by Jerri Hines
“I’ve missed you, Gillie. So much. I was wondering if perhaps, you could…”
“I told ya it was why she was coming.”
The harsh voice resounded throughout the room. Jo looked up to see Heyward standing in the hallway. His scowl deepened as he strode to Gillie’s side. From the hapless look on Gillie’s face, Jo quickly accessed that Heyward was not happy with the reunion.
“Heyward, I did not expect you to be home,” Jo said in her most pleasant tone.
Silently, she chided herself for not asking about his health. The last she had seen of him, he had been quite ill. Today, though, he carried himself as the epitome of health. He bore no visible sign of the beating that almost killed him. He looked as he had, except he had grown a beard.
“You have a nice home. It is good to see Gillie so happy.”
“She is not going with you.” His tone was sharp and direct. “Can’t just come in here and disrupt our lives with your appearance.”
“It was not my intention,” Jo protested, taken back by his intensity. “I had thought…that perhaps she might accompany me while I was here in Philadelphia. I have so much to accomplish, and I do so need my Gillie.”
Jo looked over at her former companion and smiled. Gillie blushed and glanced over at her husband, then gazed down on the floor.
“Gillie?” Jo questioned with a small laugh. “You do realize how hapless I am about details. I thought it would be such fun.” Suddenly, she had the urge to beg her. Instead, she added, “I will see that you are well compensated.”
“Miss Jo, I’m not sure I can. I have a job…”
“Which she lost a day’s wage, I might add, to see ya this mornin’,” Heyward snapped.
Much to her chagrin, Jo noted the deepening darkness of his mood and watched him apprehensively. Where had the animosity come from?
“Perhaps it is for the best if I didn’t,” Gillie said in a low, timid voice. “Besides, I have nothing to wear. Since I worked at the bakery, I have no need for formal wear.”
Jo stared incredulously at her friend. “Where are the beautiful gowns I had made for you?”
Silence fell upon the room. Gillie looked up at Heyward. Her eyes appealed to him in humble entreaty.
He sighed heavily. “Look around ya, Miss Jo. Where do you suppose she was supposed to wear such finery? They came to better use. She sold ‘em. We live a simple…but contented life.”
Aghast, her face fell. Quickly, she recovered. “It was not my intent to insult you. You must know I would never do anything to hurt Gillie.”
“I do, but ya need to understand that the two of ya live in different worlds now.”
“You cannot suppose to tell me that I can have nothing to do with my dearest friend anymore.”
“Friend?” he corrected. “Miss Jo, Gillie was your slave.”
The words hit her harder than if he had slapped her. She felt everyone eyes upon her. The meaning sank deep within her consciousness. As much as she thought of Gillie, the poor thing had no choice in the matter. Gillie had been bound by chains of the dreadful institution.
Words choked in her throat. The exhilaration of seeing Gillie dwindled, replaced with an overwhelming sense of humiliation and sadness. She rose.
“But of course. It has been good to see that Gillie is well looked after. I won’t impose on you further.” Jo made her excuses and walked toward the door.
“Miss Jo,” Gillie said, rushing toward her.
Jo forced a force smile. Reaching over she squeezed Gillie’s hand, she asked, “You are happy?”
A sadden look reflected in her eyes, but she nodded.
“It is all that matters. Take care of yourself.”
Jo leaned over, kissed Gillie’s cheek, and she left.
* * * *
“Look, Lass, we don’t have time to dawdle back and forth. I remember when ya was just a wee little thing. Ya wasn’t much of a liar then either.”
Jo gathered her composure. The morning visit with Gillie had disheartened her greatly, but she didn’t have the time to wallow in self-pity. Was it not what she wanted for Gillie? She had only her own foolishness to blame.
Finn had asked Jo to meet him at Parkinson’s, the best café that Philadelphia had to offer. The restaurant was set in a handsome row house, which held a ladies’ saloon, as well as a confectionery shop. They met in the garden, barren and cold, but it allowed the privacy needed.
Exasperated, she stared at him. “What do you believe I have misled you in, sir?”
“I have been making the arrangements that your papa requested, but ya and me both know things aren’t like ya told your papa. Dr. Montgomery seems to have become quite a reluctant bridegroom.”
She choked back the urge to tears and shrugged. “You must have figured out that my engagement is not all it seems. It was arranged by Papa…”
“Ah, lass, it didn’t take long to figure out your papa has made a play. The question becomes what is yours?”
Pressing her lips together tightly, she thought briefly of denying knowledge of what he alleged. She suppressed her pride. It had become a useless sentiment in her quest to accomplish her objective.
“I am determined to see that Papa’s wishes are carried out. It is imperative that the ceremony commence quickly, Mr. Finn. You must be aware of my papa’s fragile heath. He wants my future settled.”
“Ah, well then, settled it will be,” he informed her imperiously. “I found your Dr. Montgomery.”
She stared at him in bewilderment. “And?”
“Well, lass, I spoke to him and laid it out as I seen it.”
Questions arose of where Andrew had been; more importantly why he had abandoned her. The expression upon Mr. Finn’s face did not invite those inquiries.
“You believe that my engagement can be salvaged?”
“This I will promise you. It will be dealt with to your advantage. Dr. Montgomery has a fine reputation from my understanding. A gentleman. But gentlemen have their secrets, too,” he nodded, undismayed by the fact. “I informed Dr. Montgomery that you have come to Philadelphia for one purpose. If the ceremony is not preformed, then the agreement will be void, and you will be freed. I will personally make it known of his failure to uphold his word.”
“But…but then Papa…” her words faltered. “I will disappoint Papa…I can’t.”
“There you are wrong, Miss Wright,” he said “Your papa has been a gambler all his life. He knows that there comes a time in a hand to call. It’s that time.”
Chapter Six
The Smythe house in Philadelphia sat on the west side of Seventh Street. The red brick mansion was a splendid home, three stories high with accompanying dormers. White marble steps led up to the black entrance door with prominent matching shutters. A couple of gas-lit lights lay on either side of the entry. A quite elegant dwelling.
The chilled January wind greeted Cullen when he stepped out of the carriage. With the greatest reluctance, he had accepted the invitation for dinner, mostly because he had run out of excuses. He had moved out of his own house over two months ago and had only returned for the holiday.
He had taken an apartment over his office. He had told his father it was for convenience. The truth was he needed to be on his own.
Burying himself into his work had not dulled the pain. He stilled lived in a special hell where her face haunted him. The image had not faded no matter the hours he spent behind his desk, the amount of brandy he freely downed when alone or the late nights he kept. He had found no peace.
He prayed the dinner would not run long. He had plans this evening with a young lady. Maude was not suitable to introduce to his family, but she suited him at the moment. She seemed content with what he had to offer and made no other demands.
Dressed for the theater, he looked confident and superb in his black frock coat, open to a single-breasted waistcoat that matched his trousers. The black satin cravat magnified his dark eyes. His hair had grown to the point it curled
behind his ears. He had kept his mustache neatly trimmed and hadn’t allowed it grow out in a flowing manner as was fashionable.
The smell of freshly cooked roast rose out of the kitchen. Good. Dinner seemed prepared to be served. With a little luck, he would be out of the house within an hour. Disposing of his coat, hat and gloves to the butler, he entered the drawing-room
His father stood on his appearance, but his eyes fell upon the other occupants. Mother sat next to Elizabeth, but to his surprise, he discovered his aunt and cousins.
“Aunt Marie, what brings you to Philadelphia?”
* * * *
“I personally cannot believe the audacity of the woman,” Elizabeth began before the main course was served. “To come all the way to Philadelphia without cause. It does give the impression of desperation.”
“Elizabeth,” Monica reprimanded. She threw a sympathetic glance toward Cullen. “Miss Wright has every right to visit her fiancée. It is understandable with her father in ill health she wants to ease his mind. It has been unfortunate that the nuptials have been postponed.”
“Wanton if you ask me,” Elizabeth uttered under her breath, not caring if anyone heard.
“You have not met Josephine, Cousin Elizabeth,” Jenna said. “She is quite kind. Why she insisted upon buying Amy and I….”
“I’m certain we do not have to expound upon Josephine’s virtues,” Mother Montgomery interrupted her eldest daughter. “I will welcome her as a daughter. To be frank, it is not Josephine that causes me concern.”
Jonathan placed his fork down and looked over at Cullen. “Marie was wondering if you knew where she could get in touch with Andrew.”
Cullen scowled. His father was well aware he had had no contact with Andrew since the day he had found out about the Underground Railroad. “You have me confused.”
“I’m afraid I’m embarrassed,” Mother Montgomery said with a forlorn expression. “When Andrew wrote to delay his wedding because of his obligations to Dr. Halcoyne, he invited Josephine to Philadelphia. We arrived fully expecting he would meet us. Instead, he sent a note of apology stating he was out of town briefly, but he promised would attend the dinner tonight.”
“And he has not made an appearance,” Cullen finished his aunt’s train of thought. “I suppose Josephine is in her room lamenting the fact.”
“Oh, Josephine is not here. We are staying at a hotel,” Jenna said. “She refused tonight’s hospitality extended, saying she was giving us time together as a family and as she is not family, she won’t impose upon us. She said that Andrew knows she is at the Girard House and when or if he appears, he can seek her out.”
“Josephine is quite upset. She worries about her father as do I. Brantley Wright is in failing health. I fear he will not last much longer,” his aunt said. Her face reflected her dismay. “Father Montgomery sent me along to make sure that Andrew holds to his word.”
“I say again that Andrew is not behaving like a man in love,” Elizabeth exclaimed with venom. “It is not fair to pressure him into a loveless marriage.”
“Elizabeth, do be quiet. It is not our affair,” Monica said firmly.
Cullen picked up his glass of wine and took a sip. He offered no more to the conversation. He understood. The carefully laid plan, to ensure Magnolia Bluff and the estate tied to the plantation stayed in Montgomery hands, was unraveling at the seams.
Monica was quite right. It was not their affair. Moreover, the theater awaited his presence.
* * * *
Cullen strolled over to the table across from his desk and poured himself another brandy in a futile attempt to dull his mind. He had left the play during the intermission. He couldn’t even remember the name of the show. Maude…he wouldn’t be seeing her again. He seemed to remember she was quite irritated with his behavior.
He had dropped her back at her apartment and returned to his office. He walked back over to the window and stared blankly out. All, he could see, was her face; all, he could hear, was his father saying Josephine was in Philadelphia. Lord, what was blaring so loudly?
He rubbed his forehead. Tick…tick...tick…the damn clock! He wanted to throw something at it, but the glass in his hand held the only substance that would see him through the night.
Loosening his cravat, he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it out of his trousers. His waistcoat already lay somewhere in his office. He supposed he should make his way up the stairs to his bed, but he couldn’t.
“Is this how you spend your evenings?”
Slowly, Cullen turned his gaze to the doorway. The room silenced except for the ticking of the damn clock. Josephine stood before him. For a moment, he thought her a hallucination, and then she stepped towards him.
He took in the lovely sight. In the dim lit room, her glossy dark hair curled beneath the crepe bonnet’s amethyst brim; her large dark eyes gazed at him, reflecting the vividness he remembered. Her expensive bell-sleeved gown fitted closely over her breasts with a frilled lace bordering the bodice. Her voluminous skirt clung tight to her tiny waist then flowed down over the hoop with crinolines trimmed with deep purple satin with pleated taffeta. She undid the hook and placed her outer cloak trimmed in fur over the back of a chair. She seemed to be warm enough on this cold and frigid night.
Time stretched. Finally, he spoke, “Josephine, I heard you were in Philadelphia. Honestly, I did not think I would see you.”
“Or you did not want to see me,” she said. Sauntering around the hard back chair, she sat. “It was not my intent.”
“No?” he questioned. “You come to my office and the thought did not occur to you that I might be here.”
“I was invited here. I had no knowledge this was your office.”
“Come, Josephine. Do you expect me to believe this a coincidence? You here…now with me…alone? What game are you playing?”
“I’m afraid it was I, Cullen. I apologize, but I did not know where else I could meet with Jo without interference.”
Cullen turned to the voice. Momentarily taken aback, he had not heard the approach of the man. He stared, completely astounded. In the doorway, his errant cousin stood! Hellfire, what on earth possessed him to meet Jo here of all places! Furthermore, Andrew did not have the look of one apologetic. No, he seemed perturbed in fact.
Chugging down the last of his glass, Cullen sat it down on his desk. “I suppose the two of you would like to be alone. Since this room is occupied, I could offer you my apartment upstairs.”
“Confound it! Cullen, you must know this is a delicate situation,” Andrew snapped. “I would never have imposed this meeting upon you if I had known that you were already done for the night. I was told you were at the theater. When this meeting was compelled upon me, this place came to mind. I needed privacy to explain my position to Jo.”
Cullen was going to retort if Andrew knew he was at the theater. Then Andrew would have had to be told by one at the dinner tonight. He held no doubt of who would have delivered the message—Elizabeth, which meant Andrew had to have been in the company of Kathleen. No, he would not press that issue at the moment.
Jo smiled, but Cullen could see her face clearly. Her eyes blazed; she wore a mask of fury. Coldly, she said, “I did not come for you to clarify your position, Andrew, but mine. If it was up to me, I would be done with the whole lot of you Montgomerys, but it isn’t. Do you suppose that Papa believes it was impossible for you to come home at Christmas?”
Ignoring Cullen, Andrew entered the room, hat in hand, but made no effort to remove his gloves or coat. He walked over to Jo. “I wrote to you and explained that I could not leave Dr. Halcoyne. If you are to become a doctor’s wife, you will have to be more understanding. I have my reasons. Quite good reasons! Additionally, I specifically asked you to be patient. Why on earth have you appeared in Philadelphia? Do you understand the confusion you have caused?
“Why I believe Mother is ready to go to the authorities because she believes I am missing!”
“No
t avoiding your fiancée?”
“What if I am?” Andrew fired back. “I will not have this, Josephine. I refuse to be threatened and bullied! Sending that hoodlum to confront me!”
“Mr. Finn is not a hoodlum. He is a business associate of Papa’s. He is overseeing the details to our wedding because Papa cannot. I do not believe he was happy having to hunt down my bridegroom.”
“That remains to be seen.”
An unnatural silence descended. Josephine went white. Her smile lost; she retorted, “I came to give you one last chance to rectify the mess you have made. Make no mistake, my efforts are for Papa. He was prepared to call in his debt. I asked him to wait until my return.
“Understand clearly, if the marriage does not take place by week’s end, I will return to Charleston and leave you to deal with the consequences.”
Andrew winced, but quickly composed himself. Pressing his lips together tightly, he responded in a serious tone, “You are your father’s daughter.”
“Was there a question?” she answered. “I assume you will see your mother in the morning to tell her your intentions.”
Andrew said nothing for a time. He took a deep breath as if the thick tension had made it difficult to breathe. He conceded. “I will do so, since I have little choice in the matter.”
“You are wrong. You did have a choice as did I.”
Resentment, anger, hatred illuminated from his eyes. Slowly it ebbed, replace by a small smile. “Of course, you are quite right, Josephine. I will make amends.” He ran his hand across his brow. “I suppose it is settled. Come. We have imposed upon Cullen long enough. I will see you back to your hotel.”
She recoiled back from his extended hand and shook her head. “I have already seen to the arrangements. My carriage is waiting with Rosa to take me back.”
Andrew turned to Cullen and gave a polite bow. “Please accept my apologies for this inconvenience.” Then he started toward the door. A sudden hesitance made him pause. He glanced over at Jo as if his conscience gnawed at him.
"For God's sake, Andrew, go!” Cullen had had enough. “I will see that Jo gets back to her hotel safely."