Shelby felt her mouth drop open. She had already apologized, sort of. Was the man so vain that it was worth ruining her career, even more than he had?
Her shock turned to anger and she closed her mouth with a snap. Fine, let him try. She wouldn’t go down without a fight. She barely registered that Finch was speaking again.
“- delivered Ransom’s boxes to our office. They should have been sent to Agate Hall. But we were just discussing the prospects of a weekly roundtable discussion on Civil War history search methods.”
His words seemed to filter in from a distance. Weekly discussions? Suddenly, his visit to Finch made wonderful sense. Shelby felt her panic fade away and it was replaced by relief so strong that she fairly beamed.
“That sounds like a great idea. But I thought you were just staying the one term?”
Fielding’s eyebrows rose. “You didn’t know?” He cocked his head a little and looked to Finch for some explanation.
Finch blustered, “Of course you knew that, we’ve been discussing it all week. Because of the high demand for his courses, he’s going to stay the whole year.” His balding head pinked as he gave her a stern look.
Did he really expectedher to know what was going on when her colleagues wouldn’t even acknowledge her? But her job was safe Of course, she ‘d be working in the same department as Ransom Fielding for a whole year, but she’d deal with that later.
“Well, that’s excellent news.” Shelby grinned and then held up her papers. “Just making copies of my syllabus. Better go put them away.”
“Wait a moment. These boxes need to be taken to Agate Hall.” Finch was still going on about those darn boxes.
Shelby made an effort to concentrate. “Well, let’s see. The courier system should run tomorrow morning. We can have them moved then.”
“But I’m sure he would like them delivered today. Isn’t there a hand truck or two down in the janitor’s closet? A few trips with Jolee and you’d be done.”
Shelby’s eyes widened. Did Finch mean he wanted her and the secretary to move those boxes?
She stared at him for a moment in silence before Fielding said, “There’s no need for Professor Roswell to take them over. Tomorrow is soon enough.”
Was it her imagination or did he seem angry? His eyes had narrowed in something like disgust. Well, he could just get the hand truck himself.
“Assistant Professor Roswell wouldn’t mind at all,” insisted Finch.
Shelby felt a rushing in her ears. She knew that she wasn’t part of the good ol’ boys’ club, but if Finch thought he would score points with Fielding by making Shelby carry over his stinking boxes, he’d better think again.
“I won’t even be in the office today. I have other errands. They can be delivered in the morning by courier.” Ransom’s voice was ice cold, the words clipped and final.
And with that, he nodded curtly to Shelby and shook Finch’s hand. His mouth was set in a grim line as he turned, walking briskly down the hallway.
Finch glared at her for a moment, his watery eyes locked on her face. “Shelby, you understand that if there’s any conflict or friction at all, between you and Ransom... Well, lets just say it’s a very important coup, departmentally and for this university, to have him here. We’ll keep him happy at any cost.” With those dire words, Finch then turned on his heel and left her standing in the hallway.
“My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them.”
-Mr. Darcy
Chapter Nine
Shelby numbly continued down the hall, her stomach churning. How dare he threaten her? Of course she knew that having Ransom Fielding come for a term was important. The department and the university would get much-needed good press. But Finch had once said that she was the best new hire they’d had in years. She really thought this was where God wanted her to be, teaching at Midlands, being close to home. Shelby had never felt so small and so unappreciated. She shut her office door softly behind her.
His threat echoed in her head, over and over, and the room suddenly felt like a sauna. She started to slip off her blue wool coat, but in her anger, only managed to get her hand caught in the sleeve. Furiously, she yanked on the other arm, now the other sleeve was half inside out.
There was light tap at the door.
“Come in,” she snapped.
Ransom Fielding pushed open the door and stood still, taking in the scene. He made a small noise in his throat that could have been laughter.
Her face flamed as she yanked on one sleeve and then the other. How ridiculous she must look, trapped like a little child in her coat She wanted to shriek in frustration.
Wordlessly, he strode across the room, leaned down and grabbed one sleeve, deftly peeling it off. Then he freed the second one, straightened them both and shook the coat back into shape.
Shelby had stopped struggling when he grabbed hold, but she hadn’t started moving again. Her brain seemed to have shorted out. As he leaned near, she smelled something deep and foresty, and clean on top of it all. Part of her yelled to snap out of it, the other just wanted to nestle her head into his chest and breathe deeply. As he stood inches away, she could see how his black hair had the slightest curl and his jaw was shadowed with stubble.
He turned and went to hang her coat on the rack beside the door.
Shelby shook her head and beat the nestling part of herself into the background.
“Thank you,” she said, her words so cold they meant the opposite. She carefully wound her way around her desk and sat down. She folded her hands and waited.
He took a deep breath and seemed to steel himself. “I want you to know, I thought that his request was inappropriate,” he said quietly. He didn’t seem as angry as he had just a few minutes ago. In fact, he seemed downright comfortable.
“Fine.” Shelby didn’t blink and certainly didn’t smile. And then, the meaning of his words sunk in. He was offering her some measure of dignity that her own department head had denied.
She sighed. “That’s good to know.” She rubbed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. “Please have a seat.”
Ransom shook his head. “I need to be going. If we’re going to be working together, at least in the same department-
“Yes, I just got this lecture. And honestly, I really don’t see any problem with you being here for a whole year. I’ll stay out of your classes from now on, I promise.” And then as an after thought, “as long as I don’t have to move your boxes from building to building.”
Her words were light, but he could see the resolve in her eyes.
To her surprise, he smiled. “Agreed. No moving duties.” Two dimples had appeared with the smile, like deep commas on either side of his mouth. The blue eyes that seemed so cold and severe were softened.
She struggled to ignore how her heart thumped wildly.
“And I should thank you, again. In the daylight. For your help last night... Even though I wasn’t stuck.” She bit her lip, wishing she could hit the rewind button. He must think she was incapable of making simple statements.
At this, Ransom laughed outright, a deep chuckle that made a light shiver run down her back. “That’s as good a ‘thank you’ as your apology.”
“What I meant to say-,” she started.
“That’s all right. You’re welcome.” Ransom slipped his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels a bit, still smiling. “ All right, so let’s agree to-
“Disagree? I don’t think we’ve ever had a real conversation. How about we just agree to live in peace?”
“Exactly, make love not war,” he said, nodding.
Shelby opened her mouth to say something, but was momentarily side tracked by his turn of phrase. It was a sort of hippy phrase, to ‘make love’. And the more she thought about it, the stranger it seemed. She wasn’t a prude, there was no reason to blush at a simple cliche, but Shelby felt, to her horror, a blush start from her neck and work its way up. She desperately searched around f
or a new topic but the harder she tried, the more her embarrassment grew.
Ransom’s eyebrows had practically risen to his hairline and he opened his mouth to say something but Shelby cut him off.
“I need to get some work done, so...” She gestured toward the teetering piles on her desk, her hands spread.
“Of course. I’ll see you around.” He slipped out, quietly closing the door behind him.
Shelby groaned and lay her head on her desk. Had all the stress finally broken her? Maybe it was time to get out, maybe she needed more of a social life. Every time her mind flitted back to the moment he’d said ‘make love’ her face burned. Something about those words coming out of his perfect mouth. She put her cold hands against her hot skin and wished she could make it all go away. But he seemed like he was here to stay so she had better get used to it.
*****
Outside, halfway across the grassy campus, a wide smile spread across Ransom Fielding’s face. This term was getting better by the moment. She wasn’t so dangerous. More goofy than femme fatal, after all. If he could keep Finch from making them mortal enemies, they might actually be able to get along.
“Laugh as much as you choose, but you will not laugh me out of my opinion.”
-Jane Bennet
Chapter Ten
“I can’t believe you blushed!” Rebecca’s peal of laughter filled the car. Her flight from D.C. had come in a little late, but they were finally on their way home.
Shelby massaged her temple with one hand, the other gripping the wheel, and grinned ruefully. “I blame pheremones. He smelled delicious.”
“When did you ever start believing in pheremones? You’re the least romantic person I know,” she said, raising an eyebrow.
“Probably right around the moment I had my head under his arm,” Shelby said, laughing. “Anyway, it’s over and I’m sure we’ll stay out of each other’s way from now on.”
“We have to invent some way to keep throwing you in his path. Life has been so boring and we never even noticed. And speaking of boring, are you set to go home next weekend?” Rebecca asked.
Shelby nodded. “You know my mother’s been keen for me to attend this party with her for the past two months. My sisters are coming down, too, so we’ll all be invading the Putney estate at once.”
“Wow, all of them?” Rebecca grinned. She knew how Shelby’s two sisters enjoyed those parties, often having one too many ‘orange comforts’ and ending up making spectacles of themselves. Mrs. Roswell, never seemed to mind, especially when they received so much attention from the eligible bachelors. Last year at the Ashley’s estate, Ellie had gone swimming... in her clothes. Her pale pink silk dress was practically see-through and she had plenty of admirers by the time Shelby had convinced her to head on home.
“Seems so.” She cringed inwardly. “I need to reassure her that I’m not going end up unloved and surrounded by hundreds of cats. And then Sunday afternoon we’re going to my cousin Lucy May’s sip and see so I won’t be back until evening.”
“Sip and see?”
“A baby shower after the baby’s born. So everybody gets to hold the baby,” Shelby said.
“Well, the important thing is to make sure you have something really lovely to wear.” Rebecca peered innocently out the window at the scenery. “I did find a few things...”
“I knew it Did you spend the whole weekend shopping for this party?”
“Not at all. There was dinner and church and a nice lunch with my mom in there, too. Honestly, you could meet someone really interesting-“ Shelby interrupted her with a snort “- and what would they think if you were wearing that purple dress from three years ago?”
“Firstly, I like that dress, it’s comfy. And secondly, I sincerely doubt I will every meet anyone interesting at one of these parties. Almost everyone is my parents’ age, or I’ve known them my entire life.”
“Well, I just picked up a few things, while I was shopping for myself, and I just know they’ll be beautiful on you.” She brushed her perfect bangs away from her eyes and smiled prettily at her skeptical roommate.
Shelby pulled the Jaguar gently to a stop in front of their little house. She sighed, thinking how Rebecca looked amazing just rolling out of bed, while it took a several hours just to tame Shelby’s mass of curls into something that didn’t scare the neighbors.
“I’m not prepping for this party until the day before. I have a ton of work to do. I was hoping to spend a few hours this week at that little county library in Weston. The genealogist told me there are some letters there from around the right time,” Shelby said.
She popped the trunk and handed Rebecca her carry on bag. She could see Sirocco in the window, her eyes bright and tail curled around her feet.
“I don’t know how you can spend so much time reading through those old papers. The writing gives me a head ache. I’m ever thankful my studies are of the printed word.”
Shelby unlocked the front door and greeted Sirocco with a scratch. Rebecca plopped her carry-on by the couch and headed for a cold Diet Coke. “You want anything?” she called from the kitchen.
“No, I’m good. And those letters aren’t the worst of it, really. The diaries are probably the hardest to read because a lot of people were writing for themselves. They abbreviate everything” Shelby slumped into the couch, stroking Sirocco’s back as she curled up on her lap. “But the usual pension records, wills, marriage certificates just won’t cut it. I need to know who was helping Susanna Caldwell build those schools after the War. She didn’t travel, and she didn’t have a lot of influence. I’d bet my Aunt Junetta’s prize pecan pie that her benefactor is a big fish.”
Rebecca settled down on the loveseat and tucked her feet up underneath her. “You’ve been chasing Caldwell’s people for a long time. Don’t you ever get worried you’ve found everything there is to find?”
Shelby rubbed Sirocco’s head and didn’t answer for a moment. “I do... I am. But it’s not enough, what I have right now. It’s a good article, a good story, but I want something that makes everyone sit up and take notice- of her and me. Maybe I’m stubborn and think I can pull this off. But I don’t want to give up.” She frowned for a moment then said, “ My daddy says ‘if you can’t run with the big dogs then stay under the porch’ and I guess I’m not willing to stay under the porch.”
Rebecca reached over and squeezed her hand. “I’m praying for you. If anybody is going to find that mysterious Mister B., it’ll be you.I wish I could help. Now, if you need a comparison between Austen’s domestic comedies and Mrs. Gaskell’s industrial novels, then I’m your gal”
“I know you would. But I have faith, I really do. He’s out there and I’m going to find him !”
“I bet you will. Hey, is this new?” Rebecca stood up to admire a small picture propped against the salt and pepper shakers.
“Aunt Junetta’s gazebo and koi pond. Of course, the trumpet vine isn’t blooming right now. I added that for effect.”
Shelby came to stand next to her. “Did I tell you I registered for another art class? Donovan Shankel is doing a series on watercolor landscapes.”
“Good for you. I can’t believe how talented you are. Why didn’t you major in art?” Rebecca picked up the painting and peered at it closely.
“Because I didn’t want to go through the starving artist phase.”
Rebecca laughed and placed the painting back on the table. “Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn’t have gone into something with more job security. The tenure process is giving me gray hair.”
“I know. But it’s going to happen, for both of us. This is the year that everything will come together. You’ll publish that book on the Austen miniplot and I’ll uncover the Mr. B. mystery, we’ll both get tenure, we’ll get huge raises and be invited to speak at all the big conferences-” Shelby started to say.
“Find rich husbands-” Rebecca blurted.
“Get skinny thighs-”
“Go on Oprah-”
Rebecca waved her hands in the air.
“Learn how to make perfect pie crust-”
”Journal every day-”
“Make our mothers happy-” Shelby was giggling so hard she could barely speak.
“Get over my dog aversion and run the New York Marathon-” Rebecca collapsed on the couch.
“Exactly! Lord willing and the creek don’t rise, we’re going to get there.”
“I would rather be paid the compliment of being believed sincere.”
-Elizabeth
Chapter Eleven
Next Tuesday dawned as normally as the day before, but by noon, Shelby felt as if the world had shifted on its axis. The life she knew was becoming more and more unrecognizable, even as she fought to keep it the same.
She headed for the main office to check her mail box for thing in the morning. As she passed George Finch’s door he called out to her, “come on in here for a second, Shelby.”
She stepped inside, and suppressed a grimace at the heat. He must keep the temperature near ninety. And why did it smell like cooked cabbage?
He peered through his murky glasses from behind a desk piled with paper stacks ten inches tall. His short gray hair stuck up on one side as if he’d just rolled out of bed. Shelby wondered for a moment about Mr. Finch’s wife. Did she mind if he wandered about that way? The glasses, the uncombed hair, the stoop, and the perpetual squint from reading too much tiny print made him seem mentally imbalanced.
“You need to turn in your evaluations from last term.”
“I gave them to you two weeks ago. They were in a manila envelope, marked with the class number on the front.” Shelby frowned, trying to recall exactly when it was.
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