Tracie Peterson & Judith Miller - [Lights of Lowell 01] (13 page)

The old woman took a sip of her tea, leaned back into the soft cushion of her chair, and met Bradley’s stare. ‘‘I summoned you here because I have heard what I hope is only idle gossip.’’

His teacup hit the saucer with a loud clink, the amber liquid splashing over the edge of the cup and spilling onto the carpet. He ignored it. ‘‘You summoned me here to discuss gossip? Do you realize I cancelled a business meeting in Boston? I care little about the nonsensical chitchat of women who have too little to occupy their time or their minds, Mrs. Wainwright.’’

The silver-haired woman stiffened. ‘‘Your condescending tone will not serve you well today, Mr. Houston, for I have heard from a most reliable source you have announced in public that you plan to marry my granddaughter this winter. What say you, Mr. Houston? Idle gossip or truth?’’

The blood drained from Bradley’s face. How had word spread to the old woman so quickly? He’d been certain he would have time to correspond with Mr. Wainwright before she found out.

Apparently members of the Associates gossiped as much as their wives. The very thought provoked him. There was nothing to do but own up to his words. If he lied, he’d surely be made the fool.

‘‘What you’ve heard is a true expression of exactly what I
hope
will occur this winter. I admit my folly in speaking as though I’ve already received Mr. Wainwright’s permission. I will tell you, however, that the marriage proposal is under consideration, and Mr. Wainwright has given tentative approval to our marriage.’’

‘‘
Our
marriage?
My
marriage? To
you
?’’ Jasmine wagged her finger back and forth between them as she spoke. ‘‘Preposterous! I simply don’t believe you. Papa has never said one word in his letters. Nor has my mother. And she would have written about wedding plans, wouldn’t she, Grandmother?’’

Mrs. Wainwright didn’t answer. Bradley watched the shrewd look of awareness slowly creep into her countenance, and he knew she understood. He was careful not to smirk. After all, he didn’t want to alienate her. He doubted Jasmine’s father would be pleased by his social blunder, and Bradley certainly didn’t want his business acumen judged by this one mistake.

‘‘So, then, this is to be a
business
arrangement,’’ Alice finally replied.

‘‘If all goes according to plan.’’

Jasmine rushed to her grandmother’s side. ‘‘Grandmother, what are you saying? Don’t take his side against me in this.’’

Alice turned to face her granddaughter. ‘‘I’m not taking his side, my dear. I have no say-so in this matter. But you may trust I will make every attempt to dissuade your father. I doubt Malcolm will be pleased to hear of your conduct, Mr. Houston. There is little doubt in my mind that you’ve overstepped the boundaries of your gentlemen’s agreement with my son.’’

The blood rushed to his head, throbbing in his temples like a pounding drum. He must remain calm or all would be lost. This wretched old woman could ruin everything. He longed to retaliate with venom-filled words, but instead he smiled graciously. ‘‘I hope I can convince you that this is more than a business arrangement, Mrs. Wainwright. I care deeply for Jasmine and I will do my utmost to make her happy.’’

Tears were now streaming down Jasmine’s face. ‘‘If you want to make me happy, you’ll tell my father you don’t wish to marry me.’’

Her disgust at the possibility of their union was evident, causing Bradley’s anger to grow. He was determined to hold his tongue, however. It would be to his benefit to show contrition for his actions, even sorrow at her rejection.

‘‘I am sorry for having spoken out of line. I’m afraid the spirit of the moment was upon me and I erred in judgment. However, I believe that in time you will grow to love me. And once we have children, you’ll be content with this union.’’

Jasmine shivered. ‘‘Children? I’ll
never
have your children.’’ Her look of repulsion deepened, offending Bradley in such a way that he put down his cup and saucer and got to his feet.

He knew he must leave or he would explode in anger. How dare Jasmine assess his plans with such distaste? She could do much worse than to marry a wealthy Northern businessman. He’d held his temper in check as long as humanly possible. ‘‘I think we are all distraught with this surprising turn of events. I’ll come back tomorrow morning when all of us have had time to gain our composure and think rationally.’’

Before either of them could say anything further, Bradley turned and exited the room. ‘‘I’ll see myself out,’’ he said as he hurried into the entrance hall.

C
HAPTER
•
10

B
RADLEY BOUNDED
into the room as though he hadn’t a care in the world. Jasmine watched his animated behavior, amazed at the change in demeanor since his hasty departure only yesterday.

She had spent a restless night reliving the moment when Bradley had not only admitted to his loose tongue but also announced his plans to marry her as a means to further his business. Her heart ached at the very thought, and she felt she had aged overnight.

Her girlish naïveteé had altered in the wake of conversations with her grandmother. She could still hear the older woman say,
‘‘Arranged marriages for the sake of bettering the family coffers are nothing
new, Jasmine. It has been done this way for centuries.’’
But how could her beloved papa allow it to happen to his only daughter?
Wouldn’t
he want me to marry for love?

‘‘You’re looking quite lovely, my dear,’’ Bradley announced.

The return of his confidence was apparent. ‘‘Perhaps reflection has caused you to feel more favorable toward the idea of matrimony.’’

‘‘You appear to be feeling rather brash,’’ Jasmine remarked dryly.

He glanced about the room and into the garden. ‘‘Indeed.

Where is your grandmother?’’

‘‘She’ll be down shortly. She spends the first few hours of the morning studying her Bible and praying.’’

‘‘Asking forgiveness for her sinful nature, I suppose.’’

‘‘What?’’
His rude remark caught her off guard. ‘‘My grandmother is an honest, gentle lady.’’

‘‘Your grandmother is willing to bend the rules to suit herself when necessary.’’

Alice Wainwright descended the stairs wearing a green-and-gold print morning dress that accentuated the golden flecks in her hazel eyes. ‘‘If you care to defame me, please wait until I’m present, Mr. Houston.’’

He held out a letter that had been neatly addressed to Malcolm Wainwright. ‘‘I took the liberty of removing this from the tray in the entrance hall. After we’ve completed our conversation, I doubt you’ll want to post your missive.’’

Jasmine’s surprise at his boldness bordered on hysteria as she turned to her grandmother. ‘‘I cannot believe such behavior.’’

Her grandmother took the letter and placed it on the table beside her. ‘‘I’m certainly pleased I took ample time for prayer this morning, Mr. Houston, as you are already trying my patience. I must say, this is a side of you that I have not yet been burdened to witness.’’

Bradley seemed to enjoy watching her irritation rise. In fact, Jasmine thought he seemed quite pleased with himself.

‘‘Before you say anything you might regret, let me advise you that when I left here yesterday, I stopped at the Merrimack House.

There was quite a crowd, and I was seated near a table of people who were discussing the merits of abolition.’’ Jasmine noticed her grandmother startle when he mentioned abolition.

‘‘That’s of little interest to us, Bradley. I thought you came to discuss the improper announcement of our impending marriage,’’ Jasmine interjected.

‘‘If you’ll not interrupt, you will see how this all comes together, my dear. Just sit down and listen.’’

Bradley relished the moment as Jasmine appeared stunned by his command and immediately dropped onto the brocade-upholstered bustle chair. Watching as she followed his commands gave him a heady feeling of power.

‘‘As I was saying, the people sitting adjacent to me were discussing abolition. In the course of their discussion, they mentioned an antislavery meeting that was held at the old Pawtucket church several days ago. Apparently there were a couple of former slaves who spoke about their life on a plantation. But then, you two already know what they talked about, don’t you?’’

‘‘Excuse me? What
are
you talking about?’’ Jasmine asked.

‘‘There’s no need to feign ignorance. I know that both of you attended the meeting. I’m certain your son would be appalled to discover you took Jasmine to an antislavery meeting, aren’t you, Mrs. Wainwright? After all, how would it look for a man of his status and reputation—an owner of over a hundred slaves—to have his daughter and mother notably involved with such a movement? Why, it might mean their neighbors would condemn the family. It could mean a great loss for everyone.’’

He paused, watching both women carefully. Jasmine paled considerably, but her grandmother held her head upright, waiting for him to continue.

‘‘Not only that, but it could see the family fortune in ruin.’’

‘‘Our family is very successful,’’ Jasmine protested. ‘‘It would take more than something this trivial to ruin us.’’

Bradley raised a brow. ‘‘Trivial? You think this trivial?’’ He shook his head. ‘‘The Boston Associates are heavily dependent upon cotton for their mills. Your father and uncles are vast producers of this cotton. However, the Associates are not fools. They won’t brook nonsense or a threat to their well-being. Your father and his brothers have already cut many of their ties with English markets. They are counting on the Associates to purchase their cotton crops. A single word from me could put an end to that.’’

‘‘But what purpose would that serve?’’ Jasmine questioned, her voice breaking slightly. ‘‘How would it help your case?’’

‘‘It might not necessarily help my case, but it would devastate your family. If I choose to tell the Associates that your family is less than reliable—that there are problems with the dependency of the product—your father and uncles will sit with tons of cotton on the docks and no buyer. England won’t have them now, not even if they agreed to take a huge loss of profit. No, my dear ladies, the Wainwright family has burned several bridges over these past few days. Wouldn’t you say so, Mrs. Wainwright?’’

Alice Wainwright remained silent, staring at the rose bushes in her flower garden, obviously unwilling to make a rushed admission. Bradley rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. ‘‘Let me see, what were your words to me yesterday, Mrs. Wainwright—‘idle gossip or truth’?’’

Alice glared at him. ‘‘Truth. And now, Mr. Houston, what is it you want from me?’’

Bradley gave her a self-satisfied grin. ‘‘I’d say this piece of information puts us on equal footing, Mrs. Wainwright. I’ll not mention to your son the fact that you escorted Jasmine to an antislavery meeting if you’ll refrain from divulging my overzealous declaration of our impending marriage. I won’t suggest to the Associates that the Wainwright family is anything other than solid, and you, my dear Jasmine, will happily agree to our union. Think of it, my dear. You will be saving generations of Wainwrights from disgrace and financial ruin.’’

‘‘This can’t be our only recourse,’’ Jasmine said, looking to her grandmother.

The old woman shifted in her chair and gave Jasmine a look of defeat. ‘‘I won’t send the letter, Mr. Houston.’’

‘‘And there will never be any mention of this to Mr. Wainwright from either of you. Is that agreed?’’

Jasmine and her grandmother locked gazes and then nodded their heads. ‘‘Agreed,’’ they stated in unison.

Bradley stood. ‘‘I believe you’ll both begin to see the wisdom of this in time. For now, I simply require that you keep your unhappy thoughts to yourself.’’ He gave a brief bow. ‘‘Now, you ladies finish your tea.’’ He started to go, then turned and fixed his gaze on Jasmine.

‘‘Oh yes, I nearly forgot. There’s a social at the Harper home next Friday evening. I’ll expect to escort you, Jasmine. Be ready at eight o’clock.’’

The two women sat in stunned silence after Bradley Houston departed. For Jasmine, it was the moment she realized that she had very little say over her life and future. Men would make choices for her, and she would be nothing more than a pawn in their game.

How could this be happening? What had started out as a lovely trip north to spend time with her grandmother had turned into a nightmare.

‘‘Father will agree to this marriage, won’t he?’’ she whispered.

Her grandmother shrugged. ‘‘It is very possible, but there is no way of knowing the full truth of the matter without discussing it with your father. And of course, we’ve just agreed not to do that.’’

‘‘Surely Papa doesn’t want to see me married to the likes of Bradley Houston? He’s much older and not at all pleasant company. He’s pompous and overly confident in his abilities.’’

‘‘Some would say those are the perfect qualities for a leader— a man of great means. Bradley Houston is, unfortunately, the very kind of man your father would look for.’’

Jasmine shook her head, still unable to believe that her world was tumbling so chaotically out of order.

Jasmine examined herself in the mirror. Grandmother had insisted she wear her peach silk gown to the Harpers’ party. Jasmine’s preference was to remain at home or, in the alternative, wear her old green plaid. She had no desire to impress Bradley Houston with the lovely new gown. But her grandmother was already distraught, so she deferred.

Alice came into the bedroom as Jasmine was clasping her grandmother’s pearl necklace around her neck. ‘‘You look absolutely beautiful. The color of your dress accentuates the blush of your cheeks.’’

‘‘Thank you, Grandmother. I do wish you were going along this evening. I dislike being alone with Bradley. He makes me uncomfortable.’’

‘‘He’s never acted in an ungentlemanly fashion, has he?’’

‘‘I consider his threat regarding our attendance at the antislavery meeting ungentlemanly. Especially since I merely wanted to expand my education. If I didn’t fear the whole issue would cause harm to Father, I would have told him to leave the house and never return.’’