Grandmother regarded Peggy gently, and the retort Annabelle expected never came. Instead, she simply inclined her head and allowed Peggy to scoop up her plate and then scamper away, escaping the tension in the room. Annabelle wished she had thought to join her. Not that Grandmother would have allowed it.
Peggy had no sooner slipped out than Grandmother pinned Annabelle with a look that made her squirm, despite her best efforts. Though her gaze remained on Annabelle, her words were clearly for George. “Mr. Daniels,” she said, “who has approved your request for my granddaughter’s hand, if her father is no longer alive?”
Annabelle could not withhold her gasp. “Grandmother, I….”
Grandmother held up her hand, silencing Annabelle with a cutting look. If George was rattled by Grandmother’s imprudence, he did not let it show. He leaned forward to look around Annabelle, acting as though she were not seated between them. At the moment, she certainly wished it were true.
“Annabelle and I are not betrothed,” he stated evenly.
Resigned to yet another scraping of her wounds, Annabelle lowered her gaze and studied the grain of the wood on the table. She sensed, rather than saw, Grandmother’s arched brows.
“Then why did your brother say otherwise when you came to my door, and why did you court her in my parlor?”
Annabelle almost couldn’t hear over the pounding of blood in her ears that was very quickly evolving into a headache.
George did not spare her a glance, and answered in that easy and unaffected way she had come to expect from him. “My brother sought to secure such an arrangement, but Miss Ross and I spoke on the matter and decided the match was not necessary.”
Annabelle peered under her lashes at Grandmother and saw a look of surprise widening her eyes. She turned them on Annabelle, who wished she could melt out of her chair and seep into the thickly woven rug underfoot. “Necessary?” Grandmother prompted.
Annabelle straightened herself, not wanting George to continue to speak for her. Her kin should hear of her failures from her own lips and no other’s. “I’ve been unable to reach my father’s brother, my only remaining male relative by blood, and Rosswood is in peril. I sought a union to secure its future.”
Grandmother studied Annabelle, but her expression remained entirely unreadable. Annabelle refused to wither under the older woman’s gaze and kept her chin high.
“So you’ve been at that plantation by yourself all this time?” The horror in Grandmother’s voice caused warring emotions of annoyance and tenderness in Annabelle’s chest. She would be perfectly capable of caring for her home herself, but appreciated her grandmother’s concern. As soon as the prideful thought rose up, she pushed it aside as foolishness. A lone woman so far from town would never truly be safe, not even once the war ended. Despair tried to rear again, but she pointedly pictured herself crushing it, and the feeling passed.
When she spoke, her tone held no emotion. “My grandfather by marriage tends Rosswood in my uncle’s stead, until either Uncle Michael returns or I am wed. Grandfather sought to remedy this issue by pledging me to wed his own son, but that match is most…unfitting.” Annabelle spat the final word.
The lines around Grandmother’s mouth tightened, and she glanced briefly at George before returning her regard to Annabelle. “Those details are something I wish to discuss with you at another time.” Annabelle nodded, knowing it was not open to debate.
“But that matter aside,” Grandmother said, waving her hand. “I would like to be apprised of my granddaughter’s marriage intentions, regardless of the circumstances. If you have decided Mr. Daniels is not a match, and neither is….” She hesitated only a moment, but Annabelle caught the way her nostrils flared. “Well, neither is this other man, then how do you plan on securing your holdings on your own?”
“I will figure something out.”
Grandmother opened her mouth to fire out a reply, but George was even faster. “I have assured Miss Ross that marriage is unnecessary for her to receive aid from my brother and me. We will see that her lands are returned to her.”
Grandmother watched George for a moment. “That is noble of you, boy, but you are a fool if you think she can live there on her own.”
Annabelle balked. “Grandmother!” That was bold, even for Grandmother, and crossed into rudeness. She folded her arms and jabbed Grandmother with a snide look. “You live here without a man.”
She regretted the words as soon as they left her lips. The pained look that crossed Grandmother’s face pricked her, but nothing could be done for it now. Grandmother stroked the base of her throat and spoke calmly. “Oh, child,” she said with a shake of her head. “I’m an old widow living in lands blessedly untouched by scavengers and raiders, with a burly stableman who lives but a stone’s throw from my rear entry. These are hardly the same circumstances.”
Annabelle knew she spoke true and hung her head. At that moment, Peggy opened the door and bustled in, carrying a pumpkin pie. Lilly followed on her heels with a toddler perched on her hip. The boy reached under a mop of dark curls to tug on his ear, his brown eyes trying to see everything at once. His gaze quickly fell on George, and he wriggled in his mother’s grasp.
George grinned. “Look what a fine young fellow we have here!”
Lilly’s face remained passive, but the boy squirmed in her arms until she finally sighed and released him. The moment his tiny shoes touched the floor, he scurried up to George’s side. George ruffled his hair. “We’ve got some pie here. Do you want some?”
Annabelle smiled as the little one’s face lit up, and without a word he climbed right into George’s lap. Lilly gasped. “No, Frankie! He don’t want….”
Her words were cut off by George’s laugh. “Nonsense! He’s perfectly fine right here. We are going to share a big old slice, aren’t we, Frankie?”
Frankie giggled, reaching his chubby fingers toward the table. Lilly looked perplexed and cast a helpless glance at Grandmother. Grandmother looked rather smug, and something in Annabelle’s churning gut hinted that perhaps she’d missed something vitally important in the exchange between them.
Peggy cut and served each of them a slice, even cutting one for herself and placing it on the table. When she returned to her seat, Grandmother lifted her fork and stabbed a tiny bite. The others quickly followed suit, all save Lilly who was much more focused on her son sitting happily in George’s lap.
After three bites of her pie, Annabelle asked to be excused from the table. Grandmother gave permission with a pitying look that Annabelle loathed. As she rose, Peggy did the same, and the two shut the pocket doors on Frankie’s giggles and George’s hearty laugh. They crossed through the parlor without a word, and Peggy turned and started up the staircase. Annabelle placed a hand on the rail, but then hesitated at the bottom. “I think I will take a quick trip out back before we retire,” she said.
Peggy turned and stepped back off the stair. “All right, but let’s be quick about it. Don’t know why you can’t just use the chamber pot,” she grumbled.
Peggy knew Annabelle didn’t like doing her personal business in the chamber pot and avoided it as often as possible. She didn’t like emptying it and didn’t want anyone else to have to, either. “You go on to your room. I’ll be fine.”
Peggy parted her lips to protest, but then seemed to change her mind. “All right. Just be quick like about it.” She gave Annabelle a tender smile that nevertheless grated on Annabelle’s emotions. “I’ll go ahead and get some coals into the bed warmer and get your sheets heated.”
Annabelle softened. “Thank you. That sounds delightful.” She stepped past the stairs and went out the rear door, careful to pull it tight behind her. The sun had dipped low during their supper, and she would need to hurry if she wanted to get back to the house before full dark. She lifted the wide hoops Grandmother had insisted she wear to evening meal and stepped quickly across the lawn, wishing she’d had time to run to her room and fetch a shawl. She wore a thick velv
et dress Lilly had loaned her, but the heavy material alone couldn’t keep out the evening chill.
She reached the privy, but just as her fingers touched the handle, she heard a muffled thump. She paused, listening. The noise came again, this time followed by a grunt. Annabelle frowned. The sounds seemed to come from somewhere behind the small privacy building. Curious, she walked around to the back of the privy and noticed another building off to the side of the yard opposite the stable, several paces removed from the other structures near the main house. The wooden construction had the look of a storage place, likely used as a smokehouse or vegetable cellar.
Annabelle glanced around the lawn, but saw no one. She should ignore the noise, but what if it were a trapped animal, or worse, someone who had been injured and needed aid? Armed with the thought, Annabelle hurried forward.
As she neared, the sounds fell silent. Her pulse quickened, and she pressed her ear to the rough wooden door. Caution warned that she should go back to the house and get one of the men to come inspect what caused the stir, lest it be something dangerous.
Then she remembered her grandmother’s words and George’s placating looks, and Annabelle straightened her spine. She was not so dependent on men that she must run to them at every turn! Without another hesitation, she wrenched open the door.
Annabelle gasped.
There in the gloomy light, surrounded by stacks of potatoes and shelves lined with canned vegetables, stood Harry. The man who had been one of the conspirators determined to abduct Lincoln, stood with his arms stretched high over his head, secured by a rope looped over a support beam in the roof. Even in the quickly fading light, Annabelle could see that Harry’s nose had swollen to twice the normal size, and both of his eyes were darkened with bruised and puffy skin. When Harry saw her, he began to thrash. Annabelle stepped into the damp room to calm him, and noticed the gags stuffed into his mouth.
Her caution forgotten, she rushed to the struggling man and fear widened his eyes as much as the bruising would allow. As recognition dawned, his thrashing ceased. Annabelle regarded him evenly. “I am going to remove your gag, Harry, but don’t make me regret it.”
He bobbed his head frantically, and she reached around behind his head to undo the ties of the strip of bloody cloth. She was close enough to him to tell he had lost his liquid on himself, but she tried not to let her disgust show. When the knot finally came free, Annabelle quickly dropped the rag to the ground and stepped back, breathing through her mouth.
Harry coughed and spit out another wad of cloth that had been shoved into his mouth.
“Who did this to you?” Annabelle asked, keeping a safe distance and watching him for any indication that he could spring from his bonds. The thought was absurd, because if he could have released himself, he would have done so by now.
Harry spat again, this time with a thick wad tinged red. He eyed her with nearly as much suspicion as she watched him. “Your lover’s the one that done it, you twit.”
Annabelle clenched her teeth, but leveled an even gaze on him. The day’s light continued to recede, and as the shadows grew long so did her unease. She ignored his comment and pressed for more important matters. “Why are you here?”
He glared at her, unwilling to answer. She lifted her shoulders. “Very well. I will leave you, then.” She spun around and stepped through the door, and almost had it pulled closed when his plea finally came.
“Please! Wait!”
She swung the door wide again, letting as much light in as possible before turning to regard him. She waited. Finally, he groaned. “I was just following Daniels. Was supposed to see if he got his brother out.”
Annabelle narrowed her eyes. Why would Matthew tie him up if he were only looking to see if they succeeded in finding George? And for that matter, why follow them in secret? She’d nearly convinced herself that when she’d seen him on the road to Grandmother’s, it had been nothing more than a figment of the mind. Whatever his intentions were, they were not innocent. “I don’t believe you. You think me a fool?”
“It’s truth!”
She placed her hand on her hip and did her best to intimidate Grandmother’s superior tone. If she spoke as one accustomed to being obeyed, perhaps he would loosen his tongue. “Truth, perhaps, but only a piece and not the whole. I’ll know your purpose on my family lands, sir, or that mangled nose will be the smallest of your cares.”
He gaped at her, and then snapped his jaw closed, lowering his head. “O’Malley sent me to be sure Daniels didn’t let his mouth leak, and then to see if he succeeded in getting his brother. We thought once he got the other out, he might be more free with his tongue.”
“Matthew was as much a part as any. Doing so would only see him captured as well. Surely you do not think he is that dimwitted?”
Harry looked at her defiantly, and she knew there was more he would not tell. Momma had always said to turn a man with a sweet word and not a snarl, so she plastered a sugared smile on her lips and stepped closer. “Well, I’m sure you meant no harm. You were only sending information, after all.”
Surprise washed over his face for only an instant before he shielded his features again. She thought she’d failed, but then he nodded. “That’s right. That brute had no call for attacking me like he did and stringing me up.”
Annabelle clicked her tongue. “No, of course not. And I’ll be sure to speak with him about his actions.” And ask why he didn’t tell me what he’s done.
There was a growl behind her and Annabelle whirled around to see Matthew filling the doorway and blocking out the rest of her light. She squinted, but could not make out his features. She needn’t have anyway, since the tension in his shoulders and the way his fists clenched at his sides told her all she needed to know. Refusing to be intimidated, she pulled herself to her full height and straightened her shoulders. “Matthew? Would you care to explain why you’ve strung up a man in my grandmother’s potato shed?”
He took a heavy step forward, and she regretted speaking to him like a wonton child. Still, she would not back down. Not even when his hand gripped her elbow and he started to tug her away from Harry. “You and I will discuss this outside,” he barked.
Annabelle allowed herself to be hauled out of the shed and into the purple glow of the day’s last light. She wrenched her arm free from his grasp as soon as they were a few steps away. Tension practically rolled off of him, and neither of them spoke. Annabelle wrapped her arms around herself and tilted her head back to see Matthew’s face. Instead of the rage she expected, he simply appeared exhausted. He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I found him following us, with orders from O’Malley to have me killed.”
Annabelle drew a sharp breath and cast a look at the shed. Harry didn’t seem to be the type, but then, what did she know about such things?
“So you see why I needed to restrain him,” Matthew continued. “At least until I could decide what to do.” He rubbed at the muscles on the back of his neck, and Annabelle’s annoyance began to wane.
She rubbed her throbbing temple, trying to hold a headache at bay. “Were you going to tell anyone about this?”
“I didn’t think the dinner table an appropriate place to announce I’d stowed a would-be murderer in the shed.” His words bespoke of humor, but his voice was anything but light.
Annabelle bit back a sharp retort and tried to keep her mother’s advice at hand. “No, it would not. Well, what do you propose to do with him?”
Matthew snarled. “I’d like to haul him back to Washington, take him to the law, and tell them the entire story. Let them get to O’Malley and the others before they do anything reckless.”
Annabelle chewed her lip. A reasonable plan, even if a dangerous one. “And what if they arrest you as well?”
Matthew shrugged. “So be it.”
The bitterness in his words stabbed at her heart. “Why would you say such a thing?”
He looked at her for a moment, and with the last light of day she sa
w the pain in his eyes. “I got myself into this mess with that group. Now that you are safe, George is free, and…” He hesitated, and her pulse quickened. He cleared his throat. “Now that you and George have secured the arrangement, it is my responsibility to stop them before they make things worse.”
Secured the arrangement? Had George not told his brother what they’d discussed? Annabelle pushed aside the words she longed to speak. She would not tell him she and George did not plan to wed. Right now, she had to focus on the other part of what he’d said. “What do you mean? You said ‘before they do anything reckless,’ and ‘before they make things worse.’ What are you not telling, Matthew Daniels?”
Unexpectedly, he reached out and brushed her cheek with his knuckles. A whisper of a touch, and then it was gone. “You will not let this rest, will you?”
She lifted her brows. “You expect anything else?”
He chuckled softly. “No, I suppose not.” He stared at her a moment, the sounds of the night creatures and his breathing the only things she could hear as the evening descended. He sighed and stepped back away from her, putting a distance between them that was for the best, but hurt all the same. “Harry tells that they are still trying to carry forth their plan.”
“They still would abduct him?” she said in a harsh whisper.
Matthew nodded, a barely noticeable gesture in the faint moonlight. “They have grown more desperate, and I fear O’Malley’s obsession. I do not think once they smuggle Lincoln into Richmond that O’Malley will leave it at abduction.”
Her blood felt cold in her veins. “You speak of assassination?”
“I do.”
Annabelle’s hand flew to her heart in an attempt to calm its rapid beating. “We have to stop them.”
“I have come to the same conclusion. Lincoln must live if there is to be any hope for us.”
The Liberator Series Box Set: Christian Historical Civil War Novels Page 46