“And I promise we’ll attend Race Week next winter.”
“Can you spare the time?”
“I’ll make time.” He cupped her chin in his hand. “These past months I, too, have had a lot of time to think. It was unreasonable of me to expect you to ignore the social season altogether. Next year we’ll take in every race and every picnic, and I’ll brush up on my dancing so I don’t step on your hem during the St. Cecilia ball.”
She laughed because they both knew he was one of the best dancers in all of Charleston. “I’m relieved that our quarrel is truly forgotten. And I would dearly love to assist in your work, in any way I can.”
“You may regret having made that offer,” he said, his eyes alight with happy excitement. “There will be a mountain of work to do come autumn.”
“I won’t mind, so long as we’re together.”
They rose, and he took both her hands in his. “Dearest Abigail. I wonder if you know—”
Her breath caught. If only Wade Bennett would declare himself, Papa would have to listen to her wishes. To take her feelings into account and—
The door crashed open, and Papa came in, his blue eyes blazing. “There you are, Abigail. Have you forgotten that I wish to speak to you?”
Abby took in a deep breath to steady her voice. “Of course I haven’t. But you were talking with the governor when we came in. And Dr. Bennett has just arrived from the ferry. We’re having tea, waiting out the storm.”
“So I see.” Papa cleared his throat. “Good afternoon, Doctor. I trust you’re well. We haven’t seen much of you this spring.”
“I’ve been away, working with Dr. Percy at his medical laboratory in Washington,” Wade said easily. “But the work is done for now, and I’m delighted to be home. All of us Bennetts are very much looking forward to the barbecue and the dance.”
Papa nodded. “It’s always a pleasure to talk with your father. He has a fine legal mind. We need his kind in the legislature.”
“I couldn’t agree more, sir, but my father has said many times he has no interest in politics.”
“Too bad.”
The three fell silent. At last Wade said, “The rain has stopped, and I ought to be getting home. It’s Mother’s birthday, and unless I miss my guess, Father has some kind of surprise planned.”
“We’ll see you at the barbecue,” Abby said. “And for the dance afterward.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” Wade tucked his satchel under his arm and retrieved his hat from the back of his chair. “No need to see me out. I know the way. Good afternoon, Miss Clayton.” He inclined his head toward Papa. “Sir.”
When the sound of his footsteps faded, Papa motioned her into her chair. “It’s time we talked, Abigail. Sit.”
CHAPTER FOUR
ABBY SAT. “IF THIS IS ABOUT CHARLES KITTRIDGE—”
“It is. Please do me the courtesy of hearing me out.”
“I have heard you on this subject before, Papa. I know you would have me marry him, but I don’t love him.”
“I’m well aware that your heart belongs to the young doctor.” Papa stared out the rain-streaked window. “I imagine everyone else knows it too. You’re wearing your heart on your sleeve, my girl.”
“Then why keep bringing up Charles when even you can see my affections lie elsewhere?”
“The making of a marriage is about much more than mutual attraction. You must think of the future. Charles has acquitted himself admirably this year. His investments in the Nevada silver mine and the oil drilling in Pennsylvania have paid off quite well. Added to the profits from the Kittridge rice plantations, they make Charles easily one of the wealthiest men in South Carolina.” Papa peered at her over the top of his spectacles. “He will be even wealthier when I give you your dowry. I intend to give you Arrington Place upon your marriage. It isn’t as large as Mulberry Hall, but it’s well situated, and it has always turned a profit. And when your mother and I have passed on, of course, Mulberry will be yours too.”
Abby chewed her bottom lip and watched a group of children emerge from their cottages to play in the puddles the rain had left on the beach. She could think of at least six reasons why the prospect of marriage to Charles made her skin crawl—starting with his reprehensible behavior last summer and including the fact that he cared so little for books—but there was little to be gained by reiterating her feelings. Papa wanted what he wanted, and nothing would dissuade him.
Papa reached for her hand. “So will you think about it?”
“Why the big hurry? Can’t we enjoy our guests? Why must you pressure me for an answer now?”
He removed his spectacles and polished them on his sleeve. “Rumor has it that one of the Drayton girls has set her cap for young Kittridge. And she’s coming to the barbecue.”
“Good. She’s welcome to him.”
“I want to see you settled, Abigail, in case the worst happens.”
“Oh, Papa. I know you’re worried about secession, but—”
“The situation is grave, my dear. John Bell of Tennessee is a fine man, but nobody believes he can beat Mr. Lincoln for president this fall. And Lincoln has made it quite clear that there is no room for compromise on the slavery question. If he wins election in November, I have no doubt South Carolina will secede, and that will bring us one step closer to war. I want to know you will be secure, no matter what happens.”
She looked up, alarmed. “Are our fortunes at risk?”
“No more so than those of any other rice planter.”
“If that’s true, then I don’t see how marriage to Charles will protect me.”
He sighed. “I won’t live forever, Abigail. You will need a man to look after your holdings and to deal with the bondsmen. To secure your future and that of your children and their children.”
“Any reasonably intelligent man can do that.”
“You mean Dr. Bennett.”
“Yes. After all, he is far better educated than Charles.”
“But Charles has the instincts of a born businessman. He knows when to take a risk and when to cash in. I’ve no doubt the good doctor knows his way around a stethoscope and a laboratory, but—”
Abby rose and began to pace the small room, her thoughts and her stomach churning. Couldn’t Papa see that her heart had a mind of its own? That she was powerless against its pull on her?
“Why do you find Charles so objectionable?” Papa asked, frowning. “He’s more than reasonably attractive to the ladies, or so I’ve been told. He doesn’t drink to excess, he’s competent on the dance floor, and he has the added advantage of kinship.”
“He doesn’t care for me,” Abby said. “And he—”
“That will come with time. With shared burdens and shared joys. Youthful attraction fades, my dear. It’s exciting at the outset, but it is quite an insufficient foundation for marriage. You must trust me about this.”
Abby studied her father’s face. Despite all he did to vex her, she didn’t doubt that he wanted the best for his only child and heir. But he wouldn’t understand her concerns about Charles’s character, much less her need to do something that mattered in the world, something that would transcend her own time on earth. She sighed. “I do trust you, Papa.”
He drew her close and planted a kiss atop her head, the way he had when she was small. “Just give it some serious thought. That’s all I ask.”
“All right.”
The clock on the stairway landing emitted a series of faint chimes.
“Fair enough. Now I must see to my guest. The governor will no doubt want to go poking about the island again this afternoon.”
Papa returned to his study. Abby picked up her hat and headed outside to the boathouse. She needed time on the water to calm her heart and clear her head. Once there, she found her paddle and wrestled her small rowboat into the tidal creek. It swayed on the still waters as she settled herself on the seat and pushed off. The creek rose slowly as the tide came in, obscuring the mud fla
ts and sending the birds to higher ground. A squirrel’s tail flashed in the limbs of an old oak tree. Above the brown water a cloud of insects rose and fell. Abby felt her anxiety fading away. This island had always been her refuge. The place where she came to think. To dream. She closed her eyes and let the boat drift.
Papa would expect her answer soon, and though she knew what her answer must be, she would have to figure out a way to make him see things her way. Perhaps if Wade declared his intentions toward her, perhaps if he himself spoke to her father and explained what he wanted to accomplish, Papa would see that there were things in life more important than making gobs of money. That she was fit for more than giving teas and paying social calls.
She appreciated Papa’s concern for her future and his generosity in giving her Arrington Place. It was one of the finest plantations on the Pee Dee and a close neighbor to Mr. Allston’s magnificent Chicora Wood. But perhaps Charles Kittridge had been wise to invest in the Comstock Lode out West and in the Titusville oil-drilling operation. If the day came when there were not enough men to plant and harvest rice, those investments might well save the day.
Tears leaked from her closed eyes. Marrying Charles might be the practical choice, but what about her heart? And could she really trust a man who simply took what he wanted with no regard for her own feelings? His behavior last summer was bad enough. She could imagine how much more demanding he might become once they were wed.
A loud splash near the boat interrupted her reverie. The gray, ridged back of an alligator appeared just yards away. The tobacco-colored water roiled as the gator neared the boat. Abby grabbed her paddle and tried to turn the boat in the narrow creek. But the alligator glided closer, its large teeth showing as it rose and clamped onto the stern. A chunk of the dried-out wood came away, and the boat began taking on water.
Abby screamed and tried to beat the creature back with the paddle, but the alligator came halfway out of the water and tried to slither into the boat. Abby paddled toward the boathouse, now barely visible in the distance, but the boat was sinking fast. Her only option was to abandon it to the angry alligator and take her chances crossing the marsh on foot.
Holding fast to the paddle, she jumped out of the boat and landed ankle deep in pluff mud that sucked at her shoes as she ran, turning left and right in a frantic zigzag motion to slow and confuse the alligator. The water, cold and slimy, rose to her waist. The sharp sawgrass tore at her heavy skirts and scratched her arms and face. One of her shoes came off as she crossed the last few yards to the boathouse, her heart hammering, her sides aching.
She pushed open the boathouse door and collapsed, shaking and gasping for breath, onto the short bench where paddles and extra hats and fishing poles were kept. When her breathing slowed, she removed her sopping stockings and her dress and hung them on a nail to dry. She wrung water from the tattered hem and tried to brush away the mud clinging to the sleeves.
Supper time was still a couple of hours away. Perhaps by then her dress would be dry enough that she could at least wear it into the house. Sophronia would be furious, but she would help with a bath and fresh clothes before Abby was expected for supper. There wouldn’t be time to wash and dry her hair though, and her arms and hands were red and covered with angry-looking scratches.
Thankfully Wade Bennett was busy tonight. At least she would be spared the mortification of his seeing her in such a state.
Shivering in her sopping chemise and pantalettes, Abby pressed a hand to her throbbing side and rubbed at the stinging red marks on her hands. What she needed was some of Sophronia’s elder-bush salve. Perhaps the marks would fade before tomorrow night. If not, her long gloves would hide the worst of—
“Abby?”
She gasped as the door to the boathouse opened and Charles Kittridge strode inside. She grabbed for her dress and heard the fabric rip as it caught on a nail. “Get out.”
He frowned. “I was coming back from the creek when I saw you running across the marsh like the devil himself was after you. What in the world happened?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m fine.” She clutched her ruined dress to her chest. “Please go.”
He moved closer and folded his arms across his chest. “Not until you tell me what happened.”
Through gritted teeth she explained about the boat and the alligator. “It was my fault. I was distracted and let the boat drift too close. She was defending her nest.”
“My lord, Abigail. You might have been killed.”
He drew her into an embrace so tight she winced. “Let go. You’re hurting me.”
“Shh. Just let me hold you.”
She pushed against his chest, but he held on, his cheek resting against her hair.
“I said let go!”
The boathouse door squeaked. Abby twisted her head away and found herself looking squarely into the startled face of Governor Gist.
CHAPTER FIVE
THEODOSIA ANCHORED A DIAMOND COMB INTO ABBY’S elaborate cascade of curls and stood back to admire her handiwork. “There. You look perfect, Abby.”
Abby tried to smile, but tears threatened. Since the incident in the boathouse yesterday, a pall of unease had settled over the cottage like dust in an abandoned room. Mama moved about in strained silence. Papa had shut himself into his study and remained there all evening, so angry with her that he hadn’t even emerged for supper.
This afternoon he had appeared at last, stone-faced and silent, to host the barbecue. Wave after wave of guests had made their way up the beach road from the ferry landing, eager to sample the dozens of dishes Molly set out on long tables on the beach. Papa had been too busy or too angry to pay Abby any notice, and she had been certain to give him and the governor a wide berth. But Mama had insisted that Abby stand in the receiving line, and by the time she’d greeted the merchants, factors, lawyers, and their wives and children, the barbecue was almost over and she’d had little time to spend with Wade at all.
She could well imagine what the governor thought of the scene he’d stumbled upon in the boathouse, but she consoled herself with the thought that he himself possessed less than a spotless reputation. It was rumored that he had once killed a man in defense of a lady’s honor. And according to Ophelia Kittridge, the governor’s parents had never been married—at least to each other. He had been expelled from school and twice been involved in duels, though he’d never been punished for it.
With such a checkered past, the governor was hardly in a position to criticize her for the situation he had come upon in the boathouse. But Charles Kittridge was not constrained by his own past deeds. He would do anything to get his way, even if it meant causing a scandal.
“Abigail Clayton, whatever is the matter with you?” Penny Ravensdale, dressed for the ball in a pink confection appliquéd with white rosebuds, collapsed onto Abby’s bed like a weary soldier returning from battle. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said. And it’s good news too.”
Abby sighed. “I could use some good news.”
Theo leaned into Abby’s mirror to put the finishing touches to her own hairstyle. “Listen, Abby. Penny and I both know something’s wrong. You look as if you’ve lost your last friend. What happened?”
“My father wants me to marry Charles Kittridge. I’m considering entering a convent.”
“That’s old news,” Theo said. “Mr. Clayton has wanted you to marry Charles since you turned eighteen.”
“That’s where the good news comes in,” Penny said, rising from the bed. “Guess who arrived here this morning. Jane Drayton. And I overheard her mother telling my mother that there’s to be an engagement announcement soon. Maybe even this evening.”
Abby dropped her powder brush onto the table. “Engagement? You’re sure?”
“Sure as Sunday follows Saturday.”
Abby jumped up and embraced her two friends. “What a relief! Papa told me one of the Draytons had set her cap for Charles, but I didn’t think it was serious. Oh, I do hope it’s true
.”
Through the open window, Abby heard the musicians her father had hired warming up. The first strains of a waltz drifted on the cool ocean breeze.
“We won’t find out sitting up here, will we?” Penny adjusted the pink sash on her voluminous skirt and twirled around. “I for one am ready to dance.”
“Me too.” Theo buttoned her white kid gloves, then planted a kiss on Abby’s cheek. “Don’t worry. Everything will be all right. I saw your Dr. Bennett arriving just ahead of us.” She clapped one hand to her chest. “He’s in the parlor. And may I say he looks absolutely divine. You’re lucky to have such a handsome and distinguished suitor.”
“He isn’t a suitor yet, at least not formally,” Abby said. “But I hope he will be soon.”
“He won’t be able to resist when he sees you in that dress,” Penny said. “Wait here. Let Theo and me go down first. That way you can make a grand entrance.”
Abby watched her two friends descend the stairs. With a final glance in the mirror, she picked up her ivory fan and started down.
Dr. Bennett stepped into the hallway just as she arrived at the bottom of the stairs. “Abby.”
He clasped her hand, and she read the affectionate approval in his eyes.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said.
“Wouldn’t miss a chance to spend an evening with you for the world. And nobody entertains with more style than your father. He tells me the violinist is newly arrived from France and is quite the sensation in town.”
“Yes. He told me that too.”
Wade frowned. “You seem awfully subdued. Is anything wrong?”
If only she could pour her heart out to him about the awful incident in the boathouse. But this wasn’t the time or place. “I’m all right. A bit tired after the receiving line this afternoon.”
“It doesn’t show,” he murmured. “I’ve never seen you looking more beautiful.”
Among the Fair Magnolias Page 4