face and between our lips.
“I will be back, I promise.”
“What will I do without you?” I sobbed.
“Love me just as you do now. Though we are apart, our hearts are forever as one.”
The hours sped by too quickly, and I cursed the sun for bringing a new day. I had been dreading the day, wishing it would never come, and here it was upon us.
I dressed and made my way to the kitchen, heavyhearted, and could barely look at Patrick when he sat down for breakfast, fearing I would burst into tears.
He was dressed in full uniform, his bag packed and ready by the front door. He was leaving later in the evening, for safety. Patrick needed to go under the cover of darkness to avoid being ambushed by Union snipers that were reported to be hiding out in the woods around Savannah.
Warren strode into the dining room, polished and refreshed, and sat down and sipped on the hot cup of coffee I poured for him. His eyes were lit and he contained an unusual, wry smile.
After serving the eggs, I sat down across from Patrick, beside Warren, and next to Eugenia. She occasionally came to breakfast and she was there to sit with Patrick for his last breakfast with us.
Before I could take a bite into my food, Warren jumped up and faced me. My mind scrambled to keep up with what he was about to do.
He fell to one knee, took hold of my hand, and wistfully said, “Miss Amelia Arrington, would you do the honor of becoming my wife?”
Patrick’s choking on his coffee caused me to look his way. Eugenia quickly announced how pleased she was with the surprise proposal.
“This is wonderful! A wedding is just what we need,” she sang, though it sounded contrived.
My eyes swung back to Warren.
“I…I…” I stammered.
“Say yes, Amelia, and I will make you the happiest girl in the world,” he said.
“Of course she will marry you,” Eugenia said. “Now sit back down and finish your breakfast.”
I nearly collapsed. Patrick’s face was red, and it was all he could do to contain his anger so no one would notice. However, Eugenia seemed aware of it.
“What do you think of Warren Stone becoming your brother-in-law?” she asked, turning to Patrick. Her eyes were dark and cold, her gaunt face tight with meaning. “Amelia, go upstairs and stay in your room. I have to speak with Patrick in private.”
“If you insist, Eugenia,” I said reluctantly, feeling sick to my stomach.
“I do. Wait for me. I will be up shortly.”
My mind was trying to keep up with what was happening and to grasp Eugenia’s sudden return to her old self. No longer was she depressed and despondent, but back in control of her world. I had been certain I would never see that side of her again.
I sat on my bed, nervously wringing my hands. I had a strong foreboding and wanted to be downstairs listening to what they were saying. As time dragged on, I began to pace the floor. I was sickened by the thought of marrying Warren Stone, but could tell no one why. Eugenia was insistent. How would I get out of such a predicament?
Nearly an hour passed before Eugenia entered my room, sauntered over to me, and without warning, took the back of her hand and smacked it across my face. Then she stood over me as I clutched my face, extending her long, bony finger, and with her teeth gritted together shouted, “You sinful whore!”
I instantly scrambled away, only to have her grab hold of my hair, nearly pulling it out from my scalp. When I cried out, she slapped me again.
“Did you think I wouldn’t discover your sinful acts?” she bellowed.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I looked at her. There would be no mercy. Eugenia was going to brutally punish me, with what I thought could only could be permission from God himself.
“It’s not what you think!” I protested between whimpers, and she twisted my hair around her large hands and pulled with force.
“Silence! How dare you make a mockery of me and this family? You are shameful, wicked, and pure evil. You put your wiles on Patrick, made him take you, lust after you! He is your brother, for God’s sake!”
She threw me onto the bed and turned to go.
“I love him. No matter what you do to me, Patrick and I will be together,” I cried out.
Eugenia let out a sinister, confident laugh, and then said, “That man wants nothing to do with you. He admitted to me you were just his play toy, that he was tricked by the devil into desiring you. It had been too long since he was with a woman. It was pure, primitive, manly needs that drove him to sleep with you.”
“He never said that!”
“Oh, yes, he did,” she sneered, hovering over me as I lay trembling. “He admitted everything to me once I confronted him. You sicken me. Count your blessings that Warren will take an unholy lowlife whore such as yourself. He will marry you and take you away, far from Sutton Hall, where we will never have to see the likes of you again! I hope you burn in hell before your time, just like your mother!”
I flew up off the bed and ran past her down the hall, screaming for Patrick.
Eugenia followed after me. “He’s gone. Don’t waste your time. You will never see him again.”
I ran down the stairs, nearly tripping and falling, then rushed outside.
“Patrick!” I called.
There were horse tracks leading away, and I hurried along, following them. I ignored Eugenia’s warnings, not stopping.
“You step foot in this mansion again, Amelia Arrington, you will never see the light of day. If you leave now, don’t ever come back! You hear me you wench, you sinful, vile girl!”
My
vision was blurred, my chest ached from the uncontrollable sobbing, yet I ran on, calling for Patrick.
The lane was thick with mud and melting snow, slowing down my pace. My breath was fast and frosty, the tip of my nose numb from the cold as tears streamed down my cheeks, saturating my face.
I followed the trail until I noticed the tracks turning onto the church property. I stopped to catch my breath. Patrick’s horse was tied to the post.
“I found you in time,” I said aloud and headed into the church.
The doors were open and I went inside, pausing to allow my eyes to adjust to the darkness and listening to the echo of the doors closing behind me.
“Patrick, are you in here?” I called out.
A startled bat plummeted from the rafters and swooped down near my hair. I let out a yelp and ran forward.
Patrick was there, fallen to his knees before the altar. I reached my hands out to place onto his shoulders, when he shouted without lifting his head, “GO AWAY. LEAVE ME ALONE!”
I swallowed hard, then asked, my voice shaky, “What have I done wrong?”
“Just go,” he said in a calmer tone.
“I can’t just go. Patrick, I love you!”
He opened his eyes and gazed up at me. He had been crying. “This was a mistake. A terrible, appalling mistake.”
I gasped, dizzy, and I fell into him. He quickly moved out of the way, scrambling to get far from me, as if my touch would set him on fire.
“You are my sister! We’ve done things that are unspeakable. What was I thinking!” he groaned, cradling his head in his hands.
“Don’t listen to Eugenia. She doesn’t know what love is. She doesn’t understand what you and I share. We are in love! I don’t care that you are my half-brother.”
He became more agitated, jumped up, rushed me, and grabbed my arms, just the way he did when we were in the attic. He made me look at him, even when I turned away, afraid of the anger that consumed his once mild-mannered face.
“I wish to God I never met you. I wish I had never stepped foot into Sutton Hall. I curse myself for touching you the way I did. God should condemn me now, here as we speak!”
Patrick was frantic, and I became frightened. He swiftly pulled out his pistol and pointed it at me.
“I should kill us both. We deserve it!”
Visions of our love union flashed in my mind, and I desperately tried to shake the realization that suddenly plagued me without forewarning.
“You don’t mean it,” I cried out. “You wouldn’t kill me. You love me! I know you do!”
Patrick violently threw me down then began to pace around me like some crazed, caged wild animal.
“Please don’t end what we have!” I begged, scrambling to my feet. I rushed to him without fear. Only he refused me, holding me back with a face that was cold and eyes dark and distant. He shouted at the top of his lungs while cursing the God who allowed him to love me. Then he turned and bolted out of the church. Patrick whisked off on his horse, not looking back, ignoring my frenzied calls for him as I fell pitifully to my knees.
“Patrick, Patrick! Please don’t leave! What will become of me without you?”
~ ~ ~
~ Twenty-five ~
With all the vigor I could muster, I was determined to keep Patrick from going, and I ran after him. Despite the road covered in mud causing my slender legs to sink in and making the trek on foot to Savannah nearly impossible, I persevered in my quest to find Patrick and beg him to change his mind.
I was fortunate to catch a ride with an elderly couple, and I sat in the back of their wagon, rocking from the fear of losing Patrick forever.
As we came closer to the city, I began to panic. What would I say to convince him to stay loyal to me, to disregard everything Eugenia said. Could I manage to win back his affections, or was it truly too late? I wondered.
Time was of the essence, and I flew off the wagon once the wheels hit the cobblestone streets of Savannah and went straight to the livery. There I believed Patrick planned to sell his horse and then board the train.
“Sir, sir, “I called to the stable hand, trying to catch my breath, “Might Patrick Arrington be here?”
He kindly came and held me from falling as my weak legs began to give out from under me.
“No, miss. He’s gone. Sold me his horse and headed straight away to the train station.”
“I must get there before he leaves!”
“Miss, that train departed nearly fifteen minutes ago.”
It was too late. I would never have the chance to beseech Patrick to love me again.
“Thank you, sir, for all your help,” I muttered and walked away in a mind-spinning daze.
The city was bustling. Blurred faces passed me by, carriages whizzed dangerously along. I crept down the streets, wandering aimlessly, trying to gather my senses between sudden crying spells. An occasional concerned pedestrian worriedly asked what was wrong: Was I lost? Did I need help? I only ignored them.
I must have walked around the city at least once and only stopped on one occasion. I found myself sitting alone on a cold stone bench in what was the loveliest cemetery one could imagine. It was situated overlooking the river and spotted with tall live oak trees, notable red cedars, and azalea bushes that would bloom in the spring. The eternal resting places of all those who had previously walked the earth were well kept, I noticed, much different from our cemetery at Sutton Hall.
I sat there, merely staring ahead onto the river, assessing my tribulations, desperately trying to sort out my options. As the day edged into early evening, as the shock of what had happened hours earlier began to wear off, I succumbed to my miserable fate. Patrick was gone and was never going to come back for me. Warren’s burdensome marriage proposal was a ruse, and no matter, for I had no intention of becoming his wife. I didn’t love him in the least. If I returned to Sutton Hall, the wrath of Eugenia would be there waiting for me. It would be worse than any torment she had inflicted upon me yet. I had few choices, I knew.
My ears perked up as I heard a train whistle in the near distance. In a flash of excitement, I considered getting on board the train, heading wherever. It didn’t matter. I could end up in Louisiana, Texas, Florida. . . I didn’t care. I could make a new life for myself where no one would find me, I imagined. There were a few things I would be able to do for money, I thought optimistically. I knew how to cook and clean. These days, since there were few slaves left to care for a home, a good maid would surely be in need.
The notion cleared the fog in my mind, and I was able to gather my senses. Yes, I would board a train and seek a new life, I told myself.
When the sun was about to set, I proceeded toward the train station only a dozen street blocks away at a brisk pace, not wanting to waste another minute. I needed to get out of Savannah.
I hadn’t noticed the soldiers lingering about the train station until two of them stepped before me, blocking my path to the ticket counter.
“Well, look here, Horace, what we just stumbled upon,” the older dark-haired soldier said and poked into my shoulder with his index finger.
“Ouch!”
“She sure is a pretty thing, Isaac,” Horace mumbled with his mouth full of chewing tobacco.
“Where you headin’ off to?” Isaac asked, leaning in and peering down at me.
“I’m taking a trip. I have to hurry or I’ll miss my train,” I stammered and tried discreetly to get around them, but Isaac took hold of my arm and pulled me back, creating a small scene. Bystanders stopped to watch. A few more soldiers came over and stood amused and gawking.
“Leave me alone!”
“Aw, come on now, you know you like it,” Horace said and grabbed me.
“Stop it!” I cried and frantically tried to get away. I couldn’t understand why no one was helping me, why everyone stood and watched. My clothes were being torn as I fought them.
“Leave her be!” a voice finally ordered.
Horace had p
ushed and held me down. When the man confronted them, they released me and focused their attention on him. I scurried away and ran toward the station, only stopping when I realized that I recognized that man’s voice. I swung around, attempting to confirm my suspicions. The soldiers, Horace and Isaac, were about to pounce on the finely-dressed man. His back was turned my way, and I couldn’t get a clear view of him.
I managed to make my way back through the thick crowd that had formed around the men. A dozen or so were Confederate soldiers, the others only curious bystanders who could do little to stop the impending fight.
Just as Horace was about to throw the first punch, an officer appeared, reprimanding his troops. “That will be enough! Private Happ, Corporal Baxter! Remove yourselves from this scuffle!”
The men hesitated but forfeited the fight without defiance and went on their way. The crowd scattered, leaving the gentleman who had saved me from certain abuse wiping the dust off his trousers. As he turned around, my legs nearly gave way. He called out to me before I had a chance to disbelieve the chance encounter.
“Amelia Arrington!”
I would have never imagined seeing Perry Montgomery again! Forsaking a proper greeting, I threw my arms around him, relieved and grateful that he’d arrived just in time.
“Where did you come from?” I asked, desperately clinging to him.
“It doesn’t matter where I came from; it’s where I’m going,” he replied and pulled me back. “Let me get a good look at you.”
His sparkling eyes looked me over, his full lips displayed a sincere smile. “You are breathtaking. More beautiful even than I remember.”
Perry Montgomery wore civilian clothes, which caused me to question his state of affairs.
“I thought you were serving for the Confederacy, like Daddy.”
“Shhhhh, Amelia, not so loud. Come with me and let us get reacquainted,” he suggested, and I agreed.
Box Set: The ArringtonTrilogy Page 21