“Of course,” she cried softly then, remembering. “Ben told me about you. He said you told them how a runaway named Micah was safe and living in a colony in Meadville, Pennsylvania.”
“Was,” he corrected with a lilt of enthusiasm. “I just got back from Pennsylvania day before yesterday, and once Mahalia told me about you, and how you’re going to be one of us, I got so busy checking out the river and this place that I haven’t had a chance to get the news to Ben that his friend is on the way to Sierra Leone. He got scared when he heard your stepfather had been up that way, spreading the word he was doubling his bounty on his runaways. Micah had been working very hard for a farmer, and he’d managed to save a little bit of money. We were able to get him some false papers saying he was free, so we could get him on board a ship transporting legitimate freed slaves.”
“I’ve heard about that. I was in Philadelphia not long ago myself.” She told him of her meeting with Parson Jones and was surprised when he confided he already knew about it. With a bemused shake of her head, she laughed. “I guess there’s nothing I can tell you about me that you don’t already know.”
He became quite sober. “Yes, there is. I don’t know if you’re willing to go along with my plan.”
Erin knew that, despite the risk involved, she could not refuse. “All right,” she said finally, giving him a brave smile she did not truly feel, “but Annie will probably be making most of the runs. If I slip out at midnight too often, sooner or later I’ll get caught.”
“It won’t be that often. We’ve a long way to go to help these people, and there just aren’t that many willing to take a chance and try and escape. But word will spread. Already we’re growing. For a long time, there was just me, and I only came through a few times a year to keep in touch with what was going on. Then we were able to get Mahalia in position. Now we have you.” He reached out and clasped her hand in friendship.
Erin squeezed his fingers in return. It was a bond. She was committed. “All right.” She sighed in resignation and finality. “Spread the word that fugitives can come to Jasmine Hill to wait for help to move them along on the road to freedom, but, dear Lord, let’s hope I don’t get found out.”
“Let’s hope none of us do,” he tersely added. “If any of the ruthless slave owners, like your stepfather, find out what I’m up to, they’ll hang me for sure.”
Erin soberly, grimly agreed.
She made ready to leave. “I’ve got to get back before I’m missed. I’ll talk to Annie tomorrow and let her know what we’ve got ahead of us.”
He was about to exit on his side of the labyrinth, but just as she stepped into the hedges opposite, he broached the news he had saved for last. “One more thing. Your friend, Letty, that you were asking Parson Jones to try and locate…”
There was something in his tone, a kind of melodic happiness which dared fill her with hope as she whirled to cry, “She made it to Philadelphia!”
“She sure did.” He all but sang the triumphant words. “And she’s on that ship with Micah, bound for Sierra Leone, and a new life as a free woman. It’s what it’s all about, Miss Erin. It’s what this whole, dangerous business is all about.”
She could only nod in agreement, tears of gladness stinging her eyes. She turned to rush back toward the house, but this time her feet were hardly touching the ground.
She made it safely inside but did not dare return to Ryan’s bed. It would not do to awaken him, especially when she was trembling from head to toe with happiness, and he would certainly want to know the reason.
Finally, in her own bed, drowsiness crept over her. As she drifted away, she longed to be lying in her husband’s arms, her head cradled lovingly on his strong shoulder.
When Ryan awoke the next morning to find Erin had returned to her own bed, he was furious. Obviously, she couldn’t stand to sleep with him. Oh, yeah, she liked the lovemaking, but when it was over, she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.
She liked a lot of other things about being married to him, too, he mused as he threw his clothes on, like money and presents and moving her mother in with them to share the luxurious life. But the fact was, she didn’t give a damn about him, never had, never would. He was a fool to think it could ever be any different.
In a surly mood, he went downstairs for morning coffee instead of having Ebner bring it up for a leisurely few moments before starting the day. He went all the way to the service kitchen and poured his own.
Eliza ignored him. If he wanted breakfast cooked, he would say so. She wasn’t about to ask, because she didn’t care.
He left without a word and went to the stable and saddled his horse himself. One of the stableboys hurried over to help, but Ryan irritably waved him away.
He swung up in the saddle, about to ride off, but one of his overseers called out to him, wanting to know when he’d be back. There was something he needed to discuss about the cornfields, he said, and the harvest, whether Ryan wanted the stalks down for livestock fodder or wanted them to stand in the field for browsing.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Ryan snapped, reining the horse about and kicking him in his flanks to set him into a fast gallop toward the road. He did not say when he would return, because he had no idea. He just knew he had to get away and try to figure out if it was useless to continue to hope his marriage could ever be anything more than what it was—a mockery.
It was nearly noon when the carriage pulled up to the front steps of the Jasmine Hill mansion.
The groom leaped down to assist the lady passenger inside to alight, while the driver began untying the large steamer trunks that were laced on top.
Victoria Youngblood stepped down and glanced about. All seemed well. The lawns were manicured, which was a standing edict. Later, she would make sure the gardens were also in order for fall. But, for the moment, she was exhausted. It had been an arduous journey from Savannah. The way stations where they had stopped at night were all small, crowded, and the food had been terrible. All she wanted was to languish in a tub of hot water and then enjoy one of Eliza’s scrumptious meals, accompanied by a bottle of the estate’s best scuppernong wine. Ryan could take a carriage and go for Ermine later in the day to share the welcome-home celebration with them. She was younger, wouldn’t need so much time to recuperate. Victoria had asked the driver to drop Ermine off at her parents’ home in Richmond and just kept on going, anxious to reach the final destination.
By the time Victoria paid the fee for the journey, Eliza had spotted her and was running down the steps, calling excitedly, “Oh, Miss Victoria, I’m so glad you’re home. How was your trip?”
Victoria gave her a nod of greeting, not about to show any emotion, even though she was glad to see her. “It was exhausting,” she cried dramatically, going up the stairs. “Have Ebner bring in the trunks, and then draw my bath at once. I’m going straight to my room.
“Oh, and bring me tea,” she turned to snap. “And maybe a spice cake, if you have some fresh baked.”
Eliza watched her go, smiling triumphantly. Now Master Ryan and his bride would find out who was in charge at Jasmine Hill.
Ebner, who had also heard the carriage rolling in and rushed to see who it was, came running around the side of the house. He saw Miss Victoria going inside and looked to Eliza and anxiously whispered, “Ain’t you gonna tell her, ’Liza? Ain’t you gonna tell her about Mastah Ryan takin’ hisself a bride?”
Eliza lifted her chin defensively, dark eyes narrowing in malicious glee. “Why should I? She didn’t ask me anything about anything.”
Ebner rolled his eyes heavenward and whispered, “Lord, help us.”
Eliza snickered and lifted her skirts and hurried to follow after her mistress.
She wasn’t about to miss what was sure to happen next.
Chapter Twenty
Victoria opened the door to the parlor and was momentarily frozen by the scene that greeted her. Had she taken a wrong turn, she wondered, and wound up in the wrong wing
? But no, there wasn’t any section of the house decorated in such a way—light colors of pale rose and light blue, with touches of cream. She preferred more sedate and darker accents. Even the curtains had been changed, she noted. Gone were the heavy burgundy velvet, and in their place were white chintz, blowing gently in the breeze coming in from the river.
She felt a stiffening jolt. What was going on around here?
She walked about, examining the room, as she tried to figure it all out. Had Ryan wanted to surprise her by redecorating? No. He’d never do that, because he knew better, just as he knew he wasn’t moving into the master suite when he married Ermine. What, then, had been his motive?
Eliza caught up but hung back so Miss Victoria wouldn’t start asking her questions. She had already peeked in earlier and knew Miss Erin was sleeping in her own bed this morning. Master Ryan had been in a bad mood when he’d left. She had felt the tension between them lately and was sure it all meant they just weren’t getting along. She didn’t know what white people did about things like that, but was certain it could all be worked out when a man made a mistake and married the wrong woman. Miss Victoria would take care of it all, anyway.
Victoria headed for her bedroom but hesitated in front of the closed door. Some strange instinct was telling her she was not going to like what she found in there. Very slowly she reached out for the knob and turned it, allowing the door to swing quietly open.
Erin was still sleeping soundly, exhausted from all the excitement of the night before. The curtains were closed against the late morning sun. She was lying on her side, face burrowed in the pillow.
All Victoria saw in the dim light was a woman lying in her bed. She was unaware that all of her furniture had been removed from this room as well.
Indignant rage was a stealthily creeping snake, twining slowly around her body. It began at her toes and worked its way up insidiously to burn and torment every inch of flesh it touched. At last it found its way to her throat, and the rageful scream exploded.
Erin was jolted awake and sat straight up in wide-eyed wonder as she tried to grasp what was happening. The woman who was towering over her and yelling was a stranger, but it did not take her long at all to figure out who she was.
“How dare you sleep in my bed? It’s bad enough that my son would bring one of his—his whores into this house,” she stammered, choked by anger. “But to use my bed is unforgivable. Now get out of here! At once!” Victoria snatched away the satin comforter.
Erin tried to shake away the cobwebs so she could think clearly and attempt explanation. “Mrs. Youngblood,” she began nervously. “It’s not what you think. I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but—”
Victoria was beyond all reason and shrieked, “Did you hear me? I told you to get out of my bed. Out of my room! I want you out of my house!” Wildly, she whirled to call furiously, “Eliza! Get in here and get this woman out of here, before I lose control and drag her out myself!”
Erin realized it was useless for the moment to try and clear things up. Quickly, she moved to the opposite side of the bed, grabbing up her robe as she did so. Seeing how Eliza gloated as she walked in, she knew then it had all been planned for Ryan’s mother to find out in such a shocking way. “Why didn’t you tell her, Eliza?” she asked coldly, shuddering with her own fury as she yanked on the robe.
Victoria’s brows shot up as she was also struck by that jarring question. “Yes.” She turned on Eliza. “Why didn’t you tell me there was a whore in my bed?”
Eliza, as usual, was arrogantly silent.
Dimly, Erin thought how Ryan must look like his father, because he certainly did not resemble this ranting woman with eyes like a snake and a nose that was so pointed it seemed to accuse. “Mrs. Youngblood,” she attempted again, shock fading and courage returning. “I am not a whore. I am your son’s wife. We were married in late August. It’s not right that you had to find out this way, and I’m truly sorry.”
Victoria swayed, reached to clutch the edge of the armoire for support, and dizzily realized it was not hers. Glancing about wildly, she saw that all the furniture was unfamiliar. “That’s not true. You’re lying.” She turned to Eliza in hope of confirmation.
Eliza shrugged and gave an apathetic nod.
Victoria felt the blood rush to her head and a great roaring begin. Stumbling from the room, she whispered hoarsely, “I don’t believe it. I just don’t believe it. It can’t be. Ryan wouldn’t do this. I know he wouldn’t. It has to be a nightmare, and I’ll wake up any second, and it won’t be happening.” She needed to go where she could think, and asked Eliza, who had followed after her, “Where did he move my things?”
“Into the yellow room on the corner at the far end of the hall.”
Silently, Victoria walked out, shoulders stooped, head down.
Eliza stared after her. She wasn’t worried that her mistress might be defeated. Oh, no. She knew her so well and was confident that all she needed was time to make up a plan.
Erin came out then and said harshly, “That was a terrible thing you did, Eliza. I knew you were devious, but I never dreamed you would go so far.”
Eliza paused to smirk, then followed after her mistress.
Erin wasn’t sure what she should do. Damn it, where was Ryan? Hurrying to the bell cord, she gave it a yank, and in seconds, Annie appeared. All the servants had heard by then that Miss Victoria was back, and they were curiously waiting to see what was going to happen.
“Have you seen Master Ryan today?” Eliza wanted to know.
Annie shook her head. “No’m. You want me to go look for him?”
Erin had begun to pace nervously around the room. “I certainly do. Tell one of the overseers to get some men out looking for him and tell him he’s needed here immediately.” Remembering what day it was, she added, “And you’d better send someone to tell my mother we’ll have to postpone her visit today. I can’t have her here with all this going on.” Dear Lord, she had known the situation would not be pleasant when Victoria Youngblood returned but never had she dreamed it would be this bad.
Annie was out the door to obey, but Erin suddenly remembered her meeting with Sam Wade. She called her back and drew her close to confide the agreement they had made. She wished she could have her take the message to Rosa that Letty was safe and on her way to a new life in Africa, but didn’t dare. She might not see Rosa, and Erin was afraid to trust just anybody with such information. And she was not about to write a note that could fall into the wrong hands.
Annie listened with interest but frowned when she got to the part about her having to learn the way into the labyrinth so she could aid a runaway to the pier. “I can’t do that,” she said in horror. “That’s when Miz Henrietta’s ghost is out walkin’.”
Erin had neither time nor patience to listen to such superstitious nonsense. Motioning her to carry on with her orders, she told her they’d discuss all that later. “Meanwhile, you keep an eye out for a rose left at the grave or inside the entrance to the maze. I just can’t think clearly right now.”
Annie rushed out. She was sorry things had turned out as they had, felt sorry for Miz Erin. She was willing to do most anything to help her, because she liked her, but there was just no way she was going around that creepy place at night.
Victoria sat at the window and stared out at the fields beyond without really seeing anything. At first she had been in shock, but raw nerves had taken over, and she was starting to get really mad. Her head was still pounding, and if Eliza did not hurry up and get back with that brandy she’d sent her scurrying after, she feared she was going to start screaming and never be able to stop. And where was Ryan? How could he just disappear? She had been home nearly an hour, and Eliza had sent some of the hands to search, but no one could find him.
Finally, Eliza came with the liquor. Filling a glass, Victoria snatched it from her and downed it in one gulp, then wanted another. In a dread voice so cold as to echo from a grave, she asked, “Who is
she? I want you to tell me everything you know.”
Eliza sat down in the chair opposite and took a deep breath of delighted anticipation. She had been waiting for the moment to inform her that Master Ryan had married the stepdaughter of Zachary Tremayne. Even Eliza knew what a contemptible man he was, the way decent folk shunned him and his family.
Victoria thought she was going to faint. Swaying, gulping the brandy so fast she nearly choked, she recovered to whimper, “It’s even worse than I thought. Oh, dear Lord. Dear, dear Lord. I’ve heard such terrible things about that man. And his wife! Everyone talks about how she’s always tried to push herself on people. Brazen. That’s what she is. The menfolk think she’s beautiful, but I don’t think that’s what attracts them to Arlene Tremayne.” She punctuated her words with a derisive sniff.
Eliza listened, clucking in sympathy now and then. She was feeling more confident than ever that Miss Victoria was going to come up with a plan to correct Master Ryan’s mistake.
“What is Ermine going to do? Oh, poor thing. She’ll be so humiliated. She probably already knows, doesn’t she?” She wildly looked to Eliza for dreaded assurance.
“The wedding was big,” she related. “Master Ryan, he even had a party the week before to tell everybody. All your kin was here. Neighbors, too. I want you to know I didn’t help with any of it. I pretended to, but I knew you wouldn’t want me doing anything. The other servants, they took over and really made things fancy. Master Ryan even gave her a big ring.”
Victoria was feeling sicker by the minute. “Then Ermine’s parents knew, and they probably told her as soon as she walked in the door this morning.” The pain in her head had become a dull throb. “Oh, what could Ryan have been thinking?” she wailed. “Ermine Coley comes from good, blue-blood Virginia stock. It’s said her ancestors can be traced all the way back to distant British royalty. Thornton Coley is one of the most prominent attorneys in Richmond, and I can’t think of any family more respected. Why, I couldn’t have asked for better stock to carry on the Youngblood name. Ryan’s father is probably turning over in his grave.”
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