by Fine, Clara
“What does that mean?”
“It means that a little of the conjure will probably linger in you, at least for a while. Not enough to harm you, but enough to make you feel very bad, depending on how it manifests itself.”
“Oh, isn’t that nice,” Cam said sarcastically.
“Caro and I will see what we can do,” her grandmother said. “There is likely a way to combat it. In the meantime, you should sleep.”
“Yes.” Cam agreed. She did want to sleep. But when her sister and grandmother left, and she was alone in her room, she felt far too terrified to sleep. Every shadow looked like a person, and every creak sounded evil. Eventually Cam was able to find comfort by remembering the way that Brent had held her when he pulled her out of the water. He had been warm. He had been gentle. She had never felt so safe.
And with the memory of him warming her, Cam finally fell asleep.
Chapter Eleven
Desperate times call for desperate measures, Brent reminded himself as he rode down the driveway of the Hadley plantation. Mr. Hadley was a portly middle-aged gentleman with a mean disposition and fondness for liquor. He was also an incurable gossip, and the Johnson family was one of his favorite targets. The rumors he spread were varied and vicious, and Brent despised the man, but he needed information.
Discovering Cam’s body floating in the creek last night had shocked his system in a way that nothing else had. Hattie and John weren’t the only ones hanging in the balance now. Brent was done tip-toeing around the issue. If he had to go to the slime of the earth to hear the things that no one else was willing to say, then that was what he would do.
Maybe it won’t be that bad.
Half an hour later as he sat on Mr. Hadley’s porch, watching the man get roaring drunk, Brent decided that it was every bit as bad as he had expected— and then some. Hadley was disgusting, and so far he hadn’t given Brent anything useful. All he did was spew one far-fetched rumor after another.
“They bed anything that moves, I’m sorry to say,” Mr. Hadley said, though he didn’t look particularly sorry. His cheeks were ruddy from the wine and there was a vindictive gleam in his eyes.
Brent’s wineglass trembled slightly in his hand as he struggled to keep his temper in check, reminding himself that he was here for answers, and that it would be difficult to get answers out of Mr. Hadley if he leaned across the table and throttled the man until he choked to death.
“It’s not their fault, though,” Hadley said, taking another swig from his alcohol. “They got it from their mother, naturally.”
Brent put his wineglass down before it cracked. The more time he spent with Cam, the more he realized how painful all the talk about her mother had to be. She had few memories of Solange, but tall tales abounded, all painting Solange as a wild woman and a harlot.
“What a mistake that was for Henry Johnson,” Hadley continued. “I mean, I can see why he married her, she was lovely. Not as beautiful as her eldest daughter . . . speaking of harlots. The spitting image of the middle one…” He tilted his head back, probably trying to remember the name of Solange’s second daughter, and Brent hoped that it continued to elude him. He was already having a hard enough time resisting the urge to slam Hadley’s face into the table, and if the man dared to say Cam’s name, all bets were off.
“But very pretty,” Hadley said after a moment, obviously still unable to remember Cam’s name. “Not at all suited to being the wife of a gentleman. She couldn’t seem to control herself. She’d go for a walk with any man who winked at her. Well, almost any,” he added, guzzling a little more wine. Brent caught a glimmer of thwarted lust in the man’s eyes, and suddenly understood the source of Hadley’s resentment towards Solange. Whether Solange had bedded one man or a thousand, Hadley had not been among her paramours.
So you spread tales about a dead woman and torment her daughters in the process, Brent thought, glaring at the inebriated man across from him.
“I’m still convinced that’s how she died.” Hadley had finally come up for air. “You know there was a slave in the carriage house with her when the fire started. Have you ever wondered what they were doing together in the carriage house?”
A muscle in Brent’s jaw jumped. “From what I understood, Sam saw the fire and ran in to save Solange.” Brent very much hoped that he was wrong about what Hadley was suggesting.
“Oh well, that’s what they’d say, isn’t it? But if you ask me Solange and the slave were rolling around in the hay and knocked the lamp over… Of course, now that she’s dead no one wants to admit it. You’d think she was a saint.”
That was it. Pushing thoughts of his mission out of his mind, Brent knocked his chair over in his haste to stand. He was going to slam Hadley’s face into the table until the man couldn’t see. He was going to…
“But that’s what happens when someone dies. It’s the same with the Varennes flirt. That woman was after every man but her husband. Does anyone ever talk about it? Have you ever heard anyone discuss that fight that she and Solange had? No…. What are you doing?”
Brent had grabbed Hadley by the shoulders, intent on beating the man senseless, but paused at the mention of Katherine Varennes’ name.
He gave the man a vicious shake instead, relishing the way that Hadley’s head whipped back and forth. “What was that about Mrs. Varennes?”
The man groaned. “They had an argument. Release me! The world’s spinning as it is…” He did look a little nauseous, so Brent reluctantly released him, not bothering to keep his revulsion from his face. Hadley was too drunk to notice.
“What argument? Tell me about this argument.”
***
Eight days after Cam’s drowning, Aunt Beth finally deemed her well enough to attend the party at the McPherson plantation. Helen and Diana were also going. Diana didn’t usually go out, but the McPhersons were old friends, and it was a small party. It was the first gathering Diana had attended in almost three months.
It was also the first party that Cam had ever been eager to attend. She wanted to go because Brent would be there, and she hadn’t had the opportunity to thank him for saving her life yet.
But when they met each other in the McPherson garden Brent didn’t seem to want to discuss what had happened beside the creek. She felt his gaze sweep over her once, thoroughly, as if he wanted to be certain that she was definitely well. Then, before she could thank him, he spoke.
“You didn’t tell me that your mother and Katherine Varennes were enemies.”
Cam felt as though he’d hit her in the stomach. “What? What did you say?”
“I said, you never told me that Mrs. Varennes and your mother were rivals.”
“Who have you been talking to?” Cam asked, faking calm, trying to stall him until she could think of a suitable response.
“What difference does it make?” He said.
“It makes a great deal of difference,” Cam told him, still stalling.
“Tell me about the fire, Cam.” Brent said, practically growling her name. “Tell me again whether it was an accident or not.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” Cam asked. He had never been quite this aggressive before, and the expression on his face was almost hard.
“Because your secrets are dangerous, Cam. A danger to you and everyone around you.”
“So don’t be around me,” Cam said, unable to keep the hurt from her voice. Her heart was pounding, thumping to the rhythm of he knows he knows he knows.
“Oh? And what would have happened to you last week if I hadn’t been there?”
“That won’t happen again,” Cam said. Caro and Grandma had outfitted her with a charm powerful enough to protect seven people.
“Damn right it won’t. I can’t live through that again, Cam. I wouldn’t survive it.” Brent was close to shouting. “Whatever is going on has to be stopped. You have to tell me what you know.”
He was acting wild, yet somewhere beneath his husky voice and the fury in his
eyes Cam thought she could hear an echo of terror. Had he been frightened when he found her drowned? Cam tried to imagine if the situation had been reversed and realized that she would have been beside herself if she had been in his shoes.
“Cam!” Cam whirled, afraid that someone had heard them, and Diana stood behind her. “I heard shouting,” she said, staring at Brent like he was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe. Cam opened her mouth to explain and found that she didn’t know what to say. “Go wait in the carriage,” Diana said.
“We just arrived,” Cam argued.
“And now we’re leaving,”
“Like hell,” Brent said. He reached for Cam but she dodged his arms, backing up towards her sister.
“None of this is his fault,” she told Diana, before turning to go.
“Cam!” Brent called, but he didn’t follow her as she walked back to the carriage.
***
Diana faced Brent, and the frost in her voice matched the ice in her eyes. “You won’t go near her again.” She was much like her sister, except that while Cam glowed with life, Diana was like a statue. She was cold and unfeeling, but with a face that could only have been fashioned by the most masterful of artists.
Brent had never shoved a woman aside in his life, but he was sorely tempted to as he faced Diana Johnson. She certainly wasn’t going to move on her own. He could see in the set of her jaw that she would throw herself in the path of a train before she would allow him access to her little sister.
“I have done nothing to harm Cam,” he told her, trying to hide his indignation at having to explain anything to her. This was entirely between him and Cam, and it felt like an invasion of their privacy to have to discuss it with her icy sister.
“That is debatable,” she told him flatly.
He shifted so that she wouldn’t see his hands clenching. He was usually so good at staying calm, but Cam had wound him up like a child’s toy and now Diana was regarding him with the cool gaze of a woman who resented most men and trusted none of them. He needed to be level-headed, but instead he felt half-mad. “I have no reason to hurt her.”
“And that is a lie.” Diana said coldly.
“What’s happened?” Helen Johnson appeared, slightly out of breath. “Is something wrong?” She wasn’t like her older sisters; she couldn’t hide her feelings as well and there was real fear in her eyes. “Where’s Cam?”
“She’s fine,” Diana said, “but we are leaving.”
Helen’s gaze fixed on Brent, and her expression also turned chilly. “I see,” she said, coming to stand shoulder to shoulder with Diana.
Brent bit back a curse. Everyone in Cam’s family appeared to have marked him as the enemy. He hoped that at least her matchmaking aunt was still on his side. Damn it. If there had been two men between him and Cam he would have flung them aside without a second thought, but with her two sisters staring him down, all he could do was stand and wilt under the combined stares of two pairs of near-black eyes.
He took a deep breath and decided to try again. “You don’t understand,” he began.
“Oh, I assure you,” Diana said. “I do.” She took her sister’s arm, and they turned and started toward the carriage. Brent decided not to press the issue right now, but he wasn’t about to give in, either.
“I will visit Cam tomorrow,” he called after them.
Diana turned back to fix him with her black gaze. “Try it.” She said simply. Brent had no doubt that she would do anything she could to keep him from Cam.
But the tricky part, he thought with a smile, would be keeping Cam away from him.
***
“He won’t bother you again,” Diana told Cam as their carriage rolled down the lane.
Cam nodded, but when she turned to peer out of the back of the carriage, she could see Brent standing by the road, staring after them. He didn’t look particularly discouraged. In fact, there was a confident smile playing on the corners of his lips, and his shoulders were squared as if he was ready to face anything. The worst thing was that Cam didn’t really want him to leave and never bother her again. She hated spending a day away from him; she couldn’t even imagine what a lifetime alone would be like. “What an awful mess,” she whispered.
Diana turned sharply to stare at her sister, and Helen reached for Cam’s hand reassuringly, but neither of them said anything as they journeyed home.
***
Cam had prepared herself for all manner of distress and disaster, but never in her wildest dreams would she have anticipated her aunt’s reaction to the news of her argument with Brent.
Cam had just stepped into the kitchen to report the latest developments to her grandmother when Elizabeth followed her inside.
“Mrs. Laverne told me what happened at the McPherson party,” she told Cam, pressing her lips together as though she was trying to control some intense emotion. “She said that you and Mr. Anderson had some sort of disagreement, and that you and your sisters left suddenly. ‘Shunned him,’ was how she phrased it.”
Cam nodded silently.
“Well?” Aunt Beth said, blinking rapidly.
“Well what?” Cam asked. She was already unnerved by her experience with Brent, and she didn’t have the energy to appease her Aunt Beth as well.
“What did he do? I’m assuming that there was some grave insult given for you to treat him so badly. Given that he is, after all, the most eligible bachelor in the county, as well as the man who saved your life.” Trust Aunt Beth to list his eligibility before the fact that he had saved Cam’s life.
“He didn’t do anything,” Cam said. “We just had a disagreement.”
“About?” Aunt Beth asked, gesticulating in a manner that was most uncharacteristic.
“It’s… private,” Cam said finally. She was far too tired to be having this conversation.
“I see.” Elizabeth said. “So you don’t want to discuss it?
Cam shook her head.
“I see,” Elizabeth said quietly. “I see.” She said again, this time louder. “I SEE!” She yelled, bringing her fist down on the kitchen table.
Cam flinched, exchanging a shocked glance with her grandmother, whose eyes were the size of saucers.
“What’s wrong with this one, Cam? I’ve realized by now that ninety-nine out of every hundred people in the county don’t meet your standards, but this one seemed to be doing better than most, so I think I have a right to know what exactly it is about the most perfect man in the county that doesn’t appeal to you. Is he too good-looking? Too intelligent? Would you prefer a man twice your age? Perhaps it’s his wealth that doesn’t appeal to you. Tell me Cam— the suspense is killing me.”
Cam opened her mouth, but she wasn’t sure what to say, as Aunt Beth plowed on. “I’ve tried, Cam. I’ve tried to be understanding; I’ve tried to cater to you. But after this I think I have to be honest. You don’t have options. You may be pretty, but it takes more than that, my girl. The reputation of this family has suffered one blow after another, and there weren’t a line of men at your door when you were sixteen. After four years of ostracizing yourself, how many more suitors do you expect to have? The pick of the county is obviously infatuated with you, and this is how you treat him?”
“It was just a little disagreement,” Cam interrupted quickly, shock making her voice tremble.
“I don’t understand,” her Aunt Beth said. “I just don’t understand. I’ve tried so hard, Cam. You girls aren’t anything like the girl I used to be, but I’ve tried. The only one who ever obliges me is Helen, and only when it suits her. You shun me, and Diana despises me. I’ve known for years that she blames me for her scandal, but it’s not fair. She wanted freedom and I gave it to her. It wasn’t my fault what she chose to do with that freedom.” Aunt Beth sounded as though she was trying to convince herself. “If I could go back and rein her in, I would, but…”
“Diana doesn’t blame you,” Cam interrupted.
Aunt Beth stared at her for a moment, and
Cam was taken aback by the anger in her eyes.
“Just sort things out with Mr. Anderson... I don’t care how.” Aunt Beth said quickly, and then she opened the kitchen door and was gone.
Cam was staring open-mouthed after her Aunt when her grandmother hurried to close the door.
“What happened?” Caro asked. Her eyebrows were drawn together, and in the glow from the fire she looked like a warrior, fierce and unyielding.
“Cam?” Her grandmother asked, but her tone was not full of pity. Instead, there was a silent command, an order to answer truthfully and accept the inevitable.
“He just started asking the right questions,” Cam said finally, and her voice was hollow and broken, but it did not falter. “He knows about the argument between Mama and Kat Varennes. He asked about the fire. If he hasn’t already put the pieces together, he will soon.”
“Dear Lord.” Caro pressed a hand to her temple. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Of them all, she had the most to lose.
“No…” Grandma stepped back, sinking into a chair. “That can’t be.”
“We knew this would happen,” Cam said, softly, but neither of them looked at her, and Cam realized, suddenly, that while they might have predicted it rationally, emotionally none of them were prepared for what might follow.
“Mary?” Caro asked, and her voice was a little raspy. “Does he know anything about my Mary?”
Cam shook her head, relieved that there was some good news. “No. How could he? No one knows about Mary.”
“Good.” Caro nodded slowly. “They can do what they want with me, but I can’t let them hurt Mary.”
“No one is going to touch you!” Grandma said, and Cam had never heard such conviction in the old woman’s voice. Grandma stood as she spoke, knocking the chair back several feet. “No one is going to touch any of us. And anyway, we don’t know that he has anything to gain by exposing us.”
“He doesn’t have anything to lose, either,” Caro said.
“He cares about Cam!” Grandma said, but she sounded like she was grasping at straws.