The days seemed endless for Ambrosia, hours upon hours of mounting anxiety, and nothing to occupy her time but going over and over her plans for escape. Every morning she watched with jealousy as Drayton went about his business. She envied him his work, though she didn’t know or care where he went each day or what he was doing. She felt hopelessly trapped here. How many times had she dreamed of riding away and never coming back! She had even lost her patience once and asked Debbs to saddle a gentle mare for her so that she could ride about the grounds. But he had only stared at her queerly and offered gallantly to hitch up the brougham if she wished to take a ride. He was visibly shocked that she had even considered riding in her present condition, and she didn’t dare suggest it again for fear he would tell Drayton. It had been foolish of her to consider leaving in broad daylight anyway. She planned to take Sheba along with her and could think of no plausible excuse for the black woman to come along on a pleasure ride about the grounds. And she would need a fair amount of time to get away before anyone realized that she had gone. She had thought it over a thousand times and always the answer was the same. She would need to slip away silently, under cover of darkness. She had only to wait until Drayton spent the night elsewhere.
Escape was an obsession now, the only thing she could hope for. There was nothing else to fill her hours, no challenge, no work, no responsibility, nothing of the life she had known before. She had to get away! She did not allow herself to dwell on the fact that she had no set destination in mind, that she would need money for food and shelter if she were to travel south. She had survived on her own before, and she desperately needed the challenge of survival after all these weeks of being a coddled prisoner. She was too strong to be doted upon and treated like a hopeless, brainless creature. And she was determined to prove her strength by escaping, by making her own way and surviving on her own.
Nearly three weeks had passed when Ambrosia finally saw the chance she had been waiting for. It happened at the dinner table one night, just after Drayton told his aunt that he had come to a decision, that he intended to seek a loan for the painting business. He mentioned his plans to meet with a man who had worked for his father for years, and then meet with a banker friend of his afterward. Ambrosia paid little attention to that as she mechanically ate her dinner.
“Do you think you’ll be home in time for dinner tomorrow evening?” Lily asked him softly, trying to sound casual, though she was worried about the hours he’d kept of late and by the constant tension etched on his brow. She didn’t understand what he hoped to prove by taking on this impossible task, but she guessed it had something to do with pride and something more to do with his relationship with Ambrosia.
In response to her question, Drayton shook his head. “I doubt it. In fact, I was thinking of spending the night in town, since I plan on meeting with Matt over dinner.” Ambrosia’s eyes flew to his face and met his gaze for the barest moment before darting nervously away. Her heart was suddenly pounding. Tomorrow night! She kept her eyes carefully lowered and tried to keep her breath steady and calm. Tomorrow night she would flee. And long before anyone even knew that she was gone, she would be in the city, hidden safely by the crazy, frenzied traffic, until she could find a way south.
The following day passed with such agonizing slowness that Ambrosia thought she would surely go mad before nightfall. She chose a book from the library and tried to concentrate on it to pass the time, but again and again she set it aside and paced her bedroom, going over her plans. At lunch and dinner she could hardly force down a single bite, even though she had also eaten a sparse breakfast.
“Are you feeling well, Ambrosia?” Lily questioned her anxiously, noting that she seemed preoccupied and hadn’t eaten anything to speak of the entire day.
“Quite well,” she responded evenly. “I’m just not hungry.” She paused. “I think I shall retire early. I feel tired all of a sudden.”
Lily forced a smile, but her eyes remained anxious. ‘’Of course, dear. If you should feel hungry later or if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask,” she added. Her smile faded quickly as she watched Ambrosia leave the dining room.
It had already been a long day for Drayton when he met Matt Desmond for dinner at the private gentlemen’s club on Fifth Avenue. He’d spent most of the morning combing the docks on the East River searching out Tom Landon, convincing him to come back to Rambert Paints.
After a leisurely dinner with Matt in the club’s smoky but elegant dining room, talking about the carriage paint business and the economic outlook in general now that the war was over, Drayton turned the talk to serious business, asking Matt point-blank if he intended to make him the necessary loan.
“To be honest,” Matt began with a little smile, Tm surprised you really want to go through with this. When you mentioned taking over that business a few weeks back, I didn’t really take you seriously.” He paused to offer a cigar to Drayton and to light one for himself. “What makes you want to take over your father’s business now? After two years of letting it fend for itself? All this might have made more sense if you’d come home sooner, if you’d shown interest before the company was ready for bankruptcy. ‘’
There was a long space of silence. “I made a mistake,’’ Drayton admitted softly, studying his cigar as he considered what might have been if he had come home sooner, if he hadn’t married Ambrosia, hadn’t fathered a child. “But I intend to rectify that mistake,’’ he went on, his blue eyes determined as they lifted to meet Matt’s, “if I can borrow the money I need to do it.”
Matt let out a lengthy breath as he flicked an ash into a small brass tray. “What do you know about carriage paint, Drayton?”
“I’ve gone over the books more times than I can count. The demand is there. It’s a matter of producing a good-quality product again and winning back the confidence that was lost. I don’t pretend to know every facet of the business yet, but I know someone who does. Tom Landon was father’s right-hand man, and he knows the business inside and out. I offered him a partnership if he’d come back, and he’s accepted.”
Matt’s mouth curved into a slow smile of admiration. Drayton was a persuasive talker. He made everything sound perfectly logical and sound. “It’s still one hell of a gamble, Drayton. You know that, don’t you?”
“Probably better than you do,” he responded evenly. “But I’m willing to take it.”
A hint of a smile touched Matt’s eyes. “Then I suppose I’m willing to convince the bank to go along with you.”
As if on cue, a waiter appeared at the table and asked if either gentleman would be wanting brandy. Drayton gave a nod, and was surprised when Matt declined.
“I hope you’ll excuse me if I run along. I have an appointment with someone who vehemently objects to my indulging in alcoholic beverages. I’ll have a devil of a time as it is explaining away the bourbon I had before dinner.” He rolled his eyes and gave a wry smile. “I know, I know. I could easily find a mistress with less fastidious tastes. But she’s really a darling otherwise, pretty as a picture and lively as a sprite.’’ He withdrew his pocket watch and glanced at it. “And she’ll be mad as a wet hen if I keep her waiting much longer. ‘’ He replaced his watch in the pocket of his silver brocade vest and rose, tossing his napkin on the table. “Audrey has several lovely friends, if you happen to be free for the rest of the evening,” he suggested discreetly. “There was one little blonde-”
‘’Another time, perhaps,’’ Drayton broke in, taking a long sip of the brandy that had been set before him.
“Another time,” Matt repeated. “Well...I’ll state your case at the directors’ meeting Thursday and get a message to you sometime Friday.’’ With a smile and a brief handshake, Matt left Drayton alone.
For a long time after he had gone, Drayton sat at the table rolling the stem of his glass thoughtfully through his long fingers. He wondered why he had been so quick to refus
e another woman’s comfort when the one he desired offered him none. He felt a sudden stab of self-reproach for being such a fool, but more sharply, more acutely, he was aware of his loneliness, of the cold emptiness that filled his soul. He sipped at his brandy slowly, trying to shake off the feelings, knowing that he ought to go to the house in Gramercy Park, the house that had been his father’s... and Aaron’s. But the huge brownstone held nothing for him but memories of an unhappy childhood, of a loneliness too much like what he was feeling now. He wasn’t sure he could face any of that tonight.
He drained his glass and rose from the table. Foolish as it was at this late hour, he was going back to Elmwood.
Chapter 31
As soon as the house was quiet, Ambrosia slipped from her bed and dressed, then groped her way downstairs to Sheba’s small room near the kitchen. She sat on the narrow bed and shook the older woman for several moments before she finally managed to rouse her from a deep sleep. Then a pair of huge brown eyes stared at Ambrosia in disbelief. “You’s gonna what?”
“I am going to leave here. You are a free woman now, and I cannot force you to come along, but-”
Sheba’s face reflected her hurt. ‘’You ain’ nevah had t’ do no forcin’ in de past,” she reminded her. “An’ I stayed wi’ you den.” Her broad forehead creased with concern as she fidgeted with the sleeve of her nightdress. “But, Miz Ambrosia, why you wanna leave heah? Yoah time a-comin’ soon and dis seem like a good place t’ hab a chile. Dez fine folks heah, deh is. An’ de majah, he ain’ nevah done nothin’ t’ hurt you, hab he?”
Ambrosia stood abruptly. “He forced me to come here,” she said, her eyes as hard as her tone. “But he cannot force me to stay. I won’t raise my child a Yankee. I am leaving this place tonight, Sheba. If you’re going with me, then you’d better hurry and dress.”
Sheba bit her lip hard as she scurried from the comfort of her bed. She knew enough not to argue with Ambrosia when her mind was made up. And she could hardly consider remaining behind all alone.
Reluctantly Sheba followed Ambrosia to the stables in the darkness of the night. The ground was damp, and the moon, though full and bright, was hidden now and again by clouds. Holding a warning finger to her lips, Ambrosia left Sheba outside the stable and felt her way to the wall hooks, from which she removed a saddle. She carried it outside and threw it over the upper slat of a split-rail fence. She repeated her movements until she had two saddles, two bridles, and blankets, then led each of the two mares she had chosen weeks before into the warm, humid air of the night. It took her more time than she had planned to saddle both horses. Hefting the saddles proved a real struggle of will, even with Sheba’s help, which was clumsy and hesitant at best.
When the horses were ready, they walked them a good distance from the stable before Ambrosia turned to Sheba and gave a nod. Then she looked about for a large rock or line of fencing that would aid them in mounting. She quickly found a flat-topped boulder that was perfect. Sheba had little trouble climbing atop her horse’s back while Ambrosia steadied the animal. She promptly handed the older woman the reins, climbing the rock herself. She flung her small bundle over the pommel and hitched up her skirt to mount. She chose to ride astride, as she had done as a child, simply because of the control the position allowed her, control she might well need. Once in the saddle she turned back to Sheba, who stared dumbly at her hands and nervously twisted the reins. “Ready?”
Sheba gulped. “Uh...uh...Miz Ambrosia?” “What is it, Sheba?” Ambrosia asked impatiently. ‘Ah-ah ain’ nevah rid no horse afore. ‘’
Ambrosia let out a breath through clenched teeth. “There’s nothing to worry about, Sheba. You get on the horse’s back and the horse does everything else. Just get a firm hold on the reins. My horse will be leading.”
Sheba nodded, her thick lower lip trembling in the moonlight. “Yes’m. A firm hol’ on de reins. A firm hol’ on de reins.’’
Ambrosia coaxed het horse to a trot, then glanced over her shoulder to see that Sheba’s horse still stood grazing leisurely. Ambrosia retraced what little ground she had covered and brought her horse around to face the older woman.
“...firm hol’ on de reins,” Sheba was muttering, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. “I gots t’ keep a firm hol’ on de reins...”
With a sigh of frustration, Ambrosia turned her horse again so that they both faced in the same direction. “Sheba.”
The black woman winced and hesitantly opened her eyes. “Ah’s got ‘em tight, Miz Ambrosia.”
“Give me the reins.”
Sheba happily complied. “Yes’m.”
“Now hold on to the pommel.”
Her face went blank. “De what?”
“This!” Ambrosia indicated the pommel and Sheba nodded vigorously as her plump fingers took firm hold. She felt much better about holding something that was secure, instead of a few flimsy strips of leather.
“Hold on tight.”
Sheba nodded and held on for all she was worth when the beast beneath her began to move. Ambrosia led the horse slowly at first, knowing that Sheba was frightened out of her skin. But after a time at an easy trot, Ambrosia’s patience waned. And then she was galloping at full speed, the air cool and moist on her cheeks, her mouth breaking into a triumphant smile. She was free!
For a time movement was free and easy, in spite of the darkness. The horses almost seemed as eager to reach the city as Ambrosia herself. But her mare slowed a bit as the road wound through a thick growth of trees and shadows overlapped in a dense curtain of black, cutting visibility to nothing. The mare’s strides became uncertain and hesitant until she was picking her way gingerly over the rutted roadway. Ambrosia’s breath quickened and her hands tensed on the reins as she became aware of the danger of traveling unfamiliar ground in such darkness. But she did not for a moment consider turning back. Escape was the only thing that she had thought about these past weeks, and this was her only hope of succeeding.
The light broke through the branches overhead and her mare once again took up an eager canter which Sheba protested with a loud grunt. But the reprieve was shortlived. Again and again the darkness surrounded them, the thick foliage that arched over the roadway making their journey a treacherous game of chance. Time slipped quickly by. The slow, nerve-racking pace continued. Ambrosia began to feel the stress in her muscles as the heavy burden of the child she carried made controlling the horse all the more difficult. Her confinement of the past weeks had robbed her of so much of her stamina! Her arms ached, her body demanded rest. She steadfastly refused to give it. Her only safety lay in reaching New York before she was discovered missing. There was far too much at stake to risk stopping now. She clicked her tongue and urged the mare to proceed a little faster, stopping only when the road forked to consider two markers before choosing the way. She felt the weariness taking hold of her as she forced herself onward. Her eyes began to play tricks on her, to imagine grotesque shapes in the darkness that made her start from a half-relaxed posture and twist about to be certain that she hadn’t dropped Sheba’s reins. Her heart beat frantically, her stomach was a tight knot. She could not free herself from a mounting dread of passing the village, or the groups of shanties or huts that had lined the road for a good mile just outside the city.
The road opened up again, the moonlight flooded her path. Ambrosia prodded her mare to take advantage of the length of road ahead, her confidence returning as she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. It was then that she became aware of a faint thudding of a rider in the distance. She smiled. It could not be much further to the village now, she was sure of it. The approach of another horse made her all the more certain.
The horseman was still at a fair distance when Ambrosia felt an eerie prickling at the nape of her neck. She slowed her pace a bit to consider the all-too-familiar form, not wanting to believe what her instincts were screaming at her. But as he drew nearer an
d nearer, she could not deny what she saw.
She let out a small cry of frustration and fear as she jerked back hard on the reins. The mare reared and whinnied, pawing the air in confusion as Ambrosia struggled to maintain her seat. “It’s Drayton!” she cried, tossing a bewildered Sheba the reins. “Run! Run!”
Ambrosia twisted her horse about and headed in the opposite direction. But the maneuver cost her precious time. Drayton had drawn close enough to hear her cries and to recognize Sheba. Now he was urging his stallion to full speed in pursuit.
Ambrosia dug her heels repeatedly into the mare’s belly, wanting to scream as the thundering hooves behind her drew closer and closer. In a last effort to lose him, she turned her horse abruptly off the road toward an open field, but the rhythm of a second horse’s thudding hooves still echoed in her ears. She felt more than saw him be side her. She urged the mare all the more frantically. A hand shot out to grasp her horse’s bridle, and strength far superior to hers pulled it back, slowing the confused animal to a rough stop.
Ambrosia slid from the saddle and ran as fast as her legs would carry her through the thick meadow grass, hoping to reach the woods where she might hide. She stumbled to her knees, got up, and began running again, her chest aching with the exertion, her leg muscles twitching and shaking as she forced them on. She had to escape him! She had to! This was her only chance!
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