Counterfeit Courtship (6 page)

Chapter Six

T
he next afternoon, Ellie straightened the piece of wire she'd found in the stable. She tied a rag, one of Lilah May's old, frayed red kerchiefs, onto one end. Then she set the other end on the windowsill and weighted it down with
Pride and Prejudice
, flying the kerchief out her window like a flag.

Dear God, I'm putting this flag out here like Gideon's fleece.
Despite what she'd said to Graham, she realized during her sleepless night that she didn't know whether Leonard Fitzwald had told her the truth about their debt. She needed advice—and help in searching Uncle Amos's library at Magnolia Grove.

If only her uncle would get well again, she could tell him about her conversation with Leonard and get his opinion. But since Doctor Pritchert told her uncle to avoid the exertion of business, Ellie was on her own. Besides, Uncle Amos had sounded so confused this morning, he couldn't have helped her anyway.

Her childhood Sunday school teacher used to say Gideon sinned by putting out his fleece to seek an answer from God. But Ellie didn't see it that way. Gideon needed to know whether God was going to deliver his enemies into his hands. And in a way, that's what Ellie needed to know too. She'd never thought of Leonard as an enemy before, but after last night, she wasn't sure.

“If Graham sees the red flag and comes over by the time I'm ready to leave, I'll ask him to go with me to Magnolia Grove. If he doesn't, I'll go alone,” she whispered to the Lord. “Above all else, don't let me get outside Your will.”

Ten minutes later, she went to the dining room and poured herself a glass of sugar water. She sipped it as she watched out the window for a sign of Graham. If he hadn't come by the time she finished her drink, she'd have to go.

When her drink was gone, she took her glass to the kitchen and then returned to the center hall. She tied on her plain, wide-brimmed straw hat in front of the mirror at the back door. It was time to go, and Graham hadn't arrived. With a pang of disappointment, she pulled on her gloves and gave Sugar a goodbye pat. “I'm riding Buttercup today, so you can't come along. We'll take the landau tomorrow.”

At least tomorrow she'd have company, even if it was only her dog.

Pushing down the self-pity that wanted to rise up in her, she headed out the door. If God didn't want her to have help, that meant He would do the helping. Ellie learned long ago not to complain about that. If she didn't want to marry, she had to do things alone. Hard things. Hard work. Hard decisions.

She stepped into the stable, where Roman led Buttercup out of her stall, saddled and ready to go.

His eager service made Ellie smile. She wasn't alone, after all. “Roman, I hope our fortunes will soon be restored so we can hire a gardener. Then you can do only what you love—care for a stable full of horses.”

“I'll pray with you 'bout that.” The handsome older man held the reins in his mahogany-colored hand while Ellie mounted.

She spoke to Buttercup, and the horse started toward Commerce Street. As they turned onto Washington and passed the south windows, Sugar looked out and watched them go. Her throaty warbling let Ellie know she didn't want to be left at home.

Before Ellie reached Pearl Street, Graham raced toward her on Dixie. “I thought we were having a picnic. That's what the red flag means, right?”

He remembered. And he came. She didn't recall ever being so glad to see him.

Thank You, God.

She reined in Buttercup and smiled at Graham. “I didn't think you were coming.”

“I came as soon as I saw the signal.”

“I had a basket packed.”

“Where is it?”

“In the kitchen.”

“What's in it?”

“A whole chicken, biscuits and honey, and watermelon.”

He spun Dixie around and cantered toward Ellie's house. “I've waited eight years for Lilah May's fried chicken.”

Ellie laughed at his serious tone. She nudged Buttercup, urging her to follow. “I have an ulterior motive.”

He groaned. “Not another plan...”

“Not like that. I couldn't find any loan agreements in this house, so I need to search Uncle Amos's library at Magnolia Grove.” She didn't want to ruin the day by telling him she was in big trouble if she did owe Leonard thirty thousand dollars in two weeks. “I thought we could have a picnic and then look through the library together.”

“That's not so bad. At least it doesn't involve dancing.”

When they reached the stables again, Lilah May came out, their lunch in her hand and a grin on her face. “Goin' on a picnic and forgot the basket. That's love if I ever saw it.”

Love. Her maid thought she and Graham were in love. Ellie's hand shot up and covered her mouth.

Lilah May handed the basket to Graham. As he settled it in front of him, Ellie noticed something she'd never seen before—his face and neck turning red.

Graham—embarrassed? Over the mention of love. It wasn't about her, that much she knew, so why had he colored so?

Then a distressing thought hit her. Did he already have a girl? Was that why he fought against their pretend courtship?

She should have thought of that. She'd assumed, without even thinking of it, that he was unattached. Somewhere, a woman could be waiting for him to return. Even—
oh, my word
—a wife!

No wonder he didn't want all those girls around—or want her at his house last night. It all made sense now.

But if he was married, or even courting a girl, they had no business riding out to Magnolia Grove together. “Graham, wait...”

He swung around in the saddle. “What for? I'm starving.”

“We need to talk.”

“Magnolia Grove is a twenty-minute ride. We'll have plenty of time to talk.”

Ellie looked to Lilah May for help, but she merely shooed them away with a wave of her hand and headed back inside the house.

“We don't have to go if you don't want to.”
If you're courting. If you're married...

He looked at her as if she'd suddenly lost all her senses. “I said I wanted some chicken.”

“But the picnic—we don't have to. You can take the chicken home.”

He didn't understand. That she could tell by the way he gazed into the sky as if asking for divine guidance.

Finally he lowered his head. “Look, you invited me to a picnic.” His voice dropped and he spoke each word slowly, as if she were too simple to understand normal speech. “Let's ride out to the country, and if you want to talk on the way, we will. I just want to get there and get something to eat.”

Fine. He just wanted to eat. She tapped Buttercup's flank and they took off toward the street.

Within five awkward minutes, they were out of town. Graham reined in Dixie a bit, trotting next to Buttercup. “Ellie, I'm confused. First you ask me to a picnic, and then you don't want to go.” He paused. “Did you intend to invite me? Perhaps I misunderstood the invitation.”

“No, I'm the one who misunderstood.”

“Misunderstood what? Ellie, if we're going to spend all this courting time together, you're going to have to start making some sense. I have no idea what you're talking about.”

Afraid to speak, afraid her frustration would come out in her voice, she blurted her concern anyway. “It's about girls.”

“What girls? Susanna and her mob? They don't know we're going out there, do they?”

“No! How can such a smart man be so dumb? I'm talking about girls and you. Do you have one?”

He looked at her as if she'd asked if he had a bale of cotton in his pocket. “Unless we're talking about you, and I assume we're not, then no.”

“You're not courting anyone? Not married?”

He laughed the laugh of mockery, his handsome features clouded. “Not courting, not married. No opportunity for either. I've been at war, remember? And before that, military school. I've hardly been around women since I left Natchez.”

Well, now, didn't she feel silly?

“Why do you ask such a thing? And why did you wait until now to ask it?”

“I didn't think of it until now.”

“Well, think of it no more, because you're all I have along those lines.”

And he hardly sounded pleased about that.

* * *

Where had Ellie come up with that foolish notion? Courtship—true courtship—was the furthest thing from Graham's mind. At this point, he was less interested in girls than he was in the basket of fried chicken he carried in front of him.

He glanced over at her, riding on the other side of the weedy road. Her hair shone like gold in the bright sunlight. He was wrong—the chicken wasn't as interesting as Ellie. But it would give him a lot less trouble.

He shifted his gaze, along with his thoughts, toward the plantation they passed on the left. The fields of Mansfield Manor, once as productive as those at Ashland Place and Magnolia Grove, now lay fallow. The charred ruins of its big house stood crumbling at the end of an overgrown lane, and when they passed the run-down Mansfield chapel, Ellie let out a sigh.

“I sometimes attended that little church with Amy Mansfield when we were girls. With more and more plantations confiscated and abandoned, these little chapels will soon fall into disrepair and eventually blow down in a hard wind.” The crease between her eyes suggested that Ellie was thinking of Magnolia Grove.

“Have you been able to maintain your chapel?”

“It needs a new roof, but that will have to wait.” She turned from the chapel and toward the road ahead of them as if pushing aside morose thoughts of her own future. “When we've finished our dinner and the search in the study, I thought we could ride the fields. I'd like your opinion on the condition of the cotton.”

She was worried about more than just a chapel—Graham could tell it from the tone of her voice. “You suspect Fitzwald might be telling the truth after all?”

“He's changed since I last saw him. He seems more...callous. Harder.”

They rounded a bend in the river road, Ellie's horse picking up the pace as they neared Magnolia Grove. How much should Graham reveal to her about the weasel? He hesitated, choosing his words carefully, determined to say no more than necessary. “He's always been that way. Selfish, greedy, cruel—you name the bad quality, he's got it.”

“Don't be silly. He's not the beau of Natchez, but he's not that bad.”

Ellie never could see the evil in a skunk. “You're going to have to take my word for it, unless you want me to tell you some sordid stories. I'll merely say I've had to intervene when he was on his way to mistreat a lady. I've also stepped in when he was cheating a man who couldn't afford to lose what the weasel was trying to take from him.”

“Leonard behaved that way?” She turned those blue eyes on him, their innocence shining as brightly as her golden hair.

At her silence, Graham gave her time to think, to remember.

“I never felt completely comfortable in his presence,” she said after several moments. “He was often disrespectful to Lilah May. Sugar doesn't like him either.”

“This time, I agree with Sugar.”

As they approached Magnolia Grove's lane, Ellie slowed her horse. “What did you mean when you told Leonard that you haven't forgotten how to fight? At first, I thought you were speaking of the war. But the surrender was only two months ago, and that's not long enough for a soldier to have forgotten how to do battle.”

“You're better off not knowing.”

“Have you ever fought with Leonard?”

“Fought hard and won.”

“You were defending someone else?”

He hesitated. “Someone much like you,” he said in a low voice.

They turned into the Magnolia Grove lane and stopped by the cypress bog. The still-magnificent big house hadn't changed, at least not that he could tell from this distance. But the weedy drive, the unmown lawns, the sticks and magnolia limbs in the yard, had turned the plantation shabby.

Graham worked to keep his dismay off his face. Magnolia Grove was Ellie's real home, where she and her uncle had spent the springs, Graham visiting nearly every day. This sprawling plantation was where she felt safe.

Now it looked less like a grand, productive estate and more like an abandoned, run-down farm. The fact nearly tore his heart from his chest, so how must Ellie feel?

She winced as if seeing Magnolia Grove through Graham's eyes. “I'm ashamed to show you how much it's changed. We haven't even been able to keep up with the weeds in the fields, so we haven't done anything with the drive, the lawns, or the formal gardens.”

He hesitated, searching for comforting words. “In wartime, cotton fields and vegetable gardens are more practical than flowerbeds. The time for flowers will come.”

Ellie smiled, but for the first time, he saw doubt in her eyes.

Riding between the long rows of live oaks on each side of the lane, they finally drew near Ellie's ancestral home. The massive brick house looked as stately as ever, with its two-story, faux-marble columns and ornate entry, despite the spider webs on the gallery railing and sidelights. Her troubled eyes cleared a bit as she swiveled in the saddle and took in the house and lawns.

“This is still your favorite place on earth,” he said. “I can see it in your eyes.”

Ellie led the way behind and west of the house, toward the stables. “It seems too quiet. No sheep grazing in the lawn, no peacocks strutting about the gallery, no workers scurrying to and from the house. All the activity on the plantation takes place in the fields or at the cabins now, and that makes the house look deserted. Which it is.”

Graham dismounted first and set the picnic basket in the shade of a nearby oak. Ellie maneuvered Buttercup to the marble carriage steps and slid onto them from her horse's back.