The Last Heiress (14 page)

Amanda waited until they reached the sidewalk to respond. “Jackson, bless his heart, is a businessman. He's interested solely in contracts with Dunn Mills to help his father's company.”

“What is so wrong with that?” With Thomas's assistance, Abby stepped up into the carriage.

Amanda didn't wait for help. “Nothing on the surface, but Papa placed me into a position of responsibility, first as his emissary and now as his heir. I am charged with running Dunn Mills, Abby. Mama depends on me to make wise decisions to save the company from ruin.”

“You're being overly dramatic.”

“I assure you I'm not. I want the council to recognize me as a valuable asset to commerce.”

Abigail placed an arm around her sister's shoulders. “I hate to
point this out, my dear, but you're a
woman
. They're not about to take you or any other female seriously.”

Tears flooded Amanda's eyes, unbidden and embarrassing. “Can't I at least try? Won't you help me? You were a Dunn before you became a Henthorne.”

Abby sighed and then hugged her tightly. “Of course I'll help, but I'll leave after the introductions. I do feel a bout of sleepiness coming on.”

Amanda dried her tears and concentrated on her speech—the one she'd rehearsed for days in her head. Yet despite her preparedness and her sister's position in the community, the end result was less than ideal.

The entire council and most citizens in attendance stood when they entered the stuffy, smoky room. “Mrs. Henthorne, to what do we owe this pleasure, madam? I speak for all when I extend sincere condolences on the loss of your father.”

Abigail extracted her fan to flutter demurely beneath her chin. “Thank you, Mr. Rose, gentlemen, for your concern. May I present my sister, Miss Amanda Dunn? She's visiting from our home near Manchester.”

Amanda lifted her veil, triggering gasps from several men at the startling resemblance. Apparently, some hadn't known Abby had a twin. General murmurs of greeting and sympathy followed.

“My sister would like to address your honorable council on behalf of our late father. Papa sent Amanda as his spokesman when he became too ill to travel.”

Most members continued to gape, their eyes rotating between the sisters like a pendulum until the chairman cleared his throat. “By all means, Miss Dunn. How may the city of Wilmington be of service to your family? I once met your father during one of his visits years ago. He was a man of fairness and integrity.”

Amanda offered a half curtsey and launched into her perfectly
prepared speech. But it wasn't necessary for Abigail to concoct excuses to slip out early. Nor was it necessary for the sisters to take seats among the disgruntled landlords and irate gardeners. The assemblage of middle-aged and elderly gentlemen, all well dressed and polished, listened patiently until she concluded her presentation. Two of the men looked confused, two seemed bored, and one grinned with ill-concealed amusement.

Then the chairman rapped his gavel to quiet the crowd. “Silence in the chamber,” said Mr. Rose. “It's fortunate you have family in our fair city to visit because your errand on behalf of Dunn Mills was pointless. President Davis relaxed his original stand against commence with England enacted during the early years of the war. Although there has been no outright statement of reversal, the leader of the Confederacy recognizes the importance of a strong economy. Goods need to flow in both directions if we are to prevail over the North. Cotton and tobacco have been leaving Wilmington on a regular basis despite the fleet of Union ships attempting to stem the flow. If Dunn Mills needs cotton, Mr. Henthorne, either junior or senior, could make those arrangements. You certainly don't require the approval of the town council. What you need is a fast ship, a brave sea captain, and good fortune to reach England.”

Amanda didn't dare glance at the rotund member who continued to chuckle at her distress. “Thank you, Mr. Rose and council, for permitting me to address you this evening. I apparently suffer from a case of misinformation.” She bobbed her head politely.

“Goodness, gentlemen,” said Abigail. “I thought this a matter better handled by Jackson.” Her tone turned sugary as she batted her thick eyelashes. “But when a Dunn is sent across the sea on an errand, we aren't ones to take the matter lightly.”

“No harm done, Mrs. Henthorne. Please give our regards to Jackson and Randolph.” The chairman reached for a stack of
papers. “A pleasure meeting you, Miss Dunn. Enjoy your holiday in Wilmington with your sister, and again, our sympathies to you both.”

Dismissed like two schoolgirls, Abigail linked arms and pulled Amanda from the chamber. “Whew, I'm glad that is over with. Let's hurry home to put our feet up and enjoy a cool glass of tea.”

Amanda didn't reply. She was absolutely speechless with indignation.

Six

A
bigail stretched in the late afternoon heat. Even in the shade the air was oppressively warm. It was barely June, yet the refreshing breeze from the east had disappeared unless a storm was blowing in off the sea. Straightening in her chaise, she peered down into the courtyard below at her slaves hard at work. Salome's helpers sat shucking corn and snapping beans at the worktable. Miriam took down a set of sheets from the clothesline to be ironed, while Josie washed Amanda's dainties in a tub of sudsy water. She would hang them discreetly inside the washhouse on ropes stretched end to end so as not to cause embarrassment.

Only the sight of Helene sewing in the shade marred the otherwise idyllic courtyard tableau. Amanda's English maid refused to associate with the Henthorne slaves. Though that irritated her, Abigail understood it stemmed not from bigotry but rather from
the peculiar and distinctive British caste system among servants. As a lady's maid, Helene considered herself superior to a woman who cooked meals or laundered clothes. Unless expressly ordered to do so, she refused to pitch in around the kitchen. Instead, the young woman stretched out any chore given to fill her day. And Amanda permitted such blatant lack of ambition.

“Tell me, Helene,” Abigail called over the railing. “Where is your mistress on such a lovely afternoon?”

The maid startled as though the question roused her from a stupor. “Miss Amanda was reading in her room the last time I checked, ma'am.”

“In her room, when the gallery is so much cooler?” She frowned. Just as when they were children, her sister's aloofness irritated her. Amanda always became standoffish when put in her place.

“Yes, ma'am. Perhaps she fell asleep.” Helene's interest in the conversation apparently waning, she refocused on her sewing.

“If she's not sound asleep, Helene, ask Miss Amanda to join me. I desire company.” Abigail stood stiffly. Perhaps it was her imagination, but she thought she saw anger flash in the maid's eyes.

“Yes, Mrs. Henthorne. I'll check.” Helene dropped the garment on the chair and strode inside the house. She could have easily taken the gallery steps but chose not to.

It was only fitting that her temperamental sister would have a maid who shared the same quality. Why Amanda hadn't spoken during the ride home from the council meeting was a mystery. Hadn't Abigail gone to the restaurant and dined at a ridiculously early hour just to please her? Hadn't she provided the necessary introduction to Mr. Rose and the other councilmen? Amanda would have sat in that airless chamber all night if not for her. Whose fault was it that she didn't have her facts straight?

Abigail rang the bell for tea and waited, but her sister arrived before Amos and the afternoon refreshments.

“Helene said you wished to speak with me?” She looked flushed and damp from hiding in the heat of her room.

“I was worried about you. Why do you nap indoors when I have another perfectly fine chaise here on the gallery?” She pointed so there would be no confusion. “This is America. Servants are allowed to see us sleep without thinking us hopelessly indolent and sluggish. And if they ever
do
think unkind thoughts, they have the sense not to speak them.” Abigail chuckled.

Amanda sat but didn't recline on the chaise. “Thank you, but I wasn't napping. I was reading over the contracts and other documents I brought from Dunn Mills. Mr. Pelton furnished me with several books about cotton I need to review. I prefer to study in my room where it's quiet.”

Amos arrived with the tea. Abigail waited until he poured and served before speaking. “I can't imagine why you bother with this. If no one is taking issue with trade with England, then Jackson can make the necessary arrangements.”

“He could have done so already. I called at his father's office the day after I arrived. I don't understand why he chose not to keep me informed.” From her tone of voice, her foul mood hadn't abated.

Abigail felt her own temper flare. “I hear his carriage in the lane. Perhaps you could ask him yourself.”

“I believe I shall.” Staring with a face devoid of emotion, Amanda lifted her cup and sipped her tea.

“Jackson, I'm up here.” Abigail called as he crossed the courtyard. “Would you be kind enough to join me on the gallery?”

Jackson took the steps two at a time, took his wife in his arms, and began kissing her passionately until he spotted Amanda in the shade. “I beg your pardon. I thought Abigail was alone.” Few would describe his expression as contrite.

“My sister has some questions for you, darling. Amos, instead
of eavesdropping in the doorway, please bring Mr. Henthorne his bourbon.” The butler vanished without a word.

Amanda set her teacup on the table. “Hello, Jackson.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Dunn. I have some questions for you as well.” He leaned against the balustrade and crossed his legs at the ankles. “Where did you two go yesterday evening?”

Apprehension ran up Abigail's spine like a spider. “We enjoyed a delicious dinner at the Kendall House. We both had sea bass. It was too hot for Salome to fuss with dinner just for us. And Amanda reminded me of the larks Mama took with her friends in London.” Aware she was rambling, Abigail clamped her mouth shut.

“I've had their sea bass—quite delicious to be sure. But I'm more interested on your exploits upon leaving the Kendall House.” Jackson turned to face Amanda squarely.

Her inscrutable shell began to crack. “We attended a town council meeting. I had heard nothing from either you or your father, so I thought it was time to take matters into my own hands.”

Amos delivered a more ample than usual drink, interrupting the staring contest between the two.

“So I heard from several of my business associates.” His contempt was unmistakable.

“What did they say?” Abigail jumped to her feet. “We stayed less than ten minutes and were politely received by Mr. Rose.”

Much to her dismay, Jackson redirected his animosity at her. “Of course they were polite as a courtesy to my father and me, but undoubtedly they laughed all the way to the club. Two women in my household don't have the common sense to approach me with this matter? And my household includes you, Miss Dunn, while you are our guest.”

Before Abigail could reply, Amanda stepped in front of her. “Please don't blame your wife. This was entirely my doing. She
wasn't aware of my intentions when she agreed to have dinner downtown.”

Jackson took a deep swallow of his drink and grimaced as the spirits burned his throat. “I don't blame my wife, Miss Dunn. I know Abigail would never shame me in this fashion.”

“How could my actions possibly cause you embarrassment? I made it quite clear I was my father's emissary, not yours.”

“Emissary.” He spat the word. “You are no one's emissary. Your father realized he was dying and sent you to North Carolina to repair the ill will with this other daughter. He gave you an
all-important errand
to keep you busy and out of mischief during the voyage. George Dunn was no fool. He knew no woman without standing or reputation would be taken seriously by the business community.”

Amanda's mouth dropped open in a most unbecoming fashion. “I was with Papa at his sickbed, sir, and I beg to differ. Now, would you permit me a question? Why didn't you tell me cotton was leaving Wilmington? It just wasn't headed to Dunn Mills. Your father assured me he would keep me abreast of the situation in Richmond.”