Nobody's Angel (29 page)

"This ain't none of your concern, neither," Likens blustered. But his face had turned ashen, and his eyes darted shiftily to the side as if plotting his escape.

"Did he hurt you, Susannah?" Ian asked without ever glancing down at her.

"He hit her with the broom. I thought he was going to kill her," Sarah Jane said in a shaken voice before Susannah could reply.

"It takes a brave man to beat up women and children." There was a note to Ian's voice that Susannah had never heard before. "Very brave. Now let's see how brave you are with me."

What followed was one of the most sickening, yet rewarding, sights that Susannah had ever witnessed. Ian beat Jed Likens to a pulp before sending Ben, who had come running breathlessly up in time to get in on the tail end of the action, galloping into town to bring back the authorities.

"Now you're going to jail," Ian told the barely conscious Likens, who lay on his side, groaning.

"The constable won't never put Pa in jail," Jeremy said miserably. He shed no tears for his father but stood looking down at him rather as one might a temporarily helpless poisonous snake.

"He will this time," Ian said positively, and moved to rest a hand on the boy's shoulder. "He hit Miss Redmon this time. Maybe he can get away with hitting your mother, but he can't get away with this."

"I better go check on Annabeth. She may be badly hurt," Susannah said, beginning to recover. She had gotten to her feet during the almost entirely one-sided battle and had watched with revulsion and some awe as Ian hammered his fists into Jed Likens's body with a force that was both lethal and methodical. Ordinarily she would have cried out against the violence of it, but if ever a man deserved to be beaten senseless, Jed Likens did. He had meted out such punishment to his wife and children more times than Susannah could count.

"You're hurt yourself," Ian said roughly, his eyes meeting hers across the dozen or so feet that separated them. "Someone else can go this time."

"But . . ." Susannah began to protest automatically, although her arm ached like a sore tooth.

Sarah Jane, whose arm was around Susannah's waist, supporting her, nodded.

"You're right," she said to Ian. "I'll go. Em, you can come with me. Mandy, you stay here with Susannah. She looks pale."

Ian smiled approvingly at Sarah Jane. To Susannah's fascination, Sarah Jane smiled rather shyly back. It seemed that even Sarah Jane was not proof against that roguish charm.

"Come on, Em, and you too, Jeremy," Sarah Jane said. Starting up the hill, with Em and Jeremy trailing behind, she paused and turned to glance at Ian.

"I think you probably saved Susannah's life," she said softly. "Thank you, Ian."

It was a landmark concession. Ian's eyes narrowed at Sarah Jane, as if assessing the subtle offer of friendship. He nodded once before moving to Susannah's side.

"Believe me, it was my pleasure. You're welcome, Sarah Jane."

Susannah gaped from Sarah Jane, who was smiling warmly at their bound man, to Ian himself, the devil who had succeeded in storming the last of the Redmons' four citadels. Because Mandy, of course, was his for the asking. (For all her preoccupation, Susannah had not missed hearing Mandy shout that she was going to fetch "Ian.") Em had been dazzled by him from the first and perfectly ready to regard him not only as an equal but as a totally superior being. As for herself, well, there was no point in delving into exactly how she felt about the man. Suffice it to say that ever since he had entered her life he had managed to fill it to overflowing.

Sarah Jane and Em went up the hill, with Jeremy now running ahead. Likens had subsided into total insensibility and lay sprawled on the path. Mandy stood by Susannah, gently pushing up her sister's sleeve so that she might view the injured arm. Ian joined them.

"Let me see," he ordered quietly, and Mandy stepped back. He reached out to grasp Susannah's wrist. As his long, hard fingers circled her arm, Susannah looked up, almost involuntarily, to meet his eyes. They blazed down at her for a moment, stealing her breath. Then, with something that felt very much like tenderness, he slid his hand up her forearm, turning her arm so that he might see the darkening bruise. The movement of her arm hurt so much that Susannah cried out.

"I should have killed him," Ian said through his teeth after a moment, glancing at Likens with loathing. Looking down again at Susannah, who had turned white, he cursed under his breath.

Before she realized what he meant to do, he stooped, caught her around the knees and the shoulders, and lifted her into his arms. Cradling her high against his chest, he started off down the hill.

"I can walk!" Susannah protested, scandalized at the spectacle they must make. She squirmed a little in his grasp, very conscious of Mandy trailing silently behind.

"Hush," Ian said firmly. "Just for once, will you please?"

Susannah was left with nothing to say. He carried her onto the back porch, through the kitchen, along the hall, and up the stairs. To Susannah's embarrassment, he strode right into her bedchamber and deposited her, quite gently, on her bed.

"She needs cold compresses on that bruise," Ian said to Mandy as her sister entered the room. "I've got to go back and make sure Likens doesn't move until he can be hauled off to gaol. You stay with Susannah."

He started for the door, stopped, and looked back over his shoulder.

"And Mandy," he said softly, "if you have to sit on her, make sure she bloody well stays put for at least long enough to get her arm taken care of."

28

The music was beautiful. The haunting alto of a violin was joined by the sweet notes of an in- dulcimor to fill the long, narrow ballroom with intoxicating sound. Susannah, who loved music, could barely keep from tapping her toes to the beat. She sat with the dowagers, of course, and didn't mind a bit even when old Mrs. Greer, who like herself was a guest, sat down beside her and bent her ear with a long list of her ailments. Indeed, the upkeep of such a conversation was undemanding, requiring only an occasional smile or nod, leaving her free to indulge herself by listening to the music and watching the spectacle unfolding before her.

More than fifty people were in the room, and the tall windows had been opened to allow circulation of whatever air might be stirring on so sultry a night. Sheer silk curtains of palest cream fluttered with the occasional breeze. The walls were hung with yellow brocade, and the domed ceiling boasted no fewer than half a dozen well-lit chandeliers. Two marble fireplaces had been set into each of the long walls, and they were filled now with masses of pink and white camellias. More camellias decked the tops of the windows and bloomed in the corners. The wooden floor had been given a high polish, so that it gleamed with reflected light. Upon its surface pranced her neighbors, clad in their finest.

Only the Greers, Hiram and his mother, and a married couple, the Lewises, were members of her father's congregation. The rest, wealthy planters and their families for the most part, belonged to St. Helena's Episcopal Church in town. Susannah might have felt a little strange if it hadn't been for her enjoyment of the music. It was not often that she found herself in such opulent surroundings or gave much thought to her attire. She was wearing her best Sunday black poplin with the white fichu around her shoulders and the silver pin at her breast, and her hair, uncovered, was styled just as she always wore it, in a thick bun at her nape. Watching the dancers, Susannah was increasingly conscious of her own sartorial deficiencies. The men wore either cadogan wigs or their own natural hair, powdered and pulled back into a tail. Their long- tailed coats were elegant, as were their clocked stockings and waistcoats of embroidered satin or brocade. But the ladies put the men to shame. Resplendent in flowered silks and striped satins and gleaming brocades, with their hair, powdered or not, artfully arranged in intricate puffs and rolls or pulled back from the face and allowed to fall to one side in thick sausage curls, even the plainest woman looked magnificent. Even old Mrs. Greer, who was in black like herself but whose gown was made of gleaming satin and topped by a lace mantilla, was in her best looks. Susannah felt like a dowd, not for the first time in her life. But tonight, for some reason, the feeling galled her. Maybe she should make herself a few new dresses, in brighter hues. . . .

But that was foolishness, of course. What she needed were serviceable clothes, not pretty ones. She was not a frivolous young girl like Mandy, after all, and she would very likely make herself ridiculous if she should try to rig herself out in the latest fashions at this stage in her life. She was mutton, not lamb, and it would serve her best to remember it.

Her eyes sought Mandy, who was standing at the opposite end of the room. Todd Haskins, on one side, plied her with lemonade, while on her other side another young man, Charles Ripley, Susannah thought his name was, offered her a nibble from a plate of cakes. Even the beautiful green silk dress that Mandy was so proud of was not quite so elegant as the creations worn by most of the other women, which had certainly come from dressmakers in Charles Town or even Richmond. But Mandy was certainly the loveliest girl present. Susannah beamed with pride as, after scanning the crowd, she was confirmed in her judgment of that.

The musicians were playing a minuet. Watching the pirouetting, posturing couples, Susannah could only marvel. The dance was graceful, stately, beautiful. Had it been possible, she would have loved to participate. Her body almost swayed at the thought. But it was not possible, of course, and even had it been she had only to consider how foolish she would look twirling about in such a fashion. Like a dowdy, near-middle-aged crow in a sky full of bright young butterflies, she thought, and almost snorted at the mere idea of making such a cake of herself.

Of course she had expressly forbidden Mandy to dance, and Mandy, who was a good girl at heart, showed no disposition to disobey. Lovely or not, it was not proper for a Baptist minister's daughter to engage in such behavior. Mandy knew and accepted that as well as Susannah did.

"Miss Redmon, how do you do? Tis been an age since we have seen you, I vow."

Her hostess, Lenora Haskins, Todd's mother, stopped beside Susannah's chair to smile down at her. There was perhaps a touch of condescension in that smile, because, of course, the Haskinses moved in a more rarefied social stratum than the Redmons, but on the whole it was kindly.

Susannah exchanged pleasantries with Mrs. Haskins, then settled back down to nod at Mrs. Greer and listen to the music.

It was nearly an hour later when she realized that she had not seen Mandy for some time. Frowning, she scanned the ballroom, where a lively country dance was now in progress. There were gowns of butter yellow and carnation pink and magnolia-blossom white swirling about the room, but nowhere could she spy the least hint of apple green silk. The ballroom was on the ground floor, with its long windows open to the night. Mandy, tired of having to stand about on the sidelines unable to dance, must have gone out onto the gallery. The question was, just who had she gone out there with? She had been unusually quiet ever since the afternoon when Ian had fought with Jed Likens, then carried Susannah upstairs. Pouting was nothing out of the ordinary for Mandy, of course, but a quiet fit of the sulks, if that was what this mood was, was a new departure. Susannah did not know quite what to make of it or whether or not to try to cajole her sister out of it. She did know that she was suddenly concerned about her sister's whereabouts.

"Excuse me, please," Susannah said to Mrs. Greer, cutting the old woman off in mid-flow. Mrs. Greer looked taken aback, but Susannah was already making her way unobtrusively along the wall toward the open windows.

There were two couples on the gallery, as far away from each other as it was possible to be and blanketed by shadows, but Susannah saw at a glance that neither girl was Mandy.

The lawn stretched out in front of her, dark and alive with chirping crickets and croaking frogs and singing locusts. To the right were the stables. To the left were the swampy deltas where the Haskinses grew their rice. Surely Mandy would not have gone either way.

"Can ah help you, ma'am?" A wizened old man, one of the Haskinses' slaves who had been passing out refreshments on silver trays inside the ballroom, materialized in front of her as she stood hesitating in one of the apertures, looking back over the guests with a frown. As if she could have somehow missed her own sister, of course.

"I'm looking for my sister," Susannah said. "Miss Amanda Redmon. She was wearing a green gown. Have you seen her?"

The old man frowned and shook his head. "No, ma'am, can't say that ah have. But ah'll ask Henry, if you'd be pleased to wait a minute."

Susannah watched as he made his way across the room to where Henry, who was the Haskinses' major domo, supervised the proceedings. As her eyes swept the crowd, she noticed three things: the festivities were growing increasingly merry, Todd Haskins was in the ballroom, dancing with an excessively attractive blonde—and Hiram Greer wasn't.

Had Mandy gone off somewhere with Hiram Greer? If so, Susannah did not know whether to be worried or relieved. Greer was well known to them, and he would not harm Mandy, but that she should choose him for a companion was odd. Susannah was not well enough acquainted with the guest list to say for sure who else might be missing. But all the young men she had observed previously seemed to be present.

"Henry said Miss Redmon done went 'round to the rose gardens. Uh, he said she was escorted."

Susannah didn't want to ask the identity of the escort, fearing to rouse questions about Mandy's conduct if she made too much of it. The old man already looked worried, although perhaps that was his habitual expression.

"I see," she said, as noncommittally as she could. "And just where are the rose gardens, if you please? I've heard they are quite something to see."

"The easiest way to get there is to come out the back and go down past the kitchen," he said, beckoning. Susannah followed him, hoping that her progress would go unremarked. He pointed the way from the back door, and Susannah thanked him. Hurrying past the kitchen, which was a small brick building separate from the house, she was struck by the laughter and merriment that floated, along with appetizing aromas, out of the structure's open windows and doors. The slaves were having their own version of a good time, it seemed, even as they served the guests at the house. A dark-skinned woman wearing an apron and a turban appeared, bearing a steaming, obviously heavy platter of crab pastries in her hands, and sauntered along the covered passageway that led to the main house. More refreshments for the guests were on their way.