To Whisper Her Name (42 page)

As swiftly as relief had come, Olivia felt a portion of it flee. There was only one other person he could be referencing. “General Meeks,” she said softly, remembering the gentleman well.
Feeble, paunchy, and dull …

“Yes, precisely! General Meeks was under the impression, from the colonel, no doubt, that your affections were engaged elsewhere. However, I’ve written to him and he’s already responded. Very enthusiastically, I might add.” The general smiled. “You can expect a visit from him no later than Christmas.”

Later that evening, Olivia crawled into bed earlier than usual and pulled up the covers. The trip to the quarry and back had been enjoyable, though tiring, but tea with General Harding and Elizabeth had drained what little stamina she’d had left. Feeling the tears coming, she turned her head into the pillow and wept. Yet even as she did, she felt a trace of guilt. She had so much compared to many who had so little. Still, she hurt.

She gave herself one full minute to empty herself of tears — then another, because one hadn’t been enough — then she took a deep breath and turned onto her back, determined to view her situation in a brighter perspective. Marrying General Percival Meeks wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to her. She knew that from having lived with Charles. And judging by what she knew personally about General Meeks — and based on stories the general had shared about the man over dinner tonight — he actually seemed like a very kind and decent person. The Hardings had both known the late Mrs. General Meeks, Sarah, which Olivia hadn’t realized.

Twenty-nine years …

That’s how long Percival and Sarah had been married. Olivia found the number unfathomable. She was only twenty-four and sometimes it felt like she’d been alive forever.

Wishing the pounding in her head would stop, she applied pressure to her temples and prayed for God to remove her desire for the handsome face, laughter, and smile of the one man who filled her thoughts every day and her dreams every night. Because while she could marry a man she didn’t love, she couldn’t live the rest of her life loving a man she wasn’t married to.

She didn’t know when she’d started loving Ridley Cooper. She only knew that she did. But since that day in General Harding’s office when he’d found her hiding behind the chair, he hadn’t even attempted to kiss her. Not once. Well, not on her lips anyway. Remembering what he’d said about her bustle that day warmed her heart — and made her cry all over again. She
knew
he felt more for her than friendship. Or had, at one time. But apparently something had happened to change —

A knock sounded on her door.

She sat up in the bed, her breath coming hard. She sniffed and swallowed and hoped she sounded halfway normal. “Yes? Who is it?”

“It’s me, dear. Aunt Elizabeth. May I speak to you for a moment?”

“Of course.” Wiping her cheeks, Olivia quickly lit the lamp on her bedside table, then checked her reflection in the mirror.
Oh
…
a mess
. She smoothed her hair, took some deep breaths to clear her head, pasted on a weak smile, and opened the door.

A
unt Elizabeth took one look and drew her into a hug. “Oh, Livvy, dear …”

“I-I’m fine,” Olivia whispered, knowing she didn’t sound it.

Elizabeth closed the door, and they sat together on the bed like Olivia and her own mother used to do.

“I’m sorry to be so late, Livvy. I wanted to come to you after dinner, to see how you were faring after the news this afternoon. But the general felt it was better to let you have some time alone.
Men
…” Elizabeth gave a short laugh. “So I waited until he was asleep!”

Olivia smiled. “Such a rebellious spirit, Aunt. It’s almost scandalous. But truly … Thank you for checking on me … I’m fine.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “My dear, you are
not
fine. Not yet. But I trust that in time, you will be.”

Olivia bowed her head.

“General Meeks is a good man, Livvy. Oh, I know … He’s not quite dashing or engaging or handsome in the way a youthful girl — or young woman — dreams about. Except, perhaps, for being enormously wealthy and having a mansion on a hillside.” Elizabeth squeezed Olivia’s hand. “But he’s caring in every way Charles Aberdeen was not, my dearest.” Fierce love deepened Elizabeth’s eyes. “And he will never hurt you in that way, Livvy,” she whispered.
“Never.”

Tears Olivia thought were drained dry began again. “I know,” she whispered. “But …” She glanced downward. She wanted to share with Elizabeth about Ridley. But what good would it do? None. And with the way things stood between her and Ridley now, what did she really have to tell? From all indications — both public and private — they were friends. Perhaps good friends. But still …
friends
.

“I realize,” Elizabeth continued, “that getting married again isn’t something you would choose to do. Many a woman in your position, Livvy, would marry for the money alone. But you …” She brushed a strand of hair from Olivia’s forehead. “You’re different. And those qualities are so commendable. You want more from life than a marriage such as this. Which, believe it or not, is something I can understand. But the fact remains …” Elizabeth glanced downward. When she looked up, her eyes glistened. “The general and I won’t always be here. And you’re so young, Livvy. You have so much of life ahead of you. And you need to live your
own
life. Not live in the shadow of a cloistered life here.”

Olivia didn’t respond, afraid if she did, she’d start crying again.

“When I look at my girls and the world in which they’re growing up” — Elizabeth’s laughter came softly — “or have grown up in … It’s very different from the world I knew when I was their age. And yours.”

The wind whipped around the corner of the house, whistling as it went. Finally, December was delivering on the promise of winter.

“Would you make me a promise, Livvy?”

Surprised by the question, Olivia squeezed her hand. “Anything.”

Elizabeth searched her gaze. “Mary is so much like you. Even as a young girl, she wanted to go her own way, to brave the untrod path, as it were. So unlike Selene.”

“But so like her father,” Olivia whispered.

Elizabeth offered a nod, then seemed to focus on a point somewhere beyond the confines of the room. “I don’t worry so much about Selene. Selene will never leave Belle Meade. Not that the general would allow it, even if she wanted to.” She laughed softly. “But Mary … Mary has always been different. She’s got a courage, a strength inside her, much like you.” Elizabeth gripped her hand. “Promise me that when the time comes, you’ll help Mary find her way. You’ll help … give her wings. I see her watching you. In a way she’s never watched me.”

Hearing an earnestness in her aunt’s tone, Olivia was quick to nod. But something in Elizabeth’s eyes, in her manner, also gave her pause. “I’ll do anything I can to help Mary. Though I’m not certain she’ll welcome it, coming from me. I don’t think she likes me much.”

“It’s not you she doesn’t like, Livvy.” Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “It’s me. And perhaps, the closeness you and I share.” She exhaled. “Looking back over the years, I see how I could have done better with
her.
And
Selene. But I was either sick or grieving, it seems. Thank the Lord for Susanna. She was there for them when I wasn’t. But … I’m determined to change that … for however much longer I’m here.”

“Which is going to be a very, very long time, Aunt. You’re going to see your daughters marry and have children. You and the general will grow old together and sit out there on the front porch, rocking and watching your grandchildren play. You have many happy years ahead. Don’t doubt that. All right?”

Elizabeth’s gaze grew wistful. “Of course, my dear. I’m sure you’re right.”

“And don’t for a moment think Mary doesn’t watch you, Aunt Elizabeth. She does. Every day. She loves and admires you more than you know.”

Elizabeth drew in a breath. “Thank you, Livvy,” she whispered. “I’m so grateful God brought you here when he did.” They rose and hugged again, and Elizabeth walked to the door. She paused, hand on the latch. “However much things may still seem the same, Livvy, they are changing. The war alone has seen to that. And I, for one, welcome many of those changes.”

“As do I,” Olivia said softly, thinking of the freedmen’s school but not daring to mention it. “I simply wish I could be more a part of them.”

Elizabeth held her gaze. Olivia tried to read the emotion in her expression. Sadness? Fear? She wasn’t sure.

“Your mother, God rest her,” Elizabeth whispered, “was the dearest friend I’ve ever had. Every time I look at you, Livvy, I see her, from years ago when we were younger. And not a day goes by that I don’t wish she were still here. If anything were to happen to you …” She shook her head, firming her lips. “I’d never forgive myself.”

Olivia’s heart warmed, both at her concern and at how Elizabeth saw her mother in her — something Olivia had never been able to see. “Nothing’s going to happen to me, Aunt Elizabeth. As you said yourself, General Meeks is a kind man. He’ll never hurt me.”

A single tear slipped down Elizabeth’s cheek. She didn’t wipe it away.

“Mr. Pagette contacted me two days ago, Livvy. The board reached their decision. You start teaching the freedmen’s school on the first of the year. And … while we’ll talk further about all this soon, I couldn’t be more proud.”

O
livia awoke early the next morning and was up and dressed before sunrise.
Teaching … in a freedmen’s school
. She could still hardly believe it. And Aunt Elizabeth …

She’d underestimated the woman, in so many ways. She still wondered though — considering the firm stance General Harding had taken with Mr. Pagette on the subject — how her aunt was managing to help. Whatever her reasons, Olivia was indebted to her. And had so much to do before January.

She slipped her shawl around her shoulders and peered out the window, the chilled pane cool against her scarred-but-healing palm. Across the meadow, smoke curled from the chimney of the old Harding cabin, a pale gray against a swath of purplish dawn.

Ridley
.

Only hours earlier, she’d grieved the loss of him, in a way. Yet with morning came renewed hope. Because if God could open a door for
her
to teach at a freedmen’s school, what else might he do? But as soon as the whisper came, she warned her sensibilities to pay it no mind. She wasn’t naive to the honor-bound traditions, duties, and expectations surrounding a woman in her situation. In securing a match between her and Percival Meeks, General Harding would profit in some form. Financially, most assuredly. That was how things were done. A daughter enhanced her family’s status through her appearance and accomplishments and later by marrying well. It was a Southern rite of passage. A daughter’s — or a ward’s — hand in exchange for stocks, bonds, or a promised alliance. Like a game of chess, only with flesh-and-blood pieces. And feelings. It was one tradition that wouldn’t be changing anytime soon. Not soon enough for her, anyway.

As unsettled as her stomach had been at dinner the prior evening, she was hungry this morning, and the aromas wafting up from the kitchen caused her mouth to water. Susanna’s beaten biscuits and country ham and Betsy’s diced potatoes with rosemary and onions. Her taste buds knew the savory scents by heart. She crossed the open second-story porch and hurried down the stairs. Almost overnight, it seemed, winter had arrived. But fall had given them a memorable showing.

Even with the chill in the air, the kitchen door was open.

“Morning, ladies!” As she always did when she visited the kitchen, she hugged Susanna from the side, gave Betsy’s apron a firm tug, and flashed Chloe a smile.

“Well, look at you, Missus Aberdeen.” Betsy grinned. “Up with creation this mornin’! What you doin’ up so early, ma’am?”

Olivia leaned close to the pan of fried potatoes and inhaled. “I smelled all this and couldn’t sleep anymore.”

Susanna laughed. “You sure didn’t eat much last night, ma’am. You hungry now?”

“Starved!”

Susanna filled a plate, then a cup of coffee, and Olivia ate at the kitchen table, talking with them as they cooked.

Betsy glanced back from the stove. “You ready for the shindig comin’ up? It always means a good time and lots o’ fun!”

“Mmm-hmm!” Susanna and Chloe remarked in unison.

Olivia smiled, chewing her last bite of biscuit. “I am. And I’m looking forward to it.” She sipped her coffee, the brew warm to her throat. She’d thought Ridley might ask her to go with him. Or at least to walk together. But so far he’d said nothing.

She’d seen Rachel several times since dropping off her mother’s dress by the cabin, but Rachel hadn’t said anything about it. And she hated to be the first one to bring it up. Rachel was doing her a favor, after all, by altering the dress. And if it turned out not to be fixable, she’d already decided to simply wear what she had on today.

“Lawd …” Chloe looked at the clock on the wall. “Where are them two men? They ain’t gonna have time to eat ‘less they get themselves up here.”

Susanna gestured to Betsy. “You best pack it up and take it on down there to ‘em. Mr. Cooper told me him and Uncle Bob got to be on the road by seven-thirty.”

Olivia looked up. “On the road? Where are they going?” Ridley hadn’t said anything to her about leaving.

“Just up to Gallatin. ‘Bout two hours from here. Business with the general.”

Betsy grabbed a tray and started piling plates high. “I still got to get the tea on for Missus Harding. Then get up there and help Miss Selene with her hair. Her General Jackson is s’posed to come callin’ today.” She wiped her forehead with her sleeve. “Lawd, it never ends.”

“I could take it for you.” Olivia rose from the table. “If that would help.”

The kitchen fell silent. Betsy glanced at Susanna, who looked right back at her, then over at Olivia.

“You sure you want to, ma’am?” Susanna’s tone was hesitant. “This tray be mighty heavy. And it’s a long way down to the cabin.”

Olivia acted as though she were offended. “You don’t think I can carry a tray?” But she could tell the women didn’t believe her. Especially Betsy.

“Oh, yes, ma’am.” Betsy nodded. “I think you can carry a tray. With them skinny little arms of yours, I’m guessin’ you get almost to the door ‘fore they give way.”

Olivia laughed but narrowed her eyes. “Give me that tray right now. And put an extra biscuit on it for me.”

Halfway to the cabin, Olivia was certain her arms were going to give out. How did the women do this? She saw them carrying trays even heavier than this every day, full of china plates and dishes and platters and silver tea services. Her arm muscles started to cramp, then her shoulders. But as sure as the sun was high above the hills, she could
feel
Betsy, Susanna, and Chloe watching her from the kitchen window, and there was no way she was about to stop and rest.

When she reached the cabin, it was all she could do to negotiate the two steps up to the porch and then set the tray down on a bench beside the window without dropping it. Oh, her arms ached, but it felt so good to be free of the weight.

She smoothed her dress and the sides of her hair, wondering why Ridley hadn’t mentioned anything to her about traveling today. Then she saw movement through the window, inside the cabin, of a bare back and broad shoulders and muscular arms that had held her
close. Ridley turned toward the window, reaching for his shirt, which hung on a chair. She didn’t dare move for fear he’d see her from the corner of his eye. He slipped his arms into the sleeves, then began sliding the buttons through the buttonholes. The shirt stretched taut over his chest.

To say that Ridley Cooper was handsome was like saying the thoroughbreds at Belle Meade were fairly nice horses. She told herself to look away but couldn’t.

Or didn’t.

She’d seen a man put on a shirt before. But never, in all the times she’d seen Charles dress, had she wanted to reach out to him like she wanted to with Ridley. To see if her slightest touch could stir him like his touch did her.

Ridley turned away from the window, and Olivia did the same. She waited a few seconds, then knocked on the door at the same moment Ridley opened it. “Olivia!” His expression was surprised but happy.

“Good morning, Mr. Cooper. I’m here with breakfast, compliments of the kitchen.”

His eyes brightened further. “We woke a little late, so I figured we’d have to go without.” He glanced past her. “Uncle Bob! Breakfast!”

Uncle Bob appeared in the door of the adjoining cabin. “And we got about two shakes of a rabbit’s tail to eat it!”

Minutes later, still amazed at how quickly two hungry men could make a tray
full
of food disappear, she walked back to the main house with them to the carriage waiting in the drive. General Harding wasn’t there yet.

“You’ll be back tonight?”

Ridley nodded. “A quick trip. Part of getting ready for the yearling sale.” He winked. “Why? You want to go with us? Help us check out the horses?”

If they’d been alone, she would have playfully shoved him. As it was, she narrowed her eyes and leveled a stare, which only made him laugh.

Uncle Bob leaned over. “I hear you’s joinin’ us for the shindig, ma’am.” He smiled big. “Best bring your dancin’ shoes. ‘Cause we know how to kick up a fair amount o’ dust.”

The door to the mansion opened, and General Harding strode toward them. Ridley and Uncle Bob waited for him to climb into the
carriage first, then Ridley gestured for Uncle Bob to go next before he turned back.

“Thanks for bringing us breakfast, Olivia,” he whispered. “That was real sweet.”

You’re welcome
, she mouthed back, hearing only friendship — and nothing more — in his words.

The carriage pulled away, and she walked back in the direction of her bedroom. Then, on second thought, she retraced her steps to the old Harding cabin and gathered the breakfast dishes, stacking everything again on the tray. Recognizing one of Ridley’s shirts hanging on a hook on the wall, she momentarily forgot about the dirty dishes, taking a moment to run her fingers down the sleeve. In height, stature, and strength, he was so much like Charles. And yet …

He was nothing like Charles at all.

Charles would forever be remembered as a traitor of the Confederacy and a cheat. A man who had disgraced himself, his family, and his countrymen. Ridley Cooper, like so many others, was a wounded but loyal
true
son of the South, struggling to find his place again.

And he would, she believed, in time.

The tray wasn’t nearly so heavy on the way back. She deposited it in the kitchen with Chloe, then slipped back upstairs to work for a while on Jimmy and Jolene’s lessons before she met with them later. She was eager to start planning her lessons for the freedmen’s school too.

When she reached the second-story porch, her bedroom door stood ajar. She entered, expecting to find one of the servants, but saw Rachel by the wardrobe instead.

Rachel glanced up, her blue eyes especially bright. “Missus Aberdeen! I’m glad you come by, ma’am. I’m needin’ you to try on some-thin’ for me.” With an expectant look, Rachel withdrew a gown from the wardrobe with a flourish.

Olivia’s breath caught. She recognized the deep russet-red fabric and knew it was the dress that had belonged to her mother. But she could scarcely believe it was the same gown. Because it wasn’t. The dress was … “Oh, Rachel.” Olivia sighed, shaking her head. “It’s gorgeous!”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Rachel’s voice went soft. “But it ain’t nearly as pretty now as it’s gonna be with you in it. Look here, I added this
special.” She pointed to the delicate trim of black tasseled lace she’d sewn along the neckline and that appeared to continue on around to the back. “I thought it’d go real pretty with your hair.”

Olivia fingered one of the tassels. “It’s lovely.”

She’d always shied away from wearing sleeveless gowns, what with the scar on her forearm. But she
did
, on occasion, when the event demanded. Charles had insisted she wear evening gloves to cover what he deemed a less-than-comely feature, but she’d have done so anyway. If Aunt Elizabeth didn’t have a pair she could borrow, she’d ask someone to purchase a pair for her in town.

She stepped back to better admire the altered hemline of the dress and couldn’t begin to fathom how much time and work had gone into adding the length of fabric Rachel had sewn along the hem. Olivia would never have chosen the faintly striped fabric to go with the floral brocade of the dress, but the combination was stunning. And not only that, Rachel had added rosettes with bows, creating a scalloped tier where the two coordinating fabrics met.

Olivia knelt to admire the skilled needlework. “Rachel, I-I don’t know what to say. This dress has always been special to me, but now …”

“So you’re pleased then?”

Olivia laughed. “
Pleased
doesn’t begin to describe it.”

“Oh!” Rachel grinned. “I ain’t even showed you the back yet.” She turned the dress around to reveal a bow that tied at the fitted waist and trailed the length of the gown. “Now, if you don’t mind, ma’am … Let’s get you into it so I can see what final touches I need to make ‘fore the big night.”

With Rachel’s help, Olivia changed into the gown, trying to keep her arm turned so Rachel wouldn’t see the scar, while also attempting to sneak peeks at the dress in the mirror.