Box Set: The ArringtonTrilogy (28 page)

The hours sped by too quickly, and I cursed
the sun for bringing a new day. I had been dreading the day,
wishing it would never come, and here it was upon us.

I dressed and made my way to the kitchen,
heavyhearted, and could barely look at Patrick when he sat down for
breakfast, fearing I would burst into tears.

He was dressed in full uniform, his bag
packed and ready by the front door. He was leaving later in the
evening, for safety. Patrick needed to go under the cover of
darkness to avoid being ambushed by Union snipers that were
reported to be hiding out in the woods around Savannah.

Warren strode into the dining room, polished
and refreshed, and sat down and sipped on the hot cup of coffee I
poured for him. His eyes were lit and he contained an unusual, wry
smile.

After serving the eggs, I sat down across
from Patrick, beside Warren, and next to Eugenia. She occasionally
came to breakfast and she was there to sit with Patrick for his
last breakfast with us.

Before I could take a bite into my food,
Warren jumped up and faced me. My mind scrambled to keep up with
what he was about to do.

He fell to one knee, took hold of my hand,
and wistfully said, “Miss Amelia Arrington, would you do the honor
of becoming my wife?”

Patrick’s choking on his coffee caused me to
look his way. Eugenia quickly announced how pleased she was with
the surprise proposal.

“This is wonderful! A wedding is just what we
need,” she sang, though it sounded contrived.

My eyes swung back to Warren.

“I…I…” I stammered.

“Say yes, Amelia, and I will make you the
happiest girl in the world,” he said.

“Of course she will marry you,” Eugenia said.
“Now sit back down and finish your breakfast.”

I nearly collapsed. Patrick’s face was red,
and it was all he could do to contain his anger so no one would
notice. However, Eugenia seemed aware of it.

“What do you think of Warren Stone becoming
your brother-in-law?” she asked, turning to Patrick. Her eyes were
dark and cold, her gaunt face tight with meaning. “Amelia, go
upstairs and stay in your room. I have to speak with Patrick in
private.”

“If you insist, Eugenia,” I said reluctantly,
feeling sick to my stomach.

“I do. Wait for me. I will be up
shortly.”

My mind was trying to keep up with what was
happening and to grasp Eugenia’s sudden return to her old self. No
longer was she depressed and despondent, but back in control of her
world. I had been certain I would never see that side of her
again.

I sat on my bed, nervously wringing my hands.
I had a strong foreboding and wanted to be downstairs listening to
what they were saying. As time dragged on, I began to pace the
floor. I was sickened by the thought of marrying Warren Stone, but
could tell no one why. Eugenia was insistent. How would I get out
of such a predicament?

Nearly an hour passed before Eugenia entered
my room, sauntered over to me, and without warning, took the back
of her hand and smacked it across my face. Then she stood over me
as I clutched my face, extending her long, bony finger, and with
her teeth gritted together shouted, “You sinful whore!”

I instantly scrambled away, only to have her
grab hold of my hair, nearly pulling it out from my scalp. When I
cried out, she slapped me again.

“Did you think I wouldn’t discover your
sinful acts?” she bellowed.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as
I looked at her. There would be no mercy. Eugenia was going to
brutally punish me, with what I thought could only could be
permission from God himself.

“It’s not what you think!” I protested
between whimpers, and she twisted my hair around her large hands
and pulled with force.

“Silence! How dare you make a mockery of me
and this family? You are shameful, wicked, and pure evil. You put
your wiles on Patrick, made him take you, lust after you! He is
your brother, for God’s sake!”

She threw me onto the bed and turned to
go.

“I love him. No matter what you do to me,
Patrick and I will be together,” I cried out.

Eugenia let out a sinister, confident laugh,
and then said, “That man wants nothing to do with you. He admitted
to me you were just his play toy, that he was tricked by the devil
into desiring you. It had been too long since he was with a woman.
It was pure, primitive, manly needs that drove him to sleep with
you.”

“He never said that!”

“Oh, yes, he did,” she sneered, hovering over
me as I lay trembling. “He admitted everything to me once I
confronted him. You sicken me. Count your blessings that Warren
will take an unholy lowlife whore such as yourself. He will marry
you and take you away, far from Sutton Hall, where we will never
have to see the likes of you again! I hope you burn in hell before
your time, just like your mother!”

I flew up off the bed and ran past her down
the hall, screaming for Patrick.

Eugenia followed after me. “He’s gone. Don’t
waste your time. You will never see him again.”

I ran down the stairs, nearly tripping and
falling, then rushed outside.

“Patrick!” I called.

There were horse tracks leading away, and I
hurried along, following them. I ignored Eugenia’s warnings, not
stopping.

“You step foot in this mansion again, Amelia
Arrington, you will never see the light of day. If you leave now,
don’t ever come back! You hear me you wench, you sinful, vile
girl!”

My vision was blurred, my chest ached from
the uncontrollable sobbing, yet I ran on, calling for Patrick.

The lane was thick with mud and melting snow,
slowing down my pace. My breath was fast and frosty, the tip of my
nose numb from the cold as tears streamed down my cheeks,
saturating my face.

I followed the trail until I noticed the
tracks turning onto the church property. I stopped to catch my
breath. Patrick’s horse was tied to the post.

“I found you in time,” I said aloud and
headed into the church.

The doors were open and I went inside,
pausing to allow my eyes to adjust to the darkness and listening to
the echo of the doors closing behind me.

“Patrick, are you in here?” I called out.

A startled bat plummeted from the rafters and
swooped down near my hair. I let out a yelp and ran forward.

Patrick was there, fallen to his knees before
the altar. I reached my hands out to place onto his shoulders, when
he shouted without lifting his head, “GO AWAY. LEAVE ME ALONE!”

I swallowed hard, then asked, my voice shaky,
“What have I done wrong?”

“Just go,” he said in a calmer tone.

“I can’t just go. Patrick, I love you!”

He opened his eyes and gazed up at me. He had
been crying. “This was a mistake. A terrible, appalling
mistake.”

I gasped, dizzy, and I fell into him. He
quickly moved out of the way, scrambling to get far from me, as if
my touch would set him on fire.

“You are my sister! We’ve done things that
are unspeakable. What was I thinking!” he groaned, cradling his
head in his hands.

“Don’t listen to Eugenia. She doesn’t know
what love is. She doesn’t understand what you and I share. We are
in love! I don’t care that you are my half-brother.”

He became more agitated, jumped up, rushed
me, and grabbed my arms, just the way he did when we were in the
attic. He made me look at him, even when I turned away, afraid of
the anger that consumed his once mild-mannered face.

“I wish to God I never met you. I wish I had
never stepped foot into Sutton Hall. I curse myself for touching
you the way I did. God should condemn me now, here as we
speak!”

Patrick was frantic, and I became frightened.
He swiftly pulled out his pistol and pointed it at me.

“I should kill us both. We deserve it!”

Visions of our love union flashed in my mind,
and I desperately tried to shake the realization that suddenly
plagued me without forewarning.

“You don’t mean it,” I cried out. “You
wouldn’t kill me. You love me! I know you do!”

Patrick violently threw me down then began to
pace around me like some crazed, caged wild animal.

“Please don’t end what we have!” I begged,
scrambling to my feet. I rushed to him without fear. Only he
refused me, holding me back with a face that was cold and eyes dark
and distant. He shouted at the top of his lungs while cursing the
God who allowed him to love me. Then he turned and bolted out of
the church. Patrick whisked off on his horse, not looking back,
ignoring my frenzied calls for him as I fell pitifully to my
knees.

“Patrick, Patrick! Please don’t leave! What
will become of me without you?”

~ ~ ~

With all the vigor I could muster, I was
determined to keep Patrick from going, and I ran after him. Despite
the road covered in mud causing my slender legs to sink in and
making the trek on foot to Savannah nearly impossible, I persevered
in my quest to find Patrick and beg him to change his mind.

I was fortunate to catch a ride with an
elderly couple, and I sat in the back of their wagon, rocking from
the fear of losing Patrick forever.

As we came closer to the city, I began to
panic. What would I say to convince him to stay loyal to me, to
disregard everything Eugenia said. Could I manage to win back his
affections, or was it truly too late? I wondered.

Time was of the essence, and I flew off the
wagon once the wheels hit the cobblestone streets of Savannah and
went straight to the livery. There I believed Patrick planned to
sell his horse and then board the train.

“Sir, sir, “I called to the stable hand,
trying to catch my breath, “Might Patrick Arrington be here?”

He kindly came and held me from falling as my
weak legs began to give out from under me.

“No, miss. He’s gone. Sold me his horse and
headed straight away to the train station.”

“I must get there before he leaves!”

“Miss, that train departed nearly fifteen
minutes ago.”

It was too late. I would never have the
chance to beseech Patrick to love me again.

“Thank you, sir, for all your help,” I
muttered and walked away in a mind-spinning daze.

The city was bustling. Blurred faces passed
me by, carriages whizzed dangerously along. I crept down the
streets, wandering aimlessly, trying to gather my senses between
sudden crying spells. An occasional concerned pedestrian worriedly
asked what was wrong: Was I lost? Did I need help? I only ignored
them.

I must have walked around the city at least
once and only stopped on one occasion. I found myself sitting alone
on a cold stone bench in what was the loveliest cemetery one could
imagine. It was situated overlooking the river and spotted with
tall live oak trees, notable red cedars, and azalea bushes that
would bloom in the spring. The eternal resting places of all those
who had previously walked the earth were well kept, I noticed, much
different from our cemetery at Sutton Hall.

I sat there, merely staring ahead onto the
river, assessing my tribulations, desperately trying to sort out my
options. As the day edged into early evening, as the shock of what
had happened hours earlier began to wear off, I succumbed to my
miserable fate. Patrick was gone and was never going to come back
for me. Warren’s burdensome marriage proposal was a ruse, and no
matter, for I had no intention of becoming his wife. I didn’t love
him in the least. If I returned to Sutton Hall, the wrath of
Eugenia would be there waiting for me. It would be worse than any
torment she had inflicted upon me yet. I had few choices, I
knew.

My ears perked up as I heard a train whistle
in the near distance. In a flash of excitement, I considered
getting on board the train, heading wherever. It didn’t matter. I
could end up in Louisiana, Texas, Florida. . . I didn’t care. I
could make a new life for myself where no one would find me, I
imagined. There were a few things I would be able to do for money,
I thought optimistically. I knew how to cook and clean. These days,
since there were few slaves left to care for a home, a good maid
would surely be in need.

The notion cleared the fog in my mind, and I
was able to gather my senses. Yes, I would board a train and seek a
new life, I told myself.

When the sun was about to set, I proceeded
toward the train station only a dozen street blocks away at a brisk
pace, not wanting to waste another minute. I needed to get out of
Savannah.

I hadn’t noticed the soldiers lingering about
the train station until two of them stepped before me, blocking my
path to the ticket counter.

“Well, look here, Horace, what we just
stumbled upon,” the older dark-haired soldier said and poked into
my shoulder with his index finger.

“Ouch!”

“She sure is a pretty thing, Isaac,” Horace
mumbled with his mouth full of chewing tobacco.

“Where you headin’ off to?” Isaac asked,
leaning in and peering down at me.

“I’m taking a trip. I have to hurry or I’ll
miss my train,” I stammered and tried discreetly to get around
them, but Isaac took hold of my arm and pulled me back, creating a
small scene. Bystanders stopped to watch. A few more soldiers came
over and stood amused and gawking.

“Leave me alone!”

“Aw, come on now, you know you like it,”
Horace said and grabbed me.

“Stop it!” I cried and frantically tried to
get away. I couldn’t understand why no one was helping me, why
everyone stood and watched. My clothes were being torn as I fought
them.

“Leave her be!” a voice finally ordered.

Horace had pushed and held me down. When the
man confronted them, they released me and focused their attention
on him. I scurried away and ran toward the station, only stopping
when I realized that I recognized that man’s voice. I swung around,
attempting to confirm my suspicions. The soldiers, Horace and
Isaac, were about to pounce on the finely-dressed man. His back was
turned my way, and I couldn’t get a clear view of him.