Ella Wood

by Michelle Isenhoff

When Emily protested, Sophia shushed her. “Scold me later. Here comes Edmund Wainwright.”

  The young man ushered Emily back to the dance floor. After another string of partners, she was approached by Darius Johnson who offered her a glass of punch. “You look flushed, Miss Preston,” he said. “Would you care to step out on the balcony for a bit of air?”

  Emily smiled gratefully.

  Outside, she leaned against the railing and sipped from the crystal glass, her overheated skin desperate for the evening’s cold caress. She liked Darius, with his serious air and direct manner of speaking. She sensed kindness beneath the sober exterior. “Mrs. Buchanan tells me your father owns a place on the Cooper River,” she prompted.

  “Twelve hundred acres of the best rice fields you’ve ever seen.”

  “I assume our fathers are acquainted.” She meant it as a question.

  “Oh, I’ve met your father several times,” he replied. “In fact, I believe he bought a man off our place last fall.”

  The name clicked then. William had told her Ketch came from the Johnson estate. “Of course. I remember now.”

  “It’s a fine night, isn’t it?” He joined her at the railing and peered into the darkness. “Hard to believe all the turmoil is just down the tracks, if you know what I mean.”

  She held up a hand. “No talk of politics, if you please.”

  “I apologize. But it is rather hard to ignore when two of the guests are wearing uniforms.”

  “Uniforms?”

  “Surely you noticed. The countryside has gone stark mad to answer the call for infantry.”

  Her face paled. “I—I didn’t realize.”

  “Charleston is boiling with soldiers. They’re camping on the racecourse and parading down the streets. Drilling wherever they can find space. It’s like a never-ending festival with lots of benefits and balls being thrown in their honor.”

  Her knees wobbled and she gripped the railing for support. No doubt Jack had also signed up. If not, he was certainly chafing to. And for all her horrible words, he was still her brother.

  Darius reached out to steady her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to distress you.”

  “No, I—I’m fine,” she murmured.

  Prying her cup from senseless fingers, he guided her back toward the heat and noise of the ballroom. “I noticed your interest in the pictures on the wall earlier…”

  The artwork proved the distraction she needed. Darius took her around and listened patiently as she pointed out the features of each piece. He was a sensitive man, and she greatly appreciated his generosity. She danced with him twice more before he passed her off to another partner.

  When the song ended, she turned down a third young man in favor of the refreshment table where she met up once again with Sophia. “Have you tried these appetizers?” Sophia asked. “They’re divine.”

  Emily took one and realized her insides were hollow and rumbling. “What are they?”

  Sophia shrugged. “I recognize squash and cheese.”

  “Mmmm.” Emily bit into it and nodded her head in agreement. “Very good.” Taking a small plate, she helped herself to several different samples. Her feet were beginning to ache, so she made her way to one of the chairs set up at the edge of the room.

  “You’ll wrinkle your beautiful dress,” Sophia protested.

  “I don’t care.”

  She sat next to an elderly gentleman who balanced three plates on his lap. “That is impressive,” she remarked. “Can you hold a drink at the same time?”

  “Once the food is all laid out, I certainly can,” he answered. “But alas, someone would have to deliver it to me. All I can carry are the plates.”

  Emily smiled. “You do realize they’ll be serving a meal in an hour or two.”

  “I look forward to it with relish. Peter Falmouth,” he said, stretching out his hand.

  She laid her fingers across his palm. “Emily Preston.”

  “Not related to William and Marie?”

  “My parents. Do you know them?”

  “Never met them. But you can’t be a county magistrate for forty years without becoming familiar with certain names.” He smiled and rubbed his ample belly. “Nowadays I simply move from one party to the next sampling the best food in the tri-county area.”

  “You’re the judge!” she exclaimed. “Forgive me. I didn’t recognize the guest of honor.”

  “Quite all right, my dear,” he chuckled. “I’d trade fame for a charming companion every single time.”

  Judge Falmouth proved an amusing conversationalist. He regaled her with stories of his family and his travels and his cases. She enjoyed every one of them. By the end of her small meal, the food had refreshed her and the old man had set her at ease. She could have remained in the hard-backed chair for the rest of the evening without uttering a single complaint.

  “That young fellow by the grandfather clock has been watching you for ten minutes,” the judge said.

  She followed his eyes and her heart leaped. Thaddeus leaned against the clock with one foot crossed over the other and a glass in his hand. He grinned when their eyes met, and her pulse galloped out of control.

  “He’s a brazen one, isn’t he?” Judge Falmouth observed.

  “He is indeed,” she breathed.

  The judge’s eyes narrowed. “But I see you’re not averse to his attentions.” He handed his stack of plates to a passing servant. “Before you join him, would you do me the honor of one dance?”

  She smiled. “I’d enjoy that very much.”

  The old man was surprisingly light on his feet. Aside from Thaddeus, he was the best partner she’d danced with all evening. Each time they swept past Thaddeus’s watching eyes, however, Emily felt her muscles tighten.

  “Just relax,” the judge told her as he delivered her to the clock at the end of their interlude. “You’re a perfectly delightful young lady, and I can’t blame your gentleman friend for his rapt attention.”

  Thaddeus straightened as they approached and accepted Emily’s hand when the judge placed it in his. “I believe you’ve been waiting for this, young man,” the judge said. Then he turned to Emily and bowed graciously, if a little stiffly. “Thank you for entertaining this old man.”

  But Emily’s eyes had already fastened on Thaddeus. Her breath hitched ever so slightly when he smiled at her, wide enough for his dimple to appear. She could no longer deny that she was attracted to him.

  “Hello again, Miss Preston.”

  She would give herself permission to enjoy his company. “Hello, Mr. Black,” she said demurely. “The way you’ve been spying on me, I thought perhaps you’d like to sign your name to another line.” She held up her dance card.

  “Is it spying when you hope to get caught?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Then I’m guilty as charged.” He slipped the card off her wrist and into his pocket. “And I want more than one dance.”

  Emily fought back the delicious dizziness that threatened to settle over her again as they joined the couples on the floor. “Your manners are still deplorable.”

  He smiled devilishly. “I know.”

  In control of her emotions, Emily enjoyed this dance much more. And though it broke every rule of propriety, she agreed afterward when he asked, “How about a walk in the garden so the rest of the gentlemen on your card can’t find you?”

  They retrieved their coats and slipped out the back door, strolling between hedges tinted a dusky sage beneath the winter moon. As they walked, she tried to fill the silence. “How is your family?”

  “They’re fine.”

  “Did you spend Christmas with them?”

  “I didn’t get home.”

  “I’m sorry. But your parents, they’re in good health?”

  He threw her a quizzical smile. “They are. Thank you.”

  She paused, getting a little desperate. “Are you enjoying your new school term?”

  Thaddeus stopped beside an empty fount
ain and turned her to face him. “Emily, I didn’t bring you out here to discuss my family or my classes. I wanted to talk about us.”

  She froze. “Us?”

  He looked away and cleared his throat, the only sign of nervousness he had ever displayed. Then he met her with the force of those eyes. “I’ve thought about you constantly since the day we spent together in Charleston. You were witty and charming and not afraid to take a few risks. I haven’t had that much fun since…I can’t remember when. I don’t want to wait another two months to see you again.”

  Emily’s breath came in short, shallow bursts.

  “If you agree, I would like to call on you.”

  Her heart forgot a beat, then two, before overcompensating with half a dozen hard pulses. She’d enjoyed their stolen day as well—too much. And tonight he’d made her forget her aversion to balls. He was exciting and unpredictable and far too handsome to make her response easy. But she had to be fair. He could be the Prince of England and still she would have to turn him down. “I’m sorry, Mr. Black. I can’t agree to that.”

  Blue eyes searched so deeply into her soul she was certain he could read her thoughts. She had to look away. “I see,” he said. “May I ask why?”

  Her academic plans weren’t something she felt comfortable publicizing. They would only meet with more disdain. “I—I can’t tell you.”

  He made no reply. She looked up to read confusion on his face. “It’s not you,” she hastened to explain. “It’s me.”

  He touched her cheek lightly, teasing every hair on end. “If the fault doesn’t lie with me, I won’t lose hope. You can’t get rid of me this easily, Emily Preston. I think it only fair to warn you that I intend to keep trying.”

  ***

  Emily flopped backwards onto her bed with a sorrowful moan.

  “I can’t finish yo’ hair wid you flappin’ about like a fish,” Lizzie admonished.

  “I don’t want to go to this luncheon anyway,” Emily complained.

  “Mrs. Buchanan ’spectin’ you to go.”

  Emily snorted. “I’ve done everything Mrs. Buchanan has asked of me for weeks.”

  Lizzie peered at her narrowly. “It ain’t really Mrs. Buchanan what’s botherin’ you, is it?”

  She fluttered her hands in frustration. “No.” Rolling onto her stomach, she planted her chin firmly on her fists. “Lizzie, how do I know I’m doing the right thing?”

  Lizzie sank onto the chair Emily should have been occupying. “What you be doin’, Miss Emily?”

  Emily sighed miserably. “I’m following my dream.”

  “And what be wrong wid dat?”

  “I’m doing it behind my father’s back, and I’ve turned down the attentions of a man I admire.”

  Lizzie tipped her face to one side. “Would dis be Mr. Thaddeus Black?”

  “Yeeessss!” Emily drew the word out in a long, lingering wail. Only two evenings before, Caesar had carried Thaddeus’s calling card up to her room. She had pleaded a headache and asked the butler to send him away, but yesterday he had shown up at morning worship services. She had only agreed to sit by him because she knew how far he had traveled to see her. Well, and because that devastating smile had worked its charm on her once again. What could happen at church?

  She hadn’t heard a word of the sermon. Then Sophia had invited him home for dinner, and Emily had spent the whole Sabbath afternoon feeling perfectly wicked, making unruffled conversation when she really wanted to feel the roughness of his palm against hers, to brush the lock of hair off his forehead, to rasp her thumb over the stubble above his lip…

  Emily halted the line of thought. “He has this vibrancy, this energy I’ve never felt with anyone else. It’s like a challenge to take all life has to offer, to snatch up each moment rather than always planning five years ahead.” She faced her maid. “He’s exciting, Lizzie. And turning him down feels all wrong. I want to spend time with him.”

  “Ain’t nothin’ wrong wid dat, Miss Emily. But if you be leadin’ him on, he gunna expect marriage eventually, and I ’member how you feel about dat.”

  Emily moaned. “Tell me what it’s like when you’re with Herod. Do your hands get all sweaty? Does your heart thump out of your chest?”

  “How you know ’bout Herod?” Lizzie asked sharply.

  “Oh, I’ve known about the two of you for a while now.”

  Lizzie crossed her arms. “Jus’ what do you think you know?”

  Emily looked at her in confusion. “He’s your beau, isn’t he?”

  “He mos’ certainly is not! Herod barely more dan a chil’, and a spiteful one at dat.”

  Emily sat up. “I thought the two of you…you know, the flowers and all that.”

  “If dose flowers be dear to me, why would I put ’em in yo’ room?”

  “I guess I didn’t think of that.” She glanced up. “Then who is your beau?”

  “I don’ have one, Miss Emily.”

  “But you said—”

  “I never said any such thing. You did. When I held my tongue, you think you right.”

  Emily kicked her legs over the bed and picked up a hairbrush. “I’m sorry, Lizzie. I guess I just thought…”

  Lizzie rose from the seat and pushed Emily into it. “Me and Herod.” She began to laugh. “Whatever gib you dat idea?”

  “I was there once when he dropped off butterfly bush blossoms at Josephine’s,” Emily explained. “I finally put it together when you delivered the verbena.”

  “He never dare bring ’em to me face to face. Before we left, he had Lottie deliverin’ clippings from dose bushes what turn bright all winter.”

  Emily supplied the name. “Nandina.” She’d have to tell Abraham to keep on the lookout for their plant poacher.

  “I truly loathe de color purple.”

  “Have you asked him to stop?”

  “I sent word a dozen times.” She took the hairbrush from Emily. “Thank de Lord he can’t reach me here.”

  “I asked Thaddeus not to call on me, but he didn’t listen either. I sort of hope he doesn’t. Oh, it’s all so confusing. Have you ever felt like this about a man, Lizzie?”

  “No,” she said with a pause. “But I think I could.”

  “Who?”

  Lizzie secured a lock of Emily’s hair. “We gunna start dis again?”

  Emily smiled apologetically. “Not if you don’t want to.”

  “Don’ matter anyhow. He don’ know I’m alive.”

  15

  Emily eased back into the familiar routine of Ella Wood. Her first morning home, she took Tobias for a long ride through her beloved acres. Everywhere they rambled, the woods and fields were transitioning to spring. Early lambs made their debut among liverwort, trout lilies, and trillium that poked colorful bonnets up through the burgeoning green. And in the fields, the slaves came out in force, turning the soil in preparation for planting.

  She dared not stay away too long, however. During her six weeks at Sophia’s, Chantilly had grown as round as a barrel. The foal would arrive any day, and she wanted to be near at hand when the time came. Skirting a bog and foregoing the furthermost fields, she turned Tobias for home.

  As she emerged from the tree line, she caught sight of someone walking through the morning haze and spurred the big horse nearer to identify the trespasser. “Jack!” she exclaimed in surprise. Her brother looked ready to topple with exhaustion. His clothes were torn, and mud covered him like a second skin, smeared from hair to boot. “What happened?”

  “Went hunting. Horse threw me.”

  “Where’s your gun?”

  “In the swamp.”

  “Where’s Jolly?”

  “Gator spooked him. He took off. You seen him?”

  “No, but I wouldn’t worry about it. He’ll probably beat us home.”

  “Can I get a ride?”

  Jack was hardly stringing enough words together to make a sentence. He looked absolutely pathetic. “Sit behind the saddle. You’re fi
lthy.”

  She waited for him to swing onto the horse’s rump. “Did you come home last night? I didn’t hear you.”

  “It was pretty late.”

  Emily nudged Tobias into a walk. “You hate rising early. What on earth possessed you to go hunting at this hour?”

  “I won’t do it again, I assure you.”

  “I’m sort of surprised to see you. I thought for sure you’d have joined the infantry by now.”

  “Pa made me swear to finish out the school year.”

  She could hear her brother’s teeth chattering, so she stopped trying to make conversation. It took nearly twenty minutes to traverse the length of the plantation. The wakening sun was filling the yard with a thin, clear light when Emily finally guided Tobias into the stable.

  Jack slid off the horse’s rump. “I’m going back to bed.”

  “Better take a bath first or Mother will disown you.”

  He waved a hand in acknowledgment without turning around. She decided she liked him better when he was too spent to fight.

  Emily handed Tobias’s reins to Abel and slid into Chantilly’s stall to check on her. Only then did she remember the hair ribbons she’d purchased to braid into the horse’s mane.

  “Be right back,” she told her mare.

  She jogged across the stable yard and into the front hallway where a garble of low voices instinctively slowed her stride. The words were low, intent, and indistinguishable, just the kind of conversation to make her forget her errand. Her curiosity fully engaged, she crept along the wall, each precisely placed footstep taking an age.

  “It’s no good, Zeke. I have to. I can’t help it.” It was Jack, sounding dejected and spent.

  “If you don’ quit takin’ such risks, you gunna get yo’self killed. You in way ober yo’ head.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

  “Sit down, Marse Jack. You ain’t so strong as you think. Look at you shakin’ like a leaf.”

  A chair screeched over the tile floor, and then her brother let out a strangled sob.

  “It all right, chil’. Jus’ let it all out.”

  Broken cries rattled from Jack’s chest, choking him on their way out. Emily took a step backward. What could make him weep so desperately, as though all the world had died and he was the only one left? Was he in debt again? Or was it something worse?