Her Safe Harbor: Prairie Romance (Crawford Family Book 4) (3 page)

She preceded him through the door on shaky legs, holding her
arm tightly against her side and willing the pain to subside. He took her free
arm through his and held her hand. He smiled at her affectionately as they
moved down the hall toward her parents’ box. The first person she saw was
Evelyn Prentiss, an old friend of her mother’s. Mrs. Prentiss sidled over to
Jennifer, and whispered in ear.

“Smile, dear. And smooth your chignon. We don’t want your
mother and father to get an idea as to why you were in a cupboard with Mr.
Rothchild,” Mrs. Prentiss said with a conspiratorial grin.

Jennifer wobbled a smile and batted her lashes. Not to be
coy, but to forestall the tears that were near to running down her face. She
reached up to touch her hair and drew a sharp breath from the pain as she did
so.

“Do not fret, Jennifer. I will say nothing to Jane,” Mrs.
Prentiss said. “Mum’s the word!”

Jennifer watched Mrs. Prentiss rejoin her party. “I believe
I am going to faint,” she said.

Jeffrey began leading her down the hallway and leaned close
to her. His nearness sent a shiver down her spine.

“Don’t be a ninny, Jennifer. The Crawford box is right
there.”

Jeffrey opened the door to the bank’s theatre box and seated
her. Her father leaned forward. “Are you unwell, Jennifer? You are ghastly
white.”

She looked up at Jeffrey from under her lashes. He was
staring at her intensely and nodded as if to prompt her reply. Oh, how she
wished she could tell her father! She’d like to scream it on the street that
Jeffrey Rothchild was brutal and a bully. But she did not. She could not be so
brash and embarrass her father and the bank in such a public way. But she would
not marry him, not even with the public announcements of his intentions, or her
mother’s cajoling and interfering. She would find a way to end this privately,
with no public repercussions and unpleasantness.

“I am fine, Father,” she said. “Perhaps just chilled.”

“Would you like my topcoat, dear?” her father asked. “I will
have the usher get it from the checkroom if you would like.”

“No, Father, I’ll be fine,” she said as Jeffrey sat down
beside her and leaned close to whisper in her ear.

“Did I tell you you look exceptionally beautiful tonight? I
hope you are feeling better after your . . . accident. It worries me greatly
that you may be unwell. I am going to send you vases of fresh flowers to
brighten your day tomorrow. Would you like that?”

She nodded and turned to her parents seated behind her with
as much of a bright smile as she could muster. “The play is beginning again!”

* * *

Jennifer asked a maid she met in the hallway as she went to
her bedroom that evening to bring her ice. She had dismissed Eliza immediately
upon coming into her room and would not meet her maid’s eyes. When it happened
before, the first time, she’d cried in her maid’s arms on her return from
Texas, wondering what she’d ever done to deserve such treatment. But when she’d
dried her tears that night, she didn’t feel relieved that she’d shared the
story with Eliza, but rather humiliated. And while she was at odds as to how to
end this relationship, and her mother was not only cruel and unpleasant, but
ill as well, and her father was continuously manipulated, and her sisters had
left her here, left her to manage the family, with all of that, she still had
her pride.

* * *

“There are still teaching positions
open here, Zebidiah, and one full professorship, I’ve been told at the Atlanta
School. Why don’t you get serious with your life?” Gordon Moran said.

“Father!” Bella admonished.

“What is it, Bella?” her father asked.

Zeb shook his head at his sister and looked at his father.
He would soon be getting on the train, and Bella did not need to argue on his
behalf and put herself at odds with her father. “I’m not going to teach,
Father, anywhere. I’ve told you that as recently as last night. I was never
interested in it, as you know.”

“Certainly there is some other means of employment other
than working for this . . . fellow,” Father said.

“Senator Maximillian Shelby is his name. You would have me
sweeping floors before you’d be happy I was working for a U.S. senator?”

“There’s a godliness about labor, son, if you are not called
to academics.”

“And working for a U.S. senator, being involved in the
direction our country takes, is a step down?”

Professor Moran turned as the whistle on the approaching
train blew. “It’s this man. This Shelby person.” He looked at Zeb with
consternation. “He’s from Boston, Zebidiah. He’s a Yankee. What could you
possibly be thinking?”

Zeb saw the train slowing, saw passengers picking up their
bags, and knew that he would be boarding soon.
Leave it, Zebidiah.
But
he could not after all leave it, as he’d done since forever.

“A Yankee? It’s near thirty years since the War between the
States was fought. It is long over.”

Gordon Moran’s face turned red, and he exerted himself
enough to shake a finger in his son’s face. “Over? It will never be over for a
true Southerner!”

“You’d have colored folk like Melly and Victor slaves
again?”

“We lost life with that war, not just honorable men, mind
you, but our
way
of life. The South was stripped of its very essence.”

“Perhaps, Father, if a majority of Southerners had
recognized the brutality and evilness of slavery, instead of filling their
pockets with the money made from those slaves’ free labor and justifying the
rape of the women, they could have begun to dismantle a system that was
abhorrent on their own. But they did not. Southerners like you were not only cruel,
but shortsighted as well. And to think an educated man like yourself still
considers the ashed remnants of this abomination called the Confederacy, losing
good men for the sake of whipping others, to be the standard, the bulwark.
You’re a sad, twisted old man without the veneer of mother’s kindness.”

Gordon Moran’s face had paled. Bella’s hand covered her
mouth. Zeb had said aloud all the things that he’d said privately to himself
over the years after clashes with his father. All the reasons he hated Georgia
and many Southerners’ reticence to move on to a new day. But this was not the
time or the place to deliver this message. Was there ever an appropriate time
to reduce a parent’s existence to this? He’d been shouting as well, and
although the slowly chugging train masked most of his tirade, some people
standing close by were staring at the three of him. He cleared his throat.

“Father. I am sorry to have shouted and said what I did. It
was uncalled for.” He turned to his sister. “My apologies, Bella.”

“I’d hoped to have your leave-taking be more pleasant than
last time, Zebidiah,” she said. “Not that I don’t completely agree with
everything you said.”

His father looked at her and back at him. It struck Zeb then
that his father looked old, and forlorn as well, as if his foundations had
shifted. The conductors had stepped off the stopped train and were helping
passengers board. Zeb knew he must soon leave and that he must right this
somehow.

“Your mother would be ashamed of you,” his father said.

Bella slipped her arm through her father’s and smiled. “She
would have, not that she’d disagreed with anything Zebidiah has said, but
rather that there is never a call to publically air our family squabbles, isn’t
that right?”

Zeb smiled. “You are right. It was indecorous of me. My
sincere apologies. I love you both,” he said, and kissed his sister’s cheek. He
held out his hand to his father.

“Go ahead, Father,” Bella said and winked at Zeb. “Show your
son how a true Southern gentleman behaves.”

Gordon Moran straightened and stuck out his hand. Zeb shook
it and held on to it for a long minute. “I will see you all soon, God willing.
Take care.” He turned and boarded the train as his trunk and cases were being
loaded.

Chapter Three

“I feel like a thief, running in the
dead of night,” Jennifer said to her maid, Eliza.

“Yes, miss,” Eliza said, as she continued to move furniture
in Jennifer’s dressing room to make room for her trunk.

“And this groomsman is reliable?”

“He is, miss. I can attest for Luther myself as his family
grew up beside mine. I’ve known him all my life. He reads and writes and can
take direction, and he’s always been half in love with me,” Eliza said
unashamedly. “’Tis a pity he’s still wet behind the ears as he’s turned out to
be a handsome, strapping thing.”

Jennifer smiled. “Eliza! I don’t wish to take advantage of
your friendship with him.”

“I have promised him a kiss if he does exactly what I tell
him to do.”

Jennifer sat down on the chaise in her dressing room. She
looked at her maid. “He hit me again, Eliza.”

“Yes, miss. I know. I wondered when you dismissed me without
me helping you change after the theatre last week, and then I saw your face as
you lifted your arms so I could drop your day dress over your head the next
morning.” Eliza straightened and looked over her shoulder at Jennifer. “Is the
rib broken like the last time?”

Jennifer shook her head. “I don’t believe so.”

She closed the lid of the trunk and sat an open valise on
top of it. “Almost done here, miss, and then we will decide what you will wear
to travel. Have you sent a message to your sister?”

Jennifer stared at her hands and listened to Eliza talk on
about whether her leather shoes would go well enough with two of her evening
dresses or whether she should pack the satin slippers that had been died to
match her gowns. “I didn’t tell you because I’m embarrassed,” she said finally.

Eliza straightened. “I’ve always been too forward for a maid
in service, but there’s no changing me now. But I will gladly peel potatoes for
the rest of my employment in this house rather than not say my piece about
this.”

“Say whatever it is you want to say. I realize I’m a fool.”

Eliza hurried to her and knelt in front of her. She clutched
her hands. “No, Miss Jennifer. You must never speak like that. Don’t you see?
That is what he wants. He is counting on you blaming yourself. And each time it
happens, you’ll blame yourself a little more, until you’re certain that it is
your fault and you deserve his fists. Don’t give into it, miss!”

Jennifer wiped her eyes. “I have no idea how I ended up in
this situation. When it happened the first time, I was caught so unaware. I
didn’t know what to say or who to say it to. And I had convinced myself that it
was just that one time and that he was tired and I’d been vexing him.”

“It’s never right to hit another person, my granny would
say, and I think it’s true even when you’re tired.”

“Yes. You are right, Eliza,” she said.

“Have you told Mr. Crawford?”

Jennifer shook her head. “I’m not sure what he would do. Mr.
Rothchild is an employee of the bank. There’d be talk. And it would make it so
awkward between him and Mother. I hate to put him in that position.”

“But you must tell someone, miss. You must. I don’t think
Mr. Rothchild will just walk away if you tell him that you do not want to marry
him.”

“There is a person I’m going to tell, Eliza. Don’t worry. My
sister Jolene will know what to do.”

* * *

“Have you told your mother that
you’re leaving today?” Jennifer’s father asked her the following day from where
he sat across from her in the dining room at Willow Tree.

“She was not up when I stopped by her rooms. I told Eliza to
tell Mildred I was going out.”

Her father stared at her. “Is Eliza going to tell Mildred
you’ll be boarding the train for Washington?”

“Not exactly.”

“And do you think your mother will not notice if you are
gone for more than one day, perhaps even a month, as you originally planned?”

“I’m sorry, Father. I’m a coward. I don’t want to listen to
Mother drone on about Jeffrey and about the Morgans’ party,” Jennifer said, and
looked up at him with pleading eyes. “I was hoping you’d tell her.”

“What did Jeffrey say? He was a bit high-handed that night
at dinner, I thought.”

Jennifer stood and poured herself a cup of tea. “I have not
told him, either.”

“You have not told your intended?”

“He is not my intended,” she said quickly. “I have never
said that I would marry him. He and Mother will not decide this for me. I have
left him a note, though, that will be delivered tomorrow morning.”

“There is a bank meeting here this morning in my library.
Jeffrey will be one of the members. Will he not see your trunks and cases and
wonder?”

“My trunks and cases went on yesterday’s train with one of
the groomsmen. I checked with Bellings first, of course.”

He shook his head and chuckled. “Quite an elaborate scheme,
my dear! Just tell Jeffrey that you have had a change of heart. He is a
gentleman. He will be gracious about it, and I believe your mother exaggerates
when she says that you and Jeffrey are discussed as a betrothed couple in
drawing rooms.”

Jennifer nearly blurted out her fears but did not.
What a
coward I am!
she thought.
I cannot even tell my father, who loves me
dearly, that I am afraid that Jeffrey would be everything but a gentleman.
She
rose and kissed his cheek. “I have written a kind but firm letter to him. And
if I’m gone for some days then it will be easier when we see each other again
at the bank or at a social affair. Some time will have passed and perhaps
meeting him won’t be so awkward.”

“You believe Jeffrey’s feelings are more engaged than
yours?”

Jennifer hesitated. “I believe Jeffrey is accustomed to
having his own way.”

Her father folded his newspaper and touched her hand,
although he did not look at her. “Please tell Jolene that I am happy for her
and the senator. I do not believe business will allow me to come to Washington
for his swearing in but I am thinking of her and him with pride.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “You should try and come,
father. Jolene has not heard from Julia, but if she and her husband are coming
you would have a chance to see Jillian and meet your other grandchildren, Jacob
and Mary Lou. I am praying that Julia decides to make the trip. I am anxious to
meet her husband and see the children.”

“We will see how your mother is feeling then,” he said with
resignation. “Although I would like to speak to Julia and her husband again. I
foolishly allowed your mother to convince me to do some things that I’m not
proud of. I would like to apologize in person although I have done it by letter.”

The door to the dining room opened and Bellings stepped
inside. “The carriage is here for you whenever you are ready, Miss Crawford.
Mr. Crawford? Gentlemen have begun to arrive for your meeting. I have shown
them to the library. Coffee is being served.”

Jennifer walked arm in arm with her father to the foyer.
Eliza was already in the carriage, and Bellings helped her on with her coat.
Jeffrey arrived just then.

“My dear. You are a vision of beauty and refinement. How
fortunate I am,” he said as he came forward with a smile, gathering her hands
in his. He noticed her coat. “Where are you off to? I saw your maid in the
carriage. Is there something I could assist you with?”

Jennifer withdrew her hands and pulled on her gloves. “Not
unless you’d like to shop for hats, and then I will be stopping at the Lending
Library.  I’m also meeting some friends for luncheon at the Parker House
Hotel.”

Jeffrey stared at her and spoke quietly as her father
greeted other guests. “What friends will you be meeting? Do I know any of
them?”

“I don’t think you do know them. I went to Ramsey with them,
and we get together from time to time.”

“What are their names? Perhaps I do know them.”

“We’re getting ready to begin the meeting, Jeffrey,” her
father said as he kissed Jennifer’s cheek. “Run along Jennifer. It will be
quite late as is until you are back from all of your errands.” He put his hand
on Jeffrey’s back as he guided him down the hallway. Jeffrey turned to stare at
her one last time, and the look he gave her sent shivers down her spine.

* * *

Zeb stepped off the train onto the
B&O station platform, thankful to be off the locomotive after three days of
near nonstop travel. He moved through the throngs of people to where a porter
was unloading trunks and bags. The stationmaster pointed to where men with
wagons and buggies were loading luggage and people. He found a free one and
handed the man the address of the house that Jolene had let for him. He
wondered if there would be a grocer nearby or a restaurant at least. He was
tired of eating his meals out of wrapped paper as he’d done on the trip and was
looking forward to sitting down at a table with a fork and knife and a real
plate. And then he wondered if this house was even furnished. He might be
sleeping on the floor!

The driver
whoahed
the buggy in a neighborhood of
connected brick houses, all three stories high, some shutters painted red, some
white, and some black. He matched the brass numbers beside the white door under
a shingled roof to the ones on Jolene’s letter. Zeb looked up and down the
street and thought it looked like a fairly prosperous neighborhood and noticed
a well-dressed woman pushing a baby in a cart on the wide, tree-lined sidewalk.
The driver began to unload his trunks when the front door of his Seventeenth
Street home opened. A formally dressed man came out the door.

“Mr. Moran?” Zeb nodded, and the man continued. “I am
Smithers. Senator Shelby’s wife has hired me as a valet and general houseman
for you.” Smithers looked at the man pulling Zeb’s trunks off of the back of
the buggy he rode in and went down the steps to help carry them and the bags.
“Help me carry these to the second floor, now, my man.”

Zeb followed the men inside and watched as Smithers pulled
change from his pocket to tip the driver and closed the door. Smithers turned
to him.

“Of course, this arrangement is temporary for us. Once you
have settled you may have your own staff that you would wish to join you,”
Smithers said. “Allow me to take your coat, sir. Would you like to see the house
first, or perhaps you would like to go to your rooms?”

Zeb looked around. “Is there an office or a library here
with a desk?”

“Yes, sir,” Smithers said, and led him down the hallway.
“Here you are, sir.”

Zeb stepped inside and looked around. The room was
everything he’d dreamed of having for himself. There was a large library in his
father’s house that was always his father’s domain. He’d never felt comfortable
there even when studying during his years at university. He’d had a large
bedroom and sitting room of his own at the Hacienda when he’d lived there and
worked for Max, and he had cleaned those rooms himself rather than allowing one
of the staff to do it. This room wasn’t huge but had a large fireplace,
floor-to-ceiling books on shelves, and a large desk beside a stately, paned
window. He walked to the desk, touched the felt pad, and sat down on the chair
behind it.

“Smithers?” he said. “Tell me more about this arrangement.”

“I was hired by Mrs. Shelby, as I said earlier, to be valet
and manage the house for you. Mrs. Shelby has advised that I hire a cook and a
maid and perhaps an all-about boy. I have hired all three and they are ready to
meet you if you wish.”

Zeb shook his head. “I don’t want to put anyone out of a
job, but I just don’t see myself needing anyone other than someone to clean
once in a while and maybe take the laundry.”

“Certainly, sir. I’ll inform the staff. I was quite clear
when I hired them that this might not be permanent.”

“What is this?” Zeb asked as he picked up an envelope addressed
to Chief of Staff with a lone sheet of paper inside.

“I believe that is your calendar for the next few weeks,
sir. A gentleman from Senator Shelby’s office brought it,” Smithers said. “If
it is acceptable to you, I want to inform the rest of the staff that they will
be leaving tomorrow. Excuse me, sir.”

Zeb scanned the document and held a hand up. “Wait.
Smithers. Wait.” In the first week alone, he would be attending functions on
three evenings and was expected to entertain small parties on two other
evenings. The guest list for the second party included the assistant secretary
of state. His first scheduled appointment was for six thirty the next morning,
followed by a full complement of tours, meetings, and appointments. “From the
looks of this, you’ll be staying, Smithers, and so will anyone else you’ve
hired. Have you read this?”

“Certainly not, sir.”

Zeb stared at the man. “But why do I get the feeling you
knew you weren’t going anywhere?”

“Mrs. Shelby did say that you would not be open to this idea
until you saw your calendar.”

“Did she now? It appears that I’ll barely have time to sleep
and shave let alone cook or keep up with household work. I’m unaccustomed to
this sort of thing, Smithers. I grew up in a prosperous home in Georgia with
cooks and some weekly cleaning help, but nothing like this. You will have to
give me some time to become adjusted.”

“Certainly, sir. Please make your wishes known so that we
may be able to serve you in the best fashion, as we will want to make sure that
your household is suitable for such an important man as yourself.”

“Important?” Zeb said and
harrumphed
. “Hardly. I’m
just here to help Senator Shelby.”

“Of course, sir. Allow me to show you the rest of the
house.”

The furnishings, as much as he could judge, were discreetly
expensive, and impressive, mostly done in some combination of dark blue and
tan. “Did this house come with all the furniture and the pictures and carpets?”