Her eyes wide, Arabella gasped, "You think that whoever murdered Molly might have murdered Elizabeth and caused our broken engagement?"
"I don't know," Tony said helplessly. "I only know that the women in my life seem to come to a bad end." His expression was fierce. "I do not want that to happen to you."
"Tony's right," Jeremy said. "There is someone out there who seems determined to ruin Tony one way or another. And while I don't like it, I think that we should keep the marriage a secret for the time being—and try to discover just who arranged for Molly to be at the lodge five years ago—and, more recently, at the Crocker ball. We discover that, and we will know who caused her to be murdered. Once we have exposed that villain, the fact that the pair of you are married can safely be announced." He made a face. "There is going to be a devil of a storm over the news of your marriage whenever we do reveal it, so I see no great harm in delaying its announcement." He sighed heavily. "There is no way we are going to brush through this whole affair without some gossip."
Anxiously, Arabella asked Tony, "What do you plan for us to do? How are we to discover the person who murdered Molly? If our wedding is to be secret for the time being, it cannot take place in Natchez."
Rising to his feet, Tony settled Arabella back into the chair he had just vacated. Frowning, he paced the room.
"Getting us married is the first priority," Tony muttered, as he strode back and forth across the room. "I will not have our child labeled a bastard, and if it should come about that some mischance overtakes me, I want to know that you and our babe are safely taken care of."
"Oh, Tony, do not say that something will happen to you! I could not bear it—not now when we are finally going to be together," Arabella cried, her expression stricken.
"I do not intend for anything to happen to either one of us, but we have to think clearly. We have no margin for error. Too much is at stake. Our lives together and that of our child."
Tony took another turn around the room. "As you said, we cannot be married in Natchez—which means that you and I and Jeremy and Blackburne will have to be gone, at least overnight." He looked at Jeremy. "Can you arrange to be away from Highview for a few days? Perhaps, tell your mother that I have invited you stay with me for a while?"
Jeremy grimaced. "She won't like it, but she cannot prevent me. What about Blackburne?"
"Blackburne owns a tract of land several miles north of here, near Greenville—he can give it out that he is going to inspect it. No one is likely to question his whereabouts."
Both men looked at Arabella. "You, my love," Tony said lightly, "are going to be our problem. Unlike us superior males, you cannot just up and take off, or be away from home overnight without speculation and questions being raised—even if just amongst your servants—something we cannot afford."
Arabella sighed. What Tony said was certainly true. The gentlemen could racket about the countryside, letting no one know of their plans or whereabouts, and not one brow would be lifted. However, just let her, or any woman, decide to be away from home by herself for one night, and whispers and scandalous looks would follow her to the end of her days. The fact that she lived alone at Greenleigh, even at her age, was already considered slightly shocking by some of her neighbors. And as for being gone overnight... She frowned. Surely she could think of something.
"Instead of coming to stay with you," Arabella said slowly, gathering her thoughts, as she talked, "why can't we give it out that Jeremy will be staying with me? No one will think it odd. And if my brother and I go out for a drive in the direction of Greenville and due to, er, a thrown wheel, we are forced to spend the night on the road, who could prove any differently? Or object to my being alone with my brother?"
"It might work," Tony admitted, rubbing his chin. "But someone will have to tell the staff at Greenleigh what happened to you—else when the pair of you do not return, they will raise the alarm."
Arabella made a face. "You're right, I hadn't thought of that."
Tony smiled at her. "Do not fret, my love, we shall overcome all difficulties. I am not letting anything stand in the way of my marrying you this time."
"I take it," Jeremy asked, "that we are decided that the marriage will take place at Greenville?"
Tony nodded. "It is the most logical place. It is nearly thirty miles away and, while not large, of a size that we should be able to find an itinerant preacher in the neighborhood—there have been a few passing through Natchez lately." He frowned. "But before that, I think I had best make certain that there is someone there to marry us." He made a face. "I shall talk to Blackburne about it."
He took another turn around the room. He glanced over at Arabella. "For now, I think the best thing is for Jeremy to escort you back to Greenleigh." He looked rueful. "I would take great pleasure in doing it myself, my love, but if we are to keep our enemy guessing, I think the less we are seen in each other's company, the better."
At the expression on Arabella's face, he crossed to her and knelt before her once again. "Do not look so, sweetheart. It is only for a short while. Soon enough, we shall be together forever, and no one will be able to keep us apart. Remember that, won't you?"
Arabella sighed and nodded. "Of course. You are right. It is just that this is not quite how I envisioned my wedding."
"At least there will be a wedding this time," Jeremy said cheerfully. "Now let us return to Greenleigh. I have to send a note to Mama telling her that I am staying with you for a few days and asking her to have my man send along several changes of clothing." He glanced back at Tony. "We shall leave everything else in your hands."
"Good," Tony said. "As soon as you are on your way to Greenleigh, I shall ride over and see Blackburne . Once I have made all the preparations, I will find a way to let you know. In the meantime," he said with a smile, "I think that tomorrow morning Arabella should wake expressing a strong desire to go for a long ride in the country, oh, say in the direction of Greenville?"
Tony stood up and helped Arabella to her feet. He glanced over at Jeremy and said, "May we have a moment alone?"
Jeremy blushed. "Oh, er, naturally."
Alone together, Tony gently pulled Arabella into his arms. His mouth traveled in butterfly light kisses over her face, as he murmured, "Do not worry, sweetheart. I meant what I said—nothing and no one will prevent us from being married."
She smiled mistily at him. "I believe you, but Tony, what about later? How are we to find out who murdered Molly and who sent her to the lodge five years ago?" Her beautiful eyes darkened. "And who murdered Elizabeth?"
Tony's grip on her arms tightened. "We will unmask him, never fear, at the moment, all I want is for you and my child to be safe. Once we are married we will look more closely into the past and more recent events."
His eyes on hers, he asked quietly, "When did you decide that I was telling the truth about Molly? I seem to recall that the last time we were together you did not believe my version of what happened that night."
She toyed with the button on his jacket. "I have been miserable since we parted and—and I began to think about you and what I knew about you." She met his gaze. "There are many things that you are," she said dryly, "but a liar is not one of them. Even your detractors admit that you do not lie. And it occurred to me, knowing you as I do, that you were far more likely to flaunt your sins than to deny them. So I had to face the fact that you were not lying about Molly—that someone did entrap you and arranged for me to find you in the most incriminating circumstances possible." She looked rueful. "My pride was hurt, and it didn't help any to hear about that wretched wager with Blackburne. I don't know which hurt me more—finding you in bed with Molly or finding out that you only courted me because of a wager."
"That blasted wager!" Tony growled. "Sweetheart, it is as I told you—I did make the damned wager, but it was before I knew you." His face softened. "Once I met you, once I had gazed into those lovely eyes of yours and seen that enchanting smile of yours, the wager was the last
thing on my mind. I only knew that I had fallen in love for the first time in my life and that with one look, you had snared my heart."
"Oh, Tony! What a lovely thing to say."
He kissed her. "All the more so because it is true. I intend to spend a great deal of our life together telling you many more lovely things." He kissed her again, passion inevitably rising within him. But remembering that Jeremy waited outside in the hall and that there would time enough to make love to her, he reluctantly pushed her from him.
His breathing slightly labored, his eyes bright with desire, he dropped one more kiss on her nose, and muttered, "Now, let us get you to your brother, before I forget what I am about and ravish you on this very floor."
Suppressing a giggle, Arabella allowed him to usher her to the door. A few minutes later, once again on her little black mare, Arabella and Jeremy rode sedately away from Sweet Acres.
Tony watched them until they disappeared into the forest, then he swung up onto the back of his own mount. Seeing Blackburne was the first order of business.
It was now late afternoon, and as he rode the miles that separated his home from the Blackburne plantation, Tony considered all that had happened. He tried to concentrate on the business at hand, but his thoughts drifted always to Arabella; to the brightness of her hair, the enchanting tilt to her mouth when she smiled, the color of her eyes, the shape of her nose... their baby that grew in her womb....
Lost in his thoughts, he was surprised when Sugar stopped in front of the wide steps of Willow Dale. For a moment, he had no idea where he was or why he was there.
If Patrick was surprised to see Tony so soon after the events of the morning, he gave no sign other than a kick-up of one black brow. Lounging in a pair of comfortable chairs across from each other in Blackburne's study, Patrick's expression of lazy interest changed only marginally when Tony laid the whole tale out before him.
When Tony had finished speaking, Patrick stared at him for a long minute, his handsome features giving nothing away. Then he nodded, as if confirming some inner speculations.
"Well?" Tony asked testily. "Are you going to help us or not?"
Patrick smiled, a singularly beguiling smile on such a hard, cynical face. "Did you ever doubt it, my friend?"
A weight let loose in Tony's chest. "No, I knew I could count on you. In fact, you are the only one I can count on."
Patrick waved away Tony's words. "Enough of that. We must make our plans."
The two men talked for several minutes, deciding on the best way to proceed. An hour later, both men were smiling as Patrick walked with Tony to where Sugar stood tied.
"My man, Robertson, and I shall leave for Greenville at dawn, and as soon as I have made all the arrangements," Patrick said, "I shall send Robertson to you." Clapping Tony on the back, he added, "Expect to hear something from me no later than Thursday afternoon."
Mounted on Sugar, Tony glanced down at him. "It seems incredible that before the week is done, I shall be a married man with a child on the way."
Patrick shook his head, smiling. "No, my friend, not incredible—anyone who has seen you and Arabella together would know that it was inevitable." His face hardened. "And this time, there is going to be a very different ending than there was the last time the pair of you thought to marry. I swear it."
Chapter 17
It wasn't the wedding of her dreams, and yet Arabella felt decidedly dreamy as she stood next to Tony on that Friday evening, in a small shady, green glen on the outskirts of Greenville, and said the words that made her his wife. Jeremy and Patrick Blackbume were the only witnesses to the wedding—they and the raffish-looking itinerant preacher who married them.
The time between leaving Tony and actually standing at his side had been anxious and frantic. Anxious, only for fear that something once again would prevent their marriage; frantic, as she and Jeremy had set events in motion and made their preparations to leave for Greenville the instant that Tony sent them word that everything had been arranged.
In the end, it had all come about with surprising ease. Mary had not questioned Jeremy's desire to spend time with his sister; Patrick had found Preacher Hattersfield almost as soon as he had arrived in Greenville; and by late Thursday afternoon, Tony had sent word to Jeremy that all was in place. Even Arabella and Jeremy's decision to take a long ride into the country Friday morning had raised nary a ripple of curiosity with the Tidmores. Nor did Arabella's airy statement for them not to worry if she and Jeremy did not return that evening—they might stay the night with friends if the hour grew too late. Just which friends and where Arabella had left vague.
Tony had left the arrangements for the actual wedding in Patrick's hands and Patrick had thought of everything—including a few things the others had not. When confronted, shortly before the wedding, with the floppy-brimmed, old-fashioned bonnet and worn green-and-white gingham gown that he insisted she wear, Arabella had wrinkled her nose.
"Must I?"
Patrick grinned at her, his cool gray eyes dancing with laughter. "Indeed you must. For the marriage to be valid you and Tony must use your legal names—we all must. We do not, however, want our preacher to be able to recognize you easily should your paths happen to cross before your marriage is made public—which is unlikely, but we'll not take the chance. That offending bonnet is most necessary—and I do not want one strand of that remarkable and memorable red hair of yours showing. The large brim also conceals your features somewhat. Besides, I have told Hattersfield that you and Tony are my tenants. You must look the part, my dear."
Tony grinned and held up the shabby, homespun garments and worse-for-wear black hat Patrick had provided for him. "Mine are no better, sweetheart. We shall make a matched pair."
"Well, damned if I see anything to laugh about," Jeremy complained, shaking out a horrible pair of patched pants and ragged shirt. Warily he eyed the battered too-large straw hat that was included in his pile of clothing. But it was the unclean state of the clothing that aroused his greatest reluctance. "Couldn't you have at least had these vermin-infested rags washed?" he asked plaintively as he scratched uneasily at his shoulder.
"No, you have to look the part. And I expect a little gratitude—I'll have you know it took me the better part of a day to find, ah, suitable garments," Patrick said, his amusement plain. "I took great pains to get hats that are deliberately large. We want to hide as much of your features as we can—remember that and resist the urge to take it off or push it back. We don't want you recognized. Our preacher must see a trio of poor, hardworking tenants—sartorial elegance is not what we are worried about right now."
Jeremy eyed him with dislike. "I notice that you aren't wearing anything as nasty as we are. Why not?"
Despite the laughter glinting in his eyes, Patrick put on a most superior expression. "You must remember that I am your overlord—the master." He grinned, adding irrepressibly, "I could not possibly be seen in such wretched clothing."
The tale Patrick had concocted for the clandestine wedding was plausible. One of his tenants had gotten the daughter of another of his other tenants pregnant. The erring pair must be married before the woman's hot-tempered father discovered all—else there would be bloodshed. Fortunately, her brother was a good lad and had agreed to help in getting them safely married, and to run interference with the woman's father when the time came to tell all. Patrick was lending them his aid in order to keep the peace—and good tenants.
And so it was that Anthony Daggett married Arabella Montgomery on the sixteenth of June of 1797 near the town of Greenville in the Mississippi Territory. The ceremony was brief but legal—Arabella was Tony's wife.
It might have been clandestine, her only attendants her brother and Tony's friend Patrick Blackburne, the preacher bewhiskered and smelling faintly of whiskey, but the ceremony was magical for Arabella. The dappled green glen might not have been the stately church in Natchez where she had once planned to marry, and she held no bridal bouquet of rare and beautif
ul blossoms in her hands, yet none of that mattered—she was marrying the man she loved. Standing close to Tony, feeling the warmth radiating from his big body, listening to his deep voice recite their vows, Arabella was certain she had never been happier in her life. And when the ceremony was over and Tony tenderly took her into his arms and kissed her, she thought her heart was going to burst with pure happiness.
If their wedding was unorthodox, so was their first night as man and wife. It was imperative that they not linger in the vicinity of Greenville, and so the vows had hardly been said and the bride kissed, before the quartet left the preacher with a mumble of thanks and the silver coins Patrick hastily pressed into his grubby hand.
Patrick had been adamant about them leaving their own horses safely with his man, Robertson, several miles farther down the Natchez Trace. They had come on ahead in a rickety wagon pulled by a pair of nondescript nags he'd had waiting for them at the place of rendezvous. And so they began the ride home in the same shabby wagon in which they had arrived. Even Patrick was astride the most nondescript horse in his stables—along the Trace, a handsome horse could get one killed.
Given a choice, none of them would have spent the night camped on the notorious Natchez Trace, but there was no other alternative. The Trace was dangerous even during the daylight hours, and the notion of traveling along its narrow, twisting width in the dark, with the possibility of robbers and murderers lurking in the concealing forests and canebrakes along its snaky length, was not something any of them relished. And there was Arabella to consider. She'd already had a long, grueling day's ride in the saddle, and the gentlemen decided that it would likely be more harmful to have her ride through the night, despite her protestations that she felt perfectly well, than to camp along the Trace.
They met up with Robertson an hour before dusk and swiftly changed back into their regular clothing and exchanged the wagon and plodding farm horses for their original mounts. Leaving Robertson to dispose of the clothing, wagon, and horse before catching up with them, the quartet pushed on down the Trace until nearly the last ray of sunlight had vanished.
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