To Whisper Her Name (43 page)

“No, ma’am!” Rachel giggled, holding her still. “Not yet you don’t. First, we need to get you all buttoned and tied up in the back.”

Olivia looked down. With her crinolines beneath, the dress extended out from her waist in a bell shape. “You must let me pay you for the fabric
and
for your work, Rachel.”

Rachel patted her shoulder. “I ‘preciate that, Missus Aberdeen. But somebody already done paid me, ma’am. They swore me to a secret, so I ain’t tellin’. And you best not be askin’.”

Olivia didn’t have to ask. She knew.
Aunt Elizabeth
. She’d never be able to thank the woman for all she’d done.

Rachel nudged her shoulder. “All right now. Get on over there so we can see it!”

Even before Olivia reached the mirror, she heard Rachel’s soft intake of breath behind her — and experienced the same reaction when she first saw her reflection. The dress was even prettier on than off. But it was
who
Olivia saw when she first looked in the mirror that stole a breath and caused her eyes to burn.

“Missus Aberdeen?” Rachel came alongside her. “Is somethin’ wrong, ma’am? You don’t like it?”

“I love it, Rachel. The dress is perfect. It’s not that. It’s …” Her smile felt bittersweet. “Aunt Elizabeth has told me many times that when she looks at me, she can see my mother. But … I’ve never been able to see it myself. Until now.”

Rachel’s blue eyes glistened in the morning light. “I understand what you sayin’, ma’am,” she said softly. “Gives you a funny feelin’ to walk by a mirror and catch a glimpse of someone else in your face.” She met Olivia’s gaze in the reflection. “Or maybe walk by a picture on a wall and see your own eyes lookin’ back out at you.”

Reading more than simple understanding in Rachel’s expression, Olivia remembered the day she’d found Rachel staring at the portrait of John Harding in the entrance hall.

Rachel adjusted one of the black tassels that had gone askew. “Makes you feel a little closer to ‘em, in a way, I guess.”

“While also making you miss them even more,” Olivia whispered.

“Yes, ma’am.” Rachel’s jaw firmed. “Yes, ma’am … it sure do.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever tire of this view, Livvy. The hills are so breathtaking.”

Olivia paused beside her aunt and shielded her eyes from the sun as she peered out across the meadow. Exactly two weeks before Christmas and it felt more like a day in May than December. But that was one of the things she loved about Tennessee.
Indian summers
. She lifted her gaze to the hills beyond and, in her mind’s eye, she pictured the jagged peaks of the Colorado Rocky Mountains tipped with snow as Ridley had described. She wondered whether the Colorado Territory ever had days like this.

Aunt Elizabeth resumed their stroll, and Olivia fell into step beside her.

“Aunt Elizabeth, thank you again for what you did with the dress. Rachel worked wonders!”

Elizabeth’s expression turned playfully scolding. “You’re most welcome. And yes, she always does. But you’ve already thanked me once.”

“I know. But this dress is dear to me. And I never dreamed I’d be able to wear it.”

Elizabeth’s steps slowed. A peculiar look came over her face. “But Livvy, you wear the dress all the time. That’s why I asked Rachel to work on it. I’d noticed the hem was becoming a little frayed in the back, so I spoke with her about it.”

Olivia paused. “We
are
speaking about my mother’s dress?”

“I’m speaking about your gray ensemble, dear. The one with the jacket and white piping. Did Rachel work on one of your mother’s dresses too?”

Olivia nodded, her thoughts already churning about who else could have paid for those alterations, and it quickly landed on the only other possibility.
That dear man …
“And she did such beautiful work too. I’ll show it to you later.”

Elizabeth slipped her arm through Olivia’s, and they continued on.

“The other night, Livvy” — Elizabeth looked over — “I told you I was proud of you for teaching at the freedmen’s school. And I am. But I also want to urge you again to be careful. Mr. Pagette, an old childhood friend, has assured me he’s given this situation his personal attention. The first meeting will be the fifteenth of January. They’ve located a building.” She gestured. “About a mile or so through the woods. Not too far. An old hunting cabin no one uses anymore, he said. Just across the boundary of Belle Meade on a neighbor’s land.”

“And this neighbor … they know about it?”

“Oh yes, and were eager to help. But there are people, as we both know, who do not approve of servants being educated in this manner. People who would prefer that schools such as this not exist.”

“People like … the general?” Olivia broached softly, and felt Elizabeth stiffen beside her.

“My husband is a
good
man, Livvy.” Elizabeth paused, her voice soft but earnest. “I know you may not agree with some of his ways. But he always has your best at heart, I promise you that. And mine and the girls’ and also Belle Meade’s.”

“I have no doubt of that, Aunt Elizabeth. And while I’m grateful to
you for arranging this opportunity for me, I also don’t want to place you in a precarious situation. I’m concerned about what the general’s reaction would be if he knew. He made it quite clear to Mr. Pagette that he could not support the idea of starting a school on Belle Meade property. So I have to assume he doesn’t know.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “Though he does know about your teaching Jimmy and Jolene. Because I told him. But, Livvy dear, who do you think started giving Jimmy those old copies of the magazine to begin with?” Elizabeth offered a careful smile. “When the general was in prison during the war, he and Susanna traded letters quite often. He told me that hers were some of the most meaningful he received. And he’s often lent her books from his library. Does that sound like a man bent on not allowing servants to learn?”

“No, but —”

“The general has a great many responsibilities resting on his shoulders, Livvy. He also has a great number of men — powerful men on both sides of this issue — watching him as he balances those obligations. The war is over. But in many ways it’s still being fought … in the hearts of men and in their … vision for this new world.” Elizabeth looked across the meadow. “I see the weight of it in my husband’s face when he returns from a meeting in town, or when I awaken at night and find him standing at the window, staring into the darkness, unable to sleep for the cares of this world pressing down upon him.

“And don’t forget, Livvy … He has all the servants and employees depending on him. Not to mention his family. And though he would never tell you this, and I only know because I overheard him speaking to a gentleman from the bank, Belle Meade is not as solvent as it appears. My husband has debts, and this is a crucial time for him. For
us
. He’s depending on the yearling sale to do well. And … he’s also counting on —”

“General Meeks,” Olivia whispered, seeing it in her aunt’s eyes.

Elizabeth briefly glanced away. “Yes. General Meeks has shown great interest in investing in Belle Meade, so a union between our families —
if
that comes to fruition — would enhance its future. But it would also enhance your own. Chattanooga is a fine city. It wasn’t devastated like Atlanta. The bulk of General Meeks’s estate was spared. You’d be able to start afresh there, my dear. You’d have a brand-new life. Something, I fear, you will never have here.”

Olivia bowed her head and let a nod be her answer.

“Also, my dear …” Elizabeth took hold of her hand. “And you must have considered this by now, but … your teaching in the school can only be temporary.”

Olivia looked up.

“Should this union come to pass …” Elizabeth offered a smile that hinted at
or when it does come to pass
. “— it would hardly be fitting for a married woman, much less the wife of General Percival Meeks, to be teaching in a freedmen’s school.”

“I understand. And I’m grateful for what you’ve done. I’ll teach for as long as I can.”

Elizabeth linked arms again and turned to walk back toward the house, but Olivia hesitated.

“I think I’ll continue on for a while, Aunt Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth’s nod held understanding.

Olivia walked on toward the mares’ stable, watching for Ridley, something that had become second nature to her. Her attention was drawn to the pasture where mares were grazing, some lying in the sun. But there was one in particular … She looked closer.
Seabird
. The mare was running full out, her mane whipping the air behind her, her hooves hardly touching the earth. Even at this distance, Olivia could see the fullness around the mare’s middle, and she counted … Five months until Seabird would give birth to the foal of Jack Malone. Oh, how angry Ridley had been that day the mare jumped the corral.

Olivia went as far as the fence and leaned against it, admiring the horse, her speed and agility, and finding it hard to believe the mare had ever sustained a serious injury to her leg.

Such beauty, such power and
freedom
— Olivia couldn’t help but feel a touch of envy.

O
livia waited in the front entrance hall with Aunt Elizabeth and Cousin Lizzie. She’d already arranged her hair, but hadn’t yet dressed for the shindig. She’d do that right after the Hardings left for the LeVert reception. Ridley had never said anything about escorting her, but she still wanted to look nice for him. Especially tonight. And especially since he’d paid for her dress. Because whether it was sensible or not — and she knew it wasn’t — she couldn’t seem to convince her heart to stop hoping where Ridley was concerned.

She gave Elizabeth a hug, then Cousin Lizzie. “I hope you all have a marvelous time this evening. I’m certain Belmont will be exquisite.”

“Oh, no doubt it will be, Livvy.” Elizabeth’s eyes brightened. “Adelicia Acklen never does anything on a small scale, and she gives the most wonderful party favors!”

The door to the study opened behind them, and the general emerged. “Olivia.” His dark eyebrows drew together. “Bad news, I fear. I’ve received word from General Meeks that he won’t be joining us for the holidays as planned.”

Feeling as though she’d been given a Christmas gift a week early, Olivia tried her best not to show it. “General Meeks isn’t ill, I hope.”

“No, no.” The general gave her a reassuring nod. “A bit of rheumatism, I believe, that flares up in the cold. He says he looks forward to seeing us all again soon.”

Olivia nodded, glad to hear it wasn’t anything serious. She didn’t want to marry the gentleman, but she also didn’t wish him ill.

“Ah …” General Harding glanced toward the staircase. “My eldest daughter, in all her glory.” Selene descended the stairs looking radiant, as always, shiny curls arranged atop her head. “Daughter.” The general placed a kiss on her forehead. “General William Hicks Jackson had
better mind his interests this evening, or someone else is liable to steal you away.”

Selene smiled and ducked her head.

From outside, the clomp of horses’ hooves announced the arrival of the carriage, and the general peered through the window.

“Livvy?” Elizabeth whispered where only Olivia could hear. “I left the gloves for you on my dressing table. I hope you have a wonderful time tonight, dear. That was very kind of Rachel to invite you.”

“Thank you, Aunt.” Olivia gave her another quick hug. She hadn’t mentioned Ridley being invited as well. In light of everything, it just seemed easier that way.

“Oh!” A cry drifted down from upstairs, followed by what sounded like something being thrown against a wall.

Selene sighed. “It’s Mary! Chloe fixed her hair but she doesn’t like it. I told her it looks fine for her age, but I think she wants it to look more like mine. If her dawdling causes us to miss the opening waltz …”

Aunt Elizabeth started toward the spiral staircase.

“Elizabeth!” The general shook his head, then looked up the stairs. “Mary Elizabeth! Get down here at once. The carriage is waiting.”

“I’m not going anymore,” came a weak voice.

Elizabeth turned. “Please … let me go to her, General. I remember what it’s like to be that age, and —”

“Selene and Lizzie managed to be ready on time. There’s no reason why Mary shouldn’t be as well.” General Harding glanced at his pocket watch then toward the stairs again. “You have exactly eight minutes, Mary Elizabeth. At which time I will expect you to be in that carriage.”

The general ushered the women out the door before him, then followed. From the porch, Elizabeth looked back and cast a parting glance at Olivia, her look of excitement replaced by one of distress. The second the latch clicked on the door, Olivia hiked her skirts, sprinted up the staircase, and down the hall to Mary’s room.

Slumped at the dressing table, Mary lifted her head as Olivia entered. Tears streaked the girl’s cheeks.

“If Mother sent you up here, then —”

“She didn’t.” Olivia put her hand to her chest, out of breath. “I came of my own volition. To fix your hair … if you want me to.” She filled her lungs again, the words spilling out. “But we only have eight minutes! Actually … more like seven now.” Olivia smiled at her in the mirror. “But I’d love to help … if you’d let me.”

Mary stared, her gaze suspicious, her struggle evident. But if what Aunt Elizabeth had said about their similarities was true, Olivia knew she and Mary stood a good chance of being friends.
If
they could start again.

“Six minutes, thirty seconds,” Olivia whispered, praying Mary could feel her sincerity.

Mary sat straighter in the chair, but teared up again. “Yes, please,” she whispered. “But we have to hurry! Papa will be angry if I’m not down there on time.”

Beyond thrilled, Olivia had no time to show it. “Would you like your hair to look like Selene’s?”

Mary shook her head. “I want it to look like yours.”

Olivia felt a flood of love for the girl. “Well, you’re in luck then. Because this is a style I could do blindfolded.” She took inventory of the hair accessories atop the dressing table. “Where are your hair combs? Some long ones …”

Mary’s shoulders slumped again. “Selene used them. All I have are these.”

Seeing the tiny clips in Mary’s hand, Olivia took one look at herself in the mirror … and pulled the combs from her own hair. Mary gasped. “What are you —”

“Just do exactly as I say, all right?” Olivia winked. “And keep track of the time.”

Hinting at a grin, Mary nodded. “Five minutes!”

Olivia grabbed the brush.

With seconds to spare, she and Mary all but flew down the stairs. At the door, Mary turned. “Thank you, Mrs. Aberdeen. I feel so … pretty!”

“It’s
Olivia
, remember?” Olivia touched her face. “And you
are
pretty, Mary. Now please, remember every detail about tonight. I’ve always wanted to visit Belmont.”

Grinning, Mary nodded and raced out the door. Olivia followed as far as the porch, tensing when she saw the general waiting by the carriage.
Please … let him be gentle with her
. But to her surprise, it was Mary who took the lead.

“I’m sorry for having kept you all waiting, Father. It was foolish and selfish of me, and … I hope it won’t spoil our evening.”

From where she stood, Olivia could see the general’s surprise.

“Yes, Mary Elizabeth,” he said sternly. “You have kept us waiting.” Mary bowed her head. “But obviously” — the general urged her chin up a fraction — “with good reason. Because you look lovely tonight, my dear.”

Mary beamed, and so did Olivia.

“Thank you, Father.” Mary gave a little curtsey.

The general held his daughter’s hand as she ascended into the carriage. Then he turned back toward the house. “Good evening, Olivia. We won’t be home until daybreak, I’m sure.”

Olivia curtsied much as Mary had done. “Good evening, General Harding. And have a wonderful time.”

“There you go, Missus Aberdeen. All fastened, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Rachel.” Mindful of the scar usually hidden by her sleeve, Olivia kept her arm close to her side as she craned her neck to see the back of the dress in the mirror and to admire Rachel’s handiwork again. An idea suddenly came, and she decided to test her theory about Ridley being the benevolent fashion financier. “Are you certain, Rachel, that you were compensated adequately for your work on this gown? Because if not, I’d be happy to give you something as well. Who was it again who paid for the alterations? I’ve forgotten.”

Slowly, Rachel smiled and wagged her finger. “That is
the
most
pitiful
try at gettin’ to the truth I ever done heard, ma’am. You should be ashamed.”

“I am.” Olivia grinned. “Mostly … But I do wish you’d tell me so I could thank them properly.”

“Some gifts are meant to be given in secret, Missus Aberdeen. And I think this is one of ‘em. And don’t you worry, I was
compensated adequately
, like you said.”

Olivia nodded, determined to let that be the last word on the matter. At least until Ridley arrived.

Rachel frowned. “You plannin’ on wearin’ those this evenin’, ma’am?”

Olivia saw her looking at Aunt Elizabeth’s gloves laying on the bed, and could guess what she was thinking. The gloves — more gray than a true black like Aunt Elizabeth had remembered — didn’t match the dress very well. In fact, they almost detracted from it. But Olivia
wasn’t about to parade around with her arm bare for all the world to see. It was her own fault. She should have asked to see the gloves before tonight.

“Yes, I thought I would.” She tried for nonchalance. “They might come in handy if it gets too chilly.”

Rachel didn’t smile or nod. She just looked at her. And Olivia would’ve sworn the woman could read her thoughts. “With you lookin’ like you’s lookin’ in that dress, Missus Aberdeen … Ain’t nobody gonna be lookin’ at your arm, ma’am.” Rachel’s gaze lowered. “‘Sides, it ain’t that bad. No need to be ashamed. How did it happen, ma’am?”

Olivia ran a finger over the furrow of white puckered flesh. “I was thrown … from a horse.”

A moment passed. “How old was you?”

“I was ten.” Olivia finally looked up. “And I’ve been scared to death of horses ever since.”

Awareness dawned in Rachel’s smooth brown features. “And here you is … livin’ on a thoroughbred farm. Funny how God works things sometimes, ain’t it?”

“
Funny
wasn’t quite my first thought when coming to Belle Meade.” Olivia smiled. “But yes, I can see the irony in it now, I guess.”

“You need help puttin’ ‘em on, ma’am?”

“No, I can do it. But thank you.”

“All right then. I best run and get myself ready. I see you there shortly.” Rachel closed the bedroom door behind her.

Olivia finished getting ready, tucking wayward strands of hair back into place. Without her long combs, she wasn’t sure how well her hair would hold on the sides, but she didn’t regret sharing the combs with Mary. She only hoped the girl’s dance card was already filled.

A quick dab of perfume behind each ear, and she wondered again what the party would be like tonight. She assumed food and dancing. What else did you do at a party? Surely she’d be teaching some of Belle Meade’s servants in the freedmen’s school. Did they know yet that she would be their teacher? She felt both honored and nervous at the prospect.

She slipped the gloves on. They reached past her elbows, three-quarters of the way up her arms. Plenty long enough. And warmer than she’d thought. She reached for her shawl when a coo, like that of a mourning dove, sounded outside her front window. She smiled.

It was dark, but she could just make out Ridley standing below. So he’d come for her after all … She pushed up the window.

“You ready for the biggest party of the year?” he called in a hushed voice.

“Almost! I can be down in three minutes!”

“But I’m only giving you two.”

Closing the window on his smart remark, she wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and took a final glance in the mirror before turning down the lamp.

Moonlight illuminated the second-story porch as she headed for the staircase.

“Not that way, Mrs. Aberdeen. Not tonight.”

She stopped and peered over the railing but didn’t see him.

“Over here.”

She followed his voice to find him standing on the front porch, the gas lamps on the walkway scattering the night. “What are you doing over there?”

“I’m calling for you at the front door, like any proper gentleman would do.”

Grinning, she quickly decided to play the part. She hurried through the door leading into the hallway outside the Hardings’ bedroom and then down the grand spiral staircase.

A single oil lamp burned low in the entrance hall, its undulating shadows giving the tall-ceilinged room an almost otherworldly feel. She stopped for one last check in the hall mirror and her eyes were drawn to the Harding family portraits. She thought again of Rachel Norris — of “eyes lookin’ back out at you” — and recalled a scripture Ridley had read in church last week. Something about being encompassed by a
great cloud of witnesses
while running life’s race.