Pride, Prejudice, and Cheese Grits

by Hathaway, Mary Jane

  They will ruin your happiness.”

  -Jane

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I don’t see why you had to have a fit at the poor man. He was trying to do you a favor.” Jennie Anne stretched across the end of the couch, her long, tan legs dangling off the side. Her highlighted blond hair was coming loose from its upsweep, but the escaping tendrils made her look even more fetching. The fitted cream dress she was wearing looked as fresh as it had been five and a half hours ago. The party had been a success, with so many young men to tease that she didn’t know where to start. Now, close to midnight, she’d finally found her way home.

  Ellie was still MIA. Shelby could only hope she was with a stubborn group of revelers, refusing to leave.

  “I didn’t have a fit. I just refused him and his tiny ego couldn’t take the blow. I wouldn’t expect you to understand, but there’s no need for me to be introduced at every party from here to Savannah.”

  Shelby checked her watch for the third time and thought about trying Ellie’s cell phone again. There wouldn’t be an answer until she was ready, but she had to know that Shelby was calling her. Sinking into the armchair next to the couch, the thought of driving back to retrieve Ellie sounded more and more appealing as the minutes ticked by.

  “Well, it sure wouldn’t hurt. You’re the one who’s always complaining about how cliquish your department is. You don’t think that making good connections would help?”

  “ I admit it’s like the ultimate popularity contest run by geeks, but I don’t think hanging out with David Whitcomb would make any difference. And even if it did...” Shelby raised her hands. She honestly didn’t know how to explain to Jennie Anne. Her sisters seemed so eager to be popular, it really didn’t seem to matter how they accomplished it. She got up from the armchair and peeked out the curtains at the long drive. They could see car lights coming half a mile away but tonight there wasn’t a glimmer in the blackness.

  “You remember Evan Marchand?”

  “Hooie, yes! That man doesn’t have the decency to die.” Jennie Anne’s face wrinkled in a pretty pout.

  “Ok, remember when he asked you to go with him to that big party at the Glendale Mansion? And you said no because you thought he’d asked you just to make himself look good? You were offended because you were sure he couldn’t stand you.”

  At this, Jennie Anne swung her legs off the arm of the couch and sat bolt upright.

  “No! I turned him down because I knew for a fact that he wouldn’t look twice at a girl who wasn’t interested in his creepy re-enactments. The man spends all his free time sewing special outfits so he can play dress up with other Civil War weirdos. They go lay in ditches pretending to be dead and get their pictures taken. He says it’s not a good weekend if he can’t go ‘bloat’ with his buddies.”

  Shelby suppressed a grimace. “So he has a hobby. He’s a dentist and they have a lot of stress. Maybe that’s his way feeling normal on the weekends.”

  “Normal?” Jennie Anne waved her arms around. “The guy sleeps in muddy ditches, spooning with other men, for fun. The first time we talked about his little hobby, he showed me his brass buttons.” She cocked her head.

  “You want to know about his brass buttons, Shelby?”

  She didn’t, really. “Fine, I’ll bite. What about his buttons?”

  “He got new brass buttons but they were too shiny for his uniform, so he put them in a cup of his own pee and let them stew a while. That makes them look authentically aged, he said. He told me this after he put one in my hand! “

  Shelby couldn’t restrain a laugh. “Oh, well, that’s....”

  “Nasty, that’s what that is. And plus, at that brunch where we met, he kept telling me what he would and wouldn’t eat, because it wasn’t available during the Civil War. He gave up Granny Smith apples five years ago because they didn’t exist in our state then. That man is plain weird.”

  “Ok, so Evan really wasn’t your type and you knew you weren’t his. But if you thought that going out with him would open doors for you, to the best families, would you do it?” Shelby was sure she’d gotten her point across.

  Jennie Anne examined one pale pink, perfectly manicured finger. “Probably. Actually, yes.”

  “But you just said you can’t stand him!”

  “I can’t. But if he got me a rich Cahill boy? I’d put up with him for as long as it took. I’m not going to live in some old house forever.”

  Shelby’s jaw dropped. “You mean this house? It’s not old, Jennie Anne. It’s historic. There’s a difference.”

  “Whatever you say. This place is crumbling to bits and when I get married, I’m going to have a custom built home, right on the water somewhere. All granite countertops and steel appliances, the newest of everything. I’m sick of using that old claw foot bathtub. I’m going to have a whirlpool jacuzzi, sunk right into the master suite.”

  “You know, your great grandparents bathed in that tub.”

  “Exactly! I don’t want a tub that held their wrinkly old behinds. Everything is going to be new, new, new.” She threw herself back on the couch.

  Shelby regarded her sister quietly. Sometimes she seemed so much younger than her twenty one years. How had someone who had been raised in the thick of history turned out so dismissive of it?

  “I understand what you’re saying. But it doesn’t make you feel... connected to this house, to know that for generations your family has touched these same objects?”

  “Um... no. Not really. I know you and daddy are always going on about Great Grandpa Parker or Great Aunt May, but it just doesn’t mean much to me. They’re gone. I’m here now.”

  With that, she yawned and rose from the couch. “I don’t know why you’re waiting up for her. She’ll find her way home, with or without your nagging. So stop calling her and go to bed.”

  Shelby peered back out the window. “I can’t. If anything happens...”

  “If anything happens you’re not going to know it until the morning anyway.” A final flip of her highlighted hair and she disappeared down the hallway toward the stairs.

  Shelby leaned her forehead against the cold window. She closed her eyes and let out a long breath. Not everyone connected with the past the way she did, obviously. But to call this beautiful home ‘crumbling’ made her inexplicably sad.

  She opened her eyes and saw light bouncing slowly down the lane. Finally, she thought and strode to open the front door. She walked down the short flight of steps from the wrap around porch to the grass and waited for the car to appear from the last bend of elm trees. A taxi eventually pulled up into the circular drive and stopped. The driver quickly opened the back door and helped Ellie out.

  “You family?” The man seemed irritated, his harsh voice carried clearly to Shelby.

  She stepped forward. “I’m her sister. Is she okay?”

  “Sure, she’s fine. My back seat ain’t, though. That’s gonna cost you another fifty for cleaning.”

  Ellie giggled and weaved toward Shelby. The pretty flowered wrap dress was wrinkled and stained. There was a definite odor of ‘after party’.

  “Just a moment. Ellie, go inside. No, here, watch the step. One more, there. Now, just sit for a second.”

  Shelby went inside and grabbed her purse out of the kitchen. After paying the taxi driver, she maneuvered Ellie up the stairs and into the shower. Finally, tucked in bed and smelling much better than she had when she arrived, Ellie drifted off to sleep. Shelby sat for a few minutes at the end of her bed, watching her youngest sister and wondering if any of her forebears had once been in her shoes.

  “You wish to think all the world respectable and are hurt if I speak ill of anybody.”

  -Elizabeth

  Chapter Seventeen

  Now where are those keys? Shelby let out a deep sigh in frustration.

  Oh, she had dropped them by the sugar bowl after putting groceries away. Snatching them up, she wondered how late Rebecca had returned from her party last n
ight. It had been a week since the disaster at the Putney estate. Of course, Rebecca had missed the entire episode so she felt free to venture out. Shelby never wanted to go to another party again.

  “Rebecca!” Shelby called softly at her house mate’s bedroom door. “Are you up yet?”

  There was a groan and the door swung inward. Shelby choked back a laugh.

  “Oh, girl. It’s going to take more than night cream and some cucumbers to fix that mess.”

  “Don’t rub it in. I kept telling them I needed to get up early, but the party just went on and on. It was almost one and people were still arriving! I don’t know what kind of party it is when you show up at one in the morning.”

  “Apparently, a good one. Did you have fun, lots of nice folks?”

  “A little on the young side. In fact, they seem to get younger every year. I bet they don’t have to get up at the crack of dawn, either.” Rebecca yawned and rubbed her puffy eyes. But even on her worst day she was stunningly beautiful. “I did meet someone who didn’t mention Facebook every other word. But he was from out of town.”

  “How far out of town? Like Oxford?”

  “Like Florida,” she said, lifting one shoulder in a small gesture of resignation. “He was home visiting, but lives in Miami.” A little smile played around her lips. “I don’t want to get my hopes up. But he’s different. He told me he’s part of a Bible study for singles and that he has complete faith that the right girl is out there, that it’s all in God’s hands.”

  Shelby grinned. “Now, that’s a perfect pick up line. But a Southerner who lives in Miami? What does he do over there?”

  “Um, well, that’s the odd thing.” Rebecca chewed her lip for a moment. “He’s a computer programmer. You know, those people that write code for a living.”

  Shelby’s eyebrows shot up. “A cube farm inhabitant? I thought you said you couldn’t think of anything more boring.”

  “It’s weird, but the way he described it all, it almost sounded fun. And he doesn’t live in a cube, he runs his own software business.” She smiled uncertainly. “Probably nothing will come of it. But he has my number.”

  “You never know! Anyway,. I’m going in early to see if I can make any headway on that article,” she said.

  “ Text me later and we’ll go to the Grind. Zoe told me they’re having a special on chai tea.”

  “Will do,” she called as she grabbed the leather satchel she had inherited from her grandfather. She paused, her hand running over the buttery soft material worn smooth, and a dream flickered out of her subconscious. Just impressions, fragments from last night, but she remembered the joy at hearing his slow drawl. I miss you, Poppa, she thought, giving her fingertips a kiss and pressing them to the satchel on her way out the door.

  Four hours later the optimistic start to the day had slipped into dreariness. Her morning class was less than enthusiastic, and two students succumbed to sleep half way through. Shelby tried not to take it personally. They certainly had more going on in their lives than her history class. I bet no one sleeps in Fielding’s class, she thought, then ruthlessly shoved the spiny thorn of jealousy back into the dark.

  A knock at her office door yielded Finch, his tie askew and murky glasses covered with water spots. He didn’t bother to sit, just cracked the door and leaned in.

  “Tomorrow they’re tearing out the leaky windows on the third floor,” said his disembodied head.

  “What time will that be?”

  “Oh, nine or so. I think that’s what we told them.”

  “I have class right below that area. Is there any way to change it?”

  Finch heaved a sigh and half shrugged. “Shelby, you know those workmen always come late. And if they’re on time, I’m sure you can handle a little background noise.”

  Background noise. Shelby was sure it was going to be dusty, ear-splitting, and exactly at nine. Finch had known about this for days and told her at the last minute, leaving her no choice but to carry on as planned. She thought the morning couldn’t get worse, but she was wrong.

  William, a doughy sort of boy with a wide open face, dropped in to chat about the Tuesday class. He loved history, but only if it concerned anything before 1500. Shelby pulled and teased tidbits of family history from him until she got a clear picture of sharecroppers, businessmen, and small town government officials. It was a losing battle to convince him his more recent ancestors were just as laudable as his tenuous European claims.

  “I’ve saved enough for a trip to Scotland after graduation. I’m gonna visit the McDonnahugh Castle and see where it all started,” William said.

  “What about visiting your great grandmother’s old boardinghouse? It sounds like it was an important stop for Confederate soldiers making their way back home.”

  “I suppose. She told my grandma stories about the starving and barefoot men, piled in heaps in the parlor. They would each get a cooked potato and a thick slice of bread, sometimes the first meal since they got dumped from their regiment.”

  He paused and said, “You know, I don’t like being part of the losing side. My Scottish relatives are kind of nobility, they’ve been there for centuries.”

  As the door closed again Shelby laid her head in her hands and wished she could fast forward to five o’clock

  Shrill ringing issued from the desk phone.

  “Shelby, it’s Katie.” The usually clear voice on the other end of the line was ragged and hoarse.

  “Katie! You sound terrible. Are you sick?”

  “I caught an awful bug from my roomie. I’m going to have to cancel our meeting tomorrow.”

  Shelby’s heart sank. As Katie’s advisor, she was responsible for keeping her thesis on track. The last few months had been hit and miss, to the point that she had been forced to create a schedule and have Katie sign it.

  “I understand. Call me as soon as you’re well enough to come in and talk. We need to go over your detailed outline again and make sure you’re progressing. You only have a few more months to bring it all together.”

  There was a loud sigh on the other end of the line. “I know that. I’ve been working really hard on it, I promise, but I can’t come in when I’m on the verge of death.”

  “Just get better, we’ll talk about it then.”

  After hanging up, Shelby sat frowning down at her desk. She understood how it was to be sick and probably stressed out, too. The last few months before the master’s thesis deadline are all work, work, work. But what happened to the bright young girl she’d met three years ago? Katie had been so excited to research the area, to tell the world about the rich history here. She said her grandmother had a house somewhere near Natchez. It wasn’t on the register of historic homes, but probably should be, by what she’d said.

  Shelby stretched her arms and tried to refocus her thoughts on her papers. A sudden knock at the door had Shelby on the verge of letting out a primal scream but she settled for a terse, “Come in!”

  The door swung slowly inward and Ransom Fielding stood framed in the doorway. He was wearing his usual expensive suit and silk tie, unnervingly handsome. His expression was wary as he glanced around her office.

  Shelby fought back a laugh. Of course he was here. The worst morning in the term wouldn’t have been complete without him.

  “I never saw a more promising inclination; he was growing quite inattentive to other people, and wholly engrossed by her.”

  -Mr. Darcy

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I’m sorry to disturb you.” Ransom seemed uncomfortable, although he stood very still, his eyes now fixed on her face. He cleared his throat. “Ron suggested I ask you for any information you might have on Susanna Caldwell. My students have expressed more interest in her than I was expecting.”

  She didn’t get to teach the class, but she got to do his research? She wanted to send his gorgeous self back to his office empty handed.

  Ransom seemed to take her hesitation as confusion. “She was at the forefr
ont of rebuilding the schools, hospitals and medical training-

  “Yes, I know who she was,” Shelby snapped and immediately regretted it. Giving him the information while being nasty about it was beneath her. “I’m sorry. It’s been an odd morning. Let me see what I can find.” Rising from her desk Shelby crossed to the bookshelf and carefully lifted out several archive boxes.

  Moving a few steps closer, he peered at the papers she laid gently on the desk. She felt him somewhere close over her shoulder and willed herself not to glance back.

  “These are just facsimiles. The originals are in Charleston.” She carefully sorted through the sheets of handwritten pages. “There is a lot of nitty gritty information on who donated what and where, but there are some first person accounts also.” Next she held out a small leather diary.

  “This has several pages of accounts on the rebuilding of the Georgia hospitals. The diarist was a lumber mill owner but also garnered some contracts with the government. He met with Susanna a few times. He has a good description of her no-nonsense style.” Shelby allowed herself a small smile.

  Fielding slowly took the diary from her hand. “I’ll make copies but I’ll have to read through the diary first to find-

  “Here, I can show you where.” Shelby deftly opened the little book, flipped through the stiff and yellowed pages. Inserting some slips of paper, she handed it back. “You can make some copies in the office.”

  “You have an excellent memory.” He seemed genuinely impressed.

  She glanced up and met his gaze. A thrill coursed through her, chased by irritation. Why did she even care what he thought? He’d made his opinion perfectly clear when he destroyed her book sales with a flaming review. It was a little late for flattery.