Mrs. Tessier’s carriage rolled back up the drive to The Oak about midmorning a week later, her horses muddy from the rainy day she had chosen for travel. Leather Joe and the house servants met and unpacked her bags as she arrived, their shoulders hunched against the chilly spring rain. Hampton York watched her from his workroom, his body tense. Since Josh had told him that Hillard had shown up again, he knew he needed to ask fast. No more time to wait on Trenton to make up his mind about Camellia.
After Mrs. Tessier disappeared inside the manse, York moved back to his desk, sat down, and tried to stay calm. But he found it hard; he had so much to consider. Would Master Trenton ask Camellia to marry him? If so, maybe he could hold back on his desperate plan. How could he know? How long should he wait to see? And what about Hillard? He’d return soon. York knew he had to act quickly or he’d lose his chance forever.
He put in a chaw of tobacco. No matter what happened, he’d keep the money. If Hillard turned up, he’d take Johnny and Camellia, go straight to Charleston, get the cash out of the bank where he’d left it, and leave the area to start all over somewhere else. It wasn’t his first choice, but he could do it if necessary.
The morning passed, the afternoon began.
A couple of hours later he heard a knock on the door. “Come in,” he called.
To his surprise Stella walked in, her bandanna wet from rain. “Mrs. Tessier wants to talk. Come as soon as you can.”
York sat up straighten Mrs. Tessier usually came and went without any contact between them. If she wanted him to know something, she sent the message through Master Trenton. Yet, based on what she wanted, this might actually make his decision easier.
“She say what she wanted?” he asked Stella.
“No, she not tell me nothin’.”
“Do you know the last time Camellia and Trenton talked?”
“Reckon you ought to ask your own daughter about that. Not my bid-ness to go mixin’ there.”
York eyed the old woman sharply, sensing she knew more than she let on, but he’d learned a long time ago that what Stella didn’t want to say always went unsaid. If he wanted to know why Mrs. Tessier had beckoned him, he’d just have to go and find out.
“Go on then,” he said, waving her off. “Leave me be.”
Stella left without another word, and he sat for a few minutes trying to figure this latest turn. Did Mrs. Tessier want information? Then why not ask Trenton? If not that, then what? He couldn’t think of anything good. Most likely she planned to blame him for The Oak’s troubles, then tell him she didn’t need him any longer. So what if she did? That would just force him to act, one way or the other.
Ready to get on with it, York brushed off his pants, left the room, and slopped through the mud to the manse. There he wiped his feet on the porch mat, walked inside, and headed upstairs to Mrs. Tessier’s bedroom. Once there, he took a deep breath, then knocked on the door.
“Enter.” The voice sounded heavy.
York stepped inside. Mrs. Tessier stood by her window, her bustled dress a dark red. Her hair was pulled back in a severe bun, and her eyes seemed buggy, a little pushed out. Her skin, always white, now looked like winter frost.
“Sit,” said Mrs. Tessier, indicating a chair beside her bed.
York took the seat. Mrs. Tessier folded her arms and faced him. She’d lost weight since he last saw her.
“Thank you for coming so quickly. I don’t know an easy way to say this,” she offered. “But I believe we’re going to need to sell The Oak.”
York rocked forward, his hands on his knees.
Mrs. Tessier raised a hand, and he stayed seated.
“You know how things are,” she continued. “Nothing we’ve tried these last couple of years has turned out well We got the storm, then the malaria swept through. Add that to low yields, and even good prices can’t make up for it.”
“It’s been hard,” he said. “Got to admit that.”
She sighed. “Then this thing with Miss Rouchard. A strange happening. Heartrending for all of us.”
“That must have come as a shock to everybody.”
She smirked. “I expect you to feel pretty good about it. Figure you see it as another chance for your daughter to marry my Trenton.”
York’s face flushed. “You’re a hard woman.”
“I’m a practical one,” she countered. “If I were you, I’d want the same thing for my child.”
York felt an odd admiration for Mrs. Tessier. They had a lot in common, he decided. Both would do what they needed to get what they wanted. “You lookin’ for another wife for Master Trenton?”
“Don’t know if there’s time. He’s got to go through proper mourning. You know our customs.”
“A wife of means could still save things,” York said. “Get us over this bad spell. Give us another year and we’ll do just fine, I tell you that for sure.”
“You’d give up your hopes for your daughter to save The Oak?”
York wanted to spit but saw no cup. “If The Oak goes, so do her hopes.”
“Not if she marries Trenton. Losing The Oak will hurt; I’ll not lie about it. But we won’t be completely broke. We have other houses—one in Charleston, another in Columbia.”
“Why don’t you sell one of those places?” asked York, not certain she wanted any advice but offering it anyway.
“I could,” she said. “But neither of them would bring in enough money to pay off the bank. Besides, truthfully, I don’t want to do it. I’ve never liked living here, you know that. I much prefer Charleston, even Columbia, to this place. A plantation is a man’s world, not mine. I’m not good at it—never have been.”
“What about Trenton? Don’t he want this for his own? Somethin’ to run, to make prosperous?”
“I’m certain he does,” she replied sarcastically. “But what Trenton wants is not most vital at this moment. If I can find a buyer to give me a fair price, I can take the money and put it aside, assure my family of a steady income for a long time. No more worries about weather, about crop yields, about darkies getting sick and dying.”
York tried to think. She’d said so much so fast he didn’t know how to soak it all up. He wanted to tell her to lower her spending some, just for a while, not waste so much on imported clothes, on the finest wines, the best furniture. If she cut back, even for a couple of years, he could take the extra money and pay the bank until The Oak recovered. He’d work the hands from sunup till midnight … himself too. He’d work everybody until they couldn’t move anymore, and they’d produce the best rice crop anybody had ever seen! And that one great crop would earn so much The Oak would never face this kind of problem again. He knew he could do it if Mrs. Tessier would just give him the time; if she’d find a way to keep the bank at bay for one more season.
“I want you to make The Oak ready,” she said, taking a chair at her desk across from her bed. “Figure out how much things are worth. What we can expect to get for the hands, the livestock, the land and house. I want to sell it as one piece if I can; keep the servants here if possible. You’ll need to get the house painted—all the buildings too. Repair the dikes, the canals. Put it all in its best order. Make The Oak shine.”
York’s heart was pounding. He wanted to shout but knew he couldn’t. A man of his station didn’t dare talk back to a lady like Mrs. Tessier. “I can’t believe you’ll really sell her,” he said, almost in a whisper.
Mrs. Tessier sighed. “I know it’s not what my husband would want, but I see no choice.”
Driven by desperation, York knew the time had come. He had to say it now, or he never would. “What about you? What if you married again? I know you’ve surely had suitors … wealthy men who can provide what you need.”
When she glared at him for a minute, he thought she would dismiss him for his forwardness. But then she grinned and seemed to relax.
“I’ve considered that. At one time—even as distasteful as it was—I figured that’s what I’d do. But then Trenton came to his senses and agreed to marry Miss Rouchard, and I no longer saw the need.”
York’s fists balled in anger at the way she’d dismissed Trenton’s engagement to Camellia.
“No offense meant,” Mrs. Tessier said, noting his red face. “But you know a match between Camellia and Trenton wouldn’t have worked. She’s a fine girl, I’m certain of it, but too much separates them. It’s that simple.”
York unclenched his fists as he recognized the truth.
Mrs. Tessier continued. “Now it’s too late for me to take a wealthy husband. The bank is quite insistent that I pay up immediately, and my cash situation simply won’t allow me enough time to find a proper man. Even if I knew one with the money to make a difference, it’s a bit too forward to rush a marriage, then immediately ask for cash. I’m bold but not that much so.”
York bowed his head. He’d prefer to wait for Master Trenton’s decision about Camellia but couldn’t. Unless he did something, his worst fears would come true. A new owner would bring his own overseer. He thought of his money and knew he didn’t have any choice anymore; he had to act.
“Can you get things ready?” Mrs. Tessier asked, breaking into his musings. “I’m depending on you.”
He stared at her. She seemed smaller than normal, almost frail, more approachable than he’d ever seen her. It was now or never. She’d reject it out of hand, of course, but he had to try. What did he have to lose? So what if she said no? He’d hand the place over to Master Trenton and ride out within a week. But if she said yes, what possibilities that would bring!
The feeling he got when he made a large wager rushed through York’s stomach—a fluttering of his insides, half fear, half joy at putting so much on one possible outcome.
“I got a proposition for you,” he said, his voice more confident than he expected. “Somethin’ that might save The Oak. You know what this place can do; it’s kept your family livin’ high for a long time. No reason to lose that if you don’t have to, am I right?”
She shook her head. “I’m afraid there’s no proposition that will make any difference. Just do what I’ve asked. Get me a fair price for the place, and I’ll hand you a worthy bonus when it’s done.”
“How much money you figure you need to keep the bank off your back for a year?”
“I don’t see where that’s any of your business,” she said stiffly. “Besides, nobody’s got that kind of money.”
“But what if they did?” he asked, not caring anymore if he made her mad. “How much would it take?”
She folded her arms. “Just do what I told you!”
“I know where I can get close to twenty-seven thousand,” he said. “That much do you any good?”
She licked her lips. “Who’s got that kind of cash?”
“Never mind about that. I know where to get it.”
Mrs. Tessier tilted her head curiously. “That would go a long way toward paying off the bank. But it’s senseless to talk of it; nobody’s got that kind of money, least not anybody who’ll give it to me.”
York stood and walked to the window. If he told her about his money, she’d surely accuse him of stealing it from her. How would he answer her charge? Outside, the rain pattered to the ground. He surveyed the scene, the level ground, the line of oaks draped in wet moss, the marsh beyond. His choice sat right in front of him—his first and only chance to put his picture in the entryway of a fine house.
He turned back to Mrs. Tessier and tried to figure what she’d do. If she fought him, he might end up accused of embezzling money. Jail might follow. Even if he beat the charges, some folks would always see him as a crook.
“What are you up to, Mr. York?” Mrs. Tessier asked, her voice low. “Tell me now or leave. I haven’t the time for such mysteries.”
York made up his mind. He crossed the room and dropped to one knee in front of Mrs. Tessier.
“What are you doing?” she shrieked.
York grabbed for her hand and held it. “I’m askin’ you to marry me.”
She jerked her hand away. “You’re insane! Get out of my room! Do what I told you, or I’ll put you off the place!”
He stood and moved closer to her, stared down into her eyes. Fear crawled onto her face.
“I’ve got the money,” he whispered. “I’ve got enough to give us another year. We can make it that long. Produce a full crop; put us right on top again.”
She tried to move away, but he put a hand on each of her shoulders and held her in place. Her face flushed, but she stopped struggling and stood still, her eyes locked on his. “I don’t believe you,” she panted. “How would you come by such a sum?”
“I do some wagerin’. Been at it for years. I win a lot.”
She seemed interested now but not convinced. “A man needs a high stake to wager enough to come up with that much. Where’d you get your stake?”
York started to tell her about the man at Mossy Bank, then thought of Sharpton Hillard. Who knew what Mrs. Tessier might have heard? Just as Hillard had come to The Oak asking questions, he might have done the same in Charleston or Beaufort, Columbia too—all the cities where Mrs. Tessier lived. If she’d heard of Hillard, she might add it all up and make him give back the first five thousand. If he didn’t have that, he didn’t have enough. In addition, if the law got mixed up in all this, it might ask questions about how he got the rest of it.
“Never mind where I got a stake. All that matters is what I have now, enough cash to save The Oak.”
Mrs. Tessier gently lifted his hands from her shoulders. “You stole it from me,” she said icily. “You’ve had free rein of the place, and there’s lots of dollars coming in and out.”
“Not as many as I’ve got,” he said. “You know that. Besides, Master Trenton checks the books regular. I could never have taken this much from The Oak.”
Mrs. Tessier rubbed her hands together, her anger apparently ebbing some. “You’re a strong man, Mr. York. But I’m sure I can make a case against you. Enough dollars go through here for you to skim some off the top if you’d like.”
“You’re right,” he said, seeing no reason to lie. “But somebody would have noticed the amount I’ve got. Besides, I can get witnesses to tell of my wagerin’, how I’ve won over the last few years. Like at the races in Charleston; men will swear to it.”
“I’m sure they will.” She seemed calmer now, trying to figure him out. She moved toward her dresser, picked up the pitcher, and poured herself a glass of water. “But I can still take you to the law, claim the money you’ve got … least most of it.”
York shrugged. “I’ll hide it.”
“A few days in jail might change your mind on that.”
“But it might not. I can be real stubborn when it comes to money; you ought to know that. I’m not a soft man. Besides, what good will a trial do you? Sure won’t help you sell The Oak. Fact is, a trial will slow things down. Not what you want, I expect. Who wants to buy a property that’s all tied up with some court matter? Not many, that’s for certain.”
She drank from her water. “You may be right,” she admitted. “Scandal does no one any good. But what makes you think I’d marry you just to save this place? It’s not my favorite spot, you know that.”
York noted the change in her tone, realized she no longer dismissed the notion out of hand. He smoothed down his beard. “You know how much money this place can make. If you sell it, you’ve got the money from that but no more income. You’ll have to go easy on your spendin’, no matter how much the place fetches. Otherwise, who knows how long the cash will hold out? And you’ve got your children to consider. If you spend all the money on your own pleasures, what will you leave them when you pass on?”
He moved to a chair by her desk and perched on the end. “But if you keep the place, you’ve still got its value, plus the money a crop produces each year. A fine lady like you can do a whole lot of things with that kind of cash, don’t you think? And we’ve had a rough spell of luck these last few years. Time for it to turn. I’ll do rice this year, then gradually plant some cotton. With war comin’ soon, prices for both will go sky-high. We’ll make a fortune and never have to worry about the bank again.”
Mrs. Tessier arched an eyebrow. “You have a good argument. But a marriage will cause all kinds of problems. If Trenton and Camellia were not well matched, what says we will be?”
York grinned. “That’s easy. They would have married for love, least what they know of it. Their differences would have shown up fast. You’ve said that yourself. Those differences would have crushed that love, crushed it like a boot on a spider. But you and I know better than to fret over such love notions. We’d be marryin’ to get somethin’ we want. A business arrangement … nothin’ more nor less.”
“I take it you’re not a romantic.”
York hesitated but only for a second. “A long time ago I was. But who’s that childish anymore? Life don’t treat romance real good if you ask me. Finds a way to snuff it out at every turn.”
Mrs. Tessier drank again from her water. “You give me reason for thought. I have to admit that.”
“Strictly business,” said York. “Nothin’ else expected.”
“What will people think?” she wondered. “My friends in Charleston?”
“They’ll think you married a handsome man,” York said. “Tell them I swept you off your feet.”
“But you’re no gentleman, and ladies of my quality don’t marry a man who’s not a gentleman.”
“I’m a captain,” he said. “Military rank carries good status.”
“That may not suffice.”
He smirked. “Then tell them it was for love. They know you didn’t get that with Mr. Tessier. Tell them this time you did. You couldn’t resist my charms. They’ll find it movin’, sentimental even.”
“They’ll never suspect it was for money, that’s for sure.”
“That’s right. An overseer makes a livin’ but not any money.”
Mrs. Tessier walked hesitantly closer, until she was standing over him. “You’re a surprising man.”
He grinned again as he stood and looked into her face. So far his plan had gone better than he expected. “I reckon I am.”
“You can prove to me you have the money?”
“I can.”
“This will surprise our families,” she said.
“Are you tellin’ me yes?”
She held out her hand, and he gently took it and kissed it. She accepted the kiss, then stepped back. “When do you think we should do this?”
Thinking again of Hillard, York knew he needed to wed as soon as possible. “How soon will the bank demand its money?”
“Let’s marry in a month,” she said. “Near the end of the month. Here on The Oak. A simple affair. The parson from Beaufort can do the ceremony.”
“That’ll please me just fine. You’ll inform your sons?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll tell the servants,” he said. “They’ll need to make the place ready.”
She smiled and eased to him again, put her hands around his neck, and touched his long hair. “You might look real fine in some good clothes. Real fine indeed.”