Sitting on the front seat of Monty Morrison’s wagon, with Monty sneaking peeks at her every other second out of the corner of his eye, Lucetta couldn’t keep from smiling as an image of a very young Monty, who was a good five years younger than she was, kept flashing to mind.
He’d always been a bit of a scamp, never clean for longer than an hour, and had been the bane of his mother’s existence, or so the woman had claimed, but it was encouraging to hear him talk about the improvements that were being made on his family’s plantation.
“We put in tobacco this year, Miss Plum, and have also taken to raisin’ some hogs. Mother finds them a little distasteful and smelly, but there’s a profit to be made with hogs, and we could certainly use the money.”
“Did you ever get the repairs done to your house?”
Monty nodded. “The major ones, but some of the smaller repairs that still need to be made will have to wait a little longer, hopefully just until we take our hogs to market, or if tobacco keeps rising in price.” He glanced out of the corner of his eye again at her. “You still taking to the stage up there in New York City, or have you come home to stay?”
The word home had her nerves jingling, even though a part of her had always considered Plum Hill home.
She just hadn’t felt welcome in that home since Nigel had wormed his way into her family a decade before.
She had yet to understand why her mother had married the man, had done so almost the moment her two-year period of mourning for Lucetta’s father had passed. Susannah, Lucetta’s mother, hadn’t even given her only daughter the courtesy of seeking her opinion about the marriage before she’d gone ahead and tied herself to Nigel, even with Lucetta being the one who’d been given the task of keeping Plum Hill afloat after her father had died.
Lucetta had known from the moment Nigel showed up at Plum Hill, claiming he was simply stopping in to pay his respects to Susannah, that he was trouble hiding behind a bushel of southern charm and manners. He’d been impeccably dressed, and had kept being impeccably dressed every time he paid Susannah a visit, even though Lucetta discovered he’d lost everything in the war. That everything included the plantation he’d grown up on in Georgia, a plantation that just happened to be right next to the plantation Susannah had grown up on—both of the regal houses that anchored the plantations having the misfortune of being burned to the ground when General Sherman had gone marching through that state.
Nigel had used their common past to burrow his way straight into Susannah’s heart. Their glory days were often the focus of their conversations, especially the glory days that centered around talk of Susannah being the most sought-after belle in all of Georgia. Every time he brought up her great success, Susannah fluttered her lashes like the debutante she’d been, instead of behaving like a widow and mother of a daughter who’d almost been old enough to make her own debut.
Susannah had never seen past the flattery Nigel diligently tossed her way, had never seen that the war had changed him in ways that made him so different from the young man she’d known growing up.
Lucetta had never seen the man her mother remembered. She’d only seen a man who was disturbingly broken, and a man who had the ability to break the very small and very tenuous bond that Lucetta and Susannah shared.
Once he convinced Susannah to marry him and vows had been exchanged, Nigel had been able to get his hands on all the money Lucetta’s father had left behind, money he couldn’t gamble away fast enough.
Lucetta shifted on the wagon seat as a memory she’d purposefully filed away in the deepest recesses of her mind sprang forward, a memory of her begging her mother to talk to Nigel about the money he was losing, large chunks of money that would just disappear into thin air, usually after he’d return from what he liked to call business trips.
Susannah had brushed Lucetta’s concerns away as she’d walked out the door of Plum Hill, only interested in getting to an afternoon tea she’d been invited to, an event that was obviously far more important than listening to the concerns of her daughter—concerns that centered around the fact that their money would shortly run out and they’d be left with no roof over their heads.
“Miss Plum . . . is something the matter?”
Shaking herself straight from thoughts she’d believed she’d left in the past, although clearly that was not the case, Lucetta summoned up a smile and sent it Monty’s way. “I have no idea why you keep calling me Miss Plum, Monty. We’ve known each other for years.”
“You’ve been gone a long time, so I wouldn’t claim to know you at all these days,” Monty countered. “But very well, Lucetta it is—only not when your mother is around, because she, I have to admit, still frightens me.”
“She frightens everyone,” Lucetta muttered.
“I sure did enjoy your father’s company, though, back when he was alive. Now, there was a gentleman who made a person feel right at ease.” Steering the wagon down a well-tended lane, Monty smiled again. “Just over that rise and you’ll be home.”
Sitting ever so slightly forward, Lucetta kept her attention front and center, feeling a small ache settle in her heart the moment they crested the rise and Plum Hill was laid out before them.
Monty slowed the horses to a stop, as if he knew she’d want to take a moment to enjoy the sight of her old home.
The money she’d made in the market and on the stage had been responsible for keeping Plum Hill in good standing. The four pillars that guarded the portico were dazzlingly whitewashed and the cobblestone drive that led to the front steps was cleared of all weeds and looking as if it had been swept only that morning. The three stories of red brick had always lent the structure a rather regal air, and with the black shutters that framed the paned windows on the front of the house looking as if they’d recently gotten a fresh coat of paint, the house looked downright stately. The glass in the windows gleamed in the late-afternoon sunlight, giving testimony that this was a house that had a full staff to keep it looking spotless, and she imagined she’d find the interior looking just as impressive.
“And to think you gave all this up for an attic room in a boardinghouse,” Millie said from her seat in the wagon directly behind Lucetta.
“Where I spent many a happy year with you and Harriet.” Lucetta nodded to Monty. “You may drive on, Monty. While I’d love to linger here for the rest of the afternoon, I have matters to discuss with my mother.”
“And since I think that may be your mother stepping out on the portico, you’re not going to have to wait long to discuss those matters,” Monty said, flicking the reins, which had the horses plodding into motion again.
As they drew closer to Plum Hill, the woman standing on the portico came into focus, and there was little doubt that the years had been incredibly kind to Susannah Wolfe. Her hair was still a lovely shade of gold, although a shade darker than Lucetta’s was these days. Her figure was trim, showcased to perfection in a gown that had come directly from Paris, one that sported a small bustle in the back and one that had cost a small fortune, a small fortune Lucetta had been responsible for paying.
For the briefest of seconds, Lucetta felt tears sting her eyes. But knowing her mother would not appreciate any type of emotional display, especially in front of people Susannah did not know, Lucetta drew in a deep breath, and by the time Monty pulled the wagon to a stop a bit of a distance from the entrance to Plum Hill—at Lucetta’s request so that she could have a few private moments with her mother—she was in complete control again.
Hopping down from the wagon seat after she told Bram, Millie, and the others she’d be right back for them, she squared her shoulders and headed for the front steps. “Hello, Mother,” she said, climbing the four steps it took to reach the portico where her mother was waiting.
“Lucetta Plum, do not tell me those are honest-to-goodness wrinkles in the skirt of that gown?” was the first thing to come out of Susannah’s mouth, even though she hadn’t spoken to Lucetta in months.
“It’s a long train ride from New York to Virginia, Mother, and I’m afraid I didn’t think to bring a maid with me, or . . . Oh, yes, I don’t actually employ a lady’s maid.”
Susannah completely ignored Lucetta’s response as she sashayed her way closer. “While this is certainly a lovely surprise, having you come to call on me and all, did it ever cross your mind to send me a little note, asking if today would be convenient for me to have you show up at Plum Hill?”
Pushing aside the small bit of hurt over the idea her mother was clearly not ecstatic to see her, Lucetta lifted her chin. “There wasn’t time to send a note, Mother, and considering Plum Hill is my home, one would think I wouldn’t need to send a note to make certain my presence would be welcome here.”
All hints of pleasantness disappeared from Susannah’s lovely face. “I know full well you hold the deed to Plum Hill, Lucetta. Must you throw that in my face every time we see each other?”
Lucetta blinked. “I don’t believe I said a thing about the deed to Plum Hill, Mother, nor do I believe I’ve ever mentioned anything about me holding the deed to Plum Hill to you. Now, Nigel and I, on the other hand, recently had a very enlightening chat about the status of Plum Hill, a chat I find myself wondering if he even brought up to you.”
“Nigel just got back from a business trip, so we haven’t had much time to chat about anything,” Susannah said before she suddenly smiled, every trace of unpleasantness disappearing from her face, as if she’d suddenly recalled that Lucetta had arrived with a whole wagon filled with people—those people, Lucetta was quite certain, being the only reason Susannah was currently smiling.
“But speaking of your dear stepfather,” Susannah continued with a flutter of her lashes. “We’re expected to dine this evening at the old Kerr plantation, which was recently purchased by a family distantly related to the Vanderbilts.”
Susannah gave a delicate shudder. “I don’t particularly care to socialize with Northerners, but the ladies we vacation with at White Sulphur Springs are itching to get some of our belles invited to one of those Patriarch balls that are held up in New York City. Those ladies are of the firm belief that cozying up to this new family will help us achieve that goal.”
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Mother, but the Vanderbilts have yet to be accepted into New York high society.”
Susannah blinked. “But . . . I’ve heard that the Vanderbilts are one of the richest families in the country.”
“While that is certainly true, they’ve been deliberately kept out of high society—or what those in the know call the New York Four Hundred—by none other than Mrs. Astor.” Lucetta shook her head. “Even with all the money the Vanderbilt family possesses, Mrs. Astor believes them to be uncouth, which is rather amusing when you think about it.”
“What in the world would you find amusing about that?” Susannah asked slowly.
“Well, Mrs. Astor enjoys the high position she holds within society, but her husband’s grandfather wasn’t well-heeled in the least, and the Vanderbilts’ grandfather, Cornelius Vanderbilt, the founder of their fortune, wasn’t well-heeled either. So why is the Astor family accepted into society, while the Vanderbilt family is not? Quite frankly, I’ve seen Alva Vanderbilt out and about in the city, and I cannot imagine her eating her peas with a knife.”
Susannah frowned. “I’ve never understood how you always have so much history at your fingertips, or why you’d even be interested in it, but . . . I find myself curious as to how you know all of this information about New York high society.”
Lucetta shoved aside the tiny sliver of disappointment her mother’s words caused. Susannah had never understood Lucetta’s mind, or her father’s, for that matter. She’d even mocked Lucetta’s intelligence over the years, telling her time and time again that she’d never find a gentleman to marry, because gentlemen did not enjoy being around women who knew too much.
Forcing a smile, Lucetta shrugged. “I hear and see things at the theater, Mother, especially since society does enjoy its amusements. But besides that, I have a very good friend who has been an accepted member of society for years.”
“I really prefer not to discuss your ‘very good friend,’ if it’s all the same to you.”
Temper replaced any hint of lingering disappointment as Lucetta hugged her arms around her middle—as if that would stave away the unpleasantness she’d just heard—and stared at her mother, who’d taken to looking affronted.
That the woman had actually given birth to Lucetta but apparently didn’t know her daughter or what values her daughter held was beyond telling, but it went far in explaining the less than warm and tender relationship mother and daughter shared.
“I would hope you’d have a bit more faith in me, Mother, than to immediately assume my very good friend is a gentleman, or more importantly, my lover.”
“You’re being impertinent,” Susannah shot back before she smiled one of her lovely smiles and nodded to something off in the distance. “You’re also being neglectful of your friends.”
Finding herself less than surprised by her mother’s response to something she obviously didn’t care to discuss, Lucetta turned and walked to the edge of the portico, reining in the temper flowing through her as she gestured for Monty to bring the wagon closer.
It would never do to lose her temper with her mother, because Susannah would no doubt disengage from the conversation and dismiss Lucetta before she could warn her mother about Silas.
As the wagon drew near, Lucetta turned back to her mother, finding her smoothing down her hair, even though there was not a single strand out of place in the tidy chignon her mother preferred to wear when she was at home.
“You look lovely, Mother. There’s no reason to fuss with your hair.”
Susannah stopped smoothing her hair and frowned. “Thank you, dear. What an unexpected thing for you to say.”
“I’m sure I’ve told you you’ve looked lovely before.”
“Not since you were a small child, back in the days when you liked me.”
Lucetta blinked. “When have I ever made the claim that I don’t like you?”
Susannah let out what sounded remarkably like a snort. “Please, I may not be as intelligent as you are, or your father was, but I was born with a bit of common sense. That means I can tell when someone doesn’t like me, and you, daughter dear, don’t like me, just as I can tell you’re disdainful of the way I prefer to live my life, finding it far too frivolous for a practical soul like you.”
“I’m not always practical” was all Lucetta could think to respond to something she’d never even considered before—the idea that her mother suffered hurts from slights she believed Lucetta had flung her way.
A trace of uncomfortable truth nudged its way into Lucetta’s thoughts.
She did find her mother frivolous, and . . . perhaps she had been a little disdainful over the years in regard to her mother’s lack of competency with any matters of a business nature, especially matters of finance.
Before she could address the subject further though, she heard footsteps approaching. Turning, she found Bram striding her way while everyone else remained in the wagon.
Her pulse immediately sped up the closer he drew, but she didn’t find herself annoyed by that reaction. Quite honestly, she was getting used to her pulse galloping about at the strangest of times, mostly when Bram smiled, or . . . held her arm, or . . . breathed.
They’d not had an opportunity to speak much about anything since learning Silas had escaped, but now that she knew his secrets, knew he wasn’t a madman, and knew he wasn’t appalled by her rather curious gifts, she’d been thinking over the whole courting business, and . . . truth be told, she’d been . . . considering it.
Blinking straight out of those thoughts, Lucetta realized that Bram had made the decision to approach them on his own, almost as if he’d known Susannah might be a little overwhelmed if she’d been faced with meeting everyone at once.
His inherent kindness had the smallest of sighs escaping from Lucetta’s lips, sighs that disappeared in a flash when Susannah let out a sigh of her own.
“My goodness but that is one handsome man,” Susannah breathed before she breezed past Lucetta, a brilliant smile spreading over her face. Holding out her arms in clear welcome, she went from disgruntled mother to the image of the quintessential southern woman—all smiles and grace—in a split second.
Lucetta couldn’t help but be slightly impressed with her mother’s acting abilities.
“You must be Lucetta’s mother, although I would have said sister if I didn’t already know Lucetta is an only child,” Bram said, climbing up the stairs to take the hand Susannah immediately held out to him. He brought her fingers to his lips even as he inclined his head to her. “I’m delighted to meet you.”
Susannah dipped her head and peeked out at Bram from beneath her lashes, an action all southern ladies learned from almost the moment they could walk. The peeking came to an abrupt end, however, when Susannah shot a glance to Lucetta and raised a perfectly shaped brow.
Stepping forward before her mother did something worse than raise a brow over what she evidently thought was Lucetta’s grave lapse in manners, Lucetta summoned up a smile. “Mother, I’d like to introduce you to a friend of mine, Mr. Bram Haverstein. Bram, this is my mother, Mrs. Nigel Wolfe, Susannah to her close friends and family.”
“Which means you must call me Susannah,” her mother all but purred. “Any friend of my daughter’s is certainly a friend of mine.”
“I would be honored to call you Susannah, and you must call me Bram,” he said as he released Susannah’s hand, earning a sigh of obvious disappointment in return.
Lucetta had almost forgotten how flirty southern women tended to be, no matter their ages. Before her mother could begin flirting in earnest though, footsteps marching up the steps drew Lucetta’s attention, and to her relief, she found that Millie had decided to join them.
“What a marvelous house,” Millie exclaimed when she reached Lucetta’s side, beaming a smile Susannah’s way. “I’m Mrs. Everett Mulberry, Mrs. Wolfe, but please, call me Millie, since I’ve been fast friends with your daughter for what feels like forever and you apparently feel that any friend of Lucetta’s is a friend of yours. Why, I’m sure you must feel as if you and I are fast friends already since I lived with Lucetta for years and years before I got married, which means I know she must have told you all about me.”
Susannah’s forehead puckered ever so slightly as she looked Millie up and down. “Lucetta has never mentioned a word about you, Mrs. Mulberry.”
Millie’s eyes immediately took to narrowing, and for such a small lady, she suddenly looked quite intimidating. “Millie, please, and clearly I’ve arrived just in the nick of time. You and Lucetta are obviously suffering from a less than desirable relationship, which means the two of you need someone to intervene on both of your behalves, and, well . . . here I am.”
With that, Millie stepped forward and, with Susannah eyeing her warily, reached out, took a firm hold of Susannah’s shoulders, and pulled her into an enthusiastic embrace.
“Oh . . . my” was all Susannah seemed capable of saying as Millie gave her a last squeeze and stepped back, immediately entwining her arm with Susannah’s.
“Now then, since it’s clear a bit of a heart-to-heart talk is long overdue between you and my dear Lucetta, I’m going to suggest we repair to . . .” She tilted her head. “Do you call them parlors down here in the South?”
“We have a receiving room,” Susannah said slowly.
“Excellent. We’ll repair to the receiving room, where I’m hopeful some of that sweet tea I keep hearing about will be served as I tell you about the many, many things I don’t believe you know about your daughter.”
With that, Millie prodded Susannah into motion and disappeared with her into Plum Hill.
“Millie’s a little frightening, isn’t she?” Bram asked slowly.
“This coming from a man who owns his own dungeon,” Lucetta replied right before she caught sight of someone walking around the corner of the house.
Before she could get a single word out of her mouth, however—as in a word of warning to the unfortunate soul who’d rounded that corner—Mr. Skukman came dashing out of nowhere, launched himself into the air, and knocked none other than her dastardly stepfather, Mr. Nigel Wolfe, straight to the ground.