Southern Seduction (35 page)

“Well, you were lucky, then.
I’m puzzled, though. Why did you tell Travis that I was speaking to a man, when you know you were the only one with me?”

“Because I wanted you out of our lives,” Margaret said bluntly, surprising Brooke by being truthful.
“Everything was going along so smoothly until you barreled into our lives. Travis was going to marry someone else -- someone of his own kind.”

“I am his own kind,” Brooke pointed out.
“Have you forgotten that Travis is half English? I believe you fell in love with an Englishmen, yourself. If that is so, then Travis is no different than you.”

Margaret stiffened.
“That is none of your business.” She glanced down at her needlework. “And I would have hoped that Travis would learn from my mistakes.”

“I believe it
is
my business now that I’m family. I knew Jackson very well, and I can tell you he was a lovely man.”

“Yes, he was,” Margaret said softly.
“Tell me, was Jackson still married?”

With that question, Brooke felt that a brick had crumbled from the wall between them.
“I never met his wife. I stayed with Jackson and his two nieces. The girls told me that their aunt died.”

“And he never came back to me,” Margaret said with a
faraway look. Then she added. “She was touched.”

Brooke looked at her not understanding.

“She was touched in the head,” Margaret explained.

“Mad,” Brooke said.
“I didn’t know.”

“It was one of the reasons that Jackson couldn’t leave his wife,” Margaret added softly.
“He couldn’t divorce her, nor could he live with her.”

Brooke nodded.
“He had no children of his marriage, but I’m sure that he loved Travis. Why he didn’t spend more time with him I truly cannot say, but I think he regretted it in the end.”

Margaret secured her needle in the linen material then turned to Brooke.
“Jackson didn’t know about Travis until much later. I sent him a letter, but his wife intercepted the note, and he didn’t find it until much later.”

“How sad.”

“Yes, it was,” Margaret said. “As it was, we were always outcast.”

“At least you raised a good son despite everything that happened.”

Margaret nodded. “He is a good son. It is unfortunate that my father has never really accepted him.”

“I’ve met the man,” Brooke said.
“He seems unable to bend. That is so very sad, I think.”

“He is the head of the family,” Margaret told her.

“But that doesn’t make him right,” Brooke pointed out. “I resent the way he treats Travis. Travis has taken this plantation and built it up from nothing, and with very little help from someone older to guide him. His grandfather should be proud of what he’s achieved instead of condescending.

Margaret looked at Brooke with an odd expression.
“I think you’re correct. I’ve never thought about it that way.”

“I hope you will from now on,” Brooke said softly.
She felt good about their little talk, and perhaps there was more to Margaret than the side Brooke had seen thus far.

“I’ve taken enough of your time,” Brooke said as she stood.
“I just wanted to say I hope that we might become friends later on down the road.” She smiled. “Especially since you’re going to become a grandmother.”

The shocked looked on Margaret’s face was priceless.
She stood abruptly. “I heard some of my relatives say that you were expecting, but I did not believe it.”

“Well, that was a falsehood, told by Travis.
He’d hoped that I would be accepted quicker into the family if I were pregnant. However, I was not expecting at that time.”

Margaret pulled Brooke into his arms.
“I’m still going to have to have time to adjust to you,” she said with a smile. “I’ll be honest. A grandchild will help.”

“Perhaps, it will make up for the fact that I’m not Creole.”

Margaret smiled. “We cannot all be perfect. Does Travis know?”

“Not yet.
I only just realized it myself. I’ll tell him tonight.”

Later on that day, Brooke sat down and wrote a letter to Jocelyn.
Brooke couldn’t believe she was going to be a mother, her of all people! She would have expected it of Shannon, but Brooke had never thought of herself as a mother. It was a scary thought. She hoped that she would know how to be a good one.

Brooke had just finished the letter when her bedroom door swung opened, banging loudly against the wall.

“Miz Brooke!” Millie Anne announced as she burst thought the door. “There’s been an accident at the sugarhouse. You got to come quick. Master Travis has been trapped.

Chapter Twenty-One

Brooke’s
heart hammering in her chest, as she flew down the stairs. She found Mammy and Margaret already there.

“What happened?”

“Come on,” Mammy said, motioning for Brooke to keep moving. “Somet’ing done happen at de mill.”

Margaret glanced at Mammy as if the woman would never know her place, but she said nothing.
Instead, she told Brooke, “There’s been an accident. That is all we know. Mr. Jeffries is already there. He was looking over the improvements to the sugar mill”

A buggy had already been brought around to the front and was waiting, ready to go.
In no time, they were pulling up to the mill. At first glance, it looked as if the second story at one end of the sugar shed had caved in. A crowd was gathered around as a group of men were frantically digging away the rubble.

Brooke leapt out of the buggy almost before it had stopped and dashed toward Mr. Jefferies.
“Where is Travis?”

“Under there, I’m afraid.”
Jeffries pointed to a frightening pile of wood and timbers.

“No!” Margaret screamed.
“We must hurry.”

Looking at the pile of rubble made Brooke feel numb, but knew she had to keep her wits about her.
Especially now that Margaret was sobbing uncontrollably.

“What about a doctor?” Brooke asked.

“He’s been sent for,” Jeffries answered. “In the meantime, we must get him and the others out before it’s too late.”

Brooke, Margaret and Mammy stood by, watching helplessly.
Finally, after an hour of digging and painstakingly moving the rubble one stick, one board at a time, they pulled out two men, one of whom was dead. Now there were two more men to find, and one of those was Travis.

Panic seized Brooke.
“Can you see him?” she called, but no one answered. She started toward the workers with the intention of helping, but Mammy intercepted her.

“Where you goin’?” Mammy said.
“Dey are doin’ all dey can, and you wouldn’t want to get in de way, you hear.”

“But Travis might be --” She couldn’t even say the words.
What would she do if Travis was dead? She’d never planned to have him in her life in the first place, but now that she did, she didn’t want to live without him.

“There he is,” a worker called out.

Brooke hurried around Mammy, frantic to get to her husband. He wasn’t moving, but someone said he was still breathing. The rescuers carried him over to a clear area and placed Travis on the cold ground.

Margaret, finally recovering her wits, rushed to get some blankets from the buggy.
Brooke knelt down beside her husband and reached for his hand. It was cold, but she could feel his heart beating beneath his chilled skin. There was blood everywhere from cuts, and she needed to stanch it. She tore strips from her petticoats and tried to clean his face. She needed to find where he was bleeding in order to stop the flow of fresh blood.

Travis was deathly pale. “Oh my God!” Brooke murmured over and over again.
All she could do was shake her head. He’d lost so much blood. “Open your eyes, darling,” Brooke murmured. When nothing happened she spoke more forcefully. “Don’t you die on me.” She well remembered how sweetness never seemed to work with her husband.

A buggy came barreling down the road, and Doctor Smart wasted little time getting out before the horses had barely been drawn to a halt.
He strode over to where they were. “Get out of the way so I can see my patient,” he ordered.

“You have to do something,” Brooke implored.

“Just give me some room, and I’ll do what I can. I don’t need you hovering over me and getting in my way.”

Brooke stood back and bumped into Ben, one of the men she recognized from previous visits to the mill. “How did this happen?”

“Master Travis said he thought that someone had been messing with the timbers,” Ben said. “It appeared that the support beams had been cut,” he went on. “Master Travis said he knew who was responsible.”

“So someone meant for this to happen?” Brooke said more to herself than to anyone.

She stood back while the doctor examined Travis. While she waited, impatiently wringing her hands, Mr. Jeffries came to stand beside her.

“Do you have any idea who would like to see harm come to Travis?” he asked.

“Travis could have any number of enemies, I suppose, but the only one I can think of is Hesione’s father. After he was shown to be a coward at the duel, Jeremy said Travis could have trouble from him.”

“I see.”

Doctor Smart stood up and shook his head. Brooke’s heart was hammering with fear. “What’s the matter, doctor?”

“He’s lost a lot of blood.
I’ve got the bleeding stopped but there is nothing else I can do,” Doctor Smart looked at Brooke and Margaret. “Best take him home and wait. It’s in God’s hands now.”

Tears spilled down Brooke’s face, but she managed to nod in agreement.

Mammy put an arm around Brooke in a comforting embrace. “Don’t you worry, Miz Brooke. I ain’t goin’ to let not’ing happen to dat boy, you hear.” Mammy told her.

Brooke nodded, numbly.
She wanted to believe Mammy, but Travis’s face was much too pale. Even to her unskilled eyes, he appeared near death. She watched, feeling helpless as the men lifted him into the carriage.

Flinching at every bump and jostle, Brooke cradled Travis’s head as they drove home.
Margaret was very quiet, and that was all right with Brooke. Her mother-in-law was the least of her worries now.

They took Travis to his room where his clothes were stripped from him and he was placed into his bed.
Brooke had a chair placed beside the bed, and she took up her vigil all through the long night.

Mammy kept checking on her to make sure she was eating, but Brooke refused to move.
Nor did she let anyone else take her place. She was so afraid that Travis would die, and she wouldn’t be with him.

Margaret tried to help, but she cried inconsolably every time she looked at her son.
She finally had made herself so sick from worrying that she took to her bed.

For the next two days, Brooke talked to Travis constantly, trying to get some kind of response from him.
She begged him to get well. She pleaded, she demanded, she forced him to drink broth, though little of it went down.

And she prayed.

The days passed slowly until it was Christmas Day. The house was too quiet, and no one felt any Christmas cheer. Doctor Smart told them if Travis finally woke up, then he’d survive. But the waiting was difficult. They wouldn’t know anything for a few days.

It was the middle of the night Brooke awoke with a start.
Had she heard something? When she looked at Travis, his coloring appeared better but his eyes were still closed.

“Please don’t leave me,” Brooke begged.
“I might not have wanted you in the beginning, but sometimes we don’t know what we want until we think we might lose it.” Her voice broke as the tears she’d been trying hard to hold back began to slide down her face. “I don’t want to lose you, Travis. Please don’t give up. I still don’t know enough about Moss Grove. I need you to teach me.

“And I can see your smile, that is, if your eyes were open, so please open your eyes.
You always told me I’d never be able to run a plantation. All right, I’m admitting that
perhaps
you were correct. And if you would just look at me, I would give you permission to gloat as much as you wish. I know how much Moss Grove means to you. It means more to you than anything else – you’ve always told me so.”

“Not more than anything,” Travis murmured, his voice faint.
He moved his fingers within her hand. At first Brook thought she had imagined the movement, but suddenly his fingers moved again, closing over hers.

Brooke looked intently at Travis, willing him to wake.
And finally he opened his eyes. They were a bit hazy, they looked warm, not the clear blue she was used to seeing, but he was alive and that was all that mattered.

She jumped to her feet.
“You don’t know how wonderful it is to see your eyes open. How do you feel?”