Chapter Thirty-Nine

MAY 1865

Two weeks after we buried Elliott, I was in the kitchen with Martha, snapping beans, as baby Ellie played with cookie cutters on the floor between us, when we heard a buggy creak to a stop. I scooped up Ellie and the three of us made it to the verandah just as Grayson guided a beautiful auburn-haired woman up the steps and a wagon loaded with furnishings entered the drive.

“And here is our welcoming committee to your new home, my love.” Grayson smiled as if he were lord of the manor. “Minnie, Martha, allow me to introduce to you my wife and the new mistress of Belvidere Hall, Mrs. Rose MacLaren Belvidere. Rose, my darling, this is my sister, Minerva —we call her Minnie —and our kitchen slave, Martha.”

“I’m so pleased to meet you.” Rose smiled with what I hoped was kindness and grace but must have been perplexed at our silence and ashen faces.

“Where are your manners, Minnie? Step aside.” Grayson took Rose’s arm and ushered her through the door while Martha and I followed with our mouths agape.

“And who is this little one?” Rose asked, lifting Ellie’s finger from my collar.

“Elliott’s orphan.” Grayson spoke as if our treasure were a throwaway. “She’s well looked after. You won’t need to bother.”

“What bother could such a lovely little girl be?” Rose smiled. I didn’t like the proprietary glimmer in her eyes.

“Martha, get Obadiah and have him bring in the trunks. Might take a couple of bucks to handle the furnishings. They can go into the parlor until Rose has a chance to decide where she’d like things placed. I suppose we can sleep in my room tonight. Tomorrow Rose can choose our room. We’ve had a long drive. How long until dinner?”

“Dinner was served two hours ago,” I said, conflicted between disbelief and the habit of hospitality.

“I’m sure I can find something.” Martha took Ellie from my arms.

“See that you do,” Grayson ordered, “and bring it to my room.”

“More than food I’d love a hot bath. So much dust from the drive.” Rose smiled again. “Is that possible?” She’d directed her request to Martha, but Grayson addressed me.

“See to it, Minnie. Have Alma bring up hot water.” He started toward the stairs.

Fury that I’d been able to quell so far rose within me. “Alma is not here.”

He stopped midstair and turned. “Where is she?”

“Alma, Mrs. Chree, is married and no longer lives here.” I wasn’t about to tell him where she was. “She’ll be in tomorrow to help with housework. She’s not paid to work round the clock.” It was satisfying to say that.

The ice in Grayson’s eyes chilled me. The confusion in Rose’s unnerved me.

What is to be the end of all of this?

I didn’t see Rose again until the next morning at breakfast. She insisted on coming down, though Martha would have been happy to take up a tray. It would have been so much easier for all of us. But it helped that Grayson lay abed.

“It doesn’t seem you were expecting me. Is that true?” Rose asked, and it appeared she asked innocently.

“We were surprised. We didn’t . . . I didn’t know that you and Grayson . . .” I didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know that you were courting? That he was going away to marry you? That you existed?

Rose stirred her tea, staring into the cup, and finally set down her spoon. “I take it Grayson didn’t tell you about me.”

“If we’d had any idea, we would have prepared a room.” So many questions I wanted to ask but couldn’t find the words.

“It was all rather sudden, the wedding, and our courtship wasn’t long.”

“I’m sorry, Rose. I didn’t know there was a courtship. Grayson’s young.” There. I’d said it. I thought Rose was young, too, but perhaps not as young as Grayson. What had he told her? Had it mattered?

“I do understand he seems so to you; he told me that. Grayson told me that you’ve been grieving your older brother’s death for some time. Perhaps he mentioned me, and you didn’t realize —”

“Elliott died just over two weeks ago. The day he was buried, Grayson left, never saying where he was going or why. He’s never mentioned you to me.”

Rose stopped, staring at me as if she was trying to gauge whether or not I was telling the truth.

“I’m sorry if that sounds rude, Rose. I don’t want to get us off on the wrong foot. I’d like us to be friends, but I had no idea. None of us did.”

Minutes passed. We ate in silence. At length Rose stood and excused herself from the table.

“Rose, if you like, I can introduce you to Father. He’ll want to meet you.”

“I want to see him, too. I’m glad we were able to get back before he passed.”

I felt my eyes go wide. “Before he passed?”

“I understand he’s near the end and not able to communicate.”

“He’s weak and sometimes confused. He’s grieving Elliott’s death and the state of our family, but he’s fully able to speak, if that’s what you mean.”

Rose’s forehead furrowed.

“Rose, what has Grayson told you?”

“I think . . . I think it best I speak with my husband before I say more.” She started toward the door.

“Yes, perhaps you’re right.”

“Oh, could you have one of the slaves bring up some hot water? Grayson will want a shave.”

“We no longer have slaves, Rose,” I spoke quietly, hoping I sounded respectful. “The war is over, and even before it was, we freed all our slaves. Did Grayson not make that clear?”

Rose stopped, her hand on the doorframe. “I’m afraid very little is clear to me.”