“You’d wear your husband’s trousers and hat? Rose laughed. “Such musings. And it’d be misgivings I’d suffer if you did such a thing, for we could never be seen together again.”
“Well, when you put it that way.” Stella reluctantly stepped away from the window. “What shall we do then?”
“Play the pianoforte for me. You are so accomplished.”
“Fluff . . I’m not and you know it . . . you just say it because you know I hate to play.”
“Play, please.” Rose set down her needlework. “I will sit next to you on the bench.”
“Okay you play high, I’ll play low.”
The two played together and found they could keep rhythm.
Indeed it sounded quite nice, Rose thought.
“You never told me you played,” Stella smiled, her hands floating over the keys, Rose adding the melody.
“First of all, you never asked, second, we have only known each other for a month.”
“Well, that explains it.” Stella got up from the bench. “I really must go within the hour. My husband is tired of the evening. He has so many extra duties at the bank. Mr. Dalton doesn’t deserve the president’s position; he just sits in that fancy leather chair and gives orders. Foster does all the work for him and that wicked Mr. Dalton takes all the credit. By the time my dear Foster comes home, he is worn thin.”
“I’m sorry.” Was all Rose could think to say. “Come, I’ll ring for tea.”
“Excellent, I’m parched. But I warn you, Rose, don’t take up with any of that banker bunch. They’ll eat your kind for dinner and spit you out.”
Stella set her teacup on the table. “You’d best see to your husband, too, for it has been quite a long time since he has appeared.” Stella winked.
“Such things you say, Stella. But I am glad we are friends. Don’t be overlong in coming again for another visit?”
Chapter 6
Rose kept her hands busy and tried not to think about her husband laying ill in London. Captain Wyatt would be reloading the Emerald Star and going back. Could she possibly go along? No, it would be childish behavior and all of Charleston would know she’d set sail to recover her very capable husband.
She set her embroidery table aside and flexed her fingers. Stella’s pillow covers would have to wait. The rain sluiced over the clear glass until it seemed the people walking by under their umbrellas were just tall, dark squiggles.
Suddenly, Rose remembered her sketch pad and hurried to her husband’s office. He had allotted her a special drawer and gave her leave to use his desk, should she wish to create her scenes. She could use a bit of amusement during these dark, rainy afternoons.
All but forgotten, she’d been reminded of Stella’s cavalier behavior in the window that day. It had set her mind’s eye flying. Within the space of two minutes Rose was sitting in her husband’s chair sketching.
“Well, there you be.” Portia presented herself in the doorway. “I’s been lookin’ high and low for ya. Made my heart skitter not to see you ‘bout this big ole house. What you be doin’ in here anyways?”
“Just drawing. I’ve just finished. Want to see?”
“If’n you want to show me, I guess I’d be wantin’ to see.”
Smiling, Rose lifted the board and waited.
Portia broke out into a chuckle.
“You like it then?”
“Miz Rose you’s got that Lady Bertram dead to rights. She ain’t a goin’ nowhere with her parasol stuck up in the tree like ‘at. You shore do know how to make a body shake.” She laughed heartily filling the room with joy.
Rose smiled, cocked her head, and lay the picture on the desk. “It is rather funny.”
“Best you don’t be layin’ that ‘round so’s nosy eyes can see sich things.”
“I have another…” Rose lifted another scene with Stella gawking at the window, her skirts up to her knees and bent over the palm plant.”
“Oh, that girl ain’t fit to be seen in such a pose. You best put them in the drawer, chile. Ain’t fit for society lady’s eyes, nosiree.”
“I will. It will be our secret.” Rose stole a glance as Portia whose laughing dark eyes met hers for a moment.
Portia walked away still chuckling and then appeared at the doorway again. “Miz Bertram really get herself into that mess out front?”
“Stella said she did. I just sketched what she told me she saw.”
“Well, now ain’t that sumpin. You got a gif’, that’s for sure.”
Rose set her pencil down and lay back in the large chair. She must have dozed, for a loud cracking sound rattled the windows, sending her nerves skittering.
The room was dark. Then it filled with blue light. Another spring storm was brewing.
Stirring from her husband’s chair, she raised herself and sought the company of the servants. They were busy pulling windows and shutters closed. She hated thunder and lightning storms.
The sudden interruption of the door knocker sounded ominous. Emmanuel walked past her quickly and opened the door. Rose kept herself out of view, pressing the pins back into her hair, smoothing her skirts. She had not thought to have guests especially in the storm. It was the dinner hour in most Charleston homes.
Mr. Dalton? The banker. What was he doing here at this hour and in the midst of this storm?
Her maid appeared in the doorway announcing her guest. “Portia lay out my green day dress. I’ll be up in a moment.”
Portia disappeared and Rose picked up her skirts and ran up the servant’s stairs. They met in her room and without a word, the two hustled her into a fresh dress and repinned her hair.
“Watch yourself chile. Dat man ain’t no good. I hear’d it all ‘round the town.”
“Yes, I know. Stella told me. Thank you for your warning, Portia.” Rose knew she needed no pinching of her cheeks. They were already warm. “Pray that I am strong.”
“Yes, chile…I’s goin’ to be prayin’ fer sure. Go on now.”
Rose descended the stairs, slow and ladylike.
“Mr. Dalton.”
Rose welcomed him into the parlor. “You know my name then?” he sounded proud.
He waited until she was seated and then took her husband’s chair across the low table.
“Yes, I attended Miss Bertram’s engagement party. It was a beautiful affair indeed.”
“Shall we get down to business, Mrs. Lovell? I am here to get your signature, if you would be so kind.” In one motion he made great work of pulling a set of papers and a fine gold pen from his very fashionable tweed coat pocket.
Rose suddenly felt like things were happening in slow motion. She looked at the pen, down at the papers and then back at the smiling face. It was a false smile. She sensed immediately that she must not lay her name to the papers. Stella’s words whipped through her mind. Don’t trust him. She’d said those very words. And since her friend was among the original Charleston families, she trusted her friend more than the man sitting before her.
And…hadn’t she remembered something that Captain Lovell said about banker Dalton? What was it? She should have paid more attention.
His eyes narrowed every so slightly at her hesitation and the smile slowly disappeared as he gave her a side glance.
“Is there a problem, Mrs. Lovell? For I assure you, these are necessary to keep your husband’s loan afloat at my . . . at our bank.”
Rose knew she would not sign. Her mother had taught her better. “Sir, you must allow me time to read the papers.” Captain Wyatt had recently told her she was to be the heir. She would be responsible should her husband…she could not think of it.
Before she’d finished speaking, she saw him lay his pen on the table and slide it toward her. “Of course.” He said patiently.
“I will wait while you read.”
“Sir, I cannot read while you are present. I shall go over these papers and you may return on the morrow.” Rose couldn’t believe how bravely she’d spoken the wor
ds.
“Ah, so you are a wise, young wife. Very well, I shall return at nine o’clock sharp.” He took up his pen and stood. “Please do not delay. These are very important. But then I’m sure your husband does not discuss such matters with . . . his young wife.”
“I shall be forthright in my duties.” Rose said quietly as she stood on shaky knees and followed him to the door. A sudden crack filled the sky as lightning shot through the air. She opened the door and watched him walk into the rain. She had just let a serpent out of her house.
Rose retrieved the papers and went to her husband’s office. She pulled out her sketchbook and drew the word picture firmly planted in her mind’s eye. Then she sat back to review the papers.
Two hours later she had read every word on the five pages. They seemed in order. A loan to be paid back in five years. The amount was staggering, but then she had no idea how much money her husband had. And Mr. Dalton mentioned that the loan was important. He also knew her husband lay ill in London.
Perhaps she should send for Captain Wyatt. It was late and eight o’clock in the morning was too early to rouse the Captain. Rose twisted her fingers together, “Lord what shall I do?”
Chapter 7
When the sun came up upon rain-washed Charleston, Rose was dressed and ready. She sent for Lily.
“Lily, I want you to hurry down to the dock. You will find Captain Wyatt there at the Emerald Star. Make sure he receives this note. It is of the utmost importance.”
“I’s got to git the eggs ‘dis mornin’ Miz Rose.”
Rose smiled. Lily loved gathering eggs but was afraid of people. “Get Thomas then.”
Lily ran like a child and in a minute brought back her elder brother. “Thomas would you please take this missive to Captain Wyatt. He is docked with the Emerald Star. You must hurry.”
Thomas bowed slightly, a big smile on his face. Rose knew he loved more than anything to be on the wharf when all the activity of spring was about the town.
Thirty minutes later Thomas returned, his eyes downcast as he delivered the message.
“Ma’am, Mr. Wyatt, he drunk and cain’t be found. His men say he… he at a woman’s house.” Thomas shrugged. “It’s sorry I is to say I cain’t find him.”
“Don’t worry Thomas. You did the best you could.”
Captain Wyatt drunk. And with a woman. Heaven knew Charleston was known for the bad behavior of the shipmen when they came into port. She had hoped Captain Wyatt might be different.
Wringing her hands, Rose knew there was little time to catch hold of anyone who could help her. Stella’s words came pouring back into her ears. Perhaps she could go for Captain Wyatt herself and speak to him, for there was no one else. She put that thought away. She could not allow herself to be seen knocking on the door of the captain’s woman. Even if it was important. There would be talk.
Suddenly, she felt the need to pray. Gathering her skirts, she ran up the stairs, into her room and knelt on the wood slatted floor next to her bed and prayed to God who she knew would hear and answer. Rising to her feet, after several minutes, she straightened her dress, smoothed her hair and believed above all things that God had a plan and He would protect her.
Time was slipping away and Rose knew she had no other option than to sign those papers. Hadn’t Mr. Dalton said the Emerald Star would not be allowed to leave port. And Captain Wyatt had seemed anxious to get back to London, because of the procured merchandise aboard.
It seemed Captain Wyatt was the one who was failing, not Mr. Dalton. She would send word through Thomas to the crew that the ship was to leave at first chance. The signed papers would see to that. Rose squared her shoulders, certain this was the path to take.
When the knocker sounded at the front door, she was ready. She would not knuckle under this time.
“Mrs. Lovell. Isn’t it a pleasant morning indeed?” Mr. Dalton gushed.
“Aye, it is at that Mr. Dalton.” She agreed.
“And have we had time to read through the labyrinth of legal terms?”
Rose sensed he was talking down to her, but he did so with a smile and a confident voice.
“I have.”
“And you have found them in order I presume?”
She did not answer. Because truthfully, she knew she couldn’t. Everything seemed in order. There was an additional loan amount due and by her signature alone the Emerald Star would leave port and deliver the goods straight to London as planned.
The man saw he had convinced his client and waited, hands tucked behind him, rolling on his feet as she signed the several pages and handed them back to him.
“Ah, an excellent business woman, I see. You are indeed a woman of means and character.” He smiled.
Rose knew it was not really a compliment.
“Sir. You now have your duty to my husband and his business.” She said gazing straight into his eyes.
“Indeed I do.” He said almost giddily.
Rose shrunk back at the words.
“Thank you. You have been most kind, Mrs. Lovell.” He bowed, took up his papers and headed for the door. Emmanuel was ready with his hat and cane and the man left her house.
The deed was done. Her heart whispered, “Lord please look out for us.”
* * *
Rose went above stairs and changed into an old worn gown and slippers. She needed more than anything to be about her garden. The last two days had brought about too much uncertainty and she wished only to get her hands into the soil.
Hours passed as she worked her magic in the walled garden behind the house. Roses of every color sprung to life under her tutelage. She made certain of it. Evening Primrose, Blazing Star with its lavender flowers, and Swamp Sunflower grew from every corner. Several shades of ivy grew strong as it climbed the walls in the warmth of the sun and the salty sea air.
Rose’s thoughts wandered. Loneliness fell over her like the clouds that passed overhead. Sunlight burnt her back and sweat poured from her body. She wanted to feel it. The large straw hat with the ribbons blowing in the wind made her feel like she was a little girl back in Baltimore. But Baltimore had a winter reprieve; here the weather was unbearable during the summer months. Most of the low country planters of Charleston society went north to Newport or some city where they could get away from the heat.
Mr. Lovell wanted his wife safe in his huge home, and never mentioned taking off to the north. And many Charlestonians were still recovering after the Civil War so there was not as much money to be had these days. It was only the fortunate that survived the cannon balls when the first shot was fired at Ft. Sumter in April of 1861. Many of the southerners left for California, some to other countries, so discouraged were they after the fall of Charleston.
But people survived. And what didn’t kill them only made them stronger. The orphanages around the city attested to that fact. Known for its huge shipyard and a perfect southern stage for travel along the Atlantic Coast, Charleston became home to many an unfortunate woman and her children. Ship captains alighted long enough to make their babies and off to the sea they went again leaving women and children to the care of whoever could raise the money. Rose knew that minute she would seek Stella the next day and see to getting herself involved with the city’s unfortunate citizens. She was much too lonely and much too vulnerable staying in her safe place. Her husband was well known for his care of the poor, whether here in Charleston or in London.
Captain Wyatt had made comment to that in their conversations. Rose knew she had to follow in her his footsteps no matter what it cost her.
“Lord thank you for giving me a good husband. I’ll try my best to make him proud, wherever I am.”
As if her prayer had been answered immediately, she turned to find Portia calling to her. “Miz Rose, Miss Stella, she come for a visit.”
“Stella?” Rose repeated dropping her cutting tool to the ground.
“As I live and breath.” Portia said breathlessly.
“Sh
e out here Miss Stella, getting’ her pretty hands dirty…and servants all ‘round the place.” Portia shook her head.
Rose shrugged as Stella came round the corner with a smile on her face.
“You don’t know how good it is to see you…” Rose almost told her about her prayer.
“And you.” Stella snapped her umbrella closed and sat on a bench under a Myrtle tree. “Come sit in the shade. How can you be out in the middle of the day in this oppressive heat?”
Rose smiled, “It is warm isn’t it?”
“Warm? I declare upon all that’s holy you have no sense.” Stella fanned herself with a church cardboard fan on a stick.
Rose wanted more than anything to confess her deeds to her friend, but thought better of it. “How are you Stella? And Foster? Is he doing well?”
“Oh you know the same situations arise at work. That Mr. Dalton hasn’t a care in the world except for himself.” She gossiped. “Oh, let’s speak of something else, I am sick to death of that subject.” Stella sighed.
“Shall we go inside where it’s cool? I’m about done here.” Rose gathered her roses into a large woven grass basket made by the locals. She pulled off her old gloves and set her tools nearby. “Lemonade?”
Stella forgot her umbrella, ran back for it and hustled to follow. “Portia makes the best lemonade this side of the Ashley River.” She laughed. “Oh, see it is cooler inside.”
“I’ll run up and change quickly, but I warn you I haven’t bathed.” Rose laughed and ran for the stairs. She felt giddy to have company about the house and didn’t mind at all running when Stella was about.
“Don’t worry. I am much too overcome by the heat to move.” Stella called out from the drawing room in unladylike fashion.
She rinsed herself off with water Portia had left on the washstand, and turned just in time to see Portia holding out the dress she had laid across the bed. Rose changed quickly, choosing a soft green cotton day dress with pink sprigs. No need to impress anyone.
“You are a dear.” Rose said excitedly. “I wouldn’t have called you except these silly buttons down the back.”
“I knows my duty. And I knows you ain’t no trouble at’tall Miz Rose.”
Portia said the words so kindly, Rose’s eyes watered.