Counterfeit Courtship (19 page)

She frowned. “How did you know?”

“Leonard told me.”

“He'll ruin your life just as he's ruined everything else.” She held his hand against her cheek, her tears warm against his skin. “I can't let you lose everything because of me.”

“I'm not going to. But even if I did, you couldn't do anything to stop it, and it wouldn't be your fault.”

As he said the words, he realized why she was upset. His military career had come after she refused his proposal eight years ago. And now most, if not all, of his problems had their roots in his West Point past.

She thought all his problems were her fault.

“Ellie, sweetheart, I know what you're thinking. But it isn't true. I made my own decisions, and you weren't to blame.”

“You left for New York the day after I refused you. Now I realize I encouraged Leonard back then. I never meant to, but it's still my fault that he hates you.”

She reached up and brushed back a lock of his hair. Something in her touch—or was it her expression?—held a note of sadness, of finality, and it sent a chill through him that the hot Mississippi sun couldn't banish.

“Graham, our pretend courtship is what's stirring Leonard up. We can't continue with it. If we do, you won't be able to provide for your family. You'll never have your plantation.”

No, she couldn't be saying that. His pulse raced as it had when she refused him the first time. “You're upset now, and I understand—”

In his desperation, he'd spouted the first thing that came to mind. But he needed time to think, to convince her how wrong this was, how right they were together. He'd never have a chance if they stopped spending time together.

“We have to end the courtship.”

* * *

“You don't mean that. You don't want it—I can tell. I know you better than anyone.”

The anguish in Graham's voice could have changed Ellie's mind in an instant if doing so wouldn't ruin his life. Graham did know her better than anyone, it was true, and he was right that she didn't want it. “Think of little Betsy—and Noreen. They depend on you. They don't have anyone else.”

“No, we both still need the fabricated courtship. That way, we can still spend time together, working to sell your cotton, without hurting our reputations. And then I can stay close by to protect you from Leonard. We'll find a way—”

It was cruel to let him think she might reconsider. “If we continue, neither of us will have anything. We'll lose a lot more than your brokerage. Both my homes will be gone, I'll have no way to earn a living for myself and Uncle Amos, and you'll never have Ashland Place. You'll probably lose Noreen's home too, because she won't be able to pay the fall taxes. Where will we all go?”

“Ellie.” His voice deepened, husky. “Do you care for me?”

She hesitated. It was the same question he'd asked eight years ago. This time she was powerless to laugh it off as before. Care for him? She was in love with him. Uncontrollably, undeniably, get-weak-in-the-knees-when-he-looked-at-her in love with him. Eight years ago—and now. Even though she never allowed herself to admit it back then. And that was why she had to do this.

“Because if you care for me, even a little, this makes no sense at all.”

When did love ever make sense? Had it made sense to her mother? Until this moment, Ellie thought she was doing the right thing. But now, seeing the way he stood his ground, waiting for the answer he already knew, a pang of doubt overshadowed her. Was there another way?

“You're worth more to me than all the plantations in Mississippi. We'll make it work somehow,” he said, his voice gravelly. “I promise.”

Promises. Why were they so hard to keep? “Yes, I—care for you, but I don't have a solution this time. I can't—”

Her throat suddenly tightening with unshed, silent tears, Ellie bounded from the carriage, the door banging, metal against metal.

She'd been a fool. Since her mother's death, she'd promised herself she wouldn't fall in love. Now she fled from the one man who had begun to still those ancient fears and draw her heart to himself in ways she'd only dreamed. Of course it had to be this way. How could she have let herself fall in love with him—again?

She tried to shut out the sound of his voice calling her name as she sprinted across the yard. Her skirt whirled around her legs, threatening to throw her off balance, until she caught sight of Susanna Martin in her own yard across Washington Street.

Susanna rushed across the street and caught Ellie's hands. “Whatever has happened? You're racing about as if your house was burning down.”

“My house is fine.” Her heart was the only thing falling to pieces.

Susanna sidled up close to her. “Did you and the colonel have words?”

The familiar glint in Susanna's eyes showed that she sensed a morsel of gossip. Maybe the girl was Ellie's best ally at the moment. She would spread the news of the courtship's end faster than Ellie could, and the sooner Leonard found out, the better.

However, then Ellie would have no chance to change her mind...

The slam of Graham's stable door drew her attention. She turned to see him mounting Dixie. Then, his back perfectly straight, he barreled up Commerce Street without glancing her way. Leaving again. Just like before.

Graham...

She had to do it now, or she never would. She drew a deep breath and silently prayed for strength.

“We are no longer courting.”

Her words sounded cold and hard, but in reality, they burned fire in her heart. She heard other words too—Susanna's insincere words of consolation, Graham's words of pain and, loudest of all, Uncle Amos's dire prediction:
Somebody's going to get hurt. I think it's going to be you.

How right her uncle had been. And how foolish she'd been to ignore his advice.

Chapter Eighteen

G
raham pushed Dixie as hard as she could go on the busy street, his mind racing faster than the horse's hooves as he headed for the sheriff's office. Last time, he'd run away from Ellie's rejection. This time, he ran toward the solution to their problems—at least, he hoped his ideas would solve them. For the first time, he was the one with the plan.

Five hours later, he burst through Ellie's back doorway, unannounced and without knocking. “Ellie?” His voice boomed across the center hall and echoed off the front door. “Ellie! I know you're upstairs. Come down here and talk to me.”

Lilah May scurried into the hall. “What you doing, nearly busting that door off its hinges? And lower your voice. Miss Ellie's upstairs with a sick headache.”

“Get her down here, unless you don't care whether or not we save Magnolia Grove.”

The maid's eyes widened for a moment, and then she made for the stairs.

“What are you bellowing about?” Ellie's hushed voice drifted down. “Lilah May, please check on Uncle Amos and make sure he didn't hear the commotion.”

As Ellie's light footsteps sounded on the steps, Graham moved farther into the hall and to the bottom of the staircase. Long and narrow, its twenty-six steps looked more like fifty today as she moved slower than Joseph ever did, even at his age.

Then as she drew nearer, Graham saw the reason for her hesitation. Red-rimmed, puffy eyes and tearstained cheeks told their story. His heart clenched at the sight. She'd admitted she cared for him, and now he saw that she did. But could she love him? During his frantic pace of the afternoon, he'd tossed that question about in his mind until he had to hand it over to the Lord. When he had, only one thought had come to him: love doesn't fail.

He edged closer, choosing not to remark on her appearance, especially since the tears made her even more beautiful.

“I meant what I said.” Ellie stood on the last step, clinging to the newel post.

“So did I. That's why I've been busy all day, putting my plan in place.” He swept off his hat and gestured with it toward the library. “Allow me to report to you, Miss Anderson.”

She frowned. “Why did you call me that?”

Graham started toward the back of the house and the library. “I'm not your beau anymore. I'm merely your broker and you're my client, so I addressed you as such.”

“You're not my broker anymore. I fired you this morning.” Despite her bold words, she trailed him to the library, as he knew she would.

“I obligated myself to ship last year's cotton to the buyer in New Orleans. I'll never get any work in Natchez if you don't let me follow through with that.”

When they were seated at the round library table, Ellie pulled the bell cord near the corner bookcase.

Lilah May entered the room almost immediately. No big surprise that she was lurking nearby, but Graham hadn't heard her come down the steps. Then again, she'd always been stealthy.

“Would you please serve refreshments to my broker and me?”

At the phrase “my broker,” Lilah May narrowed her eyes at her employer. “Fine. You want lemonade with the lemon or without, like you been drinking it all afternoon?”

“With lemon, please.”

Poor Ellie, with her downcast eyes and little-girl voice. She was in over her head, and she knew it. If Graham accomplished nothing else in his lifetime, he was going to make sure she kept her land and home. Even if he never had the right to take her in his arms and comfort her as he wanted to now. “You still drink sugar water when you're upset?”

“Sometimes.” She shifted slightly in her chair. “Tell me your plan, Colonel.”

So that was how she wanted to play it. That was fine, since he'd instigated the formality. “First I went to the sheriff's office to report the theft and file a complaint against Fitzwald. We can't do much on the mere evidence of a dog's growl, but Sheriff Tillman knows Fitzwald, and he's going to keep an eye on him.”

He hadn't expected much enthusiasm about that bit of news, and he didn't get it. “I also moved the shipments of cotton forward. We load the bales in the church tomorrow morning and the rest in two days. I would have loaded them all today if there'd been room on the ship.”

Lilah May came in then with a pitcher and glasses on a tray. But she didn't use Ellie's mother's crystal this time.

As Ellie poured and the maid left the room, Graham prayed for wisdom. More than anything else, he wanted to be the man to step in and save the woman he loved. But there was a good chance that she would veto his whole plan. And it would be a lot harder to put into place without her cooperation.

God, help me to understand more than my eyes can see.
He sipped his lemonade, trying to discern the best way to address the rest of the plan. “I also visited the two planters who didn't owe Fitzwald any money, and they want to hire me as their broker. Then I called on four more planters in the Alliance, and one of them engaged my services. Another said he'd consider it.”

“Three clients and a possible fourth—that's impressive.” Her bright eyes confirmed her growing enthusiasm.

“I then went to Barkley's print shop and ordered handbills advertising my new brokerage, and I took out an ad in the
Courier
. I also ordered a sign to post at our house: Graham Talbot, Cotton Broker.” He didn't tell her he'd sold his West Point class ring to pay for it all. His thumb brushed the bare third finger of his left hand, where he'd worn the ring for five years, even through the rigors of battle. Never having dreamed of parting with it, he nonetheless gave silent thanks for the sale.

“But the most important thing I did today was to call on Mister Sutton and your overseer. We're going to camp out at the spots where you hid the cotton, and Moses is going to get as many workers as he can to help. We're not letting anything happen to the rest of the crop.”

“You thought of everything.” For the first time during this conversation, Ellie's eyes warmed with a little half smile. A smile of hope, of trust.

“And that's not all.” Graham leaned close and brushed his fingers along her jaw, her cheek. “Today is the last day that weasel Leonard Fitzwald will control any part of our lives.”

“But what if he—”

Graham held up one hand, stopping her. “He doesn't matter anymore. I'm going to deal with him.” He paused, moving even closer until her face was so near he could feel her light breath on his skin. “I'm the one with the plan this time, and I've put all of what little I have left into it.”

Her wide eyes and reddened cheeks told him he'd made his point clear. Now all he had to do was make the whole thing work. Starting tonight, guarding Ellie's cotton.

And he would do that if it took his last breath.

* * *

God, did I do the right thing?

Just before dusk that night, Ellie sat propped up in her bed, ready for her nighttime prayers, and watched Graham's window. He had his gaslight up high, and she could see his silhouette at the window desk where he always sat to read his Bible. He must have decided to take a moment with the Lord before heading out to Magnolia Grove. But having him within her line of vision tonight somehow made this whole day seem even worse.

Lord, I was foolish to get my hopes up after hearing Graham's plan.
Now, alone in her room, it seemed she and Graham had traded roles, with him getting a great idea that probably wasn't going to work out. She released all her disappointment in a deep sigh. If only Uncle Amos hadn't borrowed that money. If only Leonard hadn't come back to town. And Graham—if only they hadn't shared two perfect kisses...

Those two kisses would be all the romance she'd have for the rest of her life. She certainly wouldn't have that feeling with Leonard. The peck he gave her hand today was so cold and dry, it could have come from a chicken's beak. How would she tolerate marriage to him?

Ellie sat straight up in bed. She didn't have a choice. If Uncle Amos, Noreen, Graham's father and Betsy were to have roofs over their heads, Ellie had to follow through with the decision she'd made just after Graham left. She had to marry Leonard. She had to leave the past—and her love for Graham—behind.

The night's heat and stickiness did nothing to help her sleep. She got up and poured water from her pitcher into her bathing bowl and carried it to one of her open windows. Setting the bowl on the windowsill, she hoped it would cool whatever breeze might blow in.

As she stood there in the light of the just-waning moon, she caught sight of the pulley and the twine that stretched between her window and Graham's. Now that she would soon be engaged to Leonard, this message system was certainly not appropriate. It had to go. On impulse, she grabbed the pulley and tugged on it until it wrenched away from the house. Then she sent it flying across the yard, twine and all.

Only it didn't bring finality to her romance as she'd hoped it would.

Instead, Ellie should have done what Graham was doing—reading. She lit her own gaslight and flopped onto her bed. Then she pulled out her Bible and opened it to a random page.

She read Joshua 8:1 out loud: “‘Fear not, neither be thou dismayed.'”

The problem was that she was both dismayed and afraid, and those feelings probably would not go away anytime in the near future. Neither would her love for Graham.

Maybe a different verse would give her a new perspective. She picked up her Bible and started to open it to another page by chance. But then she heard her mother's voice in her mind, warning her against using that method exclusively when seeking an answer from God.

Do You have a special verse for me tonight, Father?

Mother's favorite Bible verse came to mind, and she turned to Philippians 4:13 and read it aloud. “‘I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.'”

Ellie twisted Mother's pearl ring on her right hand.
You can do anything you set your mind to.

Had Mother done what she'd set her mind to? Ellie had been her one concern in life, and Mother had certainly raised her to love God, as she'd set out to do.

And, come to think of it, Ellie had set her mind to holding on to Magnolia Grove, as well as this house, throughout this entire war. And she'd done it, against all odds. So why back down now, just because things looked impossible?

She cast her gaze toward Graham's window again. He'd spent everything he had, believing God would help him. He'd prayed, gotten direction from God and put a plan to work.

So why didn't Ellie do the same? Would she turn coward now, when they might win this battle with Leonard—when she and Graham might soon be free to love? Perhaps God was giving her a chance to trust Him with all that was dearest to her.

Leonard was the coward. Her father was the gambler. Ellie was neither. She was a woman in love, a woman who trusted God.

Lord, I'll keep trying. If I fail, then at least I'll know I did my best. I'm counting on You to guide us through these next days.

Ellie looked up and saw that Graham's room was dark. She closed her Bible just as Dixie's hooves sounded on the packed dirt of Commerce Street.

* * *

Just after dawn the next morning, Graham sneaked in the back door of his home, hoping not to raise the family. As soon as he'd cracked open the door, he smelled ham and biscuits.

Aunt Ophelia. That woman had made herself a blessing in their home. He headed to the dining room and found her in a bright pink dress, pouring coffee for Father.

“You're both up early.”

“And you're slipping in at first light for one of my biscuits.” Aunt Ophelia made for the sideboard, where she poured another cup and handed it to Graham.

He reached for the steaming cup and sipped the brew. “I just stopped in to borrow Father's old boots, but I don't mind having a bite before I head back out. About two o'clock this morning, I heard something in Magnolia Grove's cypress bog, and when I went out there to investigate, I slid into the water. My feet have been wet ever since.”

“Ellie's light was on late last night.” Father looked up from his plate and, for the first time since he came home, made firm eye contact with Graham.

“Father...are you well?”

Aunt Ophelia pulled Graham to the side as his father turned his attention back to his plate. “He's coming and going this morning,” she whispered. “But he's better than he was. He keeps talking about Ellie's light, but at least he hasn't mentioned Daisy during breakfast.”

Did his father sense Graham's turmoil, and had he somehow rallied himself to help? Time would tell, but for now, Graham would take any good news that came his way. Maybe if he continued discussing the topic of Father's interest, the older man would progress even more. “I saw it too, Father. She's struggling. I prayed for her through the midnight hour.”

“As did I, son. Do you have the mind of the Lord in the matter?”

Graham swallowed hard, the lump in his throat barely allowing him to breathe. How many times had he heard his father say those words? And now he was coherent enough to say them again and, best of all, to recognize Graham as his son. He glanced at Aunt Ophelia, who also caught the significance of the statement, judging from the tears she suddenly wiped from her eyes.

He cleared his throat. “Yes, Father. I believe I do.”

“Then act on it quickly.”

“I intend to.” Graham seated himself and, after silently thanking God for the food, he ate his breakfast more hurriedly than the fare deserved.

A quiet tapping sounded at the back door.

“Who would call at quarter past six in the morning? Whoever it is, it must not be an emergency. He didn't knock loudly enough for that.” Aunt Ophelia stopped fussing at the sideboard, which again contained a little gold, thanks to the sale of Graham's ring, and hastened to the door.