The Last Heiress (30 page)

Mason blinked several times in the smoky room. “Is that true, Billy?”

“Aye, a Dunn fell through the floor along with the workers, but they got him out right quick. And that don't change the sorry way they run the mill towns. Folks living in shacks with one bathtub for four families, not enough coal to heat the houses, never raising wages no matter how hard a man worked.” Conroy's forehead beaded with sweat despite the cool temperatures.

“I imagine Miss Dunn must feel right at home waited on by all those slaves,” Mason said, shaking his head in disdain.

Nate said, “Miss Dunn cannot control the lives of the Henthornes anymore than she could control her father. She brought an English maid with her and pays the woman wages. Amanda abhors slavery the same as me.”

Mason shrugged his shoulders. “Since you hate slavery so much, why don't you start riding with us?” His whisper was barely audible. “We tear up rail lines north of here as fast as the Rebs lay down new tracks. When work on the docks slacks off this winter, we plan to form scouting parties around Fort Fisher. It's high time the Yankee generals get a better idea of how many troops are inside. Their navy can't get close enough to do much good. What do you say?”

“I could lie to you and say I will think about it, but since I'm in your debt I won't.” Nate lowered his voice and continued. “I won't tear up railroad tracks because that cuts off my supplies as a shopkeeper. And I won't take up arms against the South. Wilmington is my home. Whether the Confederacy wins or loses, there must be a peaceful solution to end slavery once and for all. If there's any way to repay you that doesn't involve turning against North Carolina, you let me know.” He stood and pulled on his sodden coat.

Conroy jumped to his feet and reached for something inside his coat, but Mason pushed him back down. “I had a feeling that's where you stood. We'll keep the rest of this as payment till I can think of something better.” Mason patted his weskit pocket.

“Be my guest, but if either of you ever bother Miss Dunn, you'll face a worthier adversary than some soldiers watching a railhead.”

Nate was halfway to the door before Mason called after him. “Know who you remind me of, Cooper? You and your brother will both end up dead in a rich man's war.”

Amanda felt like the Bengal tiger she once saw in a traveling road show—relentlessly and hopelessly pacing from one end of its cage to the other. She had stayed with Abigail all morning while she huddled over a basin in the bathing chamber. Did all expectant mothers suffer so much nausea? It was a wonder that women had an ounce of meat left on their bones by the time the baby arrived.

Not that she wasn't happy for her sister. Amanda couldn't wait to see her new niece or nephew. And seeing the baby was something she intended to do. Now she had two reasons to stay in Wilmington: The little Henthorne due by spring…and Nathaniel.
Nate…
how she loved saying his name and picturing his handsome face and holding his hand. Then there had been his three kisses at dinner. She enjoyed herself more than at the party to introduce her to Abigail's friends, or the Stewarts' ball when she had to dance with Jackson's business associates, or even her society debut in England. It had been the most memorable night of her life.

Yet she'd seen Nate only a few times since and never alone. Abby insisted that Salome accompany her on every shopping trip to this store. Even stout-hearted Nate didn't try to steal a kiss in front of her.

“Miss Amanda?” Helene appeared on the balcony, her face pinched and drawn. “May I speak with you a moment?”

“Of course. I seem to be wearing a groove in these beautiful floor tiles. Let's sit in the shade.” Amanda pointed at two chaises under the roof's eave.

Helene glanced back into the bedroom. “Where is Josie?”

“She is helping in the laundry. Have no fear of an eighty-pound girl today.”

Helene found little humor in the jest as she perched on the chair. “You know I am eager to return home. It's already October. I fear if I wait too much longer, winter squalls will make travel impossible except for the foolhardy. You have been very kind to me, but I want to spend Christmas by my mum's hearth.” Helene extracted a cloth pouch from her apron. “I saved my wages. This should be enough for my passage. Please take the money and make the necessary arrangements.”

Amanda placed her hand over Helene's. “Knowing your feelings, I have discussed the matter with Mr. Henthorne on several occasions. He won't let either of us leave on one of his steamers. It's far too dangerous. Yankee gunboats have sunk several ships off the coast of Virginia, blessedly none of the ones Jackson contracted. The Union navy fires on any vessel flying the Confederate flag without consideration for civilian passengers. Those ships sank within minutes with all hands lost. I cannot take a chance on losing you.”

“Why not? You have Josie to see to your needs, especially as you refuse to wear any hairstyle other than a coiled braid like a farmer's wife.”

Amanda recoiled, as much from Helene's tone as her harsh words. “Because I have grown fond of you over the years, Helene, and appreciate all you have done for me, here and in Manchester, if my brother-in-law agreed I would send you home tomorrow. But he refuses and no other ship leaving port permits civilian passengers.” Amanda struggled to keep her voice level as her throat clogged with emotion.

“Forgive me, Miss Amanda. That was a cruel thing to say.” She burst into tears. With her apron covering her face, she sobbed for several minutes, despite every attempt to console her.

When the maid finally lifted her head, Amanda patted her arm. “As soon as it's safe to sail from Wilmington, I promise to send you home.”

“Thank you, ma'am. I will go see why Josie hasn't brought up your tea yet.”

Amanda resumed pacing, but she hadn't crossed the gallery once when Helene reappeared with Josie at her side. The girl seemed to be trying to hide behind her.

“I found Josie on the steps, Miss Amanda. She wants to tell you something but is frightened for some reason.” Helene nudged the slave forward none too gently.

“What is it, Josie? Tell me what's troubling you.”

Josie wrung her hands until Helene cleared her throat. “I was carryin' up your tea on the outside steps because Miz Henthorne gets mad if I slosh tea on her shiny wood floors.” Her dark eyes darted left and right.

Amanda began to grow impatient with the girl's reticence. “Speak up and tell me the rest.”

Josie crossed her arms over her homespun dress. “I run into that Mr. Cooper who come here once or twice. He the one who brung Miz Henthorne a bunch of flowers even though we got prettier ones in the garden.”

“Mr. Cooper is downstairs in the courtyard?”

“Yes'm. I asked what he's doing comin' round back instead of knockin' on the front door. He sez he's hopin' to run into you, Miz Dunn, when you ain't…predispos'd. Then he asks who I be.” Josie angled her thumb toward her chest.

Amanda huffed out her breath. “Go on,” she prodded.

“I told him I'm your maid, Josie.” She focused on the polished
tiles. “He asks what happened to Miss Helene. I sez nothin' because you got two maids—one for the fancy work and one for the hard work.” Josie peeked at Helene over her shoulder. “Then Master Cooper took the tray away from me and said he'll wait for you in the rose garden. So I'm here to fetch you.”

Several moments spun out while the three women looked at each other, one more perplexed than the next. “Thank you, Josie. You never have to be afraid to deliver a message to me. That will be all for now, both of you.” Amanda hurried down the gallery stairs and didn't stop running until she reached the ivy-covered arbor among the roses.

“Nate,” she said breathlessly. “What a surprise.”

He half rose and bowed. Then he began pouring tea. “A pleasant one, I hope.”

“Yes, indeed, but perhaps reckless as well. Jackson often comes home early to check on his wife. If he does so today, he may make an unpleasant scene.”

“I don't fear a confrontation with your brother-in-law. In fact, I have grown weary of our clandestine rendezvouses behind his back. I yearn for a bit more transparency between us.” He lifted the porcelain pitcher. “Would you like cream, Miss Dunn?”

“Yes, please, and a teaspoon of sugar too.” Amanda sat on the opposite bench.

“By the way, I ran into your slave a few minutes ago. I believe her name was Josie. I thought we were of the same opinion regarding slavery.”

“I feel the institution is wrong, but I couldn't fathom what to do with the girl. Jackson had already made the purchase before I landed in America.” Amanda incautiously sipped the tea and burned her tongue. “At least she's better off in my sister's household than in most. If I refused her, she would have been resold at the slave auction. She seems happy here or at least well adjusted.”

“Slaves are not
happy
, Amanda. They merely put on performances for their masters to avoid reprisals.”

“You are correct; I misspoke. But I didn't want to enrage Jackson until I restored a supply of cotton to Dunn Mills. After months of making inquiries, Henthorne and Sons remains the only factor with a constant supply. Jackson fills every blockade runner arriving in port.”

Nate sipped his tea with a frown. “And why do you suppose that is?” His eyes narrowed into a glare.

“I beg your pardon?” With trembling fingers she set the cup in the saucer.

“Did you ever stop to consider how his business partners are able to find cotton when most plantations lie fallow because the slaves have run off?”

“He must pay a better price—”

“Or perhaps he deals with the most despicable breed of planters—those who refuse to provide manumission papers and keep their slaves in bondage under threat of death.”

In the humid, vine-entangled garden, Amanda felt the air leave her lungs. “Even if that is the case, Nate, what can I do? I am a guest in my sister's home.”

He threw the rest of his tea into the shrubbery. “You could refuse to do business with Jackson Henthorne.”

“But our mills desperately need raw materials. Livelihoods in Manchester are at stake.”

“Doing business with Georgia and Carolina planters supports those who refuse to let slavery die. Stop helping the Confederacy. You should be seeking cotton from farms in South America or Mexico—anywhere but here.”

Amanda thought about her twin sister, eagerly awaiting the birth of her first child. “Abigail would consider it effrontery if I sever ties with her husband, even though I agree with you on
principle. Surely you understand that life becomes complicated when families are involved.”

“You shouldn't let family stand in the way of your convictions. Each man and woman must decide for themselves who they are.” Nate stood and tugged down the hem of his weskit. “Don't get up, Miss Dunn. I can find my way to the street.”

Jackson's stroll home from his club that night did nothing to improve his bad mood. Without minding where he walked, he stepped off the curb into a gutter filled with stagnant water. Little progress had been made to clean the streets since the flood two weeks ago. Too few able-bodied men remained in town, whether slave or free. The local militia had their hands full rounding up deserters from Fort Fisher downriver.