Millicent, Southern Hearts Series, Book One

by Felicia Rogers

  Millie giggled. "I concur. I also needed a jolt to keep me awake."

  Chandler shifted. "This ground is quite hard. Would you like a cushion, Miss Beaumont?"

  "No, thank you, Chandler. I'm quite accustomed to the harshness of the outdoors."

  Stephen reached for a chicken leg and bit into the savory meat. He chewed to hide his satisfaction. "Do you have much to do with the land, Miss Beaumont?"

  Chandler laughed. "You must be jesting? Miss Beaumont is a lady. She doesn't spend her time in such pursuits."

  Millicent pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at Chandler. "While it is true that I am a lady, it is not true that I find working the land to be below my station. I work with Mother in the garden, with Dolly in the kitchen, and I've even been known to work in the fields if necessary. I can ride a horse better than most gentlemen in the county, and I'm an excellent markswoman."

  "A woman of varied talents," said Stephen, with a wink.

  Aghast, Chandler sputtered, "But Mother said–"

  "Chandler, I fear your mother doesn't know me as well as she thinks. Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I believe I'll visit my other guests."

  Before either Stephen or Chandler could jump to their feet to assist her up, Millie was walking away. Chandler glared at Stephen.

  "Mr. Green, I don't know your game, but rest assured I will not allow Millie to be misled."

  "I'm afraid I don't understand," Stephen said dryly, as he placed another succulent morsel of chicken in his mouth and chewed with a smile.

  Chandler stood. "You've been warned."

  Stephen rolled his eyes.

  ****

  For Stephen, the picnic couldn't end soon enough as the crowd mounted their horses and rode back to the plantation house. Stephen found Charles riding in the company of men their own age. As their horses plodded along they discussed cotton prices, the changing of society to the north, and other pertinent issues. He listened to the exchange.

  "I don't think we'll be allowed to continue as our forefathers always have. As the Northern industries grow, we're becoming more dependent on them to survive."

  "I agree. We must build our own industries. Farming has served us well, but it's time to modernize."

  The conversation steered away from industry and products to more recent interests.

  "What do you think of Miss Beaumont?"

  "She is very pleasing to look upon."

  "Yes, she is that. But she is a tad too headstrong for my tastes. I'm looking for a wife who will do as I say."

  "So you want an animal?" answered one of the younger men with a laugh.

  "Nay, I just want a woman to warm my bed, give me children, and not speak unless I tell her too."

  "So you do want an animal."

  The crowd laughed and Charles grinned as Stephen shot him a disgusted look.

  "Of course I might be willing to put up with her antics if I knew the property came with her. But old man Beaumont has three daughters. And he is far from dead. Why, he might outlive me. No, I think I'll leave tonight."

  "Good. That gives one of us a bed to sleep in!"

  On and on the conversations went. Millicent had written of such in her letters and she was correct. The gentlemen hadn't come to meet her and get to know her. They had come to spy out the land and her dowry.

  As they neared the plantation, Charles and Stephen separated from the group. "What do you think?" asked Stephen.

  "I think you are a better man than I. By coming all the way from South Carolina, you may have rescued Miss Beaumont from a loveless relationship."

  Stephen nodded. The guilt he felt over deceiving her was overshadowed by the good deed of rescuing her.

  They returned to the main house at the same time the table was being laid for dinner. A few guests had already departed the estate and the rest gathered in the dining hall at the large oval table.

  Servants moved purposefully around the room. Millie called and whispered to one. Stephen wondered what she was up to.

  Chandler accepted his plate from the servant Millie had whispered to. He frowned. "What is the meaning of this?"

  Taken aback, Henri said, "What seems to be the problem?"

  Flanked on one side by his wife and Amelia, and Millicent and Cora on the other, Henri sat at the head of the table. Stephen sat beside Millicent, while Chandler sat on the same side but a few seats down from them.

  "My plate is cold," said Chandler, his lip protruding in a pout.

  To Stephen, it looked as though Henri fought to hide his smile. Clearing his throat the older man said, "Just a little humor, Chandler, nothing to be taken seriously."

  "I don't appreciate this type of humor. If you want me to leave, then just ask me to do so."

  Stephen caught Millicent's gaze. She grinned broadly. "Tradition has it that if you receive a cold plate at dinner, you are an unwanted guest." The playfulness of the exchange worried Stephen. Chandler and Millicent clearly had a past relationship. Chandler grinned sheepishly at her and Stephen feared his previous advantage may have been lost.

  After the episode with the cold plate, the dinner guests enjoyed their meal. Servants refilled wine goblets as Henri stood, protruded his flat stomach, and started to speak.

  "A Beaumont tradition on Millicent's birthday is to tell the story of her birth. You see how she flushes with embarrassment." He smiled at her. "It will be all right, my dove."

  Millicent glanced at her hands.

  "Truth to tell, we told the story on her real birthday, but now I'm repeating it for all of you."

  Henri stepped away from the table and paced as he spoke. Every eye in the room followed his movement.

  "In August of 1812, Alice and I lived in New Orleans in a fine home. In fact, Chandler Wright's family neighbored us on the west." Chandler lifted his glass and everyone acknowledged him with a nod.

  "On August twelfth, while my wife labored with Millicent, the Great Louisiana Hurricane blew through New Orleans. Urged to leave our home, we were unable to comply. When the storm was over, every room except for the one my wife was in, had collapsed in a great heap.

  "We abandon the property and moved here to Bayou Sara to make a new home. So, not only did we gain a daughter during the hurricane, we gained a new home and new people to call family."

  Stephen listened with rapt attention. This was the story Millicent had alluded to in her letters. She had been born during a hurricane? Imagine the terror of rooms falling in around you while your wife birthed your first child and you remained powerless.

  The strain around Henri's eyes testified to the horror of the scene. Millicent's face flushed red as the room fell silent.

  Priscilla spoke, "What an interesting story. I don't know whether it makes Millicent more endearing or less so."

  Priscilla's mother sent her a disapproving glare.

  Stephen wished to diffuse the situation. From their expressions, the visitors didn't understand the significance of the story.

  Standing, he clapped his hands. "Mr. Beaumont I would just like to thank your family for inviting me to your home and for sharing a piece of your important history. And Mrs. Beaumont, thank you for the lovely meal."

  Alice bowed her head in gracious acceptance. A few minutes later, guests began migrating toward the drawing room and Stephen assisted Millicent from her chair. Quietly, she slipped from the room. Stephen hasten to follow, but was waylaid by Priscilla asking him a question. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chandler quit the room.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Millie dropped onto the bench and cried. What had she been thinking to let her father share their family story? Outsiders treated the incident as a joke. No one seemed to understand that instead of her family bemoaning their fate and the loss of their home, they had used the opportunity to build something better. The day they had moved to Bayou Sara, her father had told of a flock of doves descending on the front lawn—pure and peaceful in nature, and he had known this place suited his family. He
'd called Millie his little dove every since.

  "Millie, where are you?"

  At the sound of Chandler calling her name, she swiped at her wayward tears.

  "I'm here."

  Chandler burst through a row of hedges. "I'll never understand why you like it out here. It's too quiet and dark and creepy."

  "What do you want, Chandler?"

  He sat beside her and placed his hand on the small of her back. "I wanted to make sure you're all right."

  "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

  "Let me see, you might be upset because your father embarrassed you and your entire family with that ridiculous hurricane story." He shook his head, "Why he insists on telling it every year is beyond me?"

  Rigid with righteous anger, Millie stood. "If you don't understand why he tells the story then I don't think I should be talking to you right now." She stomped away even as Chandler yelled for her to stop. She took the dock path. The moonlight peeked through gnarled tree limbs and lit her way. She kicked at the ground and howled in pain when her toe connected with a rock through her soft leather shoes.

  What was the big deal, anyway? Why should it matter if the man she married couldn't understand how special she was? Why should it matter that he recognize she could have been swept away in a storm before she even had a chance at life?

  Finding the dock, she walked to the end, removed her shoes, sat, and placed her feet over the side. The cool water caused her to shiver and she pulled her legs onto the dock and tucked her feet underneath her gown.

  Pins held her hair in a bun and she removed them, letting her hair flow freely down her back. She lifted her face to the night sky and sighed. If only Stephenie were here. She would have defended her.

  Wood crunched and cracked behind her. Millie stood and the dock rocked. With her arms out to her sides she tried to stabilize. A figure emerged from the woods. She shrieked as she lost her balance and toppled into the water.

  ****

  Stephen ran toward Millicent but it was too late.

  "Help me!" she screamed as her head lifted above the water and her arms flailed.

  Stephen dove in. He grabbed Millicent around the waist and dragged her to the dock. He attempted to lift her but her skirts weighted her down.

  Placing his hand under her backside, he pushed. She grabbed the edge of the dock and pulled. After several attempts, she finally lay sprawled on the planks. Stephen hoisted himself up and lay next her. Both their chests heaved from the exertion.

  Regaining his breath, Stephen pushed onto one elbow. "Are you all right, Miss Beaumont?"

  Millicent nodded.

  "Are you sure? I didn't mean to startle you."

  In a raspy voice, she said, "Well you certainly did startle me."

  "Again, I'm sorry. I would have called out, but I didn't want to miss the view."

  "What view?" she asked, gazing at him from her prone position.

  "Forgive me, but I was studying the way the moon glistened off your chestnut hair."

  "You were?"

  "Yes."

  "Oh."

  Millicent moved to a sitting position. Shivers racked her body.

  "We should get you back to the house."

  "What?"

  "Miss Beaumont, it's too cold for you to be out here in wet clothing."

  "Oh, of course, I'm wet. I almost forgot."

  Stephen stifled his laughter. "Let me help you."

  They stood. The dock rocked and Millicent grabbed his arm to steady herself.

  "You are very beautiful," he whispered.

  "You said that once before."

  "I meant it then, as I do now."

  "Stephen, may I ask you a question?"

  "Anything."

  "Why are you here? Are you like the others, just trying to add new lands to your holdings?"

  Stephen clenched his teeth. This was his opportunity to tell her the truth; tell her about the mix up with the letters and how he'd received Stephenie's letters by mistake. Was she interested in him enough to forgive his deception, or would she send him away forever?

  At his hesitation, she said, "You don't have to answer. I think I already know." She released his arm and hastened away.

  He watched her retreating form. Running an agitated hand through his hair, he mentally kicked himself.

  When he entered the stable, Charles asked, "Where have you been? And why are you wet?"

  Stephen had discreetly followed Millicent until she reached the plantation's rear door, then he'd slipped to the stable. His teeth chattered and he worried that he had ruined his opportunity to come clean with her.

  "I went for a swim."

  "Are you crazy? Alligator invested waters and cool weather, what were you thinking?"

  "I was thinking of saving the woman I love after she fell in."

  Charles stopped talking. "So that's the way of it?"

  "It is."

  "Does she know?"

  "Of course not."

  "What about the letters? Did you tell her?"

  "No."

  "Sir Walter Scott said in one of his poems, 'What a tangled web we weave when once we practice to deceive'."

  "Charles, what are you talking about?"

  "I mean the more you try to hide the truth, the worse it gets."

  Overlooking the fact he'd had the perfect opportunity to tell the Millicent the truth, he said, "And what do you expect me to do—just walk up and say, 'Hello Millicent, I thought you'd like to know I've been intercepting your letters and reading all your private thoughts for the last eight months. Would you marry me?' Somehow I don't think that will work."

  "Stephen, you've only got a few days left."

  "Don't remind me."

  "One good thing, the competition is thinning."

  "What?"

  "After you went in search of Miss Beaumont, a few of the men departed. They didn’t like Henri's story. Some of them worried Millicent would cause a plague on their houses."

  "Utter nonsense."

  "Agreed. But I think Henri used it as a test. If they don't understand how special Millicent is, then they don't deserve her."

  Stephen changed his clothing, wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, and huddled beside the stove for extra warmth. He had a sudden inspiration. Henri Beaumont clearly loved his daughter. Instead of impressing the girl first, maybe he should change his strategy and impress her father.

  Chapter Twenty

  Staring at herself in the mirror, Millicent covered a sneeze and wiped her nose. Red-rimmed eyes glared back at her.

  "What happened to you? You look terrible," said Amelia.

  "She took a swim last night," said Cora with an air of superiority.

  "You did what?"

  "Amelia, please. My head hurts and I don't feel well."

  "Anyone can see that," said Amelia, crossing her arms over her chest.

  Millie rolled her eyes and climbed back into bed. Amelia waited one minute before jerking the covers back from her sister's trembling frame. "Millicent Jane, you will get out of this bed. The guests are waiting for you to join them at breakfast. And Mother insists."

  "But I don't want to eat with them," she whined.

  "I don't care. You will eat, and then you can rest. Don't forget you must be well for tonight."

  "What happens tonight?" asked Millie.

  "The gift giving."

  "Oh. I'd forgotten."

  Cora and Amelia helped Millie dress. Reluctantly, she descended the stairs behind them and greeted her guests. They responded in kind and everyone sat at the big table.

  After breakfast, the visitors gathered in the foyer. Today her father was giving a tour of the entire grounds. Fortunately, he hadn't demanded that she attend.

  She rushed back upstairs to her room, removed her dress, and left it in a heap as she jumped back into bed and pulled the covers up to her neck. Immediately, slumber overtook her.

  ****

  Stephen stifled a sneeze as he congregated with th
e group of equestrians. Henri Beaumont talked continuously as he guided them across his vast grounds. His holdings included twenty-five hundred acres of beautiful farmland. The plantation had existed since Millicent's first birthday. In the ensuing time they had grown cotton, soybeans, and vegetable crops for the plantation's inhabitants, as well as to sell.

  "We don't use all our fields at once. One field lays fallow every year. Also, every few years we rotate what is grown in our fields."

  Stephen wished for a pen and paper to take notes. Since his father had placed him in charge of their own plantation's daily affairs, he'd researched different methods of planting. These ideas sounded promising. By the time they returned to the stables, Stephen was even more impressed with the Beaumont operation.

  Henri pointed. "I'm sure you've noticed the different buildings on the plantation. This building belongs to the doctor. He lives in the rear and uses the front for patients. Those smaller buildings, nestled under the trees, belong to my workers." Henri continued to tell the purpose of each structure.

  "I have a question," said Chandler.

  "Yes, what is your question?"

  "I know your response, because our families have been friends for years, but for the new people that might have an interest in Millicent…"

  Henri nodded for him to continue and the other men in the group looked uncomfortable.

  Chandler said, "Come men, there is no need to lie amongst ourselves. Everyone knows why we've come. Millie's birthday celebration serves a twofold purpose. First, we receive free room and board for a week." He smiled at his attempt at humor. "And second, we have the opportunity to perhaps court a beautiful young woman. There is no shame in our pursuits.

  "But I digress. Henri, would you mind explaining to these men the situation with your slaves?"

  Henri shifted uneasily. Stephen caught Chandler's usage of Henri's first name and the pet name he used for Miss Beaumont. Chandler had thrown down the gauntlet, letting everyone know he had a leg up in the game for Millie's hand.