“Yes, sir.”
“Sir?” He looked up at her. “That’s hardly in order.”
She was making too many slips. It seemed easier to act the part with Lizzy at her side. It had been just two silly girls playing make-believe, but this, this was real.
“Jackson,” she said, calmly, softly. “Yes, Annie was wonderful. She was a great help.”
“Good.”
She watched him cut into a slice of ham. The ting of silver sawed back and forth, sliding the meat into the hill of mashed potatoes and corn on his platter. He looked up and smiled.
“I appreciate your kindness. I don’t plan on staying long.”
He raised his brows. “I see.” He forked the pork into his mouth then looked at her plate. “Aren’t you hungry? You haven’t touched your food. Like the last time we dined together. You aren’t much of an eater, are you?”
“I am. Just a little tired.” She scooped corn onto her spoon and ate what she could.
“How long will I have the honor of enjoying your presence?”
“I don’t know. A day or two.”
“Well, it will take at least that for your items to be ready. I mean, you’re not planning on leaving here without clothing, certain necessities?”
“No.” She hadn’t thought of that. Hadn’t thought of anything. “I suppose I’ll need them.”
“I’d imagine it would be difficult to get too far on that ankle.” He raised his wineglass. “Either way, I’m a lucky man to have you even for a night.” He smiled and sipped his drink, his blue eyes steady on her.
Lydia shifted in her seat and looked away. Dining alone with a gentleman not her husband. Warmth rose to her cheeks. She hoped she wasn’t blushing, hoped this man wasn’t witnessing the shame, the embarrassment, in her pores. John didn’t deserve such disrespect.
“Are you all right, Caroline?”
She nodded. “Just been through a lot. I’m sorry I’m not much company.”
“It’s no problem at all.” He smiled. “Enjoy your food. We’ve got time.”
Lydia lowered her eyes and willed herself to eat, one bite at a time.
Later that night in bed, pictures of the day she had walked into drifted through her mind. She endured the blue sky of another day. She made it through, this time to the other side. And now she reclined on slippery sheets in the blackest of night. Royalty.
Jackson had turned out to be the perfect host, a wonderful gentleman in her time of need. His offer of material goods was just the thing she needed to move on once she decided where she was headed. The possibilities. As far as her mind would take her.
Her door creaked open. She drew the covers to her chest and sat up.
“Miss Caroline.”
It was Annie.
“Yes?” She only saw the girl’s silhouette in the door.
“Mr. Whitfield has called for you.”
“I’m sorry?” She hadn’t heard correctly. He had not called for her. At this hour? Lydia scrambled to the edge of her bed and blinked until she made out Annie’s face in the dimness. Surely she was jesting. One of them was not serious.
“He wants you in his chambers, ma’am.” When Lydia froze, she added, “Now.”
“Why?” Lydia’s heart raced. “Annie, please, tell him… tell him I’m asleep, all right? Would you do that? Would that be possible?”
“He’s waiting,” she said simply, and shut the door.
Annie.
The walk down the hall was as long as the journey it took to get from Dorchester to Manassas, from Colored to White, from bondage to freedom on a sore foot and a bruised heart.
Her hands trembled as she turned the knob to his room. She stood on the threshold in the dimly lit room in the same brown dress she had arrived in, waiting.
He was sitting on a chaise, reading by candlelight. He looked up from his book and smiled. “Caroline.”
She stood silent, waiting, praying.
“Come in.”
Oh, please, God.
She took a painful step forward.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” He looked at her red ankle. “Please have a seat.”
She looked around. There was nowhere to sit. He was in the only chair in the room. He nodded toward his bed as he sipped from a copper goblet.
She teetered on the edge of the linen, pressing her damp palms together in her lap.
“Unwind, Caroline.” He placed his drink beside him and closed his book, resting it against the leg of the chaise. “I just thought you might feel like talking.”
“Oh.” She felt her shoulders fall, her face soften. She smiled. “Thank you, but I’m quite weary from the journey. If you don’t mind, Jackson, I would love to get some rest.” When she started to rise, he stood up. She stopped and stared at him.
“That will be fine. I didn’t want to keep you long.” He stepped closer, breathing through his mouth, the burnt caramel scent of rum. He swept wisps of her hair from her forehead.
Lydia flinched.
“What’s this?”
Her fingers touched his when she covered the scar.
“You had an accident?”
“Yes. As a child.”
“Ah, what a pity to have such a thing on a face like yours. I suppose no one is perfect.”
“No.” She was discovering that fact at the moment. She looked down. He tilted her chin up to him. “But you’re a beauty nonetheless.”
She slipped back from his touch. “Thank you.”
“Caroline…” He reached for her again. She looked down at the hand, so like the one that grabbed her in the hall of the old colonial, and her heart raced just the same. She had been afraid then, but this time, she felt nothing close. Something else sped through. Never again would she allow a man, allow anyone, to do whatever they wanted. Folk had touched, had whipped, had killed for too long. No more. He could not lay his hands on her. She was not subject to him. She had power and she used it on the one panting in her ear.
“Jackson.” She stepped back from his arms with wide eyes. “I’m not sure what you’re thinking. Perhaps I gave you the wrong idea. I am under your care, but I’m sorry.”
He blinked then shook his head, his eyes as stricken as hers.
“Listen, if you want me to leave—”
“No.” He laid his hand across his chest. “Forgive me. I’m sorry, Caroline.”
“No, I’m sorry. It was unwise for me to come into your home.” She forgot about her injury and turned toward the door abruptly. She winced.
“Caroline, please.” She glanced over at him, his hand against his heart. “Please. I want you to stay. At least until you’re better.”
She waited until he shifted and the tops of his ears pinked. She nodded and limped out of the room, past Annie.
Oh, yes, Lydia was a lady.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Jackson could feel Michael’s breath on his face.
Despite Caroline’s accusations against the man, he had ridden all the way to Dorchester to see the only doctor he trusted. He hated the thought of the older man trying to touch her, but the pain left him with little choice.
He squirmed under his touch—much too close—swallowing the salty pool of saliva in his mouth. His eyes scanned the room. A long wooden table full of tools, instruments of some kind, and a couple of chairs. Hardly impressive for quack quarters.
“It’s bad, I’m afraid.” Dr. Kelly frowned. “Have you seen it?”
Jackson stared into the handheld smudged mirror. The rotten molar sank like a seed in the red flesh of melon.
“It’s badly infected. How long you been in pain?”
“I don’t know. Couple of days, maybe.”
Yes, it had been two days exactly, since Caroline had arrived.
“Well, it’s hard to believe you’re just now noticing. I’m not sure how you lasted this long.” Michael tugged on Jackson’s bottom lip again and peeked inside. “Whew! There’s no white at all. Completely black. Best thing to do is pull it out.
I’ll have to cut around it some.” He sighed. “Sometimes, you have to cut to cure.”
Jackson leaned back on the wooden stool and tried to take his mind off the throbbing. “I’m still interested in the slave trade we discussed back in June.” There hadn’t been an exchange among their families in years. Not since after his brother died. “It’s been some time.”
“That it has. The one your father sold me isn’t much use to me now.” Michael chuckled.
“Funny, I thought you bought more than that.” He shrugged. “But I was just a kid.”
“I bought one. I took three, but two of them went straight to my loom room. The wife had sympathy.”
“I see. Women don’t think much about the costs of feeding extra mouths.”
“True, but you’d be surprised. That blind one kept everyone under my watch clothed for some time with her hands alone. For years. Until she taught the others.”
Jackson was silent. He could care less what that woman did. Foolish enough to try to attack his brother. She had helped get Timothy killed. So what she was blind. At least she was still breathing.
“I’ll tell you what, give me the right price and we can strike a deal for a few good men,” the doctor said. “I’ve also got one or two skilled workers you might like to hire. Let me know.”
“Will do. How’s Elizabeth? Everything all right with her?” He ran his tongue over the tooth and winced.
He knew well enough not to say too much. He was certain her father knew nothing of the secret visits the girls made without chaperones.
“She’s doing fine.” Michael smiled, placing a bulging leather bag on the table beside him. “Quite well now that she’s to be married. Couldn’t be happier.”
“Good. Good for her.” Hopefully, she had lost interest in him. Good for him.
“You ready?” Michael stood above him holding a small wooden stick with a metal claw. “I’ve got to get in there and see how we should do this.” He placed the dental key into his mouth until the metal clamped over his sore tooth. “Let me know if it gets too bad.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, the doctor’s thumb pressed down against searing hot gums. The pain shot Jackson’s fist forward. Michael dodged the blow and stumbled back. Slowly, his widened eyes narrowed.
“Forget about it.” Jackson swore under his breath. He’d deal with the pain. A little old orchard would see him through. He’d stock up on it if he had to. “I’ll be fine, Dr. Kelly.” He brushed past Michael, slamming the door behind him.
Seven days and three wilted candles later, Lydia remained under Jackson’s roof, her ankle sore but healed.
Every night she lit thin sticks of white wax and watched them glow against the dark. Crimson tears of fire wept streams down the length of them until they were no more than a warped image of what they had been. When one flickered, she was quick to blow it out before the wind from an open window or the breeze from a swinging door extinguished the flame.
Slowly, day by day, moment by moment the new seeped in and she began to relish her life of crystal, pearls, and porcelain, dining across from a gentleman each evening who gazed into her eyes and inquired how much longer he would enjoy the pleasure of her presence, questioned if this would be the day she would leave.
“Annie.” Jackson lifted his glass. Annie filled it to the rim with a clear liquid that caused him to squeeze his eyes shut and shudder. “Tooth’s hurting. Can’t enjoy my meal much,” he explained.
Perhaps, Lydia thought. Regardless, he was a drinker, she had come to discover, and when he chose to indulge, he became much less refined than he had first appeared.
“Did you need anything else, Caroline?”
“No.”
Every evening, he asked the same question and every evening she answered the same. She never needed more. She swallowed. Finally enough.
“That will be all, Annie.”
Lydia looked up into almond-shaped eyes already on her. Her gaze followed the girl out. Did Annie sense something, suspect the truth, or did she simply despise her presence? Had she replaced her somehow?
“Jackson.”
He pushed his plate away and looked up.
“Why do you have so few servants in a house this size? It’s only Annie and James, am I right?”
“You are.” He shrugged. “It’s only me to serve. Looks like I’m already outnumbered.” He smiled. “For now.”
Lydia cleared her throat, tried to clear her mind.
“Jackson, I was wondering…” How did she ask this? “About Annie. She seems harsh toward me. Has she said anything to you?”
“About you? No. No, of course not. She’s a slave, Caroline. She knows her place.” He said it matter-of-factly, just a simple statement he believed, but it pumped her pulse. “Please don’t concern yourself with Annie.”
He swished the last of his drink around in the glass before he threw his head back and swallowed.
A few days ago, she had been Annie. She had been Annie her whole life.
“She’s just loyal,” he added.
“Why?” She had never felt loyal to Dr. Kelly. “Why is that?”
“Are you thinking…?” He laughed, but the sound was not the one she heard leaving him with Lizzy that night at the dinner party. This was a tone with teeth, and it jarred Lydia straight up in her seat. “You thought I was spending time with Annie?” The idea must have perturbed him because he swiped his mouth with the napkin in his lap like the filth of the thought settled on his lips somehow. “A Colored?” He threw the crumpled linen over his half-eaten plate. “Not on your life.”
Lydia’s fingers stumbled over a photograph, yellowed and curved around the edges. Two boys in homespun shirts and dark trousers stood near the steps of the Whitfield manor. One was a head taller than the other, their White faces solemn. The younger one’s features had not changed much.
She stuffed the image back between the pages of the weathered journal, but when she heard footsteps, the book tumbled from her hand and slammed against the hardwood.
The man of the house stood on the threshold of the study.
“Jackson.”
“Is everything all right?” He scanned the room, the bookshelf behind her.
“I was just looking through some of the volumes on your shelf. Dropped a book, is all.” She stooped down to retrieve it. Jackson watched her stand and readjust her clothing.
“I was going into town, Caroline. I’d like you to ride with me.”
Lydia bit her lip and gripped the side of the carriage as the driver turned onto the dirt road. They were riding much too fast. A pleasant ride into town for business quickly turned into a dreaded journey that forced her to crane near the side curtain for air.
“Caroline, are you all right?” He glanced up from the newsprint across his lap.
“Yes,” she lied. She watched him lick the edge of his thumb and flip page after page until her stomach mimicked the motion.
They passed a small plantation, a shabby, red-roofed farmhouse, and a church, modest and white, in silence. When the carriage stopped, Jackson jumped out onto the cobblestone and waited for the driver to assist Lydia. She lifted her hand, stopping him. She felt weak. Pulling the curtain aside, she looked out at Jackson.
“I hope you don’t mind if I stay inside.”
“No.” He pulled his hat down over his brows. “I won’t be long.”
She nodded and closed the curtain, grateful for the rest.
“Jackson?” The melodic call struck a chord of joy, a chord of fear in Lydia’s spine. She pressed back against the wood, away from view, and waited. She could hear the approaching patter of light footsteps.
“Elizabeth, good to see you. How are you?”
“Well, thank you.”
Ten days ago, Lydia would’ve been at Lizzy’s side, ambling along the cobblestone streets, carrying boxes stacked high in brilliant colors of lime, raspberry, and cobalt filled with treasures for an only child.
“I saw your fat
her a few days ago.”
He hadn’t mentioned it. Hadn’t mentioned Dr. Kelly at all.
“Business?”
“Yes, and a bad tooth.” He laughed. “How’s your mother?”
“My mother?” she said, like she hadn’t expected him to ask the most basic of questions. “Oh, she’s fine. Just visiting kin. Should be back soon.”
“Well, good.”
“Have you heard the news? Andrew has asked for my hand in marriage. Did my father tell you?”
“No. He didn’t. Well, that’s wonderful, Elizabeth. I hadn’t heard. I haven’t seen Andrew since our dinner. Congratulations.”
“Thank you. He’ll be happy to know I saw you.” She paused. “Well, Jackson…”
“It was a pleasure.” He bid her farewell.
Lizzy married.
Lydia’s heart swelled at the thought of Lizzy in a white lace gown as a wife, shriveled when she heard the soft click of her closest friend walk away.
Jackson gripped her hand and helped her teeter down from the carriage. When the driver trotted off, they strolled under a dark sky toward the lit manor in the distance, her ankle not paining her in the least.
“Seeing Elizabeth today got me thinking, Caroline.” He clasped his hands behind his back and stopped. “It’s time I did right by you.”
Don’t say it.
“I want you to be my wife.” His blue eyes glistened under the stars.
“Do you?”
“Of course. I feel awful hiding you. It isn’t right.”
“No, it’s not.” None of it.
He reached for her hand and moved forward, beside her, until they stood at the top of the radiant Victorian. She glanced down the flight of steps. It had been a long way up, but here she was. She had made it. Everything she ever dreamed of.
“Will you marry me?”
It was hard to hear the words and not think of the one she left behind. See his face, his smile. But by law, he was not her husband. Their ceremony was not acknowledged, not accepted by the world. And she was here now. Had decided deliberately to come to this side of the world. She was free. There was nothing she wanted more. John knew that.
Still, a sea of guilt swam through her blood, made her feel faint, like she needed to sit down, stretch out somewhere. She gripped Jackson’s hand instead.
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