Millicent, Southern Hearts Series, Book One

by Felicia Rogers

Thoughts of home brought memories of his family. Delia, his annoying younger sister, had vehemently protested his decision to leave in December. Father had hesitantly approved the trip, but only if he agreed to return with information about Louisiana's cotton growing practices. His mother had reluctantly said goodbye with instructions that he do his best to return before the holidays.

  He considered Millie's home. Other than the warmer temperatures, Louisiana wasn't much different from his own. The concerns of the people in both states seemed the same; they worried about harvesting and selling, repaying the bank, and providing for their families.

  Closing his eyes, he remembered the letters he and Millicent had written about such matters. She'd confided that many times her father's plantation had barely broken even. She'd expressed concern over losing her home and the devastation it would wreck on her family. The ties to her parents and sisters were strong.

  Stephen ran his hand through his hair. If he pursued Millicent further, this might become an issue. As his father's only son, he couldn't leave South Carolina. It was his responsibility not only to continue his family's lineage, but to ensure the continued success of their plantation.

  But what of Millicent's family? Her obligations? Could she ever willingly leave her family and move to South Carolina with him?

  "What are you doing, sir? Are you lost?"

  The sound of a raspy voice made him jump. He spun around and came face-to-face with a hunkered old man.

  "I-I was thinking," he stuttered.

  "This is a good place for that."

  "Yes," Stephen agreed.

  "Sorry to bother you. I'm Isaac. We met yesterday. Dolly, the cook is me wife, and she's makin' a final call for breakfast. If you haven't ate you might want to go 'fore it gets gone."

  Stephen nodded and Isaac turned and ambled back toward the house. At a slower pace, he followed. His stomach rumbled, but he didn't feel like eating. His mother had once described feelings such as his as love sickness.

  Was it possible he'd fallen in love with Millicent? He knew the answer. He'd been in love with her since reading her first letter.

  Chapter Seventeen

  "What did you do to this biscuit, child?" Dolly asked, as she plucked out green hedge leaves.

  "I dropped it. Can I have another?"

  "Course you can. It's a good thing you come when you did 'cause them folks jus' 'bout eat everything. If this keeps up, we're gonna run low on food by the end o' the week. Yer mama shoulda' said no to some of the people stayin' the night. The ones that live along the river needs to go home and let they's own cook feed 'em."

  Dolly continued to mumble as she shuffled across the kitchen. The room was a small building at the back of the house. After their first house was destroyed and they rebuilt in Bayou Sara, Millie's father had decided to follow the ways of other families and build a separate place for cooking. Dolly didn't seem to mind. Charged with making the meals, she apparently liked having her own sanctuary.

  Dolly's daughter, Mary, entered the kitchen. "Ma, we need another plate of eggs."

  "What? I ain't got no more eggs cooked. Mary, you tell them people to go to they's own houses."

  Millie stifled a laugh. Dolly didn't really want Mary to deliver that message. However she did like to vent her frustration.

  "Ma? You really want me to say that?"

  Dolly shook her head and stomped out of the kitchen.

  "Where is she going?" asked Millie.

  "To the hen house, I expect. Don't these people know eggs don't grow on trees?"

  "They sure don't. They grow under chickens." Millie laughed at her own joke and Mary joined her. Millie grabbed another biscuit and walked toward the house. The dining room hadn't emptied so she took her food to her room and sat on a stool facing her looking glass.

  The letter that had arrived early this morning and dated last week, caught her eye and she reread it.

  Millicent,

  I am so sorry. I asked father if I could come for your birthday and he said no. Chores around the plantation have backed up because of limited supplies and I am afraid he is unable to escort me at this time. I do hope you are not too disappointed.

  Currently, my studies consume very little of my time. Mother has me working more and more. One day she hopes I will have my own home. Imagine being free to do what you want and when you want, with no parents directing you, no nagging siblings at your heels. It will be a whole new world.

  The weather has turned severely cold. Already there is snow covering the ground. The shopkeepers claim this is the reason for supply shortages, but the snow is new and the shortages are not. Father has contemplated a trip to the north in order to purchase what we need. Mother doesn't want him to go, although I'm unsure of her reasons.

  I hope…

  Millie folded the letter and stuck it back in the envelope. She cupped her chin and stared into the looking glass. Stephenie didn't want her to be disappointed. How could she not be? She had looked forward to spending hours, days, weeks with her friend. If Stephenie was here then she could use her as a shield when eligible bachelors attempted to corner her.

  As of yet she'd been lucky, but of course the week was just beginning. The short gathering and party last night would be nothing compared to the festivities throughout the week. Today she would accompany her father with a riding party out to the eastern gate. Father would lead but she was supposed to entertain everyone with conversation.

  She looked forward to traveling the property, but disliked the idea of having to doing so with gentlemen who sought her hand. It was a group court, so to speak, and everyone knew this was the case. In a crowd so large she wondered how they would attempt to distinguish themselves.

  This line of thinking brought her to Stephen Green. The man was determined to get her attention; first in New Orleans, then Bayou Sara, and now in her own home. He followed her everywhere, showing up in some of the most unusual places. She smiled. His attention made her heart flutter and her palms sweat. She would expect Priscilla to receive such attention, not herself. She was as plain as they come.

  Picking up a piece of paper and a quill, she wrote to Stephenie. The words came to mind so fast that she had trouble catching them all on paper. She told Stephenie everything that had happened from her trip to purchase her party gown, to this morning in the gardens. When she finished, she sealed the letter and took it downstairs. She would speak to Isaac about delivering it to Bayou Sara.

  ****

  Stephen slipped into the foyer of the Beaumont Plantation. Voices came from every room and filled the home. When would the guests begin departing? Somehow he knew most would stay for the entire week.

  How could the Beaumonts feed so many mouths every day? He knew his family couldn't. With their supply shortages they were lucky to eat themselves.

  Walking toward the winding staircase, his attention was caught by a letter resting on a table and he bent forward for a closer look. The word Stephenie caught is gaze. He quickly grabbed the letter and placed it inside his jacket.

  Standing upright, he gasped when he heard, "Can I help you?" Isaac stood frowning in front of him.

  "No, I'm fine. Thank you."

  "Sir, I think you took something from the table."

  The letter burned against his chest.

  "Maybe you should return it," said Isaac

  Stephen took the letter from his jacket and replaced it. He opened his mouth to make an excuse but was interrupted by a crowd of men walking toward the door.

  Charles walked with the group. He stopped. "Stephen, why haven't you changed? The ride is about to begin."

  "Oh, yes, I'll only be a minute."

  Isaac's disapproving gaze followed him as he rushed from the foyer.

  ****

  "What in heaven's name are you wearing?" asked Alice.

  Millie spun around. Her mother stood at her door with her hands on her hips.

  "Mary made me a pair of breeches for riding. What do you think?"

&
nbsp; "What do I think? I'll tell you what I think. I think you will change this instant."

  "But Mother, breeches are much more comfortable to ride in than–"

  A male voice interrupted, "And they show off her exquisite figure…perhaps too much."

  A set of arms snaked around her mother's middle and pulled her into a tight embrace. She gasped and turned. "Chandler? Is that you?" her mother exclaimed.

  Chandler Wright stepped back and bowed low at the waist. "As sure as the sun rises, Aunt Alice, it is I."

  Heat flushed Millie's face as memories of their last encounter filtered through her mind. The garden bench, Chandler closing his eyes and leaning in, the warmth of his lips against hers.

  Alice patted his cheek and smiled broadly as they exchanged pleasantries.

  Chandler gave her a strange glance. "Imagine my surprise to hear about this party through the gossip vine. I couldn't miss my favorite cousin's birthday party."

  Alice placed her hand on her chest. "Oh, dear, Chandler did I not send you an invitation."

  He quirked an eyebrow. "Hmm, that explains a few things."

  Mother dropped into a seat. "Your mother must be furious with me."

  "Not exactly. I haven't had an opportunity to inform her of the slight."

  Alice jumped from her seat and proceeded to attempt an explanation. Sickened by the display, Millie walked onto her balcony. What was the big deal? Chandler Wright wasn't really her cousin. Years ago they had been neighbors. Their families had remained acquaintances, nothing more.

  Placing her hands on the railing, she peered out over the gardens. People and horses milled below. She could hear Chandler still speaking with her mother. He'd looked at her so oddly, almost like he'd wanted to devour her. The added memory of his kiss made her stomach churn.

  "Millie?" her mother called.

  Millie returned to her room.

  "My dear, you must change your outfit before you ride."

  "But–"

  "And Chandler is right. You are a lucky lady."

  Millie squinted. "What do you mean?"

  Her mother said impatiently, "These guests have come to see you; not me, not your father or your sisters, but you. And your father, modern man that he is, will submit to your choice for a husband. Which means you must make the correct decision."

  Millie half listened as her mother continued to berate her and explain at length how a wrong choice of clothing could make her choose the wrong mate, which made no sense to Millie. Chandler stood behind her mother with a smirk twisting his mouth.

  Finally, her mother stopped chastising her and followed Chandler from the room. Millie changed into a riding skirt, tailored shirt, and tight fitting white coat that accentuated her tiny waist and moderate bosom.

  The final piece, a wide brimmed white hat, she placed atop her head at a jaunty angle. Studying herself in the mirror, she wiggled trying to make the coat more comfortable.

  A knock sounded on the door. Thinking it was one of her sisters, she called, "Come in."

  "Now that is a sight for travel weary eyes." Chandler lounged casually in her doorway. He gazed at her and licked his lips.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "Isn't it obvious? I came for your birthday. Aren't you happy to see me?"

  Millie’s heart beat faster. Would he mention the stolen kiss? Fearing that was his plan, she decided to lead the conversation. "Of course, I'm always happy to see you. But did you have to convince Mother to make me change." She plopped onto the side of her bed.

  Chandler stepped into the room and sat beside her, covering one of her hands with his. "I am truly sorry. Truth be told, now that I see you in your riding habit, no matter what you wear, you shall have all the men under your spell."

  Millie rolled her eyes and jumped up. She tugged at the coat's waistline. "Really Chandler, you don't have to try and impress me."

  "Is that so?" he grinned widely.

  Millie frowned. Chandler's demeanor confused her. Serious one minute and playful and flirtatious the next, she couldn't decide how best to answer him.

  The sound of her mother calling from downstairs interrupted her thoughts. She sent a sarcastic smile in Chandler's direction. "My public awaits."

  He lifted his hand. "Lead the way."

  The large group of men and women waiting on the front lawn was daunting. Isaac handed over the reins to a lively mare and assisted her astride. Millie felt claustrophobic as she cantered her horse behind her father, followed closely by gentlemen and ladies on their own horses. Hampered by the slow pace, she quickly grew bored.

  "Are you enjoying your party season?" asked one of the male guests.

  "Yes, thank you."

  Another rode beside her. "I guess it can be overwhelming to have so many fellows vying for your hand."

  "Is that what all you gentlemen are doing?" she asked pointedly.

  The men surrounding her laughed and one responded, "Although we've come to celebrate your birthday, you must know that any man here is likely to pursue you."

  "Yes, I must know that." Millie attempted to pull ahead of the men, but they followed at the same pace. She looked for openings, but with so many horses on the small trail she saw no way out.

  When the road narrowed to no more than two beasts across, she reined her horse to walking until she came to a fork in the woods. With only a moment's hesitation, she kicked the horse's sides and galloped off along an obscure trail. Her trained horse weaved in and out of overhanging branches. She held on tight, the wind rushing through her hair. From behind she heard the sound of shouting and then horses' hooves. If they could keep up, then let them come.

  The woods opened into a huge field where servants had prepared an outdoor picnic. Blankets covered portions of the grass. Wagon beds held food.

  Millie rode toward the wagons and was soon flanked on either side. She turned to the right and wasn't surprised to find Stephen. On her left, Chandler struggled to keep up.

  She tilted her head back and laughed as she halted her horse. Stephen reined in and jumped from his. In seconds, he stood beside her horse.

  "Some ride, Miss Beaumont." He lifted his hands to her waist as she slipped from her side-saddle.

  "Indeed. Congratulations on keeping up with me."

  "It was a challenge I quite enjoyed." His hands tightened. She couldn't resist staring into his twinkling eyes. In the bright light of day they seem bluer than the sky.

  "Millicent Jane Beaumont!" Her father broke her trance with his yell.

  Millie stepped backward and removed herself from Stephen's hands as Henri dismounted and chastised her for her behavior. Every time she tried to explain why she'd taken the shortcut, he cut her off and reiterated all the ways she could have been harmed.

  Lowering her gaze to the ground, she allowed him to finish. After his frustration was spent he hugged her to his side and said to those surrounding them, "Forgive my daughter for her impulses. She has traveled this land since childhood. She knows the trails better than I. My dove is no doubt hungry and wished to reach the food before anyone else!"

  The crowd laughed and Millie felt heat rush to her cheeks. Her father released her and she plopped onto a blanket. Amelia and Cora helped the servants hand out the food. Mother had remained at the house preparing for dinner. Tonight, after their meal, the guests would gather in the large living room and Henri would share the story of her birth. Just one more level of embarrassment she must endure.

  "I don't think your cheeks could get any more pink," said Chandler, as he sat next to her.

  "Oh, you don't think so? Just wait until tonight and then you will see."

  "What happens tonight?"

  "Father is telling the story of why we moved to Bayou Sara."

  "Ah," said Chandler. He lifted his head and studied the guests.

  "What are you thinking? Are you going to tell your mother that my mother forgot your family?"

  "No, of course not. It appears Alice has had a lot to accomplis
h. One can understand her forgetfulness. I shall tell my mother the invitation was lost in the mail."

  "In all fairness, that very well could have happened."

  "True. I'm just happy I learned about your coming out party."

  "It isn't my coming out party."

  "Oh, Millie, don't be daft. Of course it is. You are being introduced to society as an eligible female. No matter what's said, these men haven't come just to celebrate your birthday. They're here to vie for your hand in marriage. I dare say you know that."

  Millie studied her hands.

  He continued, "You must also realize that that is the reason your father is showing off his holdings, although I think it would have been wiser to wait. What if someone asks for your hand purely for the land?"

  Millie didn't answer.

  "You know we could always do what we planned."

  She lifted her eyes and arched a brow.

  "Don't you remember? We agreed that if we didn't find someone we loved then we would marry each other."

  "I don't remember that," Millie gasped.

  "Oh, sure you do. We were in your special place sitting on the stone bench. I kissed you and you said if you never fell in love you wanted to marry me."

  Millie gulped. What was Chandler doing?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Stephen, standing beside a tree nearby Millie and a gentleman she seemed to have had previous acquaintance with, heard the man practically propose. He needed to do something. Before she could answer, he walked over and said, "Excuse me?"

  The man glanced up, shielding his eyes from the sun. "Yes?"

  Stephen directed his question at Millie. "May I sit with you?"

  The man narrowed his gaze and started to say something, but Millie interrupted. "But of course, Stephen. Please, have a seat."

  Millie introduced the men and they shook hands in a cool manner.

  Settling onto the blanket, Stephen offered a smile. "Nice day for a picnic."

  "Indeed," said Chandler, his brows drawn together in a frown.

  Stephen said to Millie, "Your family's property is beautiful and I was enjoying the scenery, but I have to thank you for the shortcut and gallop. If I'd had to ride much longer at that slow pace, I believe I would have fallen asleep on my horse."