Ella Wood (Ella Wood, 1)

by Michelle Isenhoff

  “I thought you’d enjoy the fresh air and a few moments of leisure.”

  “It’s kind of you, truly, but it don’ lessen my work. It all waitin’ when I get home. And I’m tired. I’m tired to my bones.”

  Emily peered at her. She did look run-down. “I’ll help you.”

  Lizzie glanced at her skeptically. “You gunna polish de woodwork an’ wash de floors?”

  “I can work,” she said defensively. She often pitched in around the plantation, though it was true she handpicked her tasks. “Look, Lizzie, I just want us to be friends again. Like we used to be.”

  “Perhaps you should choose friends who don’ have so much to do.”

  Emily rubbed her hand over her face. No matter how she tried to show Lizzie kindness, the gulf between them never seemed to lessen. “Okay, we’ll return. Thank you for walking with me.” And just to prove her point, Emily cleaned all the wax from the second-floor candlestick holders.

  The next day, after being delivered safely to the St. George’s station, Emily boarded a train aimed in the opposite direction accompanied by Sophia, Sophia’s maid, and a strongly disapproving Lizzie.

  “I thought Matthew was going to travel with us,” Emily said.

  “He had to go to Savannah instead, so I never even told him. Something about shipping his cotton there on the new railroad. It’s far more exciting this way, don’t you think? And less chance that word will get back to your father.”

  It was more exciting. “Matthew doesn’t even know we’re going?”

  “Why should he? We’ll ride the train into town, stay a couple nights in the hotel, and return before he does without anyone being the wiser. And it’s all perfectly proper,” she added with a smirk. “I told you marriage has its advantages.”

  “Did you tell him I was coming to stay with you?”

  “Of course. And I told him about the baby, so our story is square.”

  “You told him you’re pregnant?” Emily screeched.

  “If I didn’t, word would surely reach him through my parents.”

  “You told your parents, too?” she asked in dismay.

  “Your parents know,” Sophia explained patiently, “so I had to tell them.”

  Emily was experiencing unexpected reservations about her friend’s glorious scheme. “What are you going to do when it becomes obvious you aren’t really pregnant?”

  “Miscarry, of course.”

  Emily closed her eyes and pressed her fingers into her forehead. She should have thought through the cost of their deception. Now three people would lose a child because of her. The loss wouldn’t be real, but their pain would be.

  Apparently, the consequences didn’t bother Sophia. “Oh, don’t be such a prude. We’re going to have a glorious adventure.”

  “You’re right,” Emily conceded, stuffing her doubts deep in her pocket. There was little she could do to change things now.

  They arrived in Charleston without incident. As she’d been forewarned, the city was jubilant with the success of Secession. Proud new soldiers appeared on every street corner, dashing in their immaculate uniforms and confident in their purpose. They were cheered by citizens who turned out in their Sunday best, waving flags and handkerchiefs when formations marched by. Emily took in the festivities with a spirit of misgiving, but by the time they checked into the Charleston Hotel, her anticipation had returned in full.

  That evening, she and Sophia enjoyed a lovely dinner in the hotel’s restaurant. Her friend surprised her with a paper envelope. “What’s this?”

  “Open it, silly.” Sophia folded her hands beneath a cunning smile. “I hope you aren’t too tired.”

  Emily pulled out two tickets to that evening’s performance of Hamlet. “Thad’s play!” she exulted. She hadn’t even dared to pursue the performance lest her father somehow find out.

  “I had Jovie secure two front row seats.”

  Emily threw her arms around her friend’s neck. “Thank you!”

  The theater was packed. Sophia identified many of the patrons and had a difficult time restraining herself from calling out and waving to friends. Emily was adamant that they preserve all they could of secrecy. Being new to the social scene, she recognized only a few individuals, and those she managed to avoid. Even so, it was with an overwhelming sense of relief that she found her seat in the last few moments before the curtain rose.

  Suddenly, magically it seemed to Emily, Thad materialized in seventeenth-century garb, standing guard outside the castle in Elsinore. She watched breathlessly as he exchanged lines with Bernardo, bigger than life, filling the whole theater. When he bowed to take his leave of the other guardsmen, he caught sight of her. Quick as a breath, he winked, spun on his heel, and exited the stage.

  She lost herself to the remainder of the play, but all through Hamlet’s travail and eventual demise, Thad lingered in the back of her mind. Afterwards, Sophia insisted that they wait for him to appear. Most of the room had cleared out when he pushed his way through the elaborate curtains dressed in his everyday clothes. Emily lavished him with muted applause. “Bravo! Well done, Mr. Black.”

  “Miss Preston,” he said, bowing over her hand, “I thought your father wouldn’t let you set foot in the city.”

  “He made an exception for an appropriate chaperone.”

  “And he considered Mrs. Buchanan quite suitable?” He smirked.

  Sophia called just then from the side aisle. “I’m afraid my headache has made a fierce reappearance. If the two of you don’t mind, I’m going to take myself back to the hotel and lie down.” And before either of them could protest, she had removed herself from the room.

  Emily rolled her eyes at her friend’s obvious ploy. “Actually, I’m supposed to be at Maple Ridge,” she confessed.

  Thad raised one eyebrow. “Well then, it looks like it’s just you and me. Would you care for a walk on the promenade?”

  “I’d love to.”

  Taking his arm felt incredibly intimate. She was high on liberty and the thrill of rebellion as he led her out the theater’s back door and toward the waterfront where a row of gas street lamps formed puddles of yellow light. The slave curfew had already sounded, and the streets were all but empty, scourged by cold breaths blowing in from the ocean. “If my father knew I was here, he would lock me in my room for ten years.”

  “Why? You’re not a child who can’t think for herself. Some girls are married by your age.”

  “I think he’d much prefer my marriage to my thinking.”

  He nodded. “Your brother has told me how you were raised. Seems to me your father created his Frankenstein and now he doesn’t know what to do with it.”

  She smacked his arm good-naturedly. “I’m no Frankenstein!” But she mulled over his response. “You don’t think it’s perfectly horrid of me to defy him?”

  “Perhaps, but I won’t object if I’m the lucky recipient of your attention in his absence.”

  She was delighted by his casual attitude. “With your background, I’d have thought your views would be similar to his.”

  “I didn’t grow up as sheltered as you did. I’ve seen women make their way quite efficiently through life without the aid of their fathers. In fact, the acting troupe has two unattached young ladies traveling with them who aren’t much older than you. Not much different, either.”

  Her eyes widened in shock. “What a perfectly scandalous thing to say!”

  “They’re not all prostitutes,” he pronounced. “Some of them genuinely love their profession and the independence it offers them. I thought maybe you could understand that.”

  Once again, he had bent her mind in an entirely new direction. She loved that about him—his candor, his ability to see a situation honestly and take away its full value. She took thirty or forty steps to ponder the idea, her skin tingling in the chilly breeze. “Yes, I suppose I do.”

  She peeked up at him, admiring his profile in the moonlight. He held such refreshingly liberal views. S
he considered sharing her own plans with him, but at the last second something held her back. She’d only told Jovie because Sophia had so carelessly delivered her package. Still, sharing her secret with Jovie felt safe. She knew he’d keep it. Thad was more unpredictable. And once the words were out, she could never take them back.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked, smiling down at her.

  “You. I’m curious what else lurks in that head of yours.”

  “Wondrously amazing ideas,” he assured her. “Prepare to be astounded.”

  “Is that so?” She laughed.

  “I feel it’s only fair to warn you.”

  “Then we’d best take it slowly.”

  He covered her hand with his own. “Take all the time you need.”

  ***

  Sophia was already sleeping by the time Thad dropped her off at the hotel. Lizzie’s stiff manner shouted her displeasure as she silently helped Emily undress, but Emily’s spirits were much too buoyant to pay her any mind.

  They slept late the next morning and took lunch in their room. Sophia was full of questions. “Did he kiss you?”

  “No, he did not. He was the perfect gentleman.”

  “Then what good was my headache?”

  Emily laughed. “You’d better not abandon me this evening.”

  “Do you seriously think I’m going to listen to all that blather about dead artists?” She made a face. “I told you, I was done with tutors when I married.”

  “You want me to go alone?” Emily asked in surprise.

  “You didn’t object last night.”

  “But it was dark. Nobody saw us.”

  “Yes, that’s far more appropriate.” Sophia rolled her eyes.

  Emily tried a different angle. “What are you going to do while I’m gone?”

  “You don’t think I can entertain myself for a few hours? It’s just Jovie. You’ll be in more wholesome company with him than with me.”

  That was likely true. Still, if anyone saw her…

  “Oh, relax. Isn’t this why you came? You’ll have a wonderful time.”

  Emily wrinkled her nose. “You’re right.”

  When Jovie arrived promptly at 6:30, he made the same arguments. But Sophia was bound and determined to avoid the lecture completely. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she stormed, shoving him out the door. “If anyone asks, tell them you’re her brother.”

  Jovie led Emily to a hired carriage, his eyebrows puckering as he helped her inside. Overhead, lowering skies hastened twilight. “We don’t have to go to this lecture, you know.”

  “And what shall we do instead?” she asked. “Retire to my hotel room? Or would you like to take me to your flat?” She watched him cringe at both suggestions.

  “It feels…dishonorable.”

  “I’ve never felt safer,” she countered, squeezing his hand. “Jovie, your sister is quite adamant about not attending. I don’t want to miss the lecture simply because she has no interest.”

  “I just keep wondering what your father would say.”

  “He’d be absolutely furious. But then, he isn’t here.”

  He still gazed down at her doubtfully. “You’re positive?”

  “A real lecture by a real professor about Renaissance art?” She grinned. “Wild gorillas couldn’t keep me away. I vow, if you don’t accompany me, I will find my own way there. Then you’ll truly be conscience-stricken.”

  Her enthusiasm proved infectious. “All right, then. Driver, take us to Randolph Hall.”

  The nearer they drew, the more expectancy swelled within her. Her insides felt soft and warm, like a mass of bread dough within the cavity of her chest. And quite unlike herself, she prattled on without restraint. “I’m sure we’ll hear all about Donatello, Raphael, and Botticelli. But do you think he’ll cover Jan van Eyck? I dearly love his bold use of primary colors. Oh, and he simply must touch on the Sistine Chapel.”

  “Perhaps,” Jovie answered, his eyes warm and merry. “Though the advertisement limited the address to sculpture and canvas. The chapel ceiling wouldn’t really qualify as either.”

  “It’s the most magnificent canvas of all!”

  No one looked askance when they entered the lecture hall, and Emily didn’t recognize even one familiar face. She paid far less heed to the audience this time, wholly absorbed in sponging up all the information she could retain.

  When the professor took the stage, he proved a knowledgeable orator. Stocky and rotund, he could hardly peer over the top of the massive lectern. As the intensity of his speech seemed to require the full participation of his limbs, however, he spent little enough time behind it. Instead, he paced the width of the stage, performing a range of gesticulations to emphasize each point.

  The presentation was everything Emily had hoped, filling her mind to the brim with a satisfying litany of facts and ideas. Why, oh why did her father forbid this? It made her more determined than ever to find some way to attend school.

  The orator had just finished an exposition on the treatment of the Madonna figure across temporal boundaries when an interruption in the side aisle distracted her. Thad was pointing at her and whispering with the man in the farthest seat. When he caught her eye, he beckoned frantically. She frowned, shrugging her shoulders incomprehensibly. By this time, a murmur of discontent had rippled through all the nearby listeners.

  Thad finally gave up being discreet. He spoke loudly, addressing the instructor and the audience alike. “My apologies. Please forgive the interruption. Miss Preston,” he said, turning to her, “you must come immediately. Your brother has suffered a serious injury.”

  The soft hiss of gas lighting sounded deafening in the sudden silence. Now the crowd parted willingly, their annoyance morphing into a sympathetic hum. If she had hoped to escape notice, that was all over.

  In the narrow aisle, Thad and Jovie vied for her elbow, exchanging a brief, silent challenge over her head. Emily yanked herself free of them both, too anxious to tolerate their masculine contest. What had happened to Jack?

  She feared she already knew the answer.

  “How’d you know where to find me?” she asked Thad when they reached the lobby.

  “Jovie mentioned the lecture.” The carefully neutral glances that passed between the two young men spoke volumes. The competition in the aisle hadn’t been their first.

  “I’m going to drop you off at the hotel,” Jovie said gravely as he handed her into a cab. “Lock yourself in your room until Sophia comes back and you’ll be all right. Lizzie’s there, isn’t she?”

  “I’m going with you.” Her face felt stony, and she was sure her chin was jutting just like her father’s sometimes did. “I know all about his activities. I want to see him for myself.”

  He considered for a space of three breaths, then agreed.

  “How bad has he gotten?” she demanded as the hindquarters of Thad’s mount flashed in the road ahead of them. “You two never come home together anymore, and Jack had some hard things to say about you last Christmas.”

  “We’ve reached something of an understanding,” he said dryly. “I’ve stopped accompanying him to the tavern, and he’s stopped speaking to me. It makes things quite simple, really.”

  “Does Thad go with him?”

  “Sometimes. We’ve both been trying to rein him in. But you know Jack.”

  Thad stopped before a shabby establishment near the waterfront—Mulligan’s Tavern. He approached the carriage just as the sky lost its grip on a heavy blanket of rain. “Jack’s been beat up pretty badly, but Madison won’t let him go unless he pays what he owes.”

  Jovie’s face hardened. “I told Jack I won’t lend him any more money.”

  Emily touched her fingertips to his knee. “Please, Jovie. Just one more time?”

  He sighed, long, deep, and heavy. “Do not even consider getting out of this carriage,” he commanded. He made her promise before he would follow Thad into the building.

  They returned ten minu
tes later, soaked through and supporting her brother between them. Jack’s steps were faltering and slow. Face battered, blood streaming from one nostril, he barely retained consciousness. And he reeked of alcohol. “William Samuel Jackson Preston,” Emily exclaimed when he was within striking distance. “You are an absolute disgrace!”

  His head rolled around and he peered at her out of one puffy eye. “Hello, sister,” he croaked. “What are you doing here? I thought Pa told you to stay out of the city.”

  “I am not at issue here. What have you done to yourself?”

  Thad and Jovie half-dragged him into the carriage. He settled onto the seat with a groan. “I’ve been busy losing at poker. Is Pa here?”

  Emily glared down at him in cold fury. She should have him delivered straight to Aunt Margaret, but then her game would be up, too. Jovie answered for her. “No, Emily’s here with Sophia.”

  “Well, well, well.” Jack chuckled hoarsely and winced, clutching his side. “Here we are, a pair of delinquents. Wouldn’t Pa be proud?”

  Jovie met Emily’s eyes, and she winced at the anger and accusation in them. “Your father doesn’t know you’re here?”

  She shook her head meekly.

  “Exactly where does he think you are?”

  Emily swallowed. “Maple Ridge.”

  She could read the fury in his posture. “I’ll drop you off at the hotel before I tend your fool of a brother,” he said grimly. “I don’t know what you and my sister had planned, but tomorrow you’re going home.”

  The ride back to the hotel was restrained, her affable lecture companion replaced by a brooding silhouette outlined against the dim, dripping square of the carriage window. When she unlocked her room, Lizzie was asleep and Sophia was still missing. Emily tried not to think about where she might be and how many of their acquaintances now knew they were in the city. She had no heart to do anything but go to bed. Instead of disturbing Lizzie, she simply stepped out of her hoops and crawled under the covers in her gown.

  The guns awoke her.

  “What was that?” Sophia shrieked, leaping off the mattress with the coverlet still clutched in her hands.