The Right Wife

by Beverly Barton

  “It’s forty-eight feet to the top,” Thayer told them. “It’s one of the best features of this old house.”

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Maggie said, walking over to touch the banisters as she looked straight up, the sight impossibly impressive.

  “My mother, my aunt, and my sister came down these stairs on their wedding days and were married in the front parlor.” Thayer walked to Maggie’s side. “Someday, when I marry, I want my bride to walk down this staircase to me.”

  “Is there a back stairway for the servants like at the town house?” Judith inquired, nudging her petite body between Maggie and Thayer.

  “Jude, you ask too many questions,” Maggie laughed. “At this rate, you should know everything by the time you’re fifteen.”

  “The servants’ stairway leads up from the side portico. It makes it easier for them to carry up wood for the fires and water for bathing.” Thayer smiled down at Judith.

  “That’s what I want right now,” Jude said. “I want a bath upstairs.”

  “I think a bath before dinner can be arranged for both of you ladies.” Thayer took Maggie’s arm in his and clasped Judith’s hand. “Shall I show you to your rooms? We can continue the tour later, perhaps even tomorrow before you all return to town.”

  Maggie stood at the edge of the bed looking down at the two dresses lying there. Neatly arranged in the center was the lovely lace and grenadine dress for tonight’s party. She had spent endless hours on its design and production. She desperately wanted to be beautiful for Aaron.

  Trying to erase him from her thoughts, she lifted the other dress, the tan Sunday dress she had worn to Silver Hill today. She had taken great pains to make this dress, and Jude’s matching one, to suit Aunt Tilly. The bodice was simple with a high, round neck and small, stand-up collar. It was the kind of dress a preacher’s wife might wear. She did not want to think about Wesley. She had thought he loved her, but if he did, he had not been strong enough to withstand public opinion. Not once since the night he had followed her down Main Street demanding her repentance had he attempted to see her.

  “Can I stay in here a little longer?” Judith asked, as she splashed around in the brass bathtub sitting in the middle of the huge bedroom.

  “No. Get out now and get dressed.”

  “Oh, all right.”

  Maggie laid the tan muslin in a nearby chair and turned to pick up the evening gown. Lifting it over her head, she quickly slipped it down her body, clad in corset, chemise, drawers, and petticoat. Her undergarments were plain with very little decoration, but the dress was a dream creation.

  “Your hair looks so pretty,” Jude said, as she slipped into her cotton drawers. “Wasn’t it nice of Miss Reba to curl it for you? Oh, don’t forget to tie that velvet ribbon in it.”

  “I’ve got it right here.” Maggie held up the yard of dark turquoise velvet. “And Ludie brought me a white rose to go in my hair just like I asked her to.”

  “I should have known that you’d stick a rose on you somewhere.”

  “I love roses. Someday, when I have my own home, I’m going to have a garden full.” Maggie knew she might never have a home of her own. What if Aaron never came to his senses? What if he married Eunice? She had less than three months to win him away from the other woman. By September, he would be free from his bet with Thayer and could propose to the widow. Thayer had assured her that Aaron was a man of his word and would pay off his wager.

  The door opened quickly and a small, dark-haired girl wearing a daffodil yellow dress came running inside, laughing and out of breath. Martha Coleman appeared in the doorway elegantly attired in crimson silk, a white lace fichu knotted over the basque of her dress.

  “Good evening, my dear. Rachel has come to get Judith, and I’ve come to bring you something, Maggie.”

  She had been in awe of Thayer’s mother from the moment they had met, but the woman’s kindness and understanding had put her somewhat at ease. If a lady, who was obviously the grande dame of local society, could accept her, then there was still hope that she could redeem herself. She couldn’t bear to think that her bad reputation might hinder Micah’s and Jude’s chances for a happy future.

  “Come on, Judith.” Little Rachel took the older child by the hand, leading her out of the room. “Ludie has set up a party in the nursery for us and my dollies. We’re having milk and cookies and a bowl of berries.”

  When the children exited, Martha closed the door. “Where are your earrings?”

  “What?”

  “The diamond and aquamarine earrings?”

  “How did you know . . . I mean . . . I thought . . .”

  “Did you think that Aaron or Thayer had sent them?” Martha walked over to Maggie and handed her a long black jewel case.

  Taking the offered case, Maggie opened the lid. Inside, on a black velvet bed, lay a diamond necklace, five square-cut aquamarines attached at equal intervals. “Mrs. Coleman!”

  “I sent the earrings as a gift. I want you to have them. The necklace is on loan for tonight.” The older woman took the necklace from the case and instructed Maggie to turn around and allow her to put it on her.

  “There,” Martha said, pleased at the way the jewels matched Maggie’s dress. “Put the earrings on before Thayer comes to escort you down for dinner.”

  “But Mrs. Coleman, why?” Why would Thayer’s mother give her expensive earrings and loan her the matching necklace? Had Thayer asked her to do it? Did this mean that Thayer cared for her and his mother approved?

  “Now, Maggie, I know you’re not in love with my son.” Martha Coleman placed an arm around the girl’s shoulder.

  When Maggie started to speak, the other woman hushed her. “No, no. Have no fear. Thayer is not in love with you. He is extremely fond of you and wants to help your family.”

  Relief rushed over Maggie like a giant wave. She never wanted to hurt Thayer. He had been so good to her, to all of them. “We’re very fond of Thayer.”

  “My son isn’t ready for marriage yet. He has a notorious reputation with the ladies as does my brother. He’s the man I think would be perfect for you.”

  “Your brother?”

  “These jewels belonged to my father’s mother. They’ve been handed down from father to son for four generations to give to the son’s bride.”

  “Then why?” Maggie had never been so confused in her life. She had never heard Thayer speak of an uncle. She had never heard one word of gossip about Mrs. Coleman’s brother.

  “I’ll explain later, my dear. Just enjoy wearing the jewelry tonight. And keep the earrings. If you don’t marry my brother, you can return them. If you do marry him, I’ll give you the necklace.”

  Speechless, Maggie simply nodded.

  “Good.” Martha gave Maggie an affectionate hug before leaving.

  Would Mrs. Coleman’s brother be at the private dinner tonight or the big party afterward? Why had no one ever mentioned this man? Perhaps there was something mysterious about him, something the Colemans were trying to hide.

  If there was one thing she didn’t need right now, it was another man in her life. She was glad that Thayer wasn’t in love with her. That was one complication she wasn’t sure she could handle.

  She loved Aaron Stone. There would never be another man for her. Somehow, someway, she had to come to terms with reality. The man loved her, but, for some reason, marriage to Eunice Arnold represented a life-long goal he was not willing to abandon. If only she knew more about him, about his past, maybe she could understand. Loving him had jeopardized all of her own plans. If only there were a way she could keep her promise to Pa and have the man she loved, too. Even if Aaron were to marry her, she doubted anyone would ever be able to be accepted as a lady with a sister like her.

  Why did life have to be so complicated? Back home on the farm, things had been a lot simpler. They had lived life by the seasons, planting time and harvest time. Neighbors were plain folks, most sharecroppers like themsel
ves. If Pa hadn’t died, if they had never come to Tuscumbia to live with Aunt Tilly and Uncle Chester, she would never have met Aaron. She would probably be marrying Benny and looking forward to her life. Of course, Micah would’ve run off somewhere looking for adventure and never gotten a good education. And Jude would never have become a lady. She’d have married a local boy and spent her days as a farmer’s wife.

  Maggie picked up her small cloth bag and pulled out the black case containing the earrings. Before putting them on, she ran her fingers across the exquisite necklace adorning her neck and wondered why Martha Coleman had been in possession of the set if it were always passed down from father to son. Why didn’t her brother have it?

  A light knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s Thayer. Are you ready?”

  Maggie opened the door, smiling.

  Thayer gazed at her, stunned and almost speechless. “Well, well, well.”

  “Does that mean you approve?” She turned around slowly, giving him a complete view of her dress.

  “You are beautiful.”

  “Isn’t the dress magnificent?”

  “You’re magnificent.”

  Blushing, Maggie smiled up at her escort. “Thayer, you do talk so pretty.”

  “Pretty talk for a pretty lady.”

  “Oh, wait just a minute,” she said, turning to walk back to the bed, picking up the white rose and placing it in her hair, the stem beneath the velvet ribbon.

  “The necklace and earrings are perfect on you.” Thayer offered his arm.

  As they walked out of the room, Maggie hesitated. “Was it your idea that I should wear them?”

  “Oh, no. It was entirely Mama’s.”

  “Why have you never said anything about your uncle?”

  “My what?” Thayer’s dark eyes searched Maggie’s face for an answer.

  “Your mother said that this jewelry will go to your uncle’s wife, and she thinks he’s the perfect match for me.”

  “My God! My mother is one devious lady.” Suddenly Thayer began to laugh as he led Maggie down the hall.

  “You aren’t going to tell me any more?”

  “I wouldn’t dare. This seems to be Mama’s little game. I’ll let her play it out to the finish.”

  “Thayer, do you or do you not have an uncle?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that my mother was the only child born to her parents within the bonds of holy matrimony.”

  “Her brother. Is he . . . ?”

  “Yes, sweet Maggie. My mother’s brother is a bastard.”

  “Oh.”

  She let the matter drop. No doubt it was an embarrassment to the Coleman family. And perhaps that was why they were more understanding of her situation than the other local citizens.

  Just before they reached the dining room, Maggie’s steps faltered, fear gnawing at her insides.

  “It will be all right,” he assured her.

  “But Eunice is in there with her parents.” Maggie could imagine what the distinguished Mr. Waite would have to say about her appearance.

  “Once you’ve dined with the Colemans and the Waites, your reputation will be on the mend.”

  “They’ll never allow it. They’ll leave.”

  “Oh, dear girl, never underestimate the power of Martha Leander Coleman. No one would dare leave her dinner table without her permission.”

  “She’s doing this for me.”

  “And for her brother.” Thayer laughed as he led her through the open doorway and into the enormous dining room.

  A long, oak banquet table sat in the center of the huge, brightly lit room, kerosene lamps glowed brightly on each end of the buffet, and a French imported bronze chandelier hung from the high ceiling. Eight chairs lined the side of the table, and at each end were Jacobean velvet upholstered armchairs. Martha Coleman sat at the head of the table like an empress holding court.

  Maggie had tried very hard not to look at anyone seated except Mrs. Coleman, but the sound of a loud gasp caught her attention. Eunice Arnold, half-raised in her chair, glared hostily at the couple entering. Beside her, Aaron Stone sat, immobilized, his green eyes devouring the woman he had spent weeks trying to forget.

  Chapter 11

  Aaron stood in the corner of the parlor watching Thayer, who held Maggie in his arms as they danced around the room, dozens of the county’s best citizens enjoying the same waltz.

  From the gleaming, wide-planked cherry floors to the radiant bronze chandeliers, the twin parlors provided ample space and elegant accommodations for the many guests. Servants had rolled back the velvet carpets, and the small string band was producing lilting dance music. Dark-suited black servants poured expensive wines and aged whiskey into crystal containers, and white-aproned Negresses constantly refurbished silver trays with a variety of edible delights. Two porcelain vases, filled with summer flowers, adorned each end of the magnificent Carrara marble mantel in the large room.

  Aaron had been totally shocked to see Maggie and Micah as guests at Martha Coleman’s private party, and only at Martha’s decree had Eunice and her parents endured the ordeal. Even though it was obvious that the Campbells had been aware of the guest list in advance and had chosen to attend anyway, the only two people who seemed to enjoy themselves were Thayer and his mother.

  Maggie was the most beautiful woman in the world, and every man there tonight seemed to be aware of the fact. But Thayer had monopolized her for nearly every dance, smiling at her, laughing with her, and holding her hand to his for stolen kisses.

  Aaron boldly raked her body with his gaze, hypnotized by the sway of her womanly shape attired in a gown whose fine turquoise silk grenadine bodice extended to the hipline where yards of exquisite white Mechlin lace hung in tiny, slightly flared rows to the floor. The same delicate lace graced the deep-cut, square neckline and created cap sleeves. An enormous dark turquoise taffeta bow accented the beginning of a short lace train that extended from the base of her spine to several inches beyond the hemline of her dress.

  He was damned curious about the jewelry she was wearing. Knowing it could not be hers, he had come to the conclusion that Thayer had to be her benefactor, which led to questions that were tormenting him. Exactly what was going on between Maggie and Thayer? Was Thayer in love with her? Had he bedded her yet? The thought of Maggie, naked and aroused, in his friend’s arms ripped his insides like the blade of a sharp knife.

  For two weeks, he had unsuccessfully tried to forget the passionate redhead who had given him her virginity. Of all the women he had bedded, none had been as sweetly loving as Maggie. In her innocence, she had given him pleasure that not even the most skilled New Orleans whore could have. She haunted his thoughts day and night. She was as addictive as morphine, her full, round breasts a lure and the treasure between her thighs an entrapment.

  He knew he was hard with desire, and there was nothing he could do except hope to control his thoughts. At that very moment, the music stopped, and Maggie looked across the room toward him. Their eyes met, each of them unable to look away. He saw love and longing in her golden eyes. A plea to come to her in her gaze.

  “My goodness,” Eunice said, fussing as she walked up to Aaron, her diamond and garnet necklace catching the light from a nearby candelabra. “I despise dancing with that Tobin Smythe. He stepped all over my feet.”

  She raised the Argentan lace hem of her pale pink, silk mull dress to inspect her rose slippers.

  “What?”

  “I think my slippers may be ruined. I know my night is. The very idea that Martha Coleman would invite that woman here tonight and force my family and me to have dinner with her!”

  “Eunice, I’ve told you that the girl is innocent of any wrongdoing, and I refuse to discuss her with you.”

  “She’s set her cap for you, and I think—”

  “Be quiet!” Aaron warned in a softly stern voice, then
took Eunice into his arms as the music began.

  Maggie partnered again with an attentive Thayer, watched as Aaron and Eunice danced around and around, slowly moving in her direction. Maggie, who seldom even disliked anyone, decided that she hated Eunice Arnold, even though she was honest enough to admit that Aaron’s pride and unrelenting need for respectability was what was keeping them apart and not the widow. Simply because she had had the good fortune to be born into a prominent family, she was in Aaron’s arms, and she was the woman most likely to become his wife. Why was the man so driven to overcome his mysterious past?

  “I think Aaron would like to kill me,” Thayer whispered in her ear. “He keeps glaring at me and drooling over you.”

  “Thayer. What a thing to say.”

  “It’s true. The man can’t keep his eyes off of you. I think a little jealousy will do him some good.”

  “I’m afraid I am as jealous as he is.”

  “Are you? Well, try not to be. I’ve been telling him for months that Eunice is the wrong woman for him. But the damn fool is obsessed with the idea of overcoming his birth and acquiring what he thinks is his rightful place in society by making a proper marriage.”

  “We love each other,” Maggie admitted, her eyes filled with tears.

  “I know. Damn, Maggie, if I loved a woman like you, I’d move heaven and earth to make her mine.”

  “Oh, Thayer.”

  “I’m on your side and on the side of that foolish friend of mine. I only hope he comes to his senses before it’s too late.”

  Maggie wanted to walk right up to the other couple and pull Aaron out of Eunice’s arms. She wanted to demand that he stop destroying all their lives and choose between them immediately. He had to know that a marriage to Eunice would be doomed to failure as long as he loved and desired another woman. He might be fighting it with all his might, but she could tell that he still wanted her as desperately as she did him. And he still loved her too. It was there, in his eyes.

  For the past two weeks, she had relived their night of lovemaking, the night she had lost her innocence while the heavens split apart and filled the world with the roar of thunder and crackling flashes of lightning. She could almost feel the rain that had soaked her body while the storm about them raged as furiously as the storm of their passion. She tingled from head to toe at the memory of his big, hard body joining hers. It had been fast and powerful, creating a pain that had given way to surprise. Even without fulfillment, that first time had been so right. A slower, more gentle mating, like the one that came later, would have been impossible because their needs had been building steadily since the day they had met in Chattanooga.