A Time for Everything (33 page)

Lydia must have staged the whole
thing. Worse still was knowing the woman had come into her room as
she slept. Mutilating her dress was bad enough, but she could have
done worse. Much worse. Thank God she and her mother had left not
long after it happened. From her window upstairs, she and Jonny had
watched as their things were carted out of the house and into their
coaches. Beau had ridden along behind them, and she hadn’t seen him
since.

Now, as they gathered up their tools,
she finally worked up the nerve to ask Jonny, “Has your pa spoken
to you about yesterday?”

He shook his head. “No. Do you think
he believes me, Po?”

“
I don’t know,” she
admitted, “but if he thought you did it, don’t you think he would
have punished you by now?”

“
I guess, maybe,” he said
with a shrug. “Just wish I knew for sure.”

“
Well, there’s not much we
can do about it right now, so try not to worry.”

She gave him a quick one-armed hug,
wishing for once that Beau would just talk to his son instead of
leaving him in a perpetual state of confusion. With dirt under her
fingernails and a satisfyingly sore back, she and Jonny headed back
toward the house.

Harry met her at the back door. “It’s
not too late to change your mind, Po. You can swipe one of Lydia’s
dresses. She’s left some here and has so many, she wouldn’t notice
anyway.”

“
I’m sorry Mr. Franklin,
but I wouldn’t wear one of her dresses if you paid me to. Now, if
you’ll excuse us…”

“
It’s Harry,
remember?”

“
Go to the party and enjoy
yourself. I’m not in a celebratory mood.”

She pushed past him to the kitchen
with Jonny right behind her. Bessie was sweeping the floor. No need
to make supper tonight.

“
Honey, you want some cold
chicken or…” She held her upturned hands out as though she longed
to help matters but didn’t know how.

“
No thank you. I’ll clean
up and have some tea in a little while,” Portia said.

“
All right. You hungry,
Jonny?”

“
No, ma’am, thank
you.”

She saw no one else as they climbed
the stairs to their rooms. Beau and Ezra must have already left.
Tonight, she’d tuck Jonny in and read with him, maybe from one of
his Natty Bumppo books. It might be the last night they’d be
together. She had to make the most of it.

In her room, she spied something
hanging on her wardrobe. Not her torn dress, but a different one.
Lavender chiffon with a luxuriously soft white shawl. A bit
wrinkled, but beautiful nonetheless. A note was pinned to it. She
removed the paper, and her eyes widened as she read.

This dress was one of
Claire’s favorites. I kept it in the chest at the foot of my bed. I
hope you will accept this as a little compensation of all that I
owe you and for the loss of your mother’s gown. If you don’t want
to come tonight or feel uncomfortable wearing it, I understand, but
I’d like to see you.

Beau

Portia buried her face in
her dirt-caked hands and cried. Indecision played tug-of-war in her
heart. On one hand, she had no desire to be anywhere near Lydia
again, especially after that blonde peacock mutilated her dress and
blamed Jonny for it. On the other hand… Beau had taken
this
dress from his
locked-away memories to replace hers. He wouldn’t do that for just
anyone.

She knew she had to go, no
matter how much it would hurt to see him with
her
. Hard as she had tried to deny
it, she loved Beau. It didn’t make sense, not with all their
differences and within the span of a month’s time.

But she couldn’t doubt it any longer.
Beau inspired that same pinched-heart feeling she’d felt for Jake,
the kind that left her breathless when he was near and lonely when
he wasn’t. Just seeing him smile and hearing his laughter chased
the darkness from her days. Beau, like Jake before him, was the
kind of man she could picture herself growing old with, rocking
through their twilight years in the lazy comfort of their front
porch.

A spark of hope lightened some of the
burden. Whether he loved her in return or not, Portia couldn’t
imagine how he could still consider marrying Lydia after she had
committed such an atrocity — surely he didn’t believe Jonny did
it.

Swiping away the last of her tears
with the back of her hand, she made up her mind. She would go
tonight, not out of some misplaced hope that she and Beau would
ever be together, but simply because he wanted her
there.

~~~~

The sun sank
just below the horizon, leaving its orange and
violet tracks at the bottom of a star-sprinkled sky. Isaac turned
right off the main road and drove the cart under a wrought iron
arch. In the very center hung a varnished cedar sign reading
“
Welcome to Paradise
”. She assumed this was the name of the
plantation.

“
Paradise Plantation. Name
don’t fit the place, if you ask me,” Isaac said.

Tall oaks and cedars lined the wide
drive toward the house, but several had been reduced to stumps.
Victims of the war, most likely. Uneven low-rise stone walls also
lined each side of the drive. Gaps appeared here and there, showing
her glimpses of bushes and lawn.

Isaac followed her gaze.
“Lot of that stone got taken during the war. The house was used as
a Confederate officer’s headquarters. Lucky weren’t no battles
close by or it might have been an infirmary. They wouldn’t have
got
that
mess
cleaned up quick, no sirree.”

They finally reached the house and
rounded the circular drive in front of it. A large rose garden
formed the centerpiece of the drive with a bare pedestal among the
blooms.

“
Used to be some
half-neked statue there,” Isaac said as he guided the horse
carefully beside the other parked carriages and stopped in front of
the door.

Portia stared up at the place in
amazement. It was the biggest house she’d ever seen or probably
ever would see. Huge white columns stretched from the large porch
all the way to the roof. Open double doors showered her senses with
light, music, and laughter from the party inside.

Isaac asked, “You sure you wanna go
in, Po?”

She put a hand on Jonny’s
back; he stared up at her, waiting.
Time
to be brave
. “Yes. We’ll be fine. We’ll
just stay a few minutes. I don’t think either of us is prepared for
a lengthy gathering, and young men don’t need to stay up all hours
of the night.”

“
I hear ya. I’ll be
waitin’ right out here when you’re ready to go.”

“
Thank you,
Isaac.”

He helped her down, climbed back in,
and tipped his hat as the cart pulled away.

Portia squeezed Jonny’s hand.
“Ready?”

He nodded.

“
I’m sure your pa will be
happy to see you. And don’t go too far. I just might want a
dance.”

Jonny smiled. “I don’t really know how
to dance, Po.”

“
Me either, but it’s never
too late to learn.”

They climbed the steps together,
passing two colored servants who bowed as she and Jonny crossed the
threshold.

“
Watch the time up there,”
she said, pointing to a tall grandfather clock by the wide
staircase. “Fifteen minutes, then meet me here at the
door.”

“
Yes, ma’am.” Jonny let go
of her hand and headed straight toward a buffet on one side of the
grand entrance.

Portia stood still for a moment,
wrapping the shawl tighter around her shoulders. She was grateful
to Beau for offering her this dress. Sad as she was to have had her
mother’s old one destroyed, she would have been indistinguishable
from the servants had she worn it there. The only thing she needed
was a pair of gloves, but her ensemble would have to do.

Bessie had arranged her hair into a
coil of braids with some curled tendrils caressing her cheeks. The
older woman had cried the whole time, saying, “You’re so beautiful,
honey. Ms. Claire would want you to have this dress, I just know
she would.”

Portia didn’t have the heart to tell
her she only planned to stay for a few minutes, just long enough to
seek out Beau and let him know she appreciated his gift. Finding
him, however, might be more of a challenge than she
thought.

Every lamp and chandelier in the place
must have been lit. Portia squinted into the golden brightness,
which could have rivaled the light behind Heaven’s gates. In the
midst of the huge foyer was a wide set of red-carpeted stairs.
Unoccupied instruments rested on the second story landing — the
musicians must have taken an intermission. Party guests took notice
of her entrance, whispering and pointing discretely with their fans
and glasses.

“
Unescorted — how
gauche.”

“…
after his money. Thank
God he came to his senses…”

“
I’ve seen that dress.
It’s… no it couldn’t be Claire’s…”

Head down and cheeks on fire, she
followed Jonny’s lead and retreated to the buffet. Neither he nor
Beau was anywhere to be seen, unfortunately. Some sort of pink
punch filled a large crystal bowl. Ice bobbed happily in the fruity
waves. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had an iced drink.
Thankful for the treat, she ladled some into a matching crystal cup
and kept to the perimeter of the room. She hoped to spot Beau so he
could see her in the dress and know she had cared enough to
come.

Instead, she caught Harry’s eye. His
jaw dropped when he saw her, and he held up one finger to the man
he spoke with then made his way to her.

“
Lo and behold — you came!
And look at you, just gorgeous.” He leaned close and whispered,
“Took my advice, huh?”

Deciding it might be best to keep mum
on the dress’s origins, she simply smiled and sipped her punch.
Harry offered his arm, and not wanting to shun him in front of
everyone, she accepted it lightly.

“
I’ll introduce you to
some folks,” he said.

He led her around the room,
introducing her to Mr. This and Mrs. That. Portia nodded politely,
let them take her hand, and offered a word or two. But her mind
might as well have been on the moon. What was she thinking by
coming, anyway? And what was Beau thinking by asking her? Maybe he
felt guilty about her dress and didn’t know what else to do. Or had
she read his note all wrong?

Her presence surely wouldn’t help
matters. Lydia had made it crystal, and dangerously, clear that she
wouldn’t tolerate any competition for Beau’s affections. What if
she caused some dramatic scene in front of everyone?

“
Will you excuse me,
please?” she interrupted Harry in the middle of a rather lewd joke.
“I would like to take some fresh air.”

“
Good idea, darlin’. I’ll
come with you.”

“
No,” she said a bit too
quickly and smiled to cover her impatience. “No, you should stay
here and enjoy yourself. I’ll just be a minute…”

“
Oh, I see,” Harry said
with a wink, then whispered in her ear, “The facilities are out the
veranda doors to the right of the flower garden.”

“
Thank you.” She hurried
back into the grand hall then turned left. The veranda sat opposite
the front entrance. Both sets of doors stood wide open, allowing
refreshing breezes to pass through and cool the crowded
room.

Outside, Portia stepped onto the wide
flagstones and took a deep breath of the crisp, magnolia-sweetened
air. Torches were lit along a winding maze of a path through the
biggest flower garden she had ever seen. She wished she could see
it in the daylight when the muted colors would come to life in
vivid splendor. Wrought iron and painted wood furniture occupied
the left side. Light from the door and windows spilled along the
stone floor, making rectangles in patterns of light and dark. No
lamps or torches were lit on the veranda itself. Besides a
strolling couple in the garden, the place was unoccupied, giving
her the opportunity to sink into the shadows against the
wall.

But instead of the house, she backed
into something less solid… and warmer.

“
It looks good on
you.”

She pivoted on her heels, crossing
from the safety of shadow into the window’s light. “Beau! You
scared the life out of me.”

His eyes twinkled along with his
smile. “You look plenty alive to me.”

Dressed in a dark suit and bowtie, he
looked more gentleman than farmer. Hands in his pockets, he rested
his back against the house, the sole of one booted foot casually
planted on the white stone wall.

“
Where’s Lydia?” Her voice
sounded as taut as her nerves.

He shrugged. “Upstairs somewhere.
Probably changing again. I think she has a new get-up for every
round of dancing.”

Before she lost the little bit of
nerve she had left, she asked, “You know Jonny is innocent, don’t
you?”

“
I
don’t
know, but I’m grateful that
you don’t harbor anger toward him.” Fatigue burdened his words as
he stared at the ground.