To Whisper Her Name (4 page)

She leaned forward on the seat, her anticipation growing at the thought of seeing Elizabeth again. “We’ll be waiting for you with open arms, Livvy,” Elizabeth had written. “You are like a daughter to me. As much as my own Selene or Mary is.” Olivia took a deep breath and held it, smiling on the inside for the first time in she didn’t know how long and awaiting that first glimpse of the Belle Meade mansion and its beautiful —

Something caught her eye. Someone. A man. Walking up the road a ways. And something about him drew her in.

He carried a ragged-looking pack, like that of a soldier, slung across his back. His gait was measured and unhurried, a fluid confidence accentuating each step. And he was tall, at least as tall as Charles had been.

His hair, dark, with a touch of unruly curl, reached past his collar in a manner more suited to that of a vagrant than a gentleman. Yet his clothes didn’t look threadbare like those of the other men she’d seen in town. Still, his trousers were caked in dried mud six inches deep, like he’d been walking for weeks — if not months — on end.

She wondered if he knew where he was going and that this road led to the Hardings’ plantation, then on down south through much of nothing, all the way to Natchez, Mississippi. And that, only after traversing the fifty-three hundred acres of wooded meadows and hills that comprised the Belle Meade Plantation.

As the carriage drew closer, Olivia leaned back into the shadows of her protective confines, not wanting the man to see her watching as they passed. But at that very moment he turned and looked back, and their eyes locked.

The distinguishing features of his face were hidden behind a thick beard, one that hadn’t seen a trim in weeks, if ever. And although she couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, she sensed a determination in him, in the resilient set of his shoulders perhaps or the steady gait of his stride — maybe in the way he carried himself. But he had a wildness about him too, like something caged, recently set free. And that untamed quality made her glad she was in the carriage and he was not.

As the carriage drew closer, she told herself to look away. Too late.

A flash of acknowledgement registered in his eyes. He waved to Jedediah — a short, succinct gesture — then looked back at her. One side of his bearded cheek edged up as though he found her attention amusing, and his teeth showed white in a slow-coming smile. He brought his hand to his forehead — just as the carriage passed him — and snapped a smart salute, then he —

Olivia felt her mouth slip open. He’d
winked
at her? Her face heated. She focused forward, gripping the cushioned velvet beneath her as the carriage bumped and jostled down the road.

For a moment, she wondered if she’d imagined it, yet knew she hadn’t. The audacity. The nerve of that —

As Jedediah guided the carriage around a narrow bend, she half turned on the seat, wanting to peer back out the window. But she resisted the urge, somehow knowing he would still be watching. And smiling! She sighed. The war had taken so much from them, not the least of which, it seemed, was chivalry.

But General Harding, who held honor in the highest regard, would send that scoundrel packing soon enough. Belle Meade had more workers than they could use. Elizabeth had said as much in a recent letter, and the general was particular about who he hired.

Another mile passed before it occurred to her …

She looked out the window and exhaled. Her view to the right was now blocked by a hillside creviced with Tennessee limestone. Watching him had caused her to miss the first glimpse of Belle Meade. Now she’d have to wait another mile or so before seeing the —

Without warning, a thundering crack exploded somewhere behind her and the carriage swerved hard to the right. Thrown from
her seat, Olivia grappled for a hold as the conveyance seemed to drop out from beneath her. Wood groaning, shuddering in protest, the carriage jerked, and she fell hard against the door — and felt it give way.

She scrambled to grab onto something,
anything
, as the ground rushed up to meet her. But it was the feral scream coming from somewhere in front of the carriage that sent a chill straight through her bones.

A
fter what felt like a lifetime, the carriage slammed to a halt, and the deafening crunch of wood siphoned the air from Olivia’s lungs. Eyes clenched tight, she waited, still as stone, to make sure it was over.

No matter how she tried, she couldn’t get that scream out of her mind. It had come from one of the horses, she felt certain.

She wanted to move but was afraid whatever part of her body she commanded to obey wouldn’t. An erratic
thump-thump-thump
came from somewhere nearby, and it took her several breaths to realize it was her own heartbeat.

“Missus Aberdeen … Can you hear me, ma’am?”

Recognizing Jedediah’s voice — far away though it sounded — Olivia blinked her eyes, but her
yes
came out a strangled whisper as she found herself staring at the carriage ceiling. The conveyance was tilted back, hulked to one side as if squatting on its wounded right haunch. The window to her left framed a swath of blue sky, but the view to her right, more ground level, was obstructed by a slab of limestone cratering in the side of the carriage — just where she’d been sitting.

Feeling the walls close in around her, she was reaching for the door when her world suddenly lurched again. The carriage shifted and one of the horses let out a high-pitched whinny. Olivia braced for another onslaught but the rock wall refused to relinquish hold.

“Whoa there, girls. Steady now, steady … I just need to cut you loose …” Jedediah’s voice carried over the horse’s complaints.

Olivia prayed he would hurry, wanting nothing more than to be untethered from the wild beasts.

Her skirts — and emotions — in disarray, she pushed herself up and gave the left door handle a quick yank. It held fast. Determined and fighting a closed-in feeling, she put more weight behind the effort, not easily done with gravity working against her. Pain shot through her shoulder, cutting the attempt short.

A familiar panic, one she loathed, began to thrum deep within. She debated on gathering her hoop skirt and trying to climb out the window, but that would hardly be proper. And she doubted she’d fit anyway, not with her bustle. Pulling in a calming breath, she took quick mental inventory.

Other than the ache in her shoulder where she’d hit the door, she didn’t think she was injured. Not seriously anyway. Certainly nothing was broken.

A hasty tread of footsteps, and Jedediah appeared in the window. “Missus Aberdeen!” With the carriage tilted as it was, he could barely see over the edge. “Is you hurt, ma’am? Cuz if you is … oh, Lawd —” He mopped the sheen of sweat from his brow with a wadded bandanna. “Missus Harding ain’t never gonna forgive me.”

Olivia summoned calm she didn’t feel. “I’m not hurt, Jedediah. A little sore, perhaps, and bruised. What happened?”

“It’s that confounded wheel, ma’am.” He gestured. “It done cracked and gave way. ‘Bout scared the mares to death, and me too. One of ‘em done run off.” He motioned. “The other’s hurt pretty bad. Got a busted up foreleg. Tried to take a chunk outta my arm when I cut her reins loose. She can be downright mean when she puts her mind to it. Won’t let me come near her. I’m guessin’ we might have to put her down.” He shook his head. “General gonna be none too happy ‘bout that. But here …” He stuffed the bandanna back in his pocket. “Let’s get you outta there, ma’am. I hate to say it, but we be havin’ to walk the rest of the way. But it ain’t too terrible far. And I heard Missus Harding say they’d be waitin’ to greet you.”

Jedediah gripped the door latch, but it didn’t open. He tried again. Nothing. Olivia could’ve sworn the cramped space inside the carriage shrank by half.

“Can’t you get it open?” she asked, smoothing the angst from her voice.

He worked the latch repeatedly. “This door’s good and stuck, ma’am. It just ain’t wantin’ to give.”

Feeling more corralled by the second, Olivia pushed her shoulder
hard against the door, more for want of control than thinking anything might come from the effort.

“It ain’t budgin’, ma’am. But I’m bettin’ that if I had me some tools, I could spring it.”

“And do you have these tools with you, Jedediah?”

“Not the ones I need, ma’am. They’s back at Belle Meade.”

“Well …” She let out a breath, not relishing the prospect of being stuck inside here for an hour or more. But then … perhaps — she eyed the width of the window again, wondering — she might not have to wait after all. “Jedediah.” She smiled. “I suggest you go ahead and be on your way, then you can retrieve the necessary tools and return for me.”

His forehead crinkled. “I can’t be leavin’ you on your lonesome, ma’am. Why … the general, he’d —”

“I’ll be fine, I assure you.” She put on her most polite yet insistent smile. “And —” She glanced down the road toward Belle Meade. “The sooner you go, the sooner I’ll be freed.”

Not looking at all convinced, Jedediah shook his head. “It just ain’t right, me leavin’ you here, Missus Aberdeen. I don’t fancy the —”

“I’m a grown woman, Jedediah, and am perfectly capable of taking care of myself in your brief absence.” She held back a smile this time and could tell by the deep furrows bridging his nose that she was getting her point across. “And what’s more, I hate the thought of Mrs. Harding standing there on the porch, waiting and watching. You said yourself she’d be looking for me.”

“Yes’um, I did say that.” He rubbed his jaw then sighed. “Got a crate of apples up top, if you want one ‘fore I go. If you’s hungry.”

“Thank you, Jedediah. But I’m
not
hungry. I just want out of here.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded. “I be runnin’ the whole way, Missus Aberdeen. So you just sit tight.” He set off down the road at a hasty clip.

Olivia waited for a couple of moments, making certain he was gone, then took several deep breaths, sizing up the window. And then herself. She’d never taken part in tree-climbing, a tomboyish pastime that her mother, God rest her soul, had frowned upon. And with good reason, Olivia knew. But right now, she wished she’d at least attempted to scale the lowest limbs of a friendly dogwood. The experience would have proven helpful.

She peered through the window to the ground below. It was farther
than she’d anticipated, but the thought of being prisoner inside this carriage bolstered her courage. She could do this. She’d never done anything like it before, of course. But she could do it.

She gained her footing and hitched up her hoop skirt, gathering the yards of black fabric and lace around her waist. Holding on to the side of the window, she eased her leg through, but quickly discovered that the bottom of the window was higher than she’d thought. The lace on her pantalets caught on the window’s edge. She tugged the fabric, but it held fast.

She pulled harder, determined, and felt the material rip just as she felt herself falling backward. Frantic, she grabbed the side of the door to steady herself. Then laughed, thinking how foolish she must look.

With renewed courage, she stretched her leg as far as she could down alongside the carriage until she felt the rim of the step beneath her boot tip. She tapped it with her toes, testing its strength. Then took another breath and put her full weight on it. She scrunched her upper body and had just managed to get her head through the window when —

She heard whistling. And looked up.

It was
him
. The man they’d passed on the road earlier. He’d rounded the corner but was looking down and, judging by his lack of reaction, hadn’t seen her — yet.

Faster than she would have imagined possible, Olivia dragged herself back into the carriage, snagging her hair, her pantalets, her petticoat, and nearly everything else in the process. She backed away from the window, but her heel caught in her hem and she fell, nothing but air behind her. She went down hard, landing on the cushioned seat and whacking the back of her head on the wooden paneling.

Lying on her back, her head throbbing, nearly drowning in a sea of whale bone, crinoline, and lace, she gritted her teeth and recalled a word Charles had used all too frequently when frustrated. Knowing he would have used it helped her not to.

Footsteps refocused her attention just as a somewhat-familiar face appeared in the window. But instead of the slow-coming smile he’d worn earlier, concern lined his expression. “You’re still in here!” He was winded from running and his gaze moved over her in an appraising fashion. “Are you all right?”

Aware of her state, Olivia tugged the folds of fabric down over her underskirts and pantalets, grateful he had the decency to look away,
albeit not long enough. “I’m fine,” she said, smoothing the front of her dress. “For the most part anyway.”

“I looked up and saw the carriage, and — what happened?”

“It was the wheel.” She gestured behind her. “We hit one too many ruts, I’m guessing.”

“And your driver? Where is he?”

“He went for help.”

“And left you here? Alone?”

His query gave her pause, as did his forthrightness. Both made her aware of just how alone she was. Correction. How alone
they
were. And she began to question the wisdom of having sent Jedediah ahead. Yet she knew better than to show uncertainty. Or fear. Revealing weakness to a man gave him power. Power she would never give a man again.

She straightened and made herself look him in the eyes, grateful for the barrier between them. “It was at my insistence he took his leave, sir. The door is jammed and he went to get help. But I’m certain he’ll be returning posthaste!” She glanced beyond him as if expecting to see Jedediah any second, knowing full well there was no way the servant would be back this soon. But
he
didn’t know that.

Piercing eyes of hazel — or were they blue? She couldn’t quite tell — met hers, and she found herself wanting to avoid the gaze of this man who seemed far less like a vagrant upon closer inspection — and yet somehow, even more
untamed
.

He tried the door handle —
once, twice
— to no avail. And somewhat to her relief. “It’s stuck all right.”

“As I said.”

There it was again, that slow-coming roguish smile. “I’m glad you’re all right, ma’am. The horses … what happened to them?”

“Jedediah cut them loose. He said they ran off.”

He eyed the carriage. “I’ve seen my share of these fancy rigs turn over on roads not nearly as torn up as this one. And you’re lucky too, seeing which wheel snapped, that you didn’t go sailing right out that door.”

She trailed his gaze, saw the carnage of crushed wood and bent metal again, and frowned. She clearly remembered that door coming open and the sensation of falling. So … how then had she
not
fallen out?

“I need to offer you an apology, ma’am.”

That brought her attention back around.

His gaze swept her dress, then lifted. “A few minutes ago … back on the road, I — I winked at you, ma’am.” His grip tightened on his pack. “I didn’t realize you were in mourning. The inside of the carriage was dark and all I saw was how you were staring at me and —”

“I was not
staring
at you, sir.” The words were out before she could catch them, and Olivia did her best to appear appropriately affronted. “I was merely looking at you as the carriage passed.” But she had to glance away as she said it, knowing it wasn’t the full truth. Or even a partial one.

“Of course, ma’am. I didn’t mean to insinuate anything on your part. I’m sorry.” His mouth didn’t turn but she’d have sworn he was smiling on the inside. “But even if you
had
been staring, which you weren’t, I realize,” he added quickly, “I shouldn’t have winked. It was —”

“Improper,” she supplied, daring herself not to blink.

“Yes, ma’am. And therefore —” He tilted his head, a ghost of a smile showing. “My offered apology.”

Sensing his sincerity only made her feel more guilty about the lie, which in turn made her more eager for him to leave. “And your apology is kindly accepted. But now …” She looked beyond him, hoping he’d take the genteel hint. “Understanding that help is already on the way, you needn’t feel any obligation to stay with me. I’m quite capable on my own.”

“I have no doubt about that, ma’am.” He stepped back and studied the window. “But if you’re game, I’d be happy to help you climb through there.”

Not about to admit she’d already tried — and still intended — to do that very thing, Olivia drew herself up. “Climbing through a window is hardly behavior suitable for a lady.”

He laughed and rubbed his bearded jaw. “Perhaps not …
m’lady
.” He said it with a touch of haughtiness, bowing at the waist like some English lord. “But you’d be out of there and on your way again. Which
is
your objective, is it not, Mrs….?”

Olivia leveled a disapproving stare, something she’d done once with Charles but never again, having paid for that mistake dearly. But this man wasn’t Charles, and she didn’t appreciate his taking the liberty of asking for her name instead of waiting until they’d been properly introduced. She had the feeling he’d done it intentionally too, knowing it would rile her.

She wasn’t taking the bait. “I thank you, sir, for stopping to ascertain my well-being. But I believe it would be best to wait until help arrives. And — if you will allow me — I also believe your assistance would be best lent in going for help as well.”

Laugh lines crinkled the corners of his eyes. “You want me to leave.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, ma’am, you didn’t. Not outright. But you said it well enough just the same.”

Olivia didn’t know how to respond. He was so direct. So free with his opinions — and his apologies, but she swept the latter point aside. There were proper rules of etiquette to be followed between a man and woman, especially when they were strangers, and this man seemed bent on plowing through them all. “What I’m attempting to say to you, sir —”

“I know what you’re saying, ma’am. So I’m only going to ask you this once more. Do you want me to help you climb out of there or not?”

She drew herself up. “I do not.”