Love's Awakening (The Ballantyne Legacy Book #2): A Novel (27 page)

“You must be Elinor.” The voice was cordial and far more sonorous than Mama’s, suggesting strength of will to match.

“Hello . . . Aunt.” Ellie rocked back slightly on her heels as if buffeted by her misassumptions. This wasn’t the dour, sour spinster she’d suspected.

“I’m Daniel Cameron, a neighbor.” Beside her, Daniel gave a little bow.

“Oh, don’t be coy,” Andra chided, taking in the spot where they’d been sitting. “Daniel is more family than neighbor, or soon will be.” Her keen gaze returned to Ellie. “So, sister, how was your birthday? The ball?”

“You were missed,” Ellie said, managing an awkward smile, thinking of all Mama had had to handle in Andra’s absence. “Ansel and I managed not to mangle a duet, and Daniel kept me dancing through the wee small hours.”

“Well, we’d hoped to arrive in time for the festivities, but things in York took a turn . . .” Andra linked arms with Elspeth, her voice trailing off in sympathy.

“How is Grandmother Lee?” Ellie asked hesitantly.

“Buried the twelfth of July,” Elspeth replied with unnerving calm.

“Oh,” Ellie and Daniel said in tandem. “So sorry.”

Neither Andra nor Elspeth wore black. Elspeth, clad in gray, had on the loveliest hat Ellie had ever seen—a rich peacock-blue with a pluming feather, as if in outright defiance of death.

Elspeth took out a handkerchief and dabbed at a dry eye, or so Ellie imagined. “We didn’t want to come to Pittsburgh in mourning. Besides, black is such a ghastly color. What happened in York must stay in York.”

Ellie schooled her surprise. What could she possibly say to this? Thankfully, Daniel said it for her. “How long will you be in Pittsburgh?”

“I’m unsure,” Elspeth replied, fingering her beaded reticule. “It all depends on my welcome.”

Andra’s smile was decidedly stiff. “Da has made arrangements for Elspeth to stay at a hotel in town.”

“The colonel’s establishment on Wood Street?” Daniel asked.

At Andra’s nod, Ellie felt a keen relief. So Da had taken care of the matter after all. Quietly. Discreetly. Though not to Andra’s satisfaction, nor Elspeth’s, obviously. But the combination of fugitives in the attic and an aunt who couldn’t be trusted was hazardous indeed.

“I’ll ask Mamie for refreshments,” Ellie said, gesturing to the back veranda and inviting them to sit. “The raspberries are still bearing and make wonderful ice.”

“Ah, that sounds welcome on such a
sweltrie
day.” Andra began tugging off her gloves. “After that, we shall take the chaise into Pittsburgh and get Elspeth settled.”

“I’ll ride in with you, as I’ve a meeting at the glassworks,” Daniel volunteered, making Ellie wonder if he was part of some prearranged plan.

“The glassworks?” Andra’s interest heightened. “What of this patent I keep hearing about?”

Ellie turned toward the summer kitchen, her mind more on Elspeth than refreshments. This new aunt bore no resemblance to Mama in the slightest, perhaps because they were but half sisters. Elspeth’s father had been a common blacksmith while Mama’s was . . . what had Da said? Landed gentry? The laird of York County? How had that happened?

She sensed Andra couldn’t wait to tell the rest of the story.

 27 

It is wise to disclose what cannot be concealed.

F
RIEDRICH
S
CHILLER

Ellie sat at her dressing table and pulled a brush through her unbound hair, wincing as its tight bristles caught in a tangle. Working it free, she set the brush down, her customary one hundred strokes forgotten. She noted the tea Mari had left for her on the tilt-top table while listening for the telltale clamor of horse and carriage.

Since Andra and Elspeth had arrived that afternoon, New Hope seemed to hold its breath in anticipation. Andra hadn’t yet returned from town, nor had Da or Peyton. Only Mama had come home with Ansel, seeming slightly preoccupied, though she’d greeted Ellie warmly.

Supper had been a small affair with just the three of them at table, and then Mama and Ansel had disappeared to the attic. One of the fugitives was ill. River fever, Ansel said, confining Ellie below stairs. The cupola wouldn’t shine again till the malady was dealt with.

Ellie glanced at the dark windowpanes, wondering if any runaways were across the river, watching their backs, breathlessly awaiting the light. With such matters as life and death, freedom and slavery at play all around her, her personal concerns seemed very small. She simply had to deal with disgruntled parents and withdrawn daughters. An unknown future. Daniel.

Jack.

Leaning toward the candelabra flickering on the dressing table, she expelled a breath, as if it could extinguish the image smoldering in her mind just as readily. But one candle stayed fast, mocking her. There was simply no forgetting their last encounter the night of the ball. She’d not quite recovered from the shock of his presence. His exquisite attire. Their near moonlit waltz.

Oh, Jack, you are full of contradictions.

The loud rap at her door pulled her from her reverie, and she scrambled to kindle the other candles again.

“Elinor, are you abed?”

The door cracked open. Ellie feared Andra’s wide-eyed countenance spelled a late night.

“Come in.”

Taking a chair, Andra sat toying with the hat she’d just pulled from her head. Two hatpins remained at odd angles near her brow, highlighting her discomfiture. She looked chastised as a schoolgirl. “Da just brought me home from town, after I finished settling Elspeth at the hotel.” Her voice was quiet, without its exuberant edge. “On the ride home in the carriage—well, I’ve never seen Da so . . .
birsie
.” She spat out the Scots word as if it soured her tongue. “He actually called me
heidie
!”

Headstrong?
And she was surprised?

“He raised his voice to me—‘
haud yer wheest
,’ he said!”

Hold your tongue.
“Well, did you?” Ellie asked.

Andra’s red-rimmed eyes glistened in the candlelight. Had she been crying? “I was simply offering him an explanation as to why I’d brought Aunt Elspeth here. But he—he—” She left off, flinging the hat onto a near ottoman. “Tis partly his and Mama’s fault this happened. Had I known their history in York, I wouldn’t have done so. Not once did they mention Elspeth was but a half sister—and a wayward one at that!”

“They would have if they’d not been in New Orleans when the letter came.” Ellie took a sip of lukewarm tea. “It’s rather risky having anyone at New Hope, even a relative, given we have fugitives coming and going.”

“Those were Da’s words exactly. But what’s done is done. Elspeth is here, and now we know the details about Mama’s past. ’Tis not a pretty tale.”

“About Mama’s birth, you mean?”

“That’s not the half of it.” She reached up and pulled the errant hatpins free. “There was a fire, a baby died, years ago in York County. Elspeth was suspected.” At Ellie’s frown, she sighed. “Of course Elspeth made no mention of such to me, just said how she longed to see Mama again.”

“Da told you everything, then?”

She nodded, smoothing a pleat of her gown. “The trouble happened so long ago. Perhaps she’s changed. I find her quite entertaining, if unconventional, her shunning mourning and all that.”

And all that.

Ellie feared there was far more to be reckoned with. “Does Mama know about Grandmother Lee?”

Andra glanced toward the closed door. “Da’s going up to tell her now. I can just imagine what he’ll say. There’s simply no way to soften the news. ‘Your mother has died, and the half sister you hoped never to see again is here . . .’” Looking
up, she spied Ellie’s half-finished cup of tea. “I have a fierce headache. Do you mind?”

Ellie pushed the cup her way. “Perhaps you need some headache powders. Dr. Brunot is coming.”

“Dr. Brunot? Why?”

“There are two new fugitives in the attic. One of them has river fever.”

Her face paled. “Oh, would that I had stayed in York! First Da’s set-down and now this. ”

Seldom had Ellie seen Andra so upset. Feeling a burst of sympathy, she sought to distract her. “I’m sorry you missed the ball. The dancing was wonderful, as was Mamie’s midnight supper. Several gentlemen asked about you.”

Cool green eyes surveyed Ellie over the rim of the cup.

“But I’ll only mention one—the young widower Alec Duncan.” The memory of the handsome, bookish lawyer made Ellie smile—and Andra flush. Her dear sister wasn’t as chary of romance as she feigned. Not with numerous copies of a romantic serial hidden beneath her bed, like
The Pirate’s Treason
and
The Count’s Secret
. “I told him you’d soon be back.”

Andra gave a fierce shake of her head. “I’d much rather talk about you and Daniel. Find out what the two of you were doing sitting so close on the garden bench earlier today. For a moment I thought I’d stumbled upon a proposal.”

“We can hardly think of proposals or weddings with Mama in mourning.”

“Oh?” The empty cup rattled in its saucer when Andra set it down. “I thought you might announce your betrothal at the ball.”

Taking up the length of her hair, Ellie began braiding it as she always did before bed, a subtle reminder of the late hour. “I’m no nearer marrying Daniel Cameron than you are becoming Mrs. Alec Duncan.”

Andra’s gaze narrowed. “There’s someone else, then.”

“No one,” Ellie said, tying off the braid’s end tightly with a small ribbon and wishing she could do the same with her ungovernable thoughts.

No one permissible, conventional, or nameable.

Just Gentleman Jack.

The old house at the noon hour was unusually quiet. Chloe had left for lessons in town with Ellie, Mrs. Malarkey accompanying her, as it was market day. In the windless, early August heat, the cicadas shrilled beyond the open study windows as Jack perused the newly inked will atop his desk. In it he’d left everything to Chloe, including River Hill. When it dried, he’d secure it in the safe hidden behind the false bookcase next to the hearth.

In the hours following the Ballantyne ball, the idea had come to him to get his affairs in order. He’d lain awake in the heat of his bedroom, his blood warming at the barest thought of Ellie soon to be another man’s bride. The idea of her living and loving beneath this very roof should the sale of River Hill become final was so unsettling that he’d come downstairs, unable to sleep.

Silas Ballantyne had been right. Jack couldn’t part with River Hill. The only legacy he had was the one he’d inherited. Since he had no heirs, it seemed only right the estate go to Chloe. Knowing how dangerous the West was, he’d drawn up a will, crafting a second copy for his attorney. He’d already arranged passage on a keelboat to the confluence of the Mississippi and Ohio Rivers, where he’d then go north to St. Louis with the whiskey shipment. Farther upriver were the garrison and sutlers and soldiers anticipating his coming—or rather his cargo. The details blurred after that.

He removed his spectacles and dropped them on the desk, then tread down the hall to the kitchen, where he spied a cold coffeepot sitting in the ashes of a cavernous hearth. Straddling a stool, he reached for a poker, hoping for a red ember or two, but nothing sprang to life beneath his hand. Cold coffee it was. Rummaging through a cupboard didn’t gain the mug he sought, so he opened another sideboard filled with River Hill’s best china. The pattern, a deep delft-blue with floral embellishments, reminded him of Ellie.

The Spode cup seemed fragile in his hand, much as she had felt in his arms the afternoon she’d fainted, the day he realized the feelings at war inside him were more enduring than lusty and fleeting. The night of the ball, he’d ached to hold her, savor her softness and exquisite scent, using the waltz as an excuse. But for Daniel Cameron he would have had that dance.

Instead he was left with a handful of memories. Ellie reading. Ellie fishing. Ellie and Chloe laughing girlishly. Ellie regarding him in that winsome way that made him want to be better than he was. No matter where he roamed, she’d continue to warm him—and haunt him—the rest of his days. Remind him of all he had lost. Drive him wild with desire.

If she knew, Chloe would be beside herself with glee.

Ellie, what have you done to me?

Elspeth Lee had not donned mourning garb, but Eden Lee Ballantyne did. Clad in black, Mama came down for breakfast the next morning looking wan, her hair caught back in a chignon at the nape of her neck without the slightest touch of ribbon or lace to soften its severity.

“Just tea, please,” she said to Mamie, who duly brought a steaming pot. Sunlight shimmered on china and crystal,
casting Mama in a warm puddle of light, calling out lines of sleeplessness and sorrow.

Ellie’s heart clenched. She sensed Mama was mourning Elspeth’s visit as much as her mother’s passing. “I’m sorry about Grandmother Lee, Mama.”

Mama nodded, eyes damp. “I wish I could have seen her a final time.”

At the far end of the table, Peyton lowered his newspaper. “At least we didn’t receive word of her passing before the ball. It would have been canceled and all that preparation wasted.”

Andra glowered at him. “Well, I’m glad to know I did something right by delaying our coming.” She softened somewhat when she looked at their mother. “Should we wear mourning, Mama?”

“I see no need to. My mother was a stranger to you, though I wished otherwise.” She looked about the table, lingering longest on Ellie. “I didn’t want to burden you with the past, but it seems the past has caught up with us.”