Threads of Betrayal

by Monica Koldyke Miller

  Though Reagan had been delayed only moments, it was enough for the Bruesters to reach their coach. From across the churchyard he saw their driver set the barouche in motion. Disappointed, he reentered the narthex to find his family talking with the Barringtons.

  “Ah, there you are,” Beauregard said as Reagan drew near. “Were you successful in catching Le miel?”

  “Sorry to say, my clumsy feet are not nimble like yours,” he said before turning to Beau’s mother. “Bon jour, ma mere petite. You are looking well.”

  “Good morning, Monsieur Reagan.” Though small in stature, Yvette Barrington won notice with her vivacious manner and sharp wit. By the glint in her eyes, today would be no different. “I understand you were a naughty man,” she clucked, tapping him with a closed parasol. “I hear many things, Monsieur Reagan. If you’re to be respected, perhaps you should be like the Parisians.” She then tossed her head while snapping fingers. “Learn to be a better sneak!”

  Reagan laughed. “You’re right, of course,” he said. “I could learn much from your son.”

  “Yvette! For once, take a hold of your tongue.” Charles Barrington spoke up, hoping none would take offense. His own wealth had come late in life and he often felt uncomfortable with those he considered his betters.

  “Bah!” Yvette tapped the floor with her parasol. “I simply jest to lighten the mood. I love Reagan like my own Beauregard, you-you English stick in the mud.”

  “Mrs. Barrington, you simply must come to our house next week for tea,” Katherine said. “Reagan’s been neglectful for not introducing us before now.”

  “Please, Madame, call me Yvette,” she said. “Beau spoke of inviting your family to sample Chef Énrie’s fine cooking. But he never did say when I should extend our hospitality.” She gave Beauregard an accusing stare. “If we’ve always worshiped at the same church, my son’s also been remiss in not introducing us before now.”

  “But ma mère, we usually attend the late service.”

  Katherine laid a hand on Beau’s arm. “We’ve enjoyed Beau’s company for many years. Despite the delay, I’m sure we’ll take pleasure in your acquaintance as well.”

  “We look forward to that time,” Mr. Barrington said. “Beau, would you please bring around the carriage?”

  “Yes, Papa,” he said, bringing Amy’s fingers to his lips. “Au revoir demoiselle.” Then gathering Katherine’s hands in both of his, he clicked his heels and bowed. “Madame Burnsfield.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  George settled in his seat and removed his hat as the barouche moved. “Well, that was certainly one of Pastor Fuller’s better sermons, don’t you think, dear?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, George!” Tossing her purse, Emily glared at her husband. “I didn’t hear a word the pastor said. Besides, how could I concentrate with all those people staring at us?”

  “Well, the pastor spoke of the-ah-difficulty of forgiveness and the music seemed especially inspiring.” His eyebrows lifted hopefully. “I mean, I particularly enjoyed the final hymns….”

  Emily’s eyes turned stormy. “It seems everyone knows what befell Amanda and blames her, not that damnable Reagan!” She shook a finger at the drawn curtains. “Did you see Harriet Reckewig? She drew back when I spoke to her. The nerve of that woman! Why, she was never invited to Matilda Harper’s spring ball until I brought her. And Clara Farrington had no social life until I recommended her for Ladies Aid. How dare she snub my wishes of good morning!”

  Attending church had been worse than Emily imagined. Her friends had been slow to greet her while others clearly shunned Amanda. Damn Reagan! Damn the day he was born! “Something must be done,” she burst out. “I cannot tolerate our daughter being made a laughing stock!”

  “I think you’ve said enough,” George said, inclining his head toward Amanda whose lips quivered. “We should discuss this later, after tea.”

  “Well,” Emily said more gently. “We could invite Derrick to join us for dinner. It’s been several days since his departure and I’m sure he’d enjoy a visit.”

  “No Mama, please. I don’t want company yet,” Amanda pleaded.

  “But dear, he’s more family than guest. Don’t you agree, George? In fact, that’s just what this day needs. I’ll send an invitation as soon as we get home. We’ll have a nice dinner and then enjoy music in the parlor.”

  “Now Emily,” George warned. “If Amanda isn’t up to company, she’s not up to company. Is that clear?”

  The strain of the day’s ordeal had worn on Emily and her face began to crumble. “I’m just trying to make things better,” she said through sudden tears. “We’re being treated like pariahs in our own church. We must do something…”

  “It’s all right,” Amanda said. “Derrick can come over. I’ve changed my mind. It’s better than sitting at home feeling sorry for myself.”

  “See George? It’ll be good for us,” Emily said, smiling. “By next week, this’ll all be forgotten.”

  “Are you sure you want a visitor so soon?” George asked. “It’s fine with me if you wait til after the Festival of Plenty before taking callers.”

  “Mother’s right,” Amanda said. “Perhaps having Derrick over will cheer us up.”

  ***

  The following week Emily called attention to a lone envelope that arrived as they lingered over breakfast. “Didn’t I tell you these rumors would come to nothing? You’ve received an invitation from Camilla Muelder to dine with her and a few of her friends Wednesday evening.”

  “You’ll accept of course,” she declared when Amanda looked uneasily at the mailer. “It’s obvious not everyone has lost good sense. The Bruesters cannot be dismissed.” She tapped her finger on the table. “Your father’s too important a man.”

  “Isn’t that the same evening Sam Hampton’s daughter is entertaining?” George said from behind his newspaper.

  “What of it?” Emily said, huffing. “Camilla’s family has more distinction than Sam’s. Once he’s out of office, who’ll ever go to an ex-mayor’s ball?”

  George folded his paper. “My dear, with all that’s happened, the least of our worries is whether or not Amanda is invited to the most important dinner of the evening.”

  “Poppycock! We’ve not received nor would we have accepted Elizabeth’s invitation. I know the friendship between the Hamptons and the Burnsfields. Most likely, Reagan will be attending and that means Amanda will not!”

  “I see,” he said. “So, we’ll be forever avoiding the Burnsfields. Do you know how ridiculous that sounds, how impossible that’ll be?”

  “Not so ridiculous, nor impossible,” Emily retorted. “Have you forgotten what Reagan has done to our daughter?”

  “Forgotten? How could I forget?” George slammed down his hand in a rare display of anger. “That young man, despite what you think of him, saved Amanda from certain death. And I for one will be eternally grateful.” Emily gasped as he rose to lean over the table. “And, if you say one more derogatory remark about Reagan or his family, I’ll…I’ll…personally take away your credit from shops. And I mean all of them!”

  Emily covered her mouth.

  “Do you really think, my dear, the bank would cover your accounts without my consent?”

  “George…”

  “I’ve known for years your taste for extravagance and I’ve not minded nor begrudged you anything. But this I will not tolerate. Is that clear, Mrs. Bruester?”

  Emily nodded; astounded he had been aware of items she charged under the guise of household expenses. This, on top of the many gifts he had given her, caused Emily to feel remorse. “I’m sorry, George. I’ll do whatever you say.”

  After an awkward silence, he resumed his seat, pretending not to notice Amanda’s shocked expression. “Very well. Amanda, you may accept or decline Camilla’s request. It’s your decision.”

  “It’s all right, Papa. I’ll go.”

  “Very well,” George repeated before picking up his
paper. “By the way, Emily, you may as well pick up that gown at the dressmakers. It’s been paid for.”

  “Yes George. I’ll send for it this afternoon.” She handed the invitation to her daughter, smiling tightly. “Since you’ve given your consent, you must send an acceptance at once. Wills will make sure it’s delivered on time.”

  Amanda excused herself, quaking at the thought of spending time with those who were aware of her embarrassing situation. As painful as it was, she knew further delay would only give weight to the many rumors.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Burrowing into his collar, a man squatted among weeds while staring at Gabriella’s house and barn. For the second time in two weeks he witnessed an elderly woman being dropped off in a carriage, followed by a wagon driven by her handy man. Both times, Ben placed the wagon in the barn before entering the house with nary a parcel in his hands.

  After another hour, the hidden one heard a horse approaching before a voice whispered. “Ted! Where are ya?”

  “Over here, ya big lummox. I’m freezing my arse.” Ted rubbed his posterior as a man drew near. Suddenly, he wrinkled his nose. “Jeez Willie, you smell like rose water.”

  Willie grinned. “Maggie got some new gal and wanted me to break her in, good and proper.” Pushing up his hat, he exposed freshly washed hair. “I took a bath cuz I didn’t want t’ scare her off a’fore we got started.”

  “A new girl, huh? Whu’d she look like?”

  “Kind of freckly over her face,” he said, gesturing. “Dark hair, bound up in some silly thing on top of her head.”

  “Pretty?” Ted asked hopefully.

  Willie chuckled. “Not too bad with face paint and all. But ain’t nuthing I’d take home t’ maw.”

  Ted frowned suspiciously. “I wuz there last night and didn’t see no new gal. How’d you git her first?”

  “I heard about her and told Maggie I should be first cuz I wuz gentle with women. Besides, I paid more’n I had to.”

  “You, gentle?” Ted jeered.

  “Sure! I can be as gentle as a lamb if’n I want to,” Willie said, winking. “She wuz scared at first til she had some wine. Then she got bolder sitting on my lap as I taught her a thing or two about kissing.”

  “I bet you kiss like a mule!” Ted scoffed. “Probably learned how to kiss off’n that mule you call a horse.”

  “Yeah, but I wuz doing the kissing, not you,” Willie pointed out.

  Ted licked his lips. “Then what?”

  “She acted real shy, pretending like she didn’t know what she’s supposed t’ do. So’s I played along, saying the more I got t’ look at, the more she got paid.” Willie smirked at his cleverness. “She seemed okay with that til I got her on the bed. Well, once I got started, she tried slowing me down.” His chest expanded proudly. “But I told her the best way is quick and hard, so she gits it over with, real fast.”

  “Did she like it?”

  “Oh, she cried a little,” Willie said. “But afterwards, she asked me if that’s what all men wanted. I said sure, if they’re real men. After that, she drank more wine.” He shook his head. “The bitch didn’t even know she wuz supposed t’ leave. So I got her for another go round a’fore I came here.”

  As if waking from a dream, Ted pulled the reins from Willie’s hand. Climbing up, he turned the horse around. “So, what’s her name?”

  “Ain’t you gonna report to Jeb first?”

  “Course I am,” he said, backing up until abreast of Willie. “I just want t’ know her name!”

  “You best wait t’ ask fer that one,” he offered. “She’s a mite tuckered.”

  “Willie, so help me, if’n you don’t tell me her name--”

  “Aww, I wuz just funning ya. Her name is Molly. Molly Carnes.”

  Ted kicked the horse, taking off.

  “Be sure t’ take a bath!” Willie hollered. “You smell worse’n Jeb’s bear pelts!”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  On Wednesday and at the requested time, Amanda arrived at Fay and Emory Muelder’s home. Large stone pots dotted the porch where, she guessed, flowers had graced the entrance throughout summer. Once inside, a manservant took her wraps and a maid led her to the parlor.

  “Amanda dear, do come in,” Camilla called gaily. Stepping around a table laden with tea and pastries, she put her arm around her newest guest. “Of course, you’ve already met Leroy and Beauregard,” she said as three men rose to greet her.

  “Hello, Amanda,” Leroy said, nodding coolly. Initially shocked when rumors of Amanda and Reagan first surfaced, Leroy thought he now couldn’t pursue a tainted woman. But as he was reminded of her beauty, it occurred to him his generosity might gain her gratitude. And her wealth, he thought, offering a smile.

  “Bon jour, demoiselle.” Leaning over, Beau kissed her fingers. “How are you this evening?”

  “Very well, thank you.”

  Camilla next indicated the man beside Beauregard. “I don’t believe you’ve been introduced to Anson Rutledge. Anson, this is Amanda Bruester, daughter of George and Emily Bruester.”

  “I feel as if I already know you,” Anson said. Taking her hand, a thick wave of hair bounced above one eye. “Leroy’s blubbered all summer about dancing with a beautiful girl named Amanda. I have to admit, he didn’t exaggerate.”

  “Anson,” Leroy said. “One doesn’t reveal words spoken between friends.” He turned apologetic eyes to Amanda. “However callous it sounds, I can assure you my rendition of our time together was most proper.”

  “Of course it was,” Camilla said, smiling sweetly. She then turned Amanda toward a seated young woman. “This is my cousin, Marietta Stowe. She’s visiting from Virginia until after the New Year.”

  “It’s a pleasure,” Amanda said, noting the girl neither rose nor extended her hand. “I hope your stay has been agreeable so far.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Marietta said before directing her smile to Beau. “And yes, it’s been very agreeable. Everyone here is so pleasant Ah’ve determined Ah must come more often.”

  Camilla laughed rigidly. “Why dear, you visit nearly every year. Cantonsville hasn’t changed that much.”

  “But, this time, Ah’ve met the most enchanting people. If Southern gentlemen were this interesting, Ah never would’ve ventured past Richmond,” she purred demurely.

  “Merci beaucoup,” Beauregard said before glancing around. “But you must agree, it is the French who give the best of affections, oui?”

  “Let’s hope my cousin doesn’t leave Cantonsville knowing the answer to that,” Camilla said, flashing Marietta a warning glance. Touching Amanda’s elbow, she indicated the sofa. “Let’s all get acquainted, shall we?”

  While Anson and Beauregard took their former seats, Leroy installed himself next to Amanda. “Before you came, Marietta was just saying how much she admired the city’s shade trees. I was about to mention that it was the Bruester Bank who proposed the beautification project.” As Camilla poured tea, he boldly touched Amanda’s hand while turning to Marietta. “As founders of the bank, my father and Amanda’s determined Cantonsville should emulate the eastern provinces. They insisted on planting the trees you so rightly admire.”

  “How splendidly progressive,” Marietta said, nibbling a confection. “Did y’all help in planting?”

  Leroy looked aghast. “Certainly not. My dear, Spelding’s never dirty their hands. We provide wherewithal, not muscle and sweat.”

  “Don’t get your nose out of joint, old boy,” Anson said. “Besides, to my recollection, it was Mrs. Spelding who insisted on shade trees. Your old man thought it was a terrible waste of money.”

  A flush crept up Leroy’s neck. And, although Amanda had been aware of his stretching the truth, she felt sympathy for his exposure.

  “I believe when Papa mentioned it, he indicated it was a joint effort,” she said, laying a hand on Leroy’s sleeve. “Perhaps, Mr. Spelding felt resistant at first, but it seems I recall both our fathers becam
e enthusiastic supporters before the project was completed.”

  Leroy smiled gratefully. “Yes, that’s what I meant. I simply avoided the trivialities of the matter.”

  “Oh dear,” Marietta pouted, looking from Anson to Leroy. “Ah didn’t mean for y’all to have words. It doesn’t matter how the trees came about. Ah simply wished to compliment y’all on such a comely city.”

  “Don’t fret,” Anson said. “It’s a lesson well learned if we all heeded your genteel manner.”

  “You’re very kind, sir,” she said, batting green eyes. “Any time you wish to observe our southern ways, y’all are welcome to visit Richmond. You’ll find our people take life more leisurely. Up here, y’all are quite ambitious.”

  Camilla silently fumed, aware of Marietta’s need for attention. “Beauregard,” she broke in. “I understand you’ve spent a great deal of time both above and below the Mason Dixon. How do you find the comparison?”

  “Indeed,” he said, raising dark brows. “There are many differences but to which only a few can be recounted. If I may, I’ll speak only on where my expertise lies.”

  Amanda looked amused, but everyone else became interested. “For instance,” he said, standing to move behind Marietta’s chair. “Demoiselle Marietta is an example of the finest the South has to offer.” He indicated her loose curls, falling thickly past her shoulders. “An array like this isn’t customary here because it could cause a man to go mad with desire. Only a southern lady could display her charms with such poise and remain above scandal.”

  Marietta fairly swooned as Beauregard lifted her hand while gazing into her eyes. “By her very nature, she keeps passion in check. But a man of discernment sees how deeply they run.” Turning over her hand, he kissed her palm. Marietta’s mouth fell open and as he stepped away, she put her hand to a cheek.