Carter Jennings’s hands were clenching and unclenching at his sides. “You made him do that. I find you insolent, Taggart. Tell me, just how is your father? I’d like to know how much longer Pinehurst will be subjected to your presence.”
Rance was unswayed. “My father is still in bed, Mr. Jennings, flat on his back. But if you would like me to leave before he’s able to take over the stables again, I can oblige you.”
Despite his anger, Carter knew that it would not do to turn the care of the expensive stock over to the Negroes. Until Frank Taggart was able to resume his duties, his son would have to be tolerated.
“You may stay,” he said tightly, “but remember your place. I won’t tolerate insolence from you or anyone else in my employ.”
He turned to April, forcing a smile. “Well, what do you think, darling? He’s a beauty, isn’t he? And, I might add, worth a fortune.”
Her first reaction had been to protest the extravagant gift, but suddenly she found herself resenting the arrogance of the man who stood there smirking, insisting that she was inexperienced. A quiver of rebellion sparking from deep within, she stepped forward and touched her fingertips to the colt’s velvet nose. “I think he’s wonderful, and I love him already. I can’t wait to ride him.”
She turned to look at Rance, expecting to see—what? Anger? Alarm? Instead, she saw that his mildly mocking expression had not changed. His mouth twisted to one side in a knowing grin, as though he knew she was actually frightened and realized he was right—she wouldn’t be able to handle this horse.
April and Rance locked eyes, each silently challenging the other.
Suddenly the stable doors creaked open. Turning quickly they saw one of the servants scrambling to get out of the way of a thundering horse. Vanessa was riding him. She reined her lathered mount to a stop only a few feet from where they were standing.
Carter began swiping with annoyance at the dust settling on his coat. “Vanessa, in the name of heaven, do you have to charge in here like that? You could injure someone. And that is no way to stop a horse. You have the manners and the grace of a nigra field hand!”
Vanessa threw her right leg up and over the horse’s neck and dropped to the ground with a thud of booted feet. She was wearing worn, dirty breeches, and her golden hair was tossed wildly about her wind-flushed face. She tossed the reins to the stable hand, who led the animal away to walk him down.
Her blue eyes swept over the three of them curiously. She ignored her father’s admonishment. Then her gaze narrowed suspiciously on the colt. She addressed herself to Rance. “Why is the colt here?”
“Your father just made a present of him to April.”
“Oh, he did, did he?” She placed her gloved hands on her hips and turned to April, lips curled back in a snarl. “Well, you did it again, didn’t you? You begged and wheedled Poppa into giving you something just because you knew I wanted it.”
“Oh, Vanessa, no!” April gasped, shaking her head quickly from side to side. “I knew nothing about this.”
“What do you mean, something you wanted?” Carter snapped. “I would never give you something as valuable as this colt. I know how you handle the horses. You haven’t got sense enough to appreciate something of value.”
Vanessa gave her hair a toss and turned her sneering grin on him. “Really, Poppa? Well, tell me. When have I ever been given anything of value? I’ve never had anything except April’s leftovers!”
“This is neither the time nor the place,” he sputtered, face coloring. “Get out of here at once.”
“Oh, I’ll go”—she took a step backward—“but I won’t forget this. You win again, sister dear.” She gave April a snapping salute before turning on her heel and walking toward the door.
“Vanessa, listen to me, please.” April started to follow, but her father caught her arm and held her back. “It isn’t what you’re thinking,” she called to her twin. “You must believe me. I had no idea—”
“Don’t argue with her.” Carter gave her a gentle shake. “She’s just trying to make trouble as she always has.”
Vanessa paused at the door to look over her shoulder at Rance and cry, “Maybe you can see now that I was telling you the truth about my life, the way I’ve been treated!” With a sob, half anger, half anguish, she rushed into the night.
Carter turned to Rance and told him to put the colt away. “And see to it that Vanessa never rides him.”
“Whatever you say, Mr. Jennings.” Rance began walking toward the stall, pulling the colt along. But he cast one final look at April. Was it contempt? Anger? She did not know and she admonished herself for caring. She had not seen Rance Taggart in years. But, strangely, she felt touched by him now.
Her father took her arm and led her from the stable. “This is a special night. Your night,” he murmured quietly as they walked toward the house. “We won’t let Vanessa ruin it for either of us.”
She did not speak. There was too much turmoil inside her. Oh, why couldn’t Vanessa see that she loved her and despised the way their father treated her?
Suddenly, April felt an impulse to turn and look back. Rance Taggart was leaning against the stable door, tall in the moonlight, arms folded across his chest. He was not smiling. He was staring boldly at her.
Once more, she felt a strange trembling from deep within.
Chapter Two
The great plantation of Pinehurst had come to full life. The tall, regal Lombardy poplars lining the long, curving drive swayed in apparent anticipation of the evening ahead. The white, columnar, two-story mansion glowed and glittered, as though bragging to every tree, rock, and blade of glass, that it was host to this magnificent affair.
April stood in her room before the oval, gilt-edged mirror above the dressing table. Surveying her hair critically, she decided that Cora had done a good job. A great roll swept from behind each ear and down below her neck, creating a silken, glistening hoop of golden tresses. The hair was carefully parted above her smooth forehead.
She turned her head this way and that in the lantern’s glow, satisfied with the way the tiny diamond teardrops sparkled in her hair.
Cora stepped forward with an enormous powder puff, which April took and began dusting her chest. She loved the fragrant smell and, feeling just a bit wicked, allowed a bit of rice powder to settle into the ravine of her cleavage.
“You sho’ got nice bosoms,” Cora said admiringly. “If I hadn’t nursed nine young’uns, maybe mine wouldn’t hang to my belly. ’Course I ain’t never had a fine body like you got, Miss April.”
April felt her cheeks grow warm. Such talk embarrassed her, and she always hated dressing in front of her maids. She much preferred to stand behind the brocade screen in privacy, but tonight she was in a hurry and had no time for modesty. The visit to the stables had delayed her, and the guests were already arriving. The musicians were beginning to tune their instruments. She wanted to make a grand entrance with Vanessa, but, as angry as Vanessa had been, she might just go on down alone if April weren’t ready when she was.
“The hoop, Cora,” she said quickly. “I must hurry.”
“I’ll have to get Lucy to help,” Cora said as she rushed from the room.
“While you’re doing that, have someone check and see how long before Vanessa will be ready.”
Oh, why did Poppa have to be the way he was? He seemed to be getting worse, too. He just wasn’t himself at all lately. It was the war, she told herself. He was worried. South Carolina had seceded from the Union in December. Mississippi and Florida followed in January, and her own state, Alabama, seceded one day after Florida’s decision. Then Georgia and Louisiana announced their severance, and Texas was close on their heels.
War was imminent, and although her father tried to shield her, she knew enough to be afraid.
The door opened with a bang and Cora and Lucy hurried in, each carrying a tall stool. Cora brought the big iron cage hoop from where it stood in the corner and fastened it about April�
��s tiny waist. Then the two Negro women climbed up on the stools. They each took a long pole and lifted the first of three horsehair crinolines.
April raised her slender arms, and they lowered the first crinoline over her head by the poles, careful not to muss her hair as they dropped it over the iron cage. As they reached to maneuver the second, April asked about Vanessa.
“She’s in there with Mandy, dressin’,” Cora told her. “She say she ain’t goin’ downstairs with you nohow, and you is to just go on alone. She sounded mad, so I wouldn’t waste my time arguin’ with her if’n I was you. You know how ornery that girl can be. Don’t do no good to try to talk to her when she’s in one of her hateful moods.”
“Well, I’ll try to reason with her when I’ve finished dressing. This is one night she should be happy. Let’s hurry now, please.”
When the three crinolines were in place, Lucy brought the velvet ballgown that had arrived from Paris only a few weeks before. The sleeves were short, puffed, draping to leave her shoulders bare and her bosom provocatively displayed. The skirt, nearly six feet in diameter, hung in deep swags, each caught with a tiny gold lace rosette. Cora buttoned the bodice in the back and stood back to gasp her approval. “Lawdy, you is a lovely thing, Miss April. That green just sets off yo’ hair, and those little gold things on the skirt makes it all look so pretty.”
“Those are rosettes,” April said quietly, then smiled at her reflection in the mirror. “Thank you, Cora. I don’t want to sound conceited, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt prettier, whether I look that way or not.”
She had not heard the soft knock on the door. Her father’s voice, filled with pride, startled her. “You aren’t pretty, my darling. You are absolutely magnificent! Never have I seen a more beautiful woman.” He walked over and kissed her cheek lightly.
“You look magnificent yourself,” she said affectionately as her gaze took in his fawn-colored trousers and brown velvet waistcoat.
He went on as though she had not spoken, placing his hands on her bare shoulders. His eyes seemed to burn into hers as he murmured, “You look like your dear mother. In the name of God, it’s as though I am seeing Lorena April again after all these years. The eyes, the hair, even the sweet, delicate smile, the touch of your skin…”
April stepped back, suddenly frightened. She could see the curious glances Cora and Lucy were exchanging. Her father turned suddenly and snapped his fingers at them. “Leave us now.”
They scurried from the room, and April turned to follow. “I suppose it’s time to make our entrance. I’ll just go and tell Vanessa.”
“No!” he said sharply. She paused, turning slowly, and saw that his eyes were almost glassy. “I have something for you…something I have waited till this night to present to you. I know your mother would have wanted it this way.”
She felt a flicker of relief, and she realized that she was constantly afraid he would think she was her mother. But that was silly. She chided herself for thinking such a thing. He was merely a man who had loved his wife deeply. And because she resembled her mother, she triggered memories which made him behave strangely at times.
He was holding out his hand to her. “This belonged to your mother. I gave it to her on our wedding day. It has been in the family for generations, always being given to the oldest son to present to his bride. Since I have no sons, I want you to have it, April darling, to carry on the tradition of the Jennings family.”
Curious, she moved closer, then covered her lips with both hands in a gasp of astonishment. He held out a ring—a ring more beautiful than any she had ever seen. There was a large diamond, surrounded by fire-red rubies and glistening green emeralds covering the band. When she could find her voice, she whispered, “I…I’ve never seen anything like it, Poppa.”
“I don’t suppose you have,” he grinned. “As legend goes, my great-great-grandfather had it made for his bride. The stones are pure, and the ring was fashioned in France by a famous jeweler who designed for the royal family. It’s priceless, of course, but its worth is not only in money.” He paused significantly. “The possessor of this ring has undisputed claim to Pinehurst.
“Of course, it was worn by the mistress of the house,” he went on, “but it was designated that the bestower was the rightful, legal heir. This is my gift to you this day, April. I bestow on you not only this valuable family heirloom but also undisputed title to this plantation.”
She was speechless. With a trembling hand, she took the ring from him, astonished at its beauty. Then, suddenly, she thrust it toward him and said in a rush, “I can’t take it, Poppa. It isn’t right. You are the owner of Pinehurst. And besides, there is Vanessa to consider.”
His eyes narrowed. With quick, jerky movements, he grabbed her right hand and twisted the ring into position on her third finger. It fit perfectly. “It’s yours, and there will be no arguing. Of course, I am the owner of Pinehurst as long as I live, but everyone will know now that you are my heir. We won’t speak of Vanessa. You were the firstborn. Pinehurst is rightfully yours, even if she were deserving, which she most assuredly isn’t.”
He placed her hand in the crook of his arm. “Now we will make your grand entrance.”
Stunned, April could only allow him to lead her out of the room, down the thickly carpeted hallway. When they passed the closed door to Vanessa’s room, her heart constricted painfully. How much more grief would the girl have to bear, she wondered, feeling guilty over her own blessings.
They reached the top of the stairway. The guests were mingling below the huge crystal gas chandeliers, sipping champagne and talking above the music of the string orchestra playing in one corner of the large foyer. One of the musicians was watching for Carter Jennings’s signal. When it came, he motioned to the orchestra for silence. The guests, sensing what was about to happen, began gathering in the foyer, looking upward toward the top of the stairs. The music began once more, and they smiled up in approval as April made her entrance on her father’s arm.
Everyone clustered about as April and her father reached the bottom step. April shook hands, received kisses, hugs, and exchanged pleasantries till she felt weak from it all. Someone handed her a crystal glass filled with champagne, and she turned to smile gratefully. But her smile quickly faded as she looked up into the lascivious gaze of Graham Fletcher.
He took her hand and began to lead her away from the crowd, whispering when she held back, “Come along now. You don’t want to make a scene now, do you?”
When they were away from the others, she snapped, “I didn’t know my father had invited you, Graham. I certainly didn’t ask him to.”
“Now is that any way for you to behave when I have just rescued you from all those vultures?” He made a disapproving sound as he shook his head, but then his eye caught the ring her father had just given her. “Well, I see Carter Jennings has decided to let everyone know officially who is going to inherit Pinehurst. But there was never any doubt in your mind, was there, my love?” His grin was mocking.
He had clasped her hand, but she snatched it away and hissed, “I don’t care for your impertinence, Graham, and I will thank you to go away and leave me alone. It was not my intention for you to be here, so please be a gentleman for once and respect my wishes. Stay away from me while you are here!”
She started to move away, but he caught her arm. “Now that is not being neighborly, April, and I hardly think your father would approve. You know he’s always tried to maintain good relations between Pinehurst and Fletcher Manor. After all, where would Pinehurst be if it weren’t for my family? Must I remind you that the underground stream that supplies water for your father’s land originates on my family’s property?”
“And he has paid you well for those water rights.” April was struggling to keep her voice down. If there was one human being in the world whom she could not stand it was Graham. It was not that he was unattractive. Far from it. All the young ladies swooned over his good looks. But he was disgusting. Twice s
he had slapped his face for pinching her breasts, and he had boldly asked her to meet him in the barn some evening for her “pleasuring.”
Graham continued to smile down at her. “That is a fetching dress, April. My, how I would love to see the bodice dropped just a wee bit lower. I’ve seen some fine breasts in my time, but I envision yours as the most luscious a man could ever ask for.”
April clasped her fingers tightly around the glass stem. “Graham, if you persist in your filthy insults, I am going to tell my father, and he will give you the sound thrashing you deserve!”
“You’re merely reacting indignantly because society demands it of a lady. One of these nights, you’ll stop your little charade and be the passionate, wanton vixen I know you want to be.”
His hand still clasped her arm. She picked it off carefully as though it were a loathsome bug. “Say just one more word to me, Graham, and I will throw this champagne in your face. I don’t care how big a scene I make.”
He struggled to keep smiling though anger was washing through him. “I could have that wild sister of yours any time I want, you know.” He straightened his cravat with trembling hands. “But who wants her when she’s probably frolicked with all your nigra field hands? You’re the one I want, April. And you, I shall have.”
She lifted her hand quickly, ready to splash the champagne in his face as she had promised, but he fastened tight fingers over her wrists. “Don’t do it,” he hissed ominously.
Their eyes locked in a gaze of fury, each challenging the other. “I’d rather be dead than lie with you, Graham,” April whispered.
He released his grip, stepping back. “I think you’ll change your attitude when the day comes for me to inherit Fletcher Manor. When your wells run dry, and your horses and cows die from lack of water—my water…”
“I pray a Yankee shoots you dead, Graham,” she said quietly. “I pray you are the first Confederate soldier killed in the war.”
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