Amelia (Southern Hearts Book 2) Page 15

  Charles sifted through some of the other letters. He picked one up dated, 1784.

  Zeke, The war has ended! The news has spread like wildfire that we're actually free. Word came that they will be sending you boys home soon. I can't wait.

  I know I'm only fourteen but I don't want that to stop you from asking for my hand. Don't forget you promised.

  Your ma showed up yesterday. She said they hadn't heard from you in a month of Sundays and that I should stop waiting for letters, but I'll never stop waiting for you. Until the day I pass I will always wait for you. Vi

  The letters continued in the same vein. He reached the bottom of the pile. The last two letters looked different, newer. He opened one gingerly.

  Zeke, Knowing that you made it through the war was one of the greatest moments of my life. Seeing you and holding you topped it. When you walked through the door of the mercantile, I thought my heart would stop. I couldn't breathe, my palms sweated, my foot stuck to the ground. I wanted to run to you then but I could not for my husband waited.

  Your note caught me unawares. Our meeting was a mistake. Not because I don't care for you but because I'm happily married. I know I promised to wait for you, but when you didn't come home, and everyone said you were dead, I couldn't wait.

  The only way to leave my overbearing pa was to marry. Robin is a good man. We have one son together. We live in a large estate a day's ride from Walterborough.

  I only tell you this so you will know I'm well and will not seek to contact me again. Thanks for the memories, Vi

  Charles' heart pumped faster and faster until a pain developed behind his forehead. He picked up the last letter.

  Zeke, No words can express how much I regret our meeting. I should never have agreed. And what happened was a mistake that will never occur again. Please respect my wishes. For my safety and the safety of our child, you must stay away. If Robin ever discovers my indiscretion, he will never forgive me.

  I've sent all our correspondence to you because I cannot keep it here.

  Watch the paper for the announcement. I will make sure it is listed. If it is a girl I will name it after my mother but if it is a boy I will name it after your father, Victor.

  Love you always, Vivian

  The letter fluttered to the floor and Charles buried his head in his hands.

  Chapter Thirty

  Amelia watched Charles as he rode off into the morning mist. Laying her forehead against the cool window pane, she allowed her tears to flow freely.

  Charles was like a drug she couldn't get enough of. She had heard people talk about opium and how once a person took a dose he wanted more. No matter how terrible it felt when the opium wore off a person always needed it again. No matter how much it hurt when he left, she wanted to be with him more.

  Back in bed, she closed her eyes and slept. Morning came and the sun's rays filtered through the curtain and blinded her. She rose and dressed, an unexpected knock resounded on her door.

  "Amelia, are you awake?" asked Millie.

  "Yes."

  Millie entered, a frown covering her face.

  "What? You don't look happy."

  "I'm not. Miles Jones is here to see you."

  "What?" asked Amelia, breathlessly.

  "He says he came to court you."

  Amelia paused while flinging her shawl over her shoulders.

  "Look if you don't want to see him, just tell me and I'll have Stephen or Father send him away. You know that Father wouldn't approve of this situation anyway."

  Amelia tightened her shawl. "No, let me handle it. I have an idea."

  She followed Millie to the parlor.

  "Do you want me to go in with you? You know I don't mind–"

  Amelia placed her hand on Millie's forearm. "Just stay here. If you think I need you, then feel free to bust in."

  "Got it."

  Amelia entered the parlor. The fire burned in the fireplace and she headed there to fan the flames.

  When she turned Miles was standing. His hat was clasped tightly in his hands and dangling in front of him. He cleared his throat several times but she didn't acknowledge him.

  When she thought she'd let him stew long enough she took a seat on the sofa. She tilted her head to one side, then the other.

  "It's hot in here," she said, affecting a British accent.

  "No it's not. I feel quite cool," she drawled like her favorite Aunt Betty.

  "Perhaps you've added to many logs," said the English accented Amelia.

  "The log count seems perfect to me," replied the Bayou Sara Amelia.

  With each statement, she changed her accent and tilted her head in a different direction. Miles fidgeted and tried to get her attention but she continued to ignore him and talked to herself.

  "If you say it is warm enough then it must be. Now on to other things. You have a visitor," said the British accented Amelia.

  "A visitor? Who is it? Maybe I don't want to see anyone today," responded the Bayou Sara Amelia.

  "But you must talk to them, otherwise they might think you're crazy."

  "Hello?" asked Miles, shuffling his feet.

  She looked at him, raised her eyelids, and widened her eyes. In her regular tone of voice, she said, "Oh, hello. You must be my visitor."

  "Yes," said Miles, his voice trembling.

  "Oh, no," she wailed and blinked rapidly.

  "What? What is it? Are you all right?"

  Her mouth formed an 'o' and she covered it with her hand. "I just discovered I can't feel anything below my feet!"

  His jaw dropped, and he slowly backed away toward the door.

  ****

  "You're sure?" questioned Stephen.

  "Yes. I've read every letter over and over. Grandpa Robin must have discovered Vivian's affair. Maybe she told him on her death bed, maybe he found the letters, I don't know, but it explains everything. It explains why the first will named Victor as second in line to the Vincent Estate, and why the second will took him out all together."

  "What about sending him away to school? Do you think that was because he looked more and more like your grandmother's lover as he grew older?" asked Stephen.

  Charles clasped his hands in his lap and drew a ragged breath. "Who knows? They did send Father as well. You know the more I think about it the more I believe grandpa tried to love Victor as best he could, but he just couldn't bring himself to give his family land over to someone not of his blood line."

  "Then this cinches it. You can take this to the court and prove Victor has no legal rights to the property and that the new will was the more valid one."

  "Yes."

  "I wouldn't think it would be overly hard to discredit the first judge either with him being related to Victor's love interest at the time. How Millie finds out all these things is beyond me."

  "Gossip circles," said Charles with a shrug.

  Stephen laughed. "And I thought they were quilting! But honestly, Victor was dating the judge's daughter. Things aren't looking good for him."

  "Indeed not."

  "I'll contact my solicitor tomorrow and get started on this. I can't imagine it will take long," said Stephen.

  Stephen drew out a piece of paper and a quill and penned a list of things he needed to remember. Charles stared out the window. Snow covered the ground and icicles hung from the eaves.

  Finally, his inheritance was within his grasp. The land would be his and he could restore it to its former glory. He could build up the slave population and start growing cotton once again.

  Charles swallowed. The chimney for his cabin was over the next rise. What would happen when he told Victor of his discovery? He would deny the information, of course. Being the illegitimate son of some unknown man named Zeke wouldn't appeal too many.

  "Have you heard from Miles?" asked Charles.

  "Funny you should ask. He stopped by this morning after you left," said Stephen.

  "He did what! What did he want? Is Amelia all right? Did he bother h
er?"

  "Calm down. She's fine. In fact, the way Millie relayed the event, Miles is the one you should be worried about."

  "What?"

  Stephen shared the details and Charles fought to control his laughter. That's my girl.

  "Anyway, back to your dilemma. Look over this list."

  Charles studied the paper.

  "Have I forgotten anything?"

  "No, you've thought of everything," said Charles.

  "Good. I'll let you know what I hear back. It may take a few days in light of the holiday and–"

  Stephen continued, but Charles had stopped listening. Everything he'd ever wanted was coming to pass. Soon it would all be his again. Then why did he feel so empty?

  "Charles did you hear what I said?"

  "No, what was it?"

  "When do you want to go to town?"

  "It doesn't matter."

  "Then I prefer to go when Millie's parents leave. She will no doubt want to go with me since she hasn't been to Charleston since our wedding, and I know she won't leave while her family is visiting."

  "Of course."

  Stephen nodded and set about making arrangements.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The remainder of the night Cassidy mumbled words of encouragement in Victor's ear. From his thirteenth year of age, his heart had been broken. Unloved in his mind, he'd pushed everyone away. It would take time to break down his defenses, to make him trust her.

  He slept on the settee and she touched his forehead and moved his hair aside. Moving away and staring out the window, she scowled. What was he doing here?

  Silently she slid across the hardwood floor in her slippered feet. The slaves slept and she wished to keep it that way.

  She grabbed a cloak from a rack, opened the door, and stepped onto the porch.

  "What are you doing here?" asked Cassidy.

  "I had to come. I did as you said but it didn't work."

  "And?"

  "Well you promised if I helped you, I would get to marry Amelia Beaumont."

  "And I also told you that the wooing would be your own responsibility."

  "I can't woo her, she's crazy!" whispered Miles Jones.

  "Indeed," said Cassidy crossing her arms over her chest.

  "Yes. She talks to herself and – and I'm afraid of her."

  Cassidy rolled her eyes. "She tricked you."

  "Impossible," he said breathlessly.

  "It doesn't matter."

  "But–"

  "Please go back to your house and stay there."

  Miles narrowed his eyes. "If you don't help make Amelia my wife then I'll inform Victor of your plot."

  Cassidy snickered. "Go right ahead, tell him. He won't believe you."

  Miles shoulders drooped. "What about the property I promised to give to him if I married one of you? He still wants to take that from his nephew."

  "You don't really own it so you can't give it to him. Now go home. I'm freezing out here."

  She placed her hand on the doorknob, and he grabbed it. "Wait just a minute, what do you mean I don't own it? You said that fancy surveyor drew my line on the other side of the cabin."

  "Yes, that is what I said, but," she shrugged, her mouth tilting upward at the corner, "I lied."

  He fell back, releasing her. Between clenched teeth, he said, "Marry Victor. You two deserve each other."

  "I fully intend to."

  The door closed with a loud click. She leaned against it and placed her hand over her wildly thumping heart.

  "Who was that?" Victor stood in the foyer, his hair spiked wildly atop his head.

  Taking a step toward him, she placed her hand on his cheek. "No one important. Just someone asking for directions. Now we should get you back to the parlor. We have much to discuss."

  She grabbed his hand and pulled him along. A glance over her shoulder revealed the porch was empty and she breathed a sigh of relief.

  ****

  "I believe we've seen the last of Miles Jones," said Stephen.

  "Do you truly think so? I've been afraid to hope that my ruse worked."

  "My litigator sent word of an error in the surveying of my property. It turns out Charles' cabin does indeed sit on my land. So you've no need to worry. Miles has no way to blackmail you into marrying him."

  Amelia stopped listening halfway through. "Charles' cabin?"

  Stephen frowned.

  "Why do I get the feeling I've been lied to."

  "Amelia, I… maybe–"

  She lifted her hand. "Don't." Pacing the room, she moved her arms about in agitation. "This explains everything. Why I couldn't visit the Vincent Estate. Why when I arrived there the slave looked at me like I was insane. Why Charles stays at the cabin instead of his house. Why the cabin seems so much like it belongs to him."

  Falling into a chair, she sighed.

  Stephen crouched before her. "Amelia, I'm sorry."

  A tear escaped, and she swiped it away with her sleeve.

  "You should talk to Charles."

  Sniffing, she nodded.

  "You will give him a chance to explain, won't you?"

  "Yes," she said.

  "Good. I'll send someone to fetch him."

  "No. I'll go to the cabin."

  "Do you promise to take the shortcut?" he asked.

  "Shortcut?"

  Stephen drew a map and handed it to her. "Follow this."

  "Thank you," said Amelia.

  She ran to her room and grabbed her cloak and gloves. She looked along the hallway. Assured no one watched, she stepped out and rushed to the stables.

  Once the horse was saddled, she climbed astride and unfolded her map. She squinted at the drawing and slapped her forehead. Boy, did she feel dumb.

  The trailhead appeared and she cut off the road. Within minutes she stood in front of Charles' cabin without a scratch on her or her horse.

  Dismounting, she tied her horse to a hitching post outside the stables. Heaving a heavy sigh, she walked to the front door and lifted her hand to knock. Her fist descended and Charles opened the door.

  "Amelia?"

  "Charles, we need to talk."

  He stepped back. "Come in."

  "Thank you."

  Amelia's heart raced and butterflies danced in her stomach. To kill time she removed her gloves and gently laid them down. Untying her cloak, she placed it on the back of a chair.

  "You're stalling," he said.

  She lifted her gaze and smiled in his direction. Had God created a more handsome man than he? Broad chest, muscular smooth arms, high cheekbones, and a well-defined nose. His blue eyes gazed at her and she looked away.

  "Would you like something to drink? Hot tea? A shot of whiskey?" He grinned and she knew he was teasing her.

  "No, thank you. I've come to ask you a question."

  "Ah, a question. I sense this does not portend well for me."

  "Perhaps not."

  "Then be about it."

  "Maybe we should sit?" she asked.

  "Do you think we should?"

  "Yes, I do."

  "Very well. Should we sit at the table so I can stare at your beauty across the glimmering wood top, or shall we sit in my living area and gaze at one another across a firelit room?"

  Amelia's heart beat faster and faster and her palms began to sweat. "What would you prefer, Mr. Vincent?"

  "So we've graduated to last names?"

  "Charles, where would you like to retire for our discussion?"

  "Wherever my lady pleases."

  He wasn't making this easy. She was supposed to be mad because he lied to her and because she thought him a wealthy landowner but instead he lived off the good graces of her sister and brother-in-law.

  Intentionally, she took the chair. This left him with the sofa which he leaned back in and relaxed.

  "Now we're seated. What would you like to ask?"

  "You seem in an amicable mood," she said.

  "I am."

  "Would you l
ike to share?" she asked.

  "First you ask your question. Then I will share my news."

  "As you wish," she said, shifting. Her hands clasped in her lap, she took a deep breath and plunged in. "Why did you lie to me?"

  He drew his brows together. "Excuse me?"

  "You lied to me. You do not own the Vincent Estate."

  "I see. Did Victor tell you this?"

  "No. Why would Victor tell me?"

  "Oh."

  She sat straighter. "So there has been more than the one deception?"

  Charles lifted his head and studied the ceiling.

  "I will have you know I do not intend to leave this spot until you tell me the truth."

  "And what if I never tell you the truth? Will you stay here forever?" he whispered.

  "But of course not, don't be ridiculous."

  "So you believe I will tell you the truth."

  "Of course you will. Now go ahead and do so. I tire of waiting," she said.

  He snickered under his breath and heat covered her cheeks.

  "Are you close to the fire, my love?"

  "Close to the fire?"

  "Your face burns. Should we move to the dining table?"

  She leaned forward and slapped her palms against the chair arms. "You will stop this. I want the truth and I want it now!"

  Charles leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. "Then I will tell you what I should have told you when you arrived at the Green Estate. I'm penniless. There, you can leave and go home with your family in peace knowing you've left nothing behind."

  "B-but, I don't understand," she stuttered.

  He shrugged. "It's simple really. I thought I could trust my uncle, and I asked him to watch the plantation while I went with Stephen to Louisiana. When I returned he'd found a way to take my land and claim it as his own."

  "He did that to you?"

  "Yes."

  "How dare he?" Rage welled inside her and threatened to consume her.

  "Stephen and Millie took me in. Eventually my constant wallowing drove them to kick me out." He smiled bitterly. "It was the best thing they could have done for me. I took my energies and used them to build this cabin. Now it's my home."