How prophetic, Elizabeth thought sadly as she played, remembering everything that had happened in the past. After a few minutes, her arthritis began to bother her again and she stopped playing. She rubbed her hands together and looked around the music room. Seventy-five wasn’t so old. She had been a widow almost fifty years. Fifty years without her love.
She stood up with a rustle of hoops and Clair-de-Lune-colored silk. Clair de Lune. Moonlight. The pale bluish green lavender color complemented her gray eyes and white hair. Late afternoon sun shone in through the music room windows, illuminating the painting on the far wall. Elizabeth walked across the room to it. The fox hound puppy raised its head from the corner, thumped its tail, and went back to sleep.
It was a beautiful painting, she thought. Her son, Jim, so serious and handsome standing behind the chair, his left hand holding his father’s watch with the gold acorn fob that represented Carstairs Oaks. Elizabeth frowned as she studied his elegant, beautiful wife in her expensive green velvet dress seated in the chair. Jim had met and married the beauty in a whirlwind love affair on a trip to Memphis. When Elizabeth had questioned the wisdom of such a hurried union, Jim told her why they had wed posthaste. A baby. Yes, the ebony-haired beauty would make any man forget about waiting until after the vows to consummate the union.
The children. Elizabeth smiled as she reached out with a trembling hand to touch the toddler’s face. Laurel. She sat on her mother’s lap reaching for Jim’s watch with her left hand. Elizabeth had tried to change the toddler’s hand preference, but to no avail. Even when the child sat on Elizabeth’s lap at the piano and picked out the notes, she played with her left hand. The other little girl, Lenore, leaned against the chair, pretty and remote as her mother. Elizabeth’s gaze swept over the painting. One little girl had her father’s eyes, the other her mother’s. Frowning, Elizabeth turned away from the painting. If she had only known then ...
Nero, the butler, came to the door, interrupting her thought. The tribal tattoos on his face always scared first-time visitors. “Yes, Nero?”
“Excuse me, Miz Elizabeth, the judge is here.”
“Show him in.” She stared after Nero’s departing back. He had gray in his hair now, too. Strange, it seemed like only yesterday that she as a young widow, had bought him from a slave trader who was whipping the little boy to death.
She felt a pain in her chest, winced, then managed to straighten up and forced her face to smile as Pierce entered the room.
“My dear Elizabeth.” He took her hands, kissed them. “Great Caesar’s ghost! Are you all right? You don’t look well at all.”
“Oh, Pierce.” She laughed and turned toward the sideboard, pouring him a brandy and herself a sherry. “You worry over me like a mother hen.”
“I’d rather worry over you as your husband.” He took the brandy and sat down in a big leather chair near the fireplace.
“Thank you for your offer, it makes a lady feel good to know she has a beau.” She smiled and sat down on the leather sofa across from him.
“For fifty years now,” he reminded her gently and stroked his gray mustache.
“For some women, there is only one man in her lifetime.”
“How many times have we had this same conversation?” he smiled a bit sadly and sipped his brandy.
She smiled. He would always be there for her, she knew that. He and Nero had devoted their lives to Elizabeth Carstairs’ welfare.
“Elizabeth, you don’t look well. You should see a doctor.”
“I did and he said I would live to be a hundred,” she lied. “Stop being such a fussbudget.” She would not worry him about what the doctor in Louisville had told her and she’d sworn the doctor to secrecy. All that had kept her going for the past several years was the hope that they still might be alive somewhere in the West, that she might yet hear from them.
“You’ve heard of course, that young Rand has been found and is on his way home?”
“Yes. He’s to arrive this evening, I hear. Surely you didn’t drive out here to tell me that?”
He blushed and fidgeted with his brandy. “Of course not, although I never pass up a chance to come by when I’m near. How has Lenore reacted?”
“Appears to be deliriously happy, but I don’t know how it will affect her scandalous carrying on with her best friend’s fiancee.”
“That hasn’t stopped then?”
She frowned, looked toward the painting. “Lenore is just like her mother. I have half a mind to warn young Rand.”
“But of course you won’t. You would do anything to protect the Carstairs name.”
A look passed between them and she remembered. Sixteen long, long years. “You know I would. No scandal shall ever smear the Carstairs reputation. I will protect it at all costs.”
“As would I,” he reminded her gently.
“I know, Pierce. That night, if you and Nero hadn’t helped–”
“You owe me no gratitude.” He made a dismissing gesture. “Your husband was an old school friend of mine. I couldn’t bear to see the name sullied, although,” he sighed, “young Lenore’s behavior may create a scandal yet.”
“So far, only you and I and Nero know,” she acknowledged, a little weary of worrying about it. “Maybe she can’t help it, Pierce.” She glanced toward the painting. “It’s in her blood. I feel I must do something. With young Rand returning, if she keeps on, her behavior will become common gossip. I’m thinking about sending her off to that fancy girls’ school, Miss Priddy’s, in Boston.”
“She’s a little old for that, isn’t she? And what would people think with her fiancee finally coming home to marry her?”
Her sherry trembled in her frail hand. “I reckon twenty-one is a bit old to be sending her off to school, but frankly, I don’t know what to do with her. I will not stand by and have her destroy the Carstairs name.”
“Have you had a talk with her?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I suppose that’s the next step, but I hate to acknowledge that I know about her trampy goings on. I once tried to talk to her mother about the same thing to no avail. I think my daughter-in-law was shocked that I knew.”
“Too bad she didn’t heed your warning; the tragedy might have been averted.”
She looked at the painting. “It was bound to happen sooner or later.”
He reached for his pipe. “May I?”
“You know you never have to ask, Pierce, I like the smell of a pipe.”
He filled his pipe awkwardly. His right arm had taken a mini ball at the First Battle of Bull Run. Elizabeth smiled with a touch of sheer mischief. Rose Randolph Erikson had never quite forgiven Pierce for being on the Union side of the fight.
She looked at the painting, although she knew every inch of it by heart. “I would do what I did all over again, Pierce. I’m sorry I involved you. It could have cost you everything. Perhaps it bothers your conscience, having the sterling character you do.”
He looked troubled. “It’s been a long time since we spoke of what happened, Elizabeth. I’d rather forget it. What we did was not legal, but it was moral. As long as justice was served, I suppose that’s all that counts.”
“You didn’t do it for justice, you did it for me as did Nero.”
“Yes, for you,” he admitted and the old warmth shone in his brown eyes. “I’m not sorry. And not just because your husband was my best friend. I loved you from the first moment I saw you when he brought you here as a young bride. To protect you and look after you and your son after he was killed has been my personal honor and privilege.”
She blinked back tears, thinking how sad he would be when she was gone. He was younger than she and in good health. “Someday, Pierce, I hope you will go into politics. This country needs men like you to guide it.”
He laughed and shrugged. “Great Caesar’s ghost. Don’t think I haven’t considered it, but going to Washington would take me too far from you, my dear.”
“Should you outlive me, I hope
you will reconsider.” She sipped her sherry, wondering again why he had come.
He grunted and shrugged as if he didn’t even want to think of a world without her in it. “Elizabeth–” He hesitated as if he had something to discuss that he didn’t want to speak of. While he hesitated, she wondered suddenly if the doctor had broken his oath. Pierce Hamilton had a vast network of friends in high places.
“Elizabeth,” he said again and cleared his throat, “I’ve heard some disturbing news that I need to discuss with you.”
He knew about her heart. Oh, Lord, he knew. “Yes?”
“Something Lenore is up to.”
She relaxed and tried not to look too relieved. “Oh, what has the scheming little chit done this time? I’ve tried to love her, I really have, Pierce, but she’s so devious and immoral. Besides, knowing what I know–”
“Perhaps she can’t help it. She’s the spitting image of her mother.”
Elizabeth looked toward the painting. “I suppose she’s inherited some of it from her. I often wonder what she inherited from her father?”
“That’s not important at the moment,” he seemed to shrug her off as if to return to the topic he came to discuss. “I have friends in other states and one of them, knowing I’m your lawyer, has contacted me. Lenore has been making inquiries into a place called Rose Haven.”
“Rose Haven? Sounds like a cemetery.”
“Elizabeth”–his eyes bored into her–“it’s a private asylum for the insane.”
The idea baffled her. “Lenore thinks she’s losing her mind? Oh, the poor girl, I–”
“It’s for her grandmother.” Now he hurried on as if to tell it all before Elizabeth interrupted him. “It seems her elderly grandmother is getting senile and Lenore hopes to put her away at this expensive, but isolated asylum.”
Elizabeth stared back at him, her mouth open. Her frail hand holding the sherry suddenly trembled so much, she reached out and put it on the lamp table to keep from dropping it. She was too astounded to speak.
“It’s true, my dear. I’ve checked it all out.”
She finally found her voice. “The conniving little–! Surely she didn’t think she could legally do this with you as my lawyer?”
“Apparently she was willing to try. Rose Haven is very secluded and pleasant. Once a patient is in there, there’s no contact with the outside world unless the person with power of attorney allows it.”
Elizabeth threw back her head and laughed. “Lenore has more gall than I gave her credit for! Why would she bother? I’m an old lady and she surely thinks she’ll get everything when I die. If she only knew–”
“Don’t laugh, Elizabeth, this is serious business! Perhaps she’s impatient to get her hands on your money. I could shock her by telling her now about the terms of your will. It should have been changed before now–”
“No.” She shook her head. “The hope that they’re still alive somewhere is what keeps me going, Pierce. I keep hoping they haven’t contacted me because they’re afraid of being traced by the law.” She paused, looking toward the painting, remembering that dreadful night.
“Great Caesar’s ghost! You know how many inquiries I’ve made? How many wild goose chases I’ve checked out?” He stroked his gray mustache again. “No trace. It would be so much easier on you, my dear, if you faced the fact that after almost sixteen years, they surely must be dead–”
“I don’t want to hear that!” she snapped, with a spirit that surprised even herself. “I reckon I should make some changes in my will, though. I wouldn’t want there to be speculation and idle gossip after I’m gone.”
He sighed heavily. “I’ve been telling you that all along. Are you going to let Lenore know you’re on to her about Rose Haven and her affair?”
“Not yet,” she mused. “Perhaps she’ll end this scandalous thing with Shelby Merson now that Rand Erikson is coming home.”
Pierce frowned and puffed his pipe. “Maybe like her mother, she likes living on the edge, playing with danger.” He set his glass down and seemed to think it over. “I’ve got some Baltimore contacts. Think I’ll look into the Merson family. Didn’t I hear Shelby’s supposed to be from old Baltimore money?”
“That’s my understanding. He doesn’t look like a gentleman, does he?”
“Not to me. I reckon Lenore finds him handsome, but there is something phony about him.”
She stared into the fireplace. “In the meantime, with young Rand returning, can I keep silent and allow him to marry the faithless twit?”
“To expose her would bring dishonor and shame on the Carstairs’ name. Remember what we have gone through to protect it.”
She nodded, sighed. “You’re right, of course. Do you suppose young Rand’s still as spoiled and arrogant as before? In that case, they deserve each other.”
“War changes people,” he mused, playing with the stem of his pipe, “and he’s been gone a long time. Even more alarming, they say he’s been a captive of the Indians for months.”
“Then he’s bound to have changed for the better ... or the worse. I always felt he was such a young rotter that he deserved Lenore. Now I’m having second thoughts. She’s just too much like her mother.”
“If he’s in love with the chit, it won’t do any good. Would your son have listened?” He looked toward the beauty in the painting. “Perhaps Lenore will change her ways.”
“Leopards don’t change their spots. My daughter-in-law didn’t and I doubt Lenore will either.”
The judge stood up. “I must be going, my dear.”
The puppy in the corner seemed to rouse itself, got up, and came over, wagging its tail. He bent to pet it.
“I should give him to you, Pierce. He keeps digging up flower beds. Just look at him, he’s got dirt on his nose.”
“Good dog, huh, Tally Ho?” Pierce stroked the puppy’s ears, frowned up at her. “Suppose he digs–?”
“Don’t you think that hasn’t crossed my mind?” The possible consequences sent a pain coursing through her chest. “Don’t worry, I’ve given strict orders.”
Pierce straightened up, started to leave the music room, turned in the doorway. “I’ll keep you posted.”
She nodded, not terribly concerned. Elizabeth Carstairs was a strong personality, even if she were fragile and old. Lenore had better not underestimate her.
Kimi looked out the window of the carriage as it neared the palatial estate. Fine, blooded horses grazed in beautiful green pastures surrounded by white wood fences. “Oh, Hinzi, does this all belong to your family?”
He nodded, looking preoccupied. “Kimi, it might be better if you would begin to call me Rand; that’s what all my family and friends call me.”
She felt even more uneasy as the carriage neared the big house with the pillars and balcony. Everything about it spoke of wealth and power. “I thought everything would be destroyed in this war you spoke of.”
“Seems this area was lucky and didn’t get hit hard and now everything’s on the mend. Besides Kentucky stayed with the Union, so the fighting was mostly farther south, although probably some of the local men were killed or wounded.”
She looked down at her clothes. She still wore the deerskin dress and moccasins, although Hinzi–Rand–had been given something a little better by one of the trappers at the fort. Having seen what some of the white women wore while coming all these hundreds of miles, Kimi was a little uneasy. “I shouldn’t have come,” she said, clutching her medicine object for comfort.
“I could hardly leave you at the fort with Lieutenant Baker still there,” he reminded her.
“I should have gone back to my people.”
“Kimi, stop saying that; you’re white.”
“Not in my heart.” She shook her head.
“Well, you may learn to like living among the whites.” He didn’t look too sure.
She thought about everything that had happened the last few days since they had left the fort. On the trip south, white peopl
e had stared at her in her strange costume. Rand seemed too occupied to even think about clothes, and besides, he had no money except the little the colonel had given him. He had not touched her since that night he had rescued her from the lustful officer. “Hinzi, Rand, does your family know you’re bringing someone with you?”
A startled look crossed his handsome face, and she had her answer. Had he simply forgotten or didn’t know exactly what to wire his parents? “It’ll be all right, Kimi.”
He sounded almost as uncertain as she felt. “I won’t stay long,” she assured him. “I’ll start looking for my relatives and find myself a job somewhere.”
“Kimi, I want you to understand. I don’t mean to hurt you. You’re very young; too young. There’s some fine boarding schools for young ladies and the Randolphs have money.”
Kimi didn’t answer. She’d heard a white man’s saying: “out of sight, out of mind.” She hadn’t come all this way to be hidden away in some strict boarding school. As a matter of fact, she was no longer sure why she had come at all. “You’re worried about what your parents will think, aren’t you?”
He looked embarrassed. “I have always had everything that money can buy. I think my mother would see to it that I’m disinherited and I don’t know what it is to live without wealth.”
She started to remind him he had managed well enough among her people, then decided not to point that out. “I’ll be hard to explain,” she said, “you should have left me at the fort.”
He had dark circles under his eyes as if he’d lost a lot of sleep struggling with this dilemma. “Kimi, I wish . . .”
She waited, but he didn’t finish. He was trying to be honorable, she realized that; but his world of money and privilege meant more to him than any woman. Whatever was right for Rand, that’s what Kimi would do. She wanted him to be happy. All she had done by accompanying him was create problems for both of them. For the hundredth time she wished she had not come.
Her heart beat faster as she looked out the window at the big house and the people running from all directions. The carriage stopped and the driver got down to open the door, even as two white women and several servants came out of the house, all rushing toward the carriage.
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