Trouble the Water_A Novel

by Jacqueline Friedland

  “The whole family knows perfectly well that Harrison and I would be an advantageous match. With Cherry Lane situated right next to Blount’s Bluff, that’s the name of their place, well, just think what we could do if our families united. Forgive my immodesty, but I dare say we’d have the largest plantation in all of South Carolina.”

  Abby nodded, her eyes large, as she tried to wrap her mind around the amount of wealth Gracie was describing, a growing feeling of irritation in her chest at the shallowness of it all. But then she berated herself again. It was not as if she wasn’t enjoying a lavish lifestyle herself lately. Not everyone had to be a martyr.

  “Mama and Daddy are just hoping that he chooses one of their girls. They probably don’t care much which. That’s why they put Rae right on his other side at the table.”

  “They didn’t!” Abby gasped, trying to get into the spirit of the conversation. “So what happened? Did Cora Rae monopolize him all night?”

  Gracie smiled appreciatively at Abby, the smattering of light freckles on her cheeks climbing closer to her eyes. “Well, thank the fine Lord, she was as mean as could be to Harrison, right from the get-go. She actually asked to move her seat at the table when we arrived in the dining room, said she wanted to be closer to Harrison’s sister. Mama was horrified. But it didn’t take long before Harrison was focusing all his attentions right on me. I guess he didn’t have much choice.” She finished with a sudden look of defeat, as if there were no chance she would draw in a handsome young man all on her own. Abby felt a stab of shame at her harsh thoughts about the girl a moment before. She hated to see anyone feeling worthless, primarily because it reminded her of the worst parts of herself.

  “You are deranged,” Abby told her with a smile. “I’m sure Cora Rae could have sat down in his lap, and he still would have had eyes just for you. You’re magnificent.”

  “That’s nice of you to say, but I think we both know better.”

  “Not likely,” Abby said in dismissal. “Regardless, didn’t you tell me Cora Rae fawns all over anyone in britches? I’m surprised, especially with someone as handsome as your marvelous Harrison. Why was she so hateful to him?”

  “Oh,” Gracie shifted in her seat, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “I can’t say that I know. Whoever knows what’s what with Rae. But the point is,” Gracie said, moving on, “I think it went well. I think he might call on me!”

  Larissa tapped lightly on the door and entered with a tray bearing biscuits and Abby’s medicated tea.

  “All right, you chatterboxes,” Larissa visually inspected Abby. “I think that’s enough visiting for the day. Gracie, you have been Abby’s first outside visitor since the accident, and I’d like to make sure she takes everything very slowly.” Larissa placed the painted porcelain tray on Abby’s bedside table and began straightening the bed coverings. “I can see that Abby’s tiring, and I have Mr. Elling waiting for a quick visit with her, as well.”

  “Ugh. Again?” Abby groaned.

  “Abby!” Larissa admonished her.

  “He’s waiting now?” Gracie asked with palpable enthusiasm. Abby marveled that the Cunningham family really did perceive Douglas Elling as an attraction of the first order.

  “I just don’t see why he must persist in visiting me so relentlessly,” Abby looked at Larissa. “This is his third day in a row. It isn’t like his sudden notice of me will heal my shoulder faster.”

  “Come now, Abby,” Gracie responded. “Isn’t that the sweetest? He must feel just awful. And really, even though he’s been a curmudgeon, don’t you think you owe him even a bit? I mean, with all his generosity.” Abby felt herself bristle at Gracie’s phrasing. She didn’t like to think of herself as indebted to anyone, especially not a volatile, incomprehensible man like Douglas Elling. “And,” Gracie added, “maybe his visits could help you pass your time on bed rest more pleasantly.”

  “But I don’t even need to be in bed anymore.” Abby knew she was whining like a child. “It’s just out of respect for Larissa that I am even remaining in this bedchamber,” she said, glancing pointedly at the governess, “but I really feel more than adequate to be up and about.”

  “Abby,” Larissa spoke quietly but deliberately, “Mr. Elling has seemed a bit more jovial these last few days, more so than I’ve seen him in a long time. If the visits with you are contributing to his own healing process, well, doesn’t that just make your spirit soar?”

  Abby rolled her eyes. No, it did not make her spirit soar. Abby was fairly certain that whatever spirit she had, it would never be in the business of soaring anywhere. Although Abby had grown fond of her governess, sometimes she found Larissa’s flowery musings so tiresome. Part of the issue, of course, was that Abby was really too old to be under the care of a governess at all, but like it or not, she had made a promise to her parents, and she would stick with it, as was her way.

  Abby looked at Gracie and Larissa, both of whom were waiting expectantly for her response.

  “All right,” Abby acquiesced. “It’s not like I have much choice, do I? I shall try to seem cheerful.”

  “That’s my girl,” Larissa nodded and turned to Gracie. “Follow me, dear, and I will see you out.”

  As the door closed behind them, Abby’s stomach lurched. She tried to prepare herself for another visit with Mr. Elling, to take the truer part of herself and ball it up, scurry it away be-hind the harder bits of herself, her filth and mettle. Was it going to be today? Would he demand that she repay him for hosting her these many months, make good on the debt that Gracie was so quick to mention?

  He had actually been somewhat lovely since Abby had gotten hurt. Not that she remembered much from the first day, when she had been drugged into deliriousness. But Larissa made sure Abby was fully informed about the manner of Mr. Elling’s doting. And once she regained full lucidity, Abby sometimes found herself surprisingly engrossed in Douglas’s company. She hated to admit it, but he was, in fact, rather charming. Even beneath that ratty beard.

  But just as she felt herself getting roped in by his magnetism, she always remembered her own vulnerability. When she caught a glimmer of the potency in his blue eyes, or when she studied the thick expanse of his shoulders, the overpowering strength that must lie beneath his timeworn waistcoat. If she failed to stay on full alert with herself in his company, she could begin to feel Matthew’s fat hands on her body again. Bruising her breasts and leaving her skin crawling with filth.

  Although Mr. Elling had recently begun to display a gentle side, she knew what a scourge he could be, badgering his servants, treating people as though their very existence was only a matter of opinion. Her sick visits from Mr. Elling had so far been pleasant, but she wasn’t about to start trusting this mercurial man, simply to have him pounce on her as soon as she became complacent.

  Abby leaned back against her pillow and turned toward the bright windows with a heavy sigh. If she feigned exhaustion, perhaps he wouldn’t stay. She asked herself what more a girl with empty pockets and an injured arm could do besides wait to see what fate doled out.

  The door opened, and Abby’s fists clenched.

  “Abby?”

  At the sound of Mr. Elling’s voice, Abby felt a surprising surge of relief. This was not Uncle Matthew creeping into her bedroom. She reminded herself to breathe.

  “Yes, come in, Mr. Elling,” she responded as she turned toward the door. He smiled at her, unperturbed by her tepid manner, as he entered the room and announced, “I’ve brought a different bit of reading, a play.” He held up the small book in his hand, and Abby was intrigued in spite of herself.

  “And for the umpteenth time, please call me Douglas. I’m not even a full decade your senior, and we’ve been sharing this house for months already. Certainly it’s appropriate by now to use first names, yes?”

  As Abby continued to look at him blankly, he wiggled the book and added, “It’s Shakespeare.”

  Had he known of her affinity for Shakespeare?

  “
Twelfth Night.” Douglas seated himself in the chair Gracie had been using. “Do you know it?” he asked lightly.

  “I do,” Abby began, as she watched him closely, carefully.

  “Oh.” Douglas gave a quick apologetic nod. “Here I was, keyed up to entertain you with some new material. But,” he continued, slipping the small folio into his breast pocket, “I shan’t bore you with diversions that you’ve already exhausted.”

  “No, no,” Abby sputtered, immediately regretful of her un-enthusiastic display for the play which, in fact, she had never read. She raised her pillow behind her back and continued, “It’s just, I was saying that I’ve heard of it.” She was wretchedly bored waiting out her recovery period, an arbitrary imposition from Larissa, no less. If she were still in Wigan, she’d have already been back at the dusty factory table, working double time with her one good arm, frantic to keep her job, her eleven shillings per week. Her fingers twitched at being so sedentary now, so useless. Shakespeare would certainly help pass the time, if only he’d leave the book and just let her read to herself.

  “This is the play with Viola as heroine? I’ve never actually read any of the verse. You needn’t trouble yourself though. I am well enough to read on my own.” She reached out for the text.

  “Nonsense. The doctor was clear that you were to do no reading for at least seven days. Now tell me, Abby, have seven days passed since our adventure in the stables?”

  “Is that what you’re calling it now, an adventure?” Abby snapped. “More like attempted murder.” Abby flinched as soon as the words escaped, worried she had gone too far. She looked up at Douglas, who barked out a laugh and opened the play, flipping to the first page.

  If music be the food of love, play on;

  Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,

  The appetite may sicken, and so die.

  Abby barely had time to reflect on how easily, how amicably, Douglas had accepted her declaration of his blame for the accident before she was thoroughly engulfed in the riotous love triangle of Olivia, Viola, and Duke Orsino. She relaxed on her pillow, absorbed in the story of lovers foiled.

  “You’re beginning to look thoroughly fatigued.” Douglas announced after they finished the first act. “With the condition you were in only a few days ago, it’s best we not push. I’m hardly your first visitor today either. You rest, and we can pick up again tomorrow.” Abby wanted to tell him that no, she really did not feel tired, that she could listen to him read for hours yet. But she was also glad to have him withdraw, leave her in peace so she could put her fear back into that other part of her heart, where she could fold it up and pretend it did not exist.

  Except as she looked at Douglas, she noticed that again, she did not feel the fear she expected. She felt alert, coiled, but not in a negative way. She couldn’t quite name the emotion, but he was correct that she didn’t feel restful with him there.

  “Only a few days ago,” he told her, as he stood, “you were so feverish and confused. I was terribly worried. As you know, your father is one of my dearest friends, but he’d rip my tongue out with his bare hands if I let anything happen to you.”

  “That would be awful. I’d have no one to read me the rest of the play. You’re right, you should go. For both our sakes.” Abby wasn’t sure who was more surprised by her sudden playfulness. Douglas raised his brows, but otherwise didn’t let on.

  “Right, then. I’ll be back tomorrow.” Douglas studied Abby a moment longer, a lock of his unshorn brown hair falling onto his forehead as he looked down at her in the bed. With a brief bow, he turned and strode confidently from the room.

  Alone again, Abby huffed out a pent-up breath. She looked toward the closed door and wrinkled her brow. By her count, Douglas had visited her no fewer than five times since the accident, and she’d be damned if he didn’t seem like he cared about her well-being, at least a smidge. In all his visits, he hadn’t come close to laying a finger on her inappropriately. Was it possible that Douglas was actually a decent sort of fellow? Otherwise, he was putting forth quite a lot of calculated action to manipulate her, and she was hardly worth such effort.

  Abby nestled more deeply in the bed. The sling on her arm made sleeping at night difficult, so she was actually a bit tired. Her head was beginning to pulse a little as well, likely from trying to decipher Douglas’s intentions. The man she met upon her arrival, the one who shouted at her weeks later for helping Reggie with his blisters, seemed so different from the one who had been visiting with her each day since her injury.

  Well, it was no matter whether he was a genuine sort or crooked, Abby decided. If he would just have done with all this visiting, so much the better. She couldn’t say if it was guilt over the accident or licentiousness that sent Douglas repeatedly to her door, maybe a surprising clandestine grace, but it would be the easiest thing if he just left her alone. Though she wondered at the tiny part of her, the part huddled beneath her guardedness and constant vigilance, that was quietly looking forward to his next visit.

  14

  CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA

  1846

  Gracie sat on the back verandah, wilting slightly in the glare of the late-day Charleston sun and squinting at her needlepoint. She was distracted from her task, thinking alternately about Harrison Blount and Abby Milton. It had been unusually warm this month, and again the air was sticky with the scents of tree sap and soil fermenting in the unseasonable heat. Still, Gracie preferred this mugginess to the company of her sisters, and there was no avoiding them unless she was out of doors, where they so rarely cared to venture. She inhaled deeply, trying to refocus herself, savoring the scent of the crape myrtle shrubs beside the house.

  “Gracie, there you are.” Cora Rae smiled in triumph as she emerged from the adjacent parlor. “I’ve been looking everywhere,” she added as she stepped through the French doors from the house. Cora Rae always knew precisely which colors to wear to flatter her appearance, and today’s emerald riding dress was no exception, as it highlighted her brilliant green eyes and contrasted starkly with her amber hair. Cora Rae’s beauty continually stunned Gracie, not least of all because it concealed such a distasteful character.

  “Well here I am, aren’t I?” As she looked up, making no effort to hide her annoyance at Cora Rae’s de trop arrival. “What is it?”

  “You know what I want. Mama told me hours ago that you went over to visit Abigail. Well, let’s have it.” Cora Rae sat delicately on the wicker rocker beside Gracie’s. “I just couldn’t wait a minute longer. Tell me everything.” Cora Rae was developing a lovely pink glow upon her smooth cheeks; whether it was from the heat of the warm day or her excitement about Douglas Elling, Gracie couldn’t say.

  “Did you see Douglas? You’ve wheedled your way in at least a bit by now, haven’t you? Tell me that much, or I might just have to reconsider our recent bargain.” Cora Rae removed a paper fan from the band where it hung on her wrist and began waving it at herself with furious refinement.

  “I’m sorry if I just don’t have much to tell yet.” Gracie replied defensively and turned back to her needlepoint as she spoke. “I told you that Douglas and Abby barely have any relationship at all, so for me to have contact with Douglas through his houseguest, well it’s attenuated, at best.”

  Cora Rae’s eyes flashed in burgeoning anger, and Gracie quickly backpedaled, cautious not to violate the terms of their accord about Harrison.

  “As despicable as I think this whole thing is,” Gracie continued, “I actually did manage to get a brief audience with Douglas during my visit. Nothing significant occurred mind you, but it was something, I suppose, so I thought you’d be pleased. I had to fairly beg Abby to stomach a visit from him.” Gracie hated the idea of being dishonest with Abby about her purpose in the Elling home, but perhaps she might contrive an approach that would appease Rae without hurting anyone. Gracie justified her thoughts by reminding herself that she would have visited Abby today regardless of Rae’s demands. The girl had suffer
ed an awful ordeal with that horse, and Gracie had simply done the Christian thing, visiting her friend while she convalesced. Maybe it would be better for Abby if she and Douglas were on closer terms anyway. After all, it was rather odd the way she was staying in his house but wanted nothing to do with him.

  As she failed to extinguish her lingering guilt, Gracie studied Cora Rae. How she and this creature could have been spawned by the same source was a mystery to her.

  “Really though, how could you have me do this, Cora?” Gracie’s distaste for her sister could be heard plainly as she pronounced her sister’s name with cutting sarcasm. “Abby is my friend. Not that you have any understanding what that means.” Cora Rae’s friends seemed to change on a weekly basis.

  “Abby is soft-hearted and merciful.” Gracie continued, with building bravado. “How could you make me use her like this? It won’t do any good anyway.” Gracie shook her head, her mahogany curls dancing frenetically around her face as she continued. “Douglas is clearly not interested in finding another wife, especially not one who handles everyone around her just to suit her own purpose.”

  “Oh, puh . . . lease!” Cora Rae snorted as she stood. “You’re as much of a user as I am, sugar. Ready to turn on your little friend as soon as it suits you. You didn’t think twice about deceiving her when it came to your own interests. And who’s acting uppity anyway?” Cora Rae released a vicious laugh. “That girl is nothing but a beggar. She’s a project to you. We all know how you are. Sweet little Gracie, always seeking out strays and orphans. Well you might as well use this particular mission of yours to help your older sister.” Cora Rae paused and then added with a sneer, “Unless of course, you’ve changed your mind about Harrison.” Cora Rae glared at Gracie spitefully.

  “Rae!” Gracie snapped in frustration. “I already said that I would help. Why do you have to go on about it? It’s only been a couple of days yet. I’m not going to make striking progress in less time than it takes to squash a mosquito. Now I told you, I had an audience with him. It was just a first step. If I persist, I may eventually be in a position to invite him over for something. But it will take time, and I would appreciate you not browbeating me each day in the meanwhile. Now if you don’t mind, I was trying to finish this pattern.” Gracie picked up her needle-point and began to turn away from her sister.