None spoke as Beau stepped behind Camilla’s chair. Looking first to Anson then Leroy, he touched her shoulder. “Gentlemen, as you may’ve already observed, women of the North desire self determination. This is also true of our hostess. When a man wants a bit of fire, a woman like Camilla won’t leave him wanting. She possesses an angel’s voice and a soul as mysterious as the ancients. But, if he isn’t careful he’ll be ensnared by her gentilesse.”
Camilla patted his hand, looking to see her cousin’s expression. “He’s lying of course,” she said. “But I like to hear it just the same.”
“Non, mademoiselle,” Beau said, feigning shock. “None can deny your beauty. With this complexion and flaxen hair, can any say they’ve known anyone else with such rare coloring?” As the men nodded in agreement, Camilla had the good sense to blush. But everyone quieted as Beau’s gaze turned to Amanda.
“Oh no,” she pleaded in sudden embarrassment. “It isn’t necessary to speak further. You’ve quite covered the differences between both ends of the country.”
“But ma chéri,” Beau said as he knelt before her. “You are the rarest of blossoms.”
“Only the most common flower, I’m afraid. I know how often you bandy about the phrase.”
“But now I tell the truth,” he said, lifting her chin. “When a man wants loyalty and a place to find his rest, this is the woman he seeks. She possesses beauty, no one can deny. Yet, there’s something else…” Furrowing his brow, he tapped his lip with a finger. “Oui.” He seemed struck by a sudden thought. “There’s no guile in her eyes.”
“My, my,” Marietta pouted prettily. “You can see all that?” She had tired of the game. Once attention was focused elsewhere, it all became a terrible bore. “Her eyes just look blue to me.” She twittered at her own joke, but found herself alone in its enjoyment.
Camilla deftly kicked her cousin, unseen by the fullness of their touching skirts. “Not now, dear,” she murmured low.
Unable to scream, Marietta reached over and secretly pinched Camilla’s arm. “You little witch,” she whispered. “You promised we’d have fun.”
Camilla looked around but all eyes were on the Frenchman. So she kicked Marietta again.
“Il ne parle pas au roi qui veut,” Beau quoted as he released Amanda’s chin. “Only the eagle can gaze at the sun.”
“Excuse me, Miss Camilla,” the maid said, entering the parlor. “Dinner is served.”
Chapter Thirty
By the time everyone took seats around the table, Amanda decided she had worried needlessly about accepting Camilla’s invitation. Emily had been right and she had the Muelders to thank for being the first to receive her since her capture.
At Camilla’s insistence, wineglasses were replenished and all had their fill before the first course ended. “Amanda darling,” she said as she blotted her mouth. “Now that we’ve all become friends, you must tell us a little more about yourself.”
Amanda’s throat tightened when Camilla’s eyes flitted to Marietta before settling upon her. “For instance, you simply must settle a little argument between me and my cousin.”
“Oh?” She glanced nervously toward Beau, but his focus was on Camilla.
“I’m sure there’s nothing to it, but being so scandalous, I just knew you’d want to clear it up. I told Marietta just yesterday that a lady like yourself could never be the person everyone is talking about.”
A flutter began in Amanda’s stomach as Camilla leaned forward, her eyes rounded. “We heard there was a girl caught in the woods, her dress all torn and dirty--by who knows what--with none other than Reagan Burnsfield.” She looked at her cousin who now stared at Amanda with rapt attention. “A man with a known reputation,” she said. “I knew it couldn’t be you, as it’s been suggested, but perhaps a girl that resembles you. Reagan and the girl were supposedly caught by bounty hunters on the trail of slaves, of all things! Why, what kind of trash would do such a thing?”
Amanda felt as though the floor had been yanked from beneath her but refused to swallow her up. Initially turning red, she paled and grew sick as Camilla’s eyes became slits. “Can you tell us why anyone would have such notions about you?”
“I-I-” Amanda couldn’t speak as her mind searched for explanations. Anson’s jaw dropped and Leroy appeared pained as he was once again reminded of his own doubts.
“Camilla,” Beauregard spoke softly though his eyes grew hard. “I fear I should remind you that this conversation has become indelicate, even for your table. I must insist Amanda not dignify your questions with an answer.”
“Why not? I’m only allowing the poor girl to pluck herself from the disgrace laid at her feet. Everyone would like to know the truth. I’m sure, given the chance, she’d be happy to deny the accusations of being a tramp! Wouldn’t you, Amanda?”
Marietta tittered unkindly then coughed into her napkin. “Excuse me,” she murmured.
Amanda felt the full force of Camilla’s betrayal. She looked around the table as everyone waited expectantly. With meticulous precision, she folded her napkin before laying it on her plate. “What stories you’ve listened to, I can only imagine. I’ve also heard the accounts though they’re greatly distorted. In truth, I was the one apprehended with Reagan by those renegades. It’s easy to see now what a foolish decision it was to ride alone with a suitor.” Amanda almost faltered, but steadied her voice. “My impulsiveness has cost me much. Though I can’t repair my reputation, I can assure you it’s a case of mistaken identity as far as those bounty hunters are concerned.”
Beauregard noticed the slight quiver beginning in Amanda’s voice and rose suddenly. “Demoiselle,” he said, holding out his arm. “Allow me the pleasure of escorting you home.”
“Is that necessary?” Marietta blurted. “I mean,” she corrected herself, “you’ve not finished your dinner.”
“As a gentleman, and a friend, I insist,” he said as Amanda reached for his sleeve.
“Oh dear!” Camilla appeared contrite. “I only meant to clear her name. I didn’t think…” She looked at Leroy. “Perhaps, you can convince Amanda of my sincerity.”
“How so?” he said, clearly annoyed.
“I thought Amanda would want to set the record straight. There are so many stories going around, I just knew she’d want to explain herself.”
“There’s nothing more to explain. And though it distresses me to part company, I pray you’ll forgive us if we take our leave,” Beau said, assisting Amanda to her feet.
“Must he leave too?” Marietta glared at her cousin as Beau and Amanda left the room. “Surely, Miss Bruester can depart as alone as she came, can’t she?”
“Oh, shut up, Marietta!” Camilla allowed a pained expression to cross her face while stabbing her food with a fork. “Sometimes I can’t believe the foolishness that comes out of your mouth!”
Marietta stared at her cousin in utter astonishment before regaining her composure. Turning to Anson, she smiled sweetly. “Tell me sir, how deep does the snow get up here? Can one actually get home-bound for days on end?”
Finding the closet that held their wraps, Beau placed Amanda’s cloak around her shoulders. “It’s all right, ma petite. I had a notion all wouldn’t go well this evening.”
Amanda swallowed as tears filled her eyes. “Will it always be this way? I’m sure you’ve heard the stories, too.”
“Non, chéri,” he assured while putting on his coat. “I don’t believe Reagan will allow such talk to go on.” The manservant opening the door went to do Beau’s bidding of sending around their carriages.
“But what can he do? It’s not his fault, nor his problem. I’m afraid it’s one of my own doing.”
“Don’t be so sad, my little friend,” he said, tucking a hanky into her hands. “I know Reagan, and it’s not like him to let those he cares about suffer.”
“Unless he can turn back the clock, I’m afraid there’s little he can do.” She sighed, wiping away her tears. “The worst of
it is the shame I’ve brought on everyone.”
“Don’t cry,” he said as both carriages came into view. It may seem hopeless, but I give you my word. Soon, you’ll be yesterday’s news, all but forgotten.
Beauregard aided Amanda into her conveyance and signaled his driver to follow before climbing in and taking the opposite seat. Striking a match, he lit a lamp then arranged a blanket over her lap. “There,” he said, surveying his handiwork. “You should stay warm.”
“I’m sorry I spoiled your evening.”
“Don’t berate yourself, demoiselle. It wasn’t you that ruined my appetite.”
“But I ruined the party by leaving, despite what happened.” Amanda shook her head. “Camilla was so sweet, at first…”
“Non!” Beau sat up, indignant. “Le miel est doux mais l’ abeille pique!”
“Beau,” she said, smiling. “You know I don’t speak French. Pray, what did you say?”
“Honey is sweet, but bees sting.” He let his head drop against the cushion. “Be careful of that one, ma petite. Camilla is more wasp than honey bee.”
Amanda felt grateful Beau afforded her what privacy he could in the nearness of the carriage. She needed to brace herself for the explanation her parents would surely demand at her early return.
When the carriage slowed to turn into the Bruester lane, Beau leaned forward. “Feeling better, chéri?”
“Much better, thank you.” Amanda held out the hanky. “I shouldn’t need this anymore.”
“Keep it, just in case,” he said. As he assisted her from the carriage, Amanda prayed her parents had retired early. But when Wills opened the door she saw them emerging from the parlor.
“Amanda,” Emily said, approaching. “You’re home early. Have you taken ill?”
“No, but…” Amanda paused as tears brightened her eyes.
Sensing it had gone badly for her daughter, Emily quickly dismissed the servant. “That’ll be all, Wills.”
“Very good, madam,” he said, accepting Amanda’s coat.
Taking Amanda’s arm, Emily led everyone to the parlor. A fire, burning low, still gave warmth to furniture littered with Emily’s tapestry and George’s book lying open.
“Have a seat, Beau,” George said as Emily sat with Amanda on the sofa.
“Merci,” he said, unbuttoning his coat.
“What happened?” Emily wanted to know.
“The evening started out lovely,” Amanda began. “I met Camilla’s cousin from Richmond as well as a friend of Leroy’s…”
“Leroy was there? Surely, he was civil, wasn’t he?” Emily broke in.
“Yes, he was very nice to me. It wasn’t until dinner when Camilla said since we were friends, maybe I could answer a few questions…that had to do with…” Unable to finish, Amanda began to sob and covered her face.
“How dare she!” Emily said. “What did you say?”
“I told demoiselle not to dignify the question with an answer,” Beau interjected. “But with the grace of a true lady, Amanda spoke with candor.”
Emily remained silent, for once having nothing to say. No one knew more than she, how difficult it would be to repair broken respect. She looked at George as he sank into a chair.
Taking this moment to stand, Beau vowed to himself he wouldn’t sleep until he spoke to Reagan. “It’s time for me to go,” he said. Turning to George, he extended his hand. “Monsieur Bruester, with your permission?”
“Thank you for bringing Amanda home. It was very generous of you.”
“Bah! Twas nothing. I consider it an honor. Remember my words, demoiselle,” he said to Amanda. “Tomorrow will be a better day.”
Once outside, Beau turned up his collar. After giving the driver instructions, he looked at his watch before climbing inside the landau. He had just enough time to speak privately with Reagan before the Hampton guests departed. Despite his misgivings, Beauregard believed not only would Reagan do the honorable thing, but he would also see the wisdom in marrying such a rare flower as Amanda.
Chapter Thirty-One
Ben helped Gabriella into the general store where she purchased items for the planned Thanksgiving meal with George and his family. While he carried out supplies, two men on horseback reined in a few yards away. Later, when Ben halted the carriage at the dressmaker’s, the same men pretended to find the display of weaponry in the gunsmith’s shop to be of exceeding interest. However, they lost their curiosity the moment Ben slapped the reins to take his mistress to her next destination.
Sunrays dappled the sidewalk as Ben aided Gabriella through the arched doors of St. Mary’s church. Though not majestic like churches built in recent times, Gabriella felt at home and could think more clearly in the small, quiet sanctuary.
Ben stationed himself in a pew while Gabriella approached a candle-lined alcove. There, she lit the taper of a dark red votive before kneeling.
Crossing herself, she clasped her hands then bowed her head as she recalled her unease of the last few days. With increasing certainty she felt unseen eyes watching her. She often noticed through her windows the passage of miscreants at all hours of the day. Greatly alarmed, she had halted her underground activities until she could know the bounty hunters had given up on capturing Nell.
The creaking door broke the quiet as two men entered and took an empty pew. Removing their hats, they stared toward Gabriella as she knelt by the alcove.
Fear gripped Gabriella’s heart as she glanced at the strangers for they bore a striking resemblance to those patrolling her home. Rising from the rail, her cane tapped an urgent tempo as she hobbled toward Ben who promptly took her arm and assisted her outside. He pretended not to notice the men exiting the church while he guided the horses into the street, not stopping until arriving home.
While Ben set the brake, the pair on horseback rode past the property where trees and overgrown weeds filled an empty lot. Placing the step, he opened the carriage door.
“It seems we’re being followed,” he said as Gabriella stepped down.
“I know,” she said. “I’ve already sent messages to our contacts not to send any more visitors. I can’t jeopardize the rest of the route. We can however, keep giving to the Negro settlement. There’s no crime in helping the emancipated.” After climbing the steps, she patted his hand. “After you unload the packages, return to the store and pick up those blankets we purchased. Once they’re added to the clothing we gathered, we should have a nice donation to take to our friends.”
Gabriella then went inside. She removed her bonnet, feeling a measure of satisfaction no one could stop her donations to the Negro settlement. It was secretly understood the provisions would be shared with any runaways that mingled for a time with their freed brethren.
Chapter Thirty-Two
A campfire burned near a shanty by the river. Above the flames, twisting fingers of smoke rose toward a sky filled with scudding clouds. From out of the darkness, a voice called. “Ho there! Is a stranger welcome?”
The woman stirring a pot over the fire peered into the shadows. “Who’s there? Is yu friendly?”
“Course, Ah friendly,” called the voice.
At the sound of scraping leaves, the woman’s eyes grew wide. Presently, a man wearing a tattered coat emerged, swinging his arms oddly and dragging his left leg. “A hungry man’s always friendly,” he said, removing his hat. Sniffing loudly, he looked at the simmering stew. “If it’s allowable, can a poor travelin’ man have a bit of that fine cooking?”
The woman hesitated for her husband wasn’t home and she hadn’t seen this one in the settlement before. Wary of strangers, Eliza knew runaways often found their way to communities like these on their journey north.
“Where you headed?” she asked.
“Ah heered there’s a safe house in town where Ah kin git a ride,” he said, tottering unsteadily.
“Oh, sit down,” she said, pointing to a nearby stump. She filled a bowl and handed it to him before dipping water from a buck
et.
Bolting down the meal, he wiped his mouth on a sleeve before drinking the water. “Thank you kindly. Ah ain’t had nuthin’ to eat all day.”
Eliza felt pity for the stranger as she watched him massage his leg. She noticed his light colored fingers. Sitting on a stool, she spoke her mind. “You ain’t very dark for a southerner. Do yu have family around here?”
“Ah’s got no family left,” he said, sniffing. “They’s all gone. Kilt whilst tryin’ to escape, or, sold down the river.” Wiping away tears, he managed to go on. “So, Ah decided it wuz time for old Whipper to git hisself up north where Ah kin be a free man before Ah git sold agin.”
Eliza’s heart melted. “Perhaps, my husband can help find who yer lookin’ for.”
Whipper smiled gratefully. “Yu’s surely an angel ma’am. Ah nearly got catched a ways back before Ah wuz told about a woman that takes in such as mesself, and gits them on. If yer husband kin show me the way, Ah…” Whipper looked up in alarm at the sound of a wagon approaching.
“It’s all right,” Eliza said, rising. “It’s just my man.” Whipper watched as she hurried away. Nervously, he turned his hat over and over while listening to voices speaking in urgent tones. As he stared into the dark, a large figure suddenly loomed over him. Whipper stood abruptly, then looked into the eyes of a towering, broad shouldered man.
“Who are you and where do you come from?” the man demanded.
“Mah names Whipper, and Ah-Ah-Ah’s from South Carolina, off a place owned by Mistah James Burr…”
“Ain’t never heard of him. Why are you here?”
Whipper’s eyes fell on Eliza as she returned to the fire. “Yer missus kindly shared some vittles and let me rest a spell.”
“Reuben! Cain’t yu see he’s near exhausted?” She pushed past her husband. “Now yu just sit back down. Yer leg appears to be paining yu.” Eliza found a large rock and set it near Whipper. “Here, use this to prop up yer lame leg.”
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