Concealing Grace (The Grace Series Book 1) (13 page)

Jon said nothing.

They continued in silence. While Jon’s comment disturbed her a great deal, she was more concerned that her flaring temper irritated him. Finally, because she couldn’t stand the awkwardness, she asked, “Would you like children someday?”

For a second Jessica didn’t think he was going to answer, but then he said, “Yes. Yes, I would.”

Again they rode in silence, and again Jessica had to break it. “Do the children here go to school? Is someone teaching them to read and write, and to do figures?” she asked.

Jon shook his head.

“I keep thinking about what Carl Robbins said at the fair. I think he is right. Colored people must be educated. Without basic skills, they will have a much more difficult time finding positions that pay a decent wage. It is unfortunate some of them are forced to live in such poverty. It is wonderful what you’ve done for them here. Not only have you given them good jobs, but you’ve allowed their families to stay together.”

Not long thereafter, as they were crossing a field, in the distance Jessica noticed a line of one-room shacks. She counted seven of them. These, she knew right away, had at one time housed Bent Oak Manor’s slaves. She also knew these were the dwellings Jon’s servants were living in now. By the direction Jon was taking, Jessica realized he didn’t intend for them to get close to the shacks, but she wanted a better look. She turned Jasmine just enough and spurred her onward, leaving Jon to follow.

The closer to the servants’ quarters they rode, the more appalled Jessica became. The structures were terribly rundown. Cracks between the worn boards were clearly visible. Some of the planks had fallen and hung diagonally. She also noticed what appeared to be holes in the roofs. Based upon the family units Jon described to her, with only seven shacks available, there were not enough for each family to have a place of their own. They rode past, up a rising hill. On the other side she saw three more shacks. This brought the total to ten. But ten still wasn’t enough.

Jon said, “The condition of the cabins upsets you.”

Again Jessica wasn’t sure if he was asking a question or making an observation. She remembered the shack Maybell, Titus and Sammy had shared on her family’s farm. It had since been torn down. Even so, for years the guilt had eaten away at her. It still did. Her father shouldn’t have let them live like that, and she should have been more aware. She should have said something to him about it.

The shacks at Bent Oak Manor appeared to be in worse condition than Maybell and Titus’s had been. In her opinion no one should be expected to reside in such squalor. Jon had spent huge amounts of money on the manor house and on the stables, but obviously he had done nothing to improve his servants’ quarters. Those servants were an intrinsic part of keeping the manor running. Without them, Jon wouldn’t be nearly as successful as he was. Didn’t he see that?

Nevertheless, because she knew she’d been too forward in voicing her earlier convictions, Jessica held her tongue. For the first time in his company, however, she welcomed the silence.

“I will have them repaired,” he said shortly, and he turned his horse left toward the manor house and rode on.

That was all she needed to hear. She knew he would come through. He was a good man, after all. But then, she didn’t know what to do. Obviously she’d antagonized him. This was the man she was going to marry. She was riding on land that soon she would call home. The idea that she might have riled him enough that he would want to call off the wedding had her heart racing. It was critical she make amends.

Catching up to him, she asked, “Are you angry with me? I’m sorry.”

“I’m not angry with you,” he told her, but he said nothing else.

At the stables, Herlin was waiting to see to their horses. Jon smiled as he helped Jessica dismount, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. He handed off the horse’s reins to Herlin but said nothing to him, so Jessica took it upon herself to thank Herlin for his assistance. Then, she had to hurry to catch up to Jon, who was striding across the lawn toward the house.

Walking beside him, she noticed the way his eyes were squinted and the way his mouth was drawn into a tight line. She saw his jaw ticking repeatedly, too. And she noticed something else. “Have you hurt yourself? Is that what’s wrong?” she asked.

He glanced at her. “What?”

“You’re limping,” she said.

“I am? No, I’m not.”

They continued on and he didn’t limp. But he was still clenching and unclenching his jaw. All his angst, however, seemed to disappear on the porch. He smiled as he turned to her and took her hand. “Here we are. I hope you like what’s been done.”

“I know I will,” Jessica said.

Despite her disclaimer, her jaw dropped as she stepped into the foyer. It was done in royal blue and it was very grand. A huge crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling over the rounded staircase. There were lovely embroidered chairs neatly arranged along the walls. On each of the side tables was a vase filled with freshly cut flowers. “It’s beautiful!”

“This is just the foyer.” Jon chuckled, and then he glanced at his pocket watch. “I know you want to see the rest of the house, and we will, but our lunch should be ready. It’s my fault we’re so late. I should have kept better track of the time. Shall we?”

The table in the dining room was already set with the same fine china Jessica remembered, and there were several covered serving platters, along with a bottle of wine, waiting for them. Flames flickered from tapered candles in the centerpiece. Jon held Jessica’s chair for her and then he took his place at the head of the table, to her right.

The fare consisted of roast duckling, baked potatoes and buttered carrots. Jessica didn’t realize until she began to eat how hungry she was. Everything was wonderful. Jon, however, still seemed subdued. He wasn’t saying anything, but this she deduced had to be because he was as busy satisfying his appetite as she was.

They were just finishing dessert—the same peaches and cream dish she’d enjoyed so heartily the last time she was there—when Jon said, “I have something to ask you.”

Jessica set her fork down. He looked so serious.

“I have tickets to the opera house in Nashville for two weeks from Saturday, and I was wondering if you would like to accompany me? Herlin will drive us and Martha will act as a chaperone for you. We will have to stay overnight.”

“I would love to!” Jessica exclaimed. The last time she went to the opera house in Nashville, she’d been too young to appreciate it. Jon was giving her an opportunity to do something she’d been longing to do for years.

“Very good,” he said and he smiled. “Are you finished? There’s something I want to show you. An engagement present, if you will.”

Taking her hand, he led her through the foyer to the double doors of the parlor. Smiling crookedly, he opened the doors and gestured for her to precede him. Jessica stepped into the room and immediately stopped breathing. Dominating one corner was the piano from the music store. “Oh Jon! Oh my!”

“It is yours,” he said.

She turned to him. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I don’t know what to say.”

“Will you play it?”

“Oh, yes!” She walked around to the bench and carefully lifted the cover from the keys. “What shall I play? I wish I knew your Chopin étude, but I don’t. Not well enough yet to play it for you.”

“You can come here to practice,” Jon suggested. “It’s closer than the church and no one will disturb you here.”

Jessica nodded and raised her hands to the keys. “Oh!” Quickly she slipped the exquisite ring from her finger, jumped up from the bench and brought it to Jon. “Please hold this for me.”

She played Brahms. It was one of her favorite pieces, one she knew well enough she didn’t need to pay attention as she played it. Her fingers knew exactly which keys to hit. As she pounded out the crescendos and lightly ran through the diminuendos, the music coursed through her and she closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, Jon was still there, standing in the same spot. His mouth was open and he was staring at her. Under his breath, barely loud enough for her to hear, he whispered, “I had no idea.”

Jessica smiled. “I will be happy to play more if you like, but I insist you sit down. You’re making me nervous standing there.”

“Of course,” he said right away, and then he walked across the room to a nearby wing chair. “May I watch your hands?”

At her nod he picked up the bulky chair and moved it a few feet to where he would have a better view of the keys. As he lowered himself into it, he flinched, and Jessica realized belatedly he’d been limping when he crossed the room. She waited until he was seated, and then she played Mozart.

At the end of the piece, Jon clapped. “You’re incredible! The way your fingers move... they’re so fast… you make the music come alive… it’s amazing…”

Jessica rose, and he did, too.

He took the three steps separating them until he was directly in front of her. “Shall we continue the tour?” he asked.

Concerned, Jessica said, “Are you okay? You’re limping again.”

He smiled wryly. “It’s just an old war wound. I have a bad knee.”

“I’ve never seen you limp before,” she said curiously.

“It doesn’t usually trouble me, except sometimes when it rains.”

“It’s a lovely, sunny day,” she said.

He squinted. “You aren’t going to change your mind about marrying me now that you know I’m crippled, are you?”

Jessica giggled and held out her hand. “No, I’m not going to change my mind. May I have my ring back?”

While he tenderly slid the ring onto her finger, Jessica found herself caught and held by the crystal blue of his eyes. Their bodies were close, no more than a foot apart. Lightly he placed his hands on her shoulders and very softly asked, “May I kiss you?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Your attention, please. Let’s call this meeting to order!” William Hughes called out. Five of his brethren, leaders of the northeast sector of the Sovereign Sons of the South, the last of whom had just arrived, were now assembled in the abandoned barn they used as a headquarters. They were already talking amongst themselves, for they knew, as he did, that the topic they’d come to discuss was significant.

Patiently he waited until all of them were focused on him, and he said, “Gentlemen, you know why we’re here tonight. We have a serious problem and we need to solve it. Several of our missions have failed. Criminals who have deserved justice have escaped, disappearing without a trace. All summer we have been speculating about these demons in our midst. Whoever they are, it’s apparent their goal is to destroy what we’ve worked so hard to put together. We have speculated long enough. Whoever these people are they’ve been shooting at us, endangering our men, and it’s got to stop. As the leadership of the Sons, it is our duty to protect our members and put an end to this menace.”

“I don’t believe it’s a group. It’s one man,” one of the elders offered. “I’m sure of it. I saw him with my own eyes.”

So the discussion began. As expected, within minutes it became heated and everyone chimed in. Two of the elders didn’t believe their problem was solely one man. The other three agreed that it was. In the last two months, fourteen of their targets had disappeared. There had been at least five different sightings and seven other incidents where this mysterious person, or persons, fired shots at them. Whoever this black draped figure was, he was getting information about several different sectors of the Sons and their intended plans. In William’s mind, his identity was the secondary issue.

Holding his hand up for silence, he asked, “Do any of you believe we have a traitor among us?”

Three of them shook their heads. The other two yelled out emphatically in the negative.

“Are you sure?” William said. “Think of the men in your charges. Think of them all and think carefully. Stone feels there must be a traitor, someone who is leaking information. How else would this person know where we’re going on raids in advance? Each of you, at this juncture, is required to interview your members individually. Anything out of the ordinary, or any suspicions that surface, must be reported to me immediately. Time is of the essence. If someone from within is betraying us, we need to find out quickly. We can’t afford for this problem to continue. Any traitor, or any man who assists, harbors, or hides a traitor from the leadership, will meet justice.”

“I will do as you ask, sir, but I do not believe any of my men are traitors. This pest is a nigger, a spook.”

“Can’t be,” Luther Emerson spoke up. “My son says the shots fired at us came from a revolver, not a rifle. Colored folk don’t have revolvers.”

“Well, this one does. I’m telling you, I saw him myself. He’s pitch black from head to toe. He’s a spook, alright.”

“He’s not a nigger. He’s dressed in black and he wears a mask of some sort over his face.”

“My men who saw him said his hands were black.”

“He’s wearing gloves.”

“I’ll tell you one thing. That horse he’s got is fast as lightning. Must be seventeen hands high, and all black, too.”

“He’s a spook, I’m telling you.”

“There are two white men recently moved to Mount Joy. Captain Kinsley and that Yankee preacher, Nash.”

“Kinsley and my daughter are engaged,” Luther Emerson cut in. “I’ve spent a lot of time with him recently, and I can assure you he doesn’t like colored folk. Just the other day he was complaining about that Carl Robbins fellow. He told me Robbins was in town stirring up more trouble. Kinsley said if he could get away with it, he would get rid of Robbins himself. I think Kinsley would be an asset to the Sons. I’m thinking of asking him to join us. But we can discuss that later. Right now, we need to focus on the problem at hand. Rest assured, whoever this fellow is, he’s not Kinsley.”

“He’s not white. He’s a damn spook!”

“What about Nash? He’s a nigger lover if I ever saw one. One of my men reported seeing him going to Shanty Town. From what I gather he’s been there several times.”

“It ain’t the preacher. He can’t shoot at nobody. Preachers ain’t allowed to do that kind of thing. It gets them in trouble with God.”

“What about that colored preacher at the Shanty Town church? He’s new in these parts, too. Goes by the name Amos, I believe. Samuel Amos. He’s not just any old nigger either. Comes from up north. He’s a nigger and a Yankee to boot.”

“Aha! Told you he’s a spook!”

William listened to the discussion deteriorate. The leaders’ hearts were in the right place, but he needed to rein them in and keep the focus on the crux of the issue. “Gentlemen, silence! I have heard everything you’ve said. We will meet again in one week, same hour. Between now and then, I want you interviewing your men. If we catch the traitor, we will catch this spook.” Then to pacify them, he added, “In the meantime your subordinates are to carry guns on all missions. If anyone encounters the spook, they have permission to shoot on sight.”

* * *

To take them to the opera in Nashville, Jon brought his fancy new coach with the plush green velvet interior. Martha, Jessica saw, was on the driver’s seat next to her husband. While the captain exchanged greetings with Luther and Trent, Herlin jumped down to stow the small trunk Jessica had packed.

“Thank you, Herlin,” she said. In the bright sunlight she had to squint to look up at Martha. She was glad, for Martha and Herlin’s sakes, the weather was good. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. “It’s good to see you, Martha. I appreciate you coming with us.”

“Yes, miss,” Martha murmured.

“Where is little Willy? Is he coming along, too?”

“He’s stayin’ da night wit Ditta and Ruth,” Herlin said.

“Oh.”

“Are you ready to go, Sweetheart?” Jon distracted her by catching her hand and kissing the back of it. He helped her into the coach and shortly they were on their way.

The drive to Nashville took several hours. For much of the trip, Jon spoke of the capital city. He’d apparently been there several times and he thought well of the place. Because she’d only been there a few times herself, Jessica was content listening to him. The opera, however, was at the forefront of her mind. Her exhilaration was palpable, so much so, that she stunned herself when she yawned.

“Am I boring you, Sweetheart?” Jon asked, smiling.

“Oh no. Not at all,” she said contritely. “Coaches make me sleepy.” Her drowsiness was also a result of having so little sleep the night before, but she couldn’t tell Jon that. It didn’t help either that Jon’s coach was so well sprung. Had she been traveling in her father’s buggy, the bumps and ruts in the road would have jostled her every which way. Here in Jon’s coach, she barely felt them.

“Please feel free to nap if you want. We still have quite a ways to go.”

“I don’t want to nap. I’m too excited,” Jessica said, but then she yawned a second time.

Jon chuckled as he slid his arm across the back of the seat behind her. “I’ll tell you what, you can lean on me and we’ll take a nap together. When we arrive in Nashville, we’ll be well rested, wide awake and ready for our evening to begin.”

“Alright.”

The next thing she knew he was slouching in the corner of the seat and pulling her gently down so that her head rested on his shoulder.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked.

She wasn’t comfortable. Not at all, but this wasn’t because his body was so hard, or because she could feel his heart beating, or even because she liked the scent of his cologne. She’d never been this close to a man before, except her father and that was very different. Her stomach was fluttering as madly as her pulse was beating. She’d been sleepy a moment before, but now she was wide awake. Her eyes wouldn’t stay closed at all. “Yes, I’m comfortable,” she lied. “Are you?”

“Very,” he murmured.

Jessica didn’t think she would ever sleep, but she did. The first thing she noticed upon waking was that her hand was no longer on Jon’s chest. Her whole arm was wrapped around him and her fingers were wedged between his back and the seat cushion. As she eased away from him, she prayed silently he wasn’t put off by her touching him so intimately. It didn’t occur to her that he might be sleeping, too, until she sat up and looked at him. It struck her with some degree of amusement that he must be a fairly heavy sleeper. Her movements didn’t stir him at all.

While the coach rumbled along, Jessica studied her husband-to-be, and oh, she liked what she saw! She especially liked how, in slumber, his long black lashes cast faint shadows under his eyes. His handsome face, however, wasn’t the only part of him that drew her. She watched his chest rise and fall. His body had felt so solid, so strong. Not for the first time she found herself wondering what he looked like under his clothing. This was something she shouldn’t allow herself to think about, but she couldn’t help it.

Her gaze traveled lower, to his long legs stretched into the space between the seats, down to his feet and back up again. As her eyes settled on the fly of his britches, thoughts of the imminent act—what they would do together as husband and wife—surfaced, too. This was even more improper than her other wonderings, but her mind went there anyway. She knew very well she was naïve about such matters, and that naivety was the cause of her apprehension. But she surely longed for the experience. She wanted to be a woman in the truest sense. She wanted to be a wife. More than anything else in the world, she wanted a child of her own.

Herlin’s knock on the roof roused Jessica abruptly from her inappropriate musings. “Five minutes, Cap’n, suh!”

“Jon, I think we’re here,” Jessica said quietly, but Jon didn’t move. Biting her lip, she touched his shoulder with her fingertips and repeated what she said. Still, he didn’t stir. The only thing left to do was shake his shoulder, the way she shook Trent’s when she had to wake him up, although she wasn’t nearly as rough as she was with Trent.

Jon’s eyes opened and slowly he smiled. “I was fast asleep,” he said groggily.

“You’re very comfortable to sleep on,” Jessica commented shyly.

Chuckling, he rose from his slouch and brushed her cheek tenderly with the back of his fingers. Softly he murmured, “You felt good in my arms, Sweetheart.”

Moments later, the coach came to a full stop. Jon peered out the window and said, “We’re here, Jess. This is our hotel. Have a look.”

Jessica leaned over so she could see, too. The entire building wasn’t visible from the small window, but what she saw of it was incredible. It was white brick with intricately designed architecture and moldings. “Have you stayed here before?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “But it’s the finest hotel in town. I couldn’t allow my lovely fiancée to stay anywhere else.”

Outside the coach, Jessica heard Herlin jump down from the driver’s seat. In another second, he opened the door for them.

“Come, Sweetheart, let’s go in,” Jon said. “Herlin will take our trunks to our rooms.” He went on to explain they would have dinner in the hotel restaurant. From there, Herlin would drive them to the opera theatre.

Inside the hotel, Jon went to the desk to arrange their accommodations. Their rooms were to be separate, but next to each other. On from there, with Herlin carrying her trunk behind them, Jon escorted her up a red carpeted staircase to the third floor.

Her room, she soon discovered, was done in gold and red and it was quite luxurious. The bed was enormous and had several fluffy pillows propped against the headboard. Herlin set her trunk down, and without a word, quickly retreated. Martha, who had followed them up the stairs, waited in the hallway, holding a small carpet bag.

“Does the room please you?” Jon asked.

“It’s wonderful.”

He smiled. “Will an hour be enough time for you to dress?” To Jessica’s nod, he said, “Alright. I’ll knock for you.”

Spying Martha, who was still humbly standing in the hallway, Jessica asked, “Where will Martha and Herlin stay?”

“Martha will sleep there, in the alcove.” Jon pointed to a small door Jessica had assumed went to a closet. “Herlin will stay in the stables.”

“That doesn’t seem fair. Shouldn’t they be together in their own room?”

Jon shrugged. “Rooms are not let to colored here.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll see you in an hour, Sweetheart.”

Martha came in as Jon left, but then she just stood there, inside the doorway, looking at the floor.

“The captain says you’re to sleep here.” Jessica went to the alcove and opened the door. In an instant heat crept into her head. The cramped space was no more than a closet, with a narrow, lumpy cot in it. To Martha, she said apologetically, “I’m sorry these accommodations are not better.”

“Yes, miss,” Martha said.

“Will you be okay here?” Jessica asked.

“Yes, miss.”

Jessica was so enraged it was on the tip of her tongue to tell Martha she would sleep in the alcove. Martha could have the big red bed.

Martha set her carpet bag down. “Would ya like me to hep wit yer gown and yer hair, miss?”