Twenty-seven

“And I’m not sure about inviting the Anderson family, my dear.” Mrs. Sheffield’s hazel eyes sharpened, reminding Alexandra of her betrothed.

Alexandra took her pen and carefully inscribed the name on the list. “I’m not sure I know them.”

“That’s not surprising. They do not have any children your age. Their oldest son, Charles, went to sea when he was just a lad. He doesn’t come home often. And their girls, Catherine and Christine, married Kaintuck boatmen.” She shook her head. “It was a terrible scandal because they chose husbands so far beneath them. I don’t think their poor parents ever recovered.”

Wondering if she’d been caught up in a nightmare, Alexandra pushed back an errant curl with one hand and held down the list of families with the other. She wanted to run away, but there was nowhere to go. So she sighed and turned her attention back to Lowell’s mother. “I don’t want to exclude anyone because of something in the past. I know only too well how hurtful that can be.”

Mrs. Sheffield’s eyes widened. “Oh, my dear, I’m sorry. I didn’t think—” The older woman’s cheeks reddened. “Of course we will invite them.” She cleared her throat. “Is the wind getting too brisk? Perhaps we should move inside.”

Alexandra accepted the change of subject in deference to Mrs. Sheffield’s obvious dismay and glanced around. The gardens and the front lawn were beginning to come to life as spring chased away the freezing temperatures of winter. “I am enjoying the sunshine and the chirp of the birds.”

Galloping hooves drowned out the sounds as Lowell and his father thundered down the lane toward the house and around to a side entrance without stopping. Mrs. Sheffield raised a hand in welcome, but neither man acknowledged her greeting.

Mrs. Sheffield looked at Alexandra, a forlorn smile on her face. “Mr. Sheffield and Lowell have been preoccupied of late.”

“Should we go inside and find out what has happened?”

“Oh no, dear. You will find it’s much better to leave the men alone at times like this. They would not appreciate our meddling. They will rush hither and yon making plans and devising strategies. And then the crisis will pass, and they will once again devote their time to us.” She patted Alexandra’s hand. “In the meantime, we have each other. Now, where were we?”

Alexandra looked down at the list, but her mind clanged a warning. Was this why Lowell did not seek or value her opinion in certain matters?

The front door opened, and she turned, a relieved smile on her face. Lowell must have decided to come out and greet her. But it was only the housekeeper wringing her hands on her apron. “Missus Sheffield, I need you inside, ma’am.”

“What’s wrong, Sally?” Mrs. Sheffield pushed back her chair. Alexandra started to rise, but she shook her head. “You stay out here. I’m sure I’ll only be a minute or two.”

Sitting back in her chair, Alexandra tried to recapture the peacefulness she had felt during her morning prayer, but it was impossible. She thought back to the days before her father had died. If she had not ignored his rushing hither and yon, things might have turned out differently. But with her awakened faith she knew she could not impose her own will on her father. God had lovingly given each person the right to choose whether to follow Him.

Yet she still could not rid herself of the notion that she might have been able to protect the victims of his crimes if she had just paid attention to the choices her father was making. She stood. She had no idea what was going on with the Sheffield men, but she would find out. She was determined not to make the same mistake again.

Raised voices drew her attention to one of the large windows. It must be coming from Mr. Sheffield’s study. She was about to sweep past it when a name brought her up short.

“He is a menace to all of us.” She recognized Lowell’s voice. “Jeremiah LeGrand must be stopped. We tried it your way, Pa, but now you must see he will not listen to reason. He believes that freeing his slaves will not endanger the rest of us.”

“There has to be a less violent way to convince him.”

“It’s either him or us.” Someone pounded a fist on the wall next to the window where she was standing.

Alexandra jumped back, her heart hammering against her chest. After a moment, she forced herself back to the glass panes. She had to know what Lowell was proposing.

“. . .late tonight, when all of them are asleep. If we burn down the house, he’ll have no choice but to leave. It’s his own fault. If he would only have agreed with us, we wouldn’t be forced to take such extreme measures.”

“Some people can’t help being stubborn.” Mr. Sheffield answered. “Just make sure you don’t get caught.”

“I won’t, Pa.”

Alexandra backed away from the window, a hand over her mouth. She wanted to march right into that study and tell both of the Sheffield men what she thought of their plans. But they would not listen. She could almost hear Lowell’s condescending tones as he sent her back to his mother. No one else would listen to her, either, not until it was too late. It would be just like what happened to Papa. She had come full circle.

Frustration made her want to stomp her foot. What could she do? Threaten them with exposure? End her betrothal before disaster struck? Or was there something else she could do? Some way to stop them from succeeding? An idea popped into her mind, but Alexandra rejected it. It was too daring, too risky. But it might be the only way to avert disaster.

❧

The work he had accomplished today put him well ahead of his plans. Jeremiah was pleased. He was certain this season would be the best one ever at Magnolia Plantation, and with the steady increases in the price of cotton, all of his people should make a tidy profit. He put down the almanac he had been perusing, blew out the candle on his bedside table, and pulled the quilt up to his chin.

Sleep eluded him as he considered the next plan he wanted to implement. He could just imagine what the townspeople would say if they knew he planned to turn his plantation into an orphanage. But it was a dream God had given him, and now he had the perfect place to take care of children who would otherwise have nothing. He could almost hear their shouts and laughter as the orphans played and worked together. He would build a large classroom in the second floor of the main house, and he would hire a tutor or two to help with the instruction.

Excitement coursed through Jeremiah as he dreamed of his plans. He turned over and plumped his pillow before settling back down against it. Thanking God once again for the bounty, he closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.

The noise that woke him seemed to be an echo from his dreams. But then he heard it again—the whinny of a horse outside. The newly finished corral was too far from the house for him to hear those horses. He had a visitor. And most likely a visitor bent on mischief.

Jeremiah pushed the covers back and reached for his clothes. He dressed quickly and slipped out of the bedroom. He couldn’t see much as he negotiated the staircase. Clouds had appeared in the sky as the sun set this evening, and now they played hide-and-seek with the moon. But he could hear the scrape of a window being raised. He followed the sound into the parlor at the same time as a shadowy figure stepped through and entered the room.

Instinct took over, and he launched himself at the miscreant, tackling him before he could use whatever weapon he held. His aim was true. His head contacted the intruder’s torso at the waist and both of them went down in a tangle of skirts.

Skirts? Jeremiah’s startled gaze fell on a delicate face ringed by dark curls. “Alexandra?” He rolled off her and bounded to his feet. “What is the meaning of this?”

She moaned and rolled into a ball.

Anger immediately turned into concern. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” Her answer was muffled but emphatic.

“Have you become a burglar?” Another thought occurred to him. “Or are you so enamored of me that you cannot help yourself?”

Alexandra hissed and pulled herself into a sitting position. Cold moonlight illuminated her disdain. “Of course not. I came to warn you.”

Jeremiah raised his eyebrows at her and crossed his arms over his chest. “Warn me? In the middle of the night? And of what? And sneaking around like some kind of thief. . .whatever the warning is, could you not have sent me a message?” He held out a hand to help her rise. “You’re not carrying a weapon, are you?”

After a slight hesitation she put her hand in his. “Please try to refrain from idiotic questions. This is a serious matter.”

Her glare made him grin. Now that she was on her feet, only a hairsbreadth separated them. Her perfume seemed to surround both of them. Suddenly his questions disappeared. All he could think of was how Alexandra reminded him of a ruffled kitten, soft and prickly and oh so appealing.

He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and kiss her until the glare in her eyes was replaced by a much more intimate look. What an inappropriate thought! It must be the enveloping darkness leading his mind down the wrong path.

Jeremiah backed away and looked toward the mantel for a tinderbox. “Let’s get a little light in here.”

“No!” She put her hand on his arm. “If you do, they might see us.”

“Who?” He looked out of the window she had just come through. “What are you talking about, Alexandra?”

“Lowell. He and some of the other planters are coming over here tonight to set your house on fire. I heard them talking this afternoon. They said it’s the only way to control you.”

It took him a moment to absorb the meaning of her words. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “What are we going to do?”

Jeremiah caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger. She was so intent on helping him, but he could not allow her to put herself in danger. “We are not going to do anything. You are going to go back home, climb into your bed, and forget all about my problems. I will handle Lowell Sheffield.”

When she opened her mouth to object, he swooped down and captured her lips with his own. He knew he shouldn’t do it, knew he would regret it, but he couldn’t resist the temptation. He would never again find himself alone with Alexandra.

For a brief instant, surprise held her still, but then she melted into him. It was the most miraculous thing he had ever experienced. The very air around them seemed to crackle with the emotions unleashed by their embrace.

It took him a moment to realize the crackling noise was coming from outside. He looked out of the window and saw gray smoke curling toward the house. Fear struck him like a bolt of lightning. “They must have set the hay barn on fire.”

Jeremiah released her and ran out to the front porch. He could hear them now, whooping and hollering like a band of Indian warriors. He couldn’t see the faces of the men as they rode off into the night, but he would worry about their identities later. For now, he had enough problems on his hands.

He prayed no one would get hurt as he rushed toward the well and released the bucket. It filled quickly, and he hoisted it upward. Pulling it from its hook, he ran toward the barn and tossed the water at the hungry flames. Then back to the well to start all over again.

Alexandra ran to the cast-iron bell on the far side of the house and jerked on its rope to set it ringing. The sound alerted the men and women who worked for him, and he soon found himself surrounded by eager hands. They formed a line from the well to the barn and passed bucket after bucket along. Jeremiah had no idea how long it took before the flames began to die back. He only knew that his hands were blistered and his shoulders ached.

As the sun began to rise in the eastern sky, the extent of the damage became obvious. He had lost the hay barn and the gin, and the weeds in one of the smaller fields had been scorched. He knew it could have been much worse. Would have been if not for the daring of a brave young woman.

He looked around until he spotted her helping some of the women and children search for hot cinders. Her dark hair cascaded around her shoulders, which drooped from exhaustion. Jeremiah thought she had never looked more beautiful.

He accepted a cup of cool water from a young girl and drank deeply. It tasted as sweet as honey to his parched lips. Taking a second cup from her, he strode to Alexandra. “It’s time for you to stop.” He thrust the cup toward her. “You’ve done more than enough.”

She looked up at him, her face streaked with soot. “I’m so sorry, Jeremiah. I wish I’d gotten here sooner.”

Jeremiah shook his head. “If not for you, I would have lost the whole place. And perhaps my life. You don’t know how much I appreciate your willingness to put your reputation at risk by coming to warn me.”

An odd look crossed her face. She took the cup and sipped from it. “God would not let me do any less.”

Her words nearly brought him to his knees. He could not believe how badly he had misjudged this woman. The immature, spoiled debutante was an illusion. Alexandra Lewis was a woman of excellence. She epitomized all the qualities of the perfect helpmeet—intelligence, beauty, and faithfulness. Never mind her singed clothing and mussed hair, Jeremiah could not imagine any woman being more beautiful than Alexandra. Or more unattainable.

He clamped his jaws together. He’d better get her out of here right now before he decided he couldn’t let her leave at all. Jeremiah turned away and waved to Oren. “See to it Miss Lewis gets home safely.”

He walked away without a backward glance. She was not his to claim. She was betrothed to another.