Words Spoken True (9 page)

T
he first week in June, Adriane received the note she’d been dreading from her friend Grace Compton inviting her to lunch. Grace had been away in Philadelphia working for the abolitionists for the last three months, and though they had exchanged letters, Adriane had carefully avoided mentioning anything about her engagement and upcoming wedding to Stanley. Grace was not going to approve.

Adriane had been nearly sixteen when her father decided he might have neglected her proper education and so sent her to Grace Compton’s newly opened girls’ academy. The school only lasted a few months, because while the parents wanted their daughters taught music and the proper social graces, Grace loved teaching history and the appreciation of literature and art far beyond what was considered proper for a young lady to know. Worse, she sometimes mentioned the need for social or political reforms.

One by one, the girls were withdrawn from the academy until only Adriane was left. Their student-teacher relationship quickly developed into a fast friendship. Grace was almost twice as old as Adriane, but age didn’t matter. Grace was a big sister, a mother figure, a teacher and friend all rolled into one.

So when Adriane’s father decided there was no longer money for the lessons, Grace insisted that Adriane keep coming. That she still had much to learn. She claimed the joy of teaching was more than pay enough and she could always manage to eke out a living by making a few hats. Each of Grace’s hats was a unique design and quite in demand by the ladies in the social set who considered owning a Grace Compton hat something of a status symbol. Grace might have lived comfortably, except she hated making hats and only did so when her cupboards were nearly bare.

Now as Adriane hurried toward Grace’s house, she shut out the sound of the carriages and wagons passing on the street and practiced a smile as she tried to figure out how she was going to explain her upcoming marriage to her friend.

Adriane sometimes felt as if her face might break if she had to push one more smile onto it. She would promise herself she wouldn’t smile for a week, but then there would be another round of socials. So she kept smiling and pretending to be happy and excited by this wondrous miracle of the Jimsons allowing her to become part of their family.

Of course Stan’s mother only thinly disguised her displeasure with Stan’s choice. Sometimes when they were at a tea or social together, Adriane would note Meta Jimson’s eyes resting longingly on this or that more appropriate candidate for the position of her daughter-in-law. Adriane’s eyes would follow hers and have to agree with the woman each and every time.

Coleman Jimson, on the other hand, boomed his approval of the match to anyone who would listen and had taken to hugging Adriane with much affection since she was already so very nearly part of the family. The embraces did not seem in the least fatherly, but then Adriane and her father had not shared any sort of embrace since she was a small child. Perhaps she didn’t know what a fatherly embrace was like. Her father never showed any sign of disapproval when the man engulfed her in his arms. Of course, he seemed to approve of anything and everything the Jimsons did.

Her father and Coleman were becoming very close as they not only celebrated the betrothal of their children but were working together on a campaign to assure Coleman Jimson’s election to the state senate in August. Their constant meetings produced an unending stream of rhetoric.

Adriane’s eyes fell on an old campaign notice from the city elections in April still tacked to a signpost on the street. With the fervent support of the
Tribune
, the Know Nothing party had swept the elections from mayor to alderman. For weeks before the vote, the
Tribune
had carried little else but political speeches, letters, and editorials. Adriane usually liked elections, but this year it had seemed all the candidates’ speeches sounded alike. Their readers must have agreed as the
Tribune
’s circulation dropped.

Blake Garrett, on the other hand, had kept the
Herald
cautiously neutral in the April elections almost as if he feared taking sides, something that surprised Adriane and heightened her interest in the man’s motives.

Not that she allowed her curiosity to make her do anything foolish. If they turned up at the same social, she did her best to avoid him completely. It wasn’t hard. Stanley hovered around her, and Blake was continually surrounded by a gaggle of hopeful young belles. Even so, somehow he always knew if she allowed her eyes to stray toward him and was ready with that piercing look that seemed to sear the air between them and demand some sort of response from her. A response she could not give.

Adriane shook her head a little to dismiss all thoughts of Blake Garrett. She looked across the street toward where Grace’s small house was nestled two blocks away. As memories of the many times she’d hurried along these streets to spend a few pleasant hours with Grace flooded her mind, she no longer worried about what Grace might say about the engagement. She couldn’t wait to see her again and hear firsthand about her work in the North. Perhaps they would have no need to talk about Stanley at all.

In her eagerness, she forgot to pay attention to the traffic on the road and stepped into the street directly into the path of two matched bays smartly pulling a light carriage. The driver shouted and jerked hard on his reins to keep from running her down. Spooked, the horses fought against the driver and reared up in their traces. At the sight of hooves flashing above her head, Adriane froze, not sure which way to run. Strong hands grabbed hold of her and just in the nick of time yanked her back up on the sidewalk to safety. The horses found their legs and took off in a wild gallop as their driver kept yelling and pulling on the reins.

With her heart pounding, Adriane’s knees went weak, and she leaned heavily against her rescuer as the carriage bounced past them. Two pale, wide-eyed faces peered out at her.

“My dear lady.” The man’s voice sounded very familiar in her ear. “Do be more careful. I would hate to beat your father to the headline that his own daughter had been run down by a team of high-spirited horses.”

Adriane gasped as she looked up at Blake Garrett smiling down at her. Even though her knees felt even weaker, she attempted to push away from him. But he kept his arms tight around her waist.

“Give yourself a moment to recover from your scare, Adriane,” Blake said. “It would be quite ungentlemanly of me to allow you to crumple on the sidewalk.”

His body felt rock solid against her, and her heart started pounding even harder although the carriage was disappearing from sight. She felt the urge to just lean closer to this man and let him hold her as long as he wanted.

The thought brought her up short, and she immediately stepped away from him. Her eyes darted to his face and away. She took a deep breath and managed a polite smile. “Thank you, Mr. Garrett. I can’t imagine what I must have been thinking.”

“I’m sure you know exactly what you were thinking, Miss Darcy. Your problem was that you were not watching.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Adriane kept the slight smile on her face as she stared somewhere a bit to the side of his face and went on. “At any rate, I am grateful that you were. Watching, I mean.”

“I guess this is one time you can be glad you weren’t able to avoid me.”

“Avoid you?” Her eyes flew to his face in surprise. “I can’t imagine what you mean, Mr. Garrett.”

“Can’t you?” Blake’s eyes burned into hers. “You’re afraid to talk to me.”

“That’s ridiculous.” She knew she should turn away from him, but she seemed rooted to the spot.

“That it may be, Miss Darcy, but we have been attending the same social functions for weeks, and any time I attempt to speak to you, you always manage an escape.” His look didn’t waver. “Even so, I hardly expected you to be so fearful of meeting me that you’d step in front of a team of horses.”

In spite of feeling a bit breathless, Adriane managed to keep her voice steady as she peered up at him. “Have I need to fear you, sir?” She tried to sound coquettish as though they were merely sparring meaningless words at a social.

Every trace of a smile disappeared from his face as his eyes probed hers until she was sure he was seeing into her very soul. She wanted to close her eyes, shut him away. She wanted to flee across the road toward Grace’s house where she would be safe. But she couldn’t allow him to win so easily.

After a long moment, he finally spoke. Not in the haughty voice she expected, but softly, almost kindly. “There are things you should fear, Adriane, but I am not one of them. Remember that. I always stand ready to rescue you.”

“I should hope I will not need to be rescued again, Mr. Garrett.” She attempted a smile. His kindness was even harder to bear up under than his disparagement.

He didn’t smile back. “I think you need rescuing even now.”

She arched her eyebrows at him. “From you, sir?”

“Perhaps so, dear lady.” At last he smiled fully, and again as it had that first time she’d seen him smile at Mrs. Wigginham’s, the light exploded from his eyes. “There are ladies who think I’m more than a little dangerous.”

Adriane began breathing easier as if she’d just tiptoed safely away from the edge of a chasm. “I wouldn’t wonder.” She kept her tone light as she turned from him to look up and down the street for carriages or wagons. “Perhaps if I’m careful, I might be able to make it across the street now.”

He held out his arm to her. “Please allow me to escort you. I’m going that way anyway.”

“Which way?” she said even as she slipped her hand under his elbow. It would be childish to refuse to walk with him.

He grinned down at her. “Whichever way you’re going.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to turn my head, Mr. Garrett. Or perhaps you think I’m on the track of a news story that you’ve somehow missed buying from some poor unfortunate soul.”

He laughed easily as they made their way across the street. “It never hurts to keep an eye on the competition.”

On the opposite walk, Adriane stopped and looked at him. There hardly seemed any reason to avoid meeting his eyes now. “Alas, Mr. Garrett, I’m not on the track of a story, but simply on my way to visit a friend.”

“In this part of town?” Blake looked around at the small houses. “Hardly the place for a social.”

“Neither is the newspaper shop where I live.”

“But all that will soon change.” His eyes came back to hers.

“So it seems.” She looked away from him toward Grace’s house. “At any rate, my friend’s house is right around the corner, and I fear I’m late, so I must hurry on.”

“I’ll walk you to her door.” When she hesitated, he went on. “It really is the way I’m going.”

“Very well.” She gave in gracefully and began to walk beside him. After a moment of silence, she said, “I have been meaning to compliment you on your interview with Helena Poteet. It was the talk of the town for days.”

“She’s an old friend,” he said. “And if we’re handing out compliments, you’re due one for your story about the
Betsy Layne
. I hear there was a line down at the dock the next day to get tickets for its first trip down the river.”

Adriane looked over at him. “What makes you think I wrote that and not my father?”

“You did, didn’t you?”

“Well, yes,” Adriane admitted. “I do love the steamships and I managed to get aboard the
Betsy Layne
for a look around without anyone knowing.” She laughed. “If only I could stow away on her for her maiden voyage. I think she will beat the record to New Orleans without any problem.”

“You keep up with the records?” Blake asked.

“Don’t you? People love reading about record-breaking runs.” Adriane glanced at him again. “That and murders, of course.”

“I don’t write about the murders to sell papers.” His eyes were suddenly piercing again.

Adriane looked down at the sidewalk as if she needed to watch her step. “I didn’t say you did.”

“Your father has said it, and more than once.” Blake’s voice was hard.

“So he has,” Adriane agreed, still watching the sidewalk in front of her instead of looking at the man beside her. “And he probably will again. Father actually prefers the old-style papers where the news was mostly political. He sees the need to carry other sorts of stories now, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy with the way newspapers are changing.”