“Sophia!” Emily exclaimed, springing to her feet. “Are you ill?”
Sophia drooped weakly over the pot with her hair dragging in the mess.
“Back into bed,” Emily demanded, removing the spilled meal and grasping her friend firmly under the arms. “Up you go.”
Sophia fought her off and rolled to a sitting position. “Leave me alone. I’m fine.” She pulled her soiled locks away from her face.
“You don’t look fine.” Emily tried to feel her friend’s forehead, but Sophia struck her. “I said I’m fine.”
Emily backed away and bit her lip. “I’ll make you some chicken soup. Betsy showed me how. It always helps—”
“Emily, I’m not ill,” Sophia snapped. “I’m pregnant.”
For a split second, the whole world stood still. Then Emily squealed. “Sophia! That’s wonderful!”
Of course Sophia was pregnant. She should have seen it. The tears, the extra sleep, the crazy mood swings. Why, Sophia hadn’t taken anything for breakfast except coffee since she’d arrived. Emily could go home, and her friend would be just fine. A baby would give her purpose and occupy her time when Matthew was away. She couldn’t think of a more perfect solution.
“No, it’s not wonderful.” Sophia’s statement was flat and miserable.
Emily gazed at her with pity, recalling how ill Lizzie had been last year during her pregnancy. “The sickness will soon pass,” she assured her. “Then you’ll have a baby to love and care for. You won’t be in this big house alone anymore.”
“I can’t think of anything more dreadful.”
“You can’t possibly mean that.” Emily remembered how quickly she had fallen in love with baby Larkin. “A child will bring you so much happiness.”
But Sophia’s face had filled with loathing. “Emily, I am going to be fat and hideous. A woman in my condition can’t go out in public. I’ll completely miss the fall social season.”
“One season!” Emily exclaimed in disbelief. “You can’t sacrifice a few months for your own child?”
“Do you think this will be the only one?” Sophia laughed bitterly. “I’ll probably have ten of the horrible things. I’ll be old, obese, and forgotten.” Her face crumpled into dejection. “And I used to be the belle of every ball.”
Sophia crawled back into her bed and stuffed the pillow over her head.
Emily sank onto the mattress and laid a hand on her arm. “Sophia, there is nothing more beautiful in the whole world than a mother with a new child.”
But Sophia pounded the soft feathers. “Matthew is going to despise me.”
Emily barely caught the muffled words. “Matthew will adore you when he meets his son or daughter for the first time.”
“Oh, please.” Sophia lifted the pillow and sniffed disdainfully. “When I’m bloated and ugly, he’ll do what every man does and look elsewhere. He—he probably already does. They think we don’t notice. That we don’t care…” Her voice dissolved into wails and she crammed the pillow back in place.
Emily rubbed Sophia’s back as she cried. All her preening, her partying, her laughter, even her violence against the slaves, it was all a show, a bandage to cover a gigantic insecurity. Emily’s heart filled with pity.
Sophia’s sobs eventually lessened and her breathing deepened. Gently, Emily rose and picked up the tray of food. As she passed the bureau, her eye fell on an envelope bearing her name. It had probably arrived in the bundle of mail dropped off by the neighbor yesterday afternoon, and it wasn’t the first time Sophia had forgotten to deliver one of her letters. Last week she received Aunt Margaret’s latest missive a full ten days after the post date. She snatched up the envelope and examined the handwriting. It looked like Zeke’s.
Quietly closing the door behind her, she entered her own room and set down the tray with some alarm. What could Zeke possibly want?
Nothing, as it turned out. He had simply enclosed Uncle Isaac’s correspondence, addressed with the familiar “Flag of Truce” notification. She ripped it open, eager for news of Lizzie, and found a page written in her friend’s unpracticed hand. Her eager heart devoured the news:
Dear Emily,
I am sorry I could not write to you sooner. Uncle Timothy told us not to until we arrived. He a kind man who cared for us after Ketch took ill of lung fever aboard ship. Ketch full recovered now. We married during our visit, since Uncle Timothy be a preacher and all…
“What!” she exclaimed. Surely Uncle Timothy could have mentioned Lizzie’s marriage!
The letter was vague, with few details of their journey and no mention of its nature. She knew the secrecy was no longer for Lizzie’s safety, but for her own. Tears dripped down Emily’s cheeks as she read the closing lines.
We settled across the river, not so far from our new friends, but it feel like a world away. The city be full of danger. But here the air be sweeter and our breath looser. I know full contentment when I watch our little Lark and our Robin flying free among the trees. I taste it when Ketch kiss my lips. And always I be thinking of you and blessing you in my heart.
With sisterly affection,
Lizzie
Emily’s knees wobbled. She sank to the floor with her skirts billowing around her and offered up a choking prayer of thanks. Dear Lizzie. She missed her so much, even more so since arriving at Maple Ridge. Last year, she’d had Lizzie’s practicality to counter Sophia’s excessiveness, as well as her listening ear and solid advice. Emily had never felt her loss so keenly as she had these last few weeks. But her heart soared when she pictured the family settled safely in Canada—close to Isaac and Shannon and the Watsons, but far from danger.
Emily wiped her eyes on the cuff of her sleeve and tucked the precious letter in her valise. Lizzie made no mention of the contents of the envelope that was lost to the fire. But she had left a mailing address. Emily would write a reply. Later. After the joy in her heart had time to seep into her bones.
She gathered the breakfast tray and carried it downstairs. The hogs could have it. Taking herself out to the front porch, she positioned a cane bottom chair to catch the sunlight. May had subtly shifted into June. After a succession of stormy days, the weather promised to be the most sultry of the season. But the morning was still fresh. Emily relaxed, rocking back and forth, and rereading every detail of Lizzie’s letter, her euphoria lessened only by Sophia’s heartbreak.
A gentle breeze played across Emily’s face. She closed her eyes and listened to the drone of insects, nearly lulled to sleep by the serenity of the countryside. A smile played about her lips as she thought how happy a baby would make Sophia. Eventually.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the squishy thud of hoofbeats. Opening her eyes, she spotted a rider braving the wet conditions and urging a lathered horse up the driveway. She rose in alarm.
“Is Matthew here?” the man yelled. He was filthy, covered in the mud flung up from miles of hard riding.
“He left yesterday for Summerville. Can I take a message?”
“Aye. Word came in not forty minutes ago. Charleston is under attack.”
***
Within two hours, Emily sat aboard an eastbound train, having taken time only to pack her valise and exchange her hoops for a traveling petticoat. Her thoughts were as dark as the smoke that streamed from the engine and coated the coaches with a fine, sooty powder. She wiped the perspiration from her forehead with a handkerchief that came away smudged.
Was Charleston under siege? Was it being bombarded? Had it fallen? Where were the Malones, Aunt Margaret, Mrs. Bentley, Becca, and her parents’ faithful staff? Rumors compounded each time the train stopped at an outlying town, but the conflicting stories did little to answer her questions or allay her fears. She took heart from the fact that, while the crowds were heavier than usual in the sparsely populated stations, she saw no evidence of a full evacuation.
A familiar face greeted her upon her arrival. “Thad!” she exclaimed, hoisting her skirts and jostling through the cro
wd. “How did you know I was coming?”
He took her valise and planted a kiss on her forehead. “I figured news of the battle would travel swiftly down the railroad lines, and that Matthew Buchanan would be among the first to hear in St. George’s. And since it would be terribly uncharacteristic of you to not hop the first train home, I’ve been checking every arrival since noon.”
She gave a nervous chuckle. “What if I hadn’t come?”
“Then I’d be meeting every train tomorrow.” He took her hand and ushered her toward a waiting horse and buggy—she recognized the lightweight vehicle as her aunt’s. “Do you have any more luggage?”
“I left everything else at Sophia’s.” Stepping out of the stream of pedestrians, she pulled him to a stop in a sheltered corner. “Tell me what’s happening. A rider came through, but he didn’t know much. Is Aunt Margaret all right? Have you seen Abigail?”
“Everything’s fine,” he assured her. “The Yankees never reached the city.”
Emily sagged with relief. “But there’s been fighting?”
“Close enough to hear. There have been skirmishes on James Island for two weeks.”
“Have you been here that long? I thought you went home.”
“I did, but there’s no more work in Savannah than there is in Charleston. So I came back. The fellows down at Mulligan’s filled me in.”
“Tell me.”
Thad tugged her hand and resumed walking. “The word is, a slave—a pilot—stole a steamship back in May and delivered it to the Union blockade. He also most likely delivered the news that we abandoned the defenses along the Stono River, because within days, Union gunboats moved in. Then they landed troops on James Island and we’ve been listening to the skirmishes ever since.”
They had reached the buggy. Thad set her valise on the floor and handed her in. “Today must have been some skirmish for the alarm to spread as it did.”
The vehicle rocked as Thad climbed into the seat and snapped the reins over the horse’s back. “It was.” He wore only a vest over a cotton shirt that had been rolled to his elbows, revealing the corded muscle of his forearms. “The guns started before dawn and lasted till noon. Big guns. Cannon from one of the defense works. Woke up the whole town. It was hardly a major battle, but long enough and near enough for apprehensions to rise.”
“Our defenses held?” she asked anxiously.
“I don’t see any Yankees, do you?”
She gave him a small smile, but he read the worry in her eyes. “Emily, we have ten thousand troops surrounding the city. We have two gunboats under construction in the harbor as we speak. The South will not allow Charleston to fall. We cannot. It’s far too important to the Cause.”
But she knew how important the city was to the North, as well.
The movement of the buggy rocked her shoulder into Thad’s. She tried to relax there, but the tension she carried all day had morphed into uncontrollable tremors.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’ve just been so frightened. I didn’t know what I’d find at the end of the line.”
He raised one of his arms, still holding the reins, and she curled in beside him. The temperature had to be approaching ninety degrees, but she was happy to press close. “Life can change quickly, can’t it?” he said.
“Far too quickly.” She pressed her palm against his heart. “I’m glad you’re here, Thad. I’ve missed you.” She hadn’t known how much until she said it.
He grinned down at her. “Have you? Or were you just itching to escape from Mrs. Buchanan’s clutches?”
“Of course not!” Then she laughed. “Okay, some of each.”
The horse clip-clopped around a corner to avoid the most devastated areas of the city. Emily soon grew too warm and drew away, though she still felt jittery. “What are you going to do now that Savannah didn’t work out?”
“That will depend partly on you.” The shadow of a smile lingered around his lips, and she knew what he was about to say. “Have you come home prepared to answer my proposal?”
She had given the matter a great deal of consideration since Jovie departed and convinced herself that her decision was sound. “I have,” she answered, letting the taunt hang between them.
“Well, don’t leave me dangling!”
“Yes.”
Disbelief and joy erupted across his face. “Yes?”
She bit back a grin and nodded.
“Woo-hoo!” His bellow of elation exploded over the street and echoed off the buildings. The horse startled to a standstill, and several individuals turned heads in their direction. “I’m getting married!” he shouted to the gawkers on the sidewalk. Then he leaned in and kissed Emily soundly on the lips.
A smattering of applause erupted around her, but Emily focused on the delicious taste of Thad’s mouth against hers. This was right. This was exactly what she wanted. A grin started in her belly and worked its way across her whole body. She parted from him only when it matured into laughter.
“I love you, Emily Preston!” Thad beamed. “You’ve just made me the happiest man in Charleston County.”
He snapped the horse back into motion, and they drove out of the crowd of spectators. “Shall we drive to the minister’s house?” He was only half-teasing, judging by the eagerness on his face. “I wonder what Mrs. Bentley charges for double occupancy.”
She giggled. The warmth spreading to her toes had nothing to do with the weather. “You make a tempting offer,” she drawled, “but I’d like to wait until next summer.”
His face fell. “Truly?”
“Truly. I insist that I be able to finish my first year of school before I become a wife.”
He nodded with resignation. “I feared as much. Which is why I brought this.” He fumbled in his pocket and withdrawing the garnet ring. “May the young men in Baltimore make no mistake. You, my dear, are claimed.”
She slipped on the ring, marveling at the cool, hard feel of metal between her fingers. It captured the sun and flung a thousand shards of burgundy against the buggy wall.
Thad shifted the reins and caught her hand in his. “You’ve just helped me determine my course of action. The blockade is suppressing the economy up and down the coast. There are no jobs. I can either go north to look for work or—” His eyes flickered toward her and looked away.
“Or what?” Her heart dropped. “Are you volunteering for service?” The thought made her sick to her stomach.
“No, I have the chance to take advantage of a more unique opportunity.”
She became suddenly suspicious of his evasiveness. “You’re not going to do anything illegal, are you?”
“The North might think so.” He let go of her fingers to turn the horse with both hands. “On the contrary, I’ll be serving my country in a much more advantageous way.”
“Tell me.”
He seemed to brace himself. “Blockade running.”
She gasped. “Thad! It’s too dangerous!”
His hands tightened on the reins. “It’s an amazing opportunity, Emily. Some of my father’s associates are starting a new freight line between Nassau and Liverpool. English mills are ravenous for our cotton, and the Confederacy needs British supplies and munitions. We’ll make ungodly profits on either end.”
“What of the Union navy? I hear of new captures every week. It’s too risky.”
“Not for a light, fast steamer,” he said in a salvo of excitement. “We need only reach the Bahamas and offload, not cross the ocean. A ship like that can outmaneuver the navy with ease.”
She looked doubtful.
“I won’t be at sea,” he assured her. “The board room and the business office will keep me busy enough.”
“On land?” That sounded far more agreeable.
“On land,” he repeated. “Here in Charleston. I promise.”
She straightened in her seat. “I’m not sure what you want from me. You sound like you’ve already decided.”
“I have spo
ken with my uncle, who has agreed to finance my shares in the company,” he admitted. “But I wanted you to be part of the decision. After all, it is a substantial expense, and you’ve just agreed to become my wife.”
She was pleased that Thad would include her opinion, and she couldn’t halt the pleasure from spreading across her face. “How can I object when you’ve been so understanding about my schooling? Do what you think is best.”
“This means I’ll be gone for the next several weeks,” he warned. “We want to be up and running by the middle of summer.”
“I understand.” She masked her disappointment. The war demanded something of everyone, and this would be his part to play. “I’ll be preparing for school. The time will pass. Perhaps by summer this conflict will be over.” She said it with all the hopeful sincerity she possessed.
Aunt Margaret’s house came into view around the final corner. Thad pulled up in front of the door and jogged around to help her out. Instead of taking her hand, however, he caught her around the waist and lifted her down. “Thank you, Emily. Next summer feels like an eternity away. But I’d wait a thousand years if I could have you at the end of it.” He pulled her in for a proper kiss.
“Emily Preston, have you no decency?” came Aunt Margaret’s sharp censure. “What do you think you are you doing? And in broad daylight in the middle of the street!”
Emily’s laughter bubbled up from springs of happiness. She held up her heavy finger without breaking away. “Just kissing my future husband, Auntie.”
14
“I’d like to have a private word with you if I may, child,” Aunt Margaret said after Emily had eaten a light supper. Rising heavily, she led the way to her private sitting room without waiting for a response.
Emily put down her napkin and followed cautiously, aware of how tight-lipped her aunt had been since her arrival. “I apologize if you’re still upset about me and Thad kissing on your doorstep.”
“Oh, posh.” Aunt Margaret snorted. “This has nothing to do with your indiscretion. I want to tell you about a decision I reached this morning.” She lowered herself laboriously to a velvet settee and fixed Emily with a frank stare. “I’m closing up my Charleston house and moving to England as soon as possible. You are welcome to join me, if you so desire.”
Blood Moon (Ella Wood, 2) Page 14