Carolina Gold (7 page)

C
hurch bells pealed as Charlotte arrived for services. A soft morning breeze beckoned her through the wrought-iron side gate and across a yard shaded by moss-draped oaks and cedar trees.

How long had it been since she had worshiped here with Papa? He had so admired the imposing brick edifice with its graceful pediment, tall porch columns, and generously sized windows.

“Charlotte, there you are.” Lettice Hadley hurried across the yard to greet her. “I wondered whether I’d see you today. I brought you some of the first strawberries from my garden. Remind me to get them from the rig after the service.”

“Thank you. I arrived here too late to plant any this year.” She glanced around for Mr. Hadley, but he was nowhere to be seen. “I’m happy to see you. I know it’s a long trip from Alder Hill, and it’s difficult for you to leave Mr. Hadley for very long.”

“He was feeling better this morning and encouraged me to come. I miss having our own minister every week, and Charles knows how
much I enjoy hearing Mr. Glennie’s sermons.” She linked her arm through Charlotte’s. “I brought you a proper teakettle too. It’s a bit dented, I’m afraid, but it will do in a pinch. Tell me, is there any news as to when your household furnishings might arrive?”

“Soon, I hope. Augusta Milton was kind enough to store them for us after Papa sold the house. The lawyer is arranging for someone to bring them up on the
Resolute
as soon as Captain Arthur has room for everything. Not that there’s very much left.”

“I’m sure it will be a comfort to have your mother’s things around you again.”

Another horse and rig arrived, and Lettice turned. “There’s Josie Clifton.”

The young woman Charlotte had met aboard the
Resolute
tethered her horse and crossed the yard, her pale blue skirt trailing across the grass, her hat aflutter in the spring breeze. She waved to Lettice, who responded with a deep frown.

“I thought you were in mourning,” Lettice said.

“Grandmother has been gone a year come May, and since Mr. Glennie will be here today, I decided to end my mourning early. I don’t think she will mind.”

“Perhaps, but propriety demands—”

“Oh, Lettice, forgive me, but these days no one cares one whit about propriety.” Josie smiled at Charlotte. “At least I don’t. Hello, Miss Fraser. Oh, there’s Mr. Glennie.”

The minister, dignified in his worn black suit and clerical collar, greeted the small group of worshipers before hurrying inside.

“We should go in,” Lettice said.

Charlotte followed Lettice inside. When her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw Theo Frost seated in the first pew and her heart squeezed. The Frosts and the Allstons, whose plantations lay along the Pee Dee River, were among Papa’s oldest friends. For most of her childhood, Mr. Allston had been president of
the Winyah Indigo Society, a charitable organization that he and Papa supported for the education of the poor. On the day the society opened its meeting hall, she and Papa joined the procession to the Georgetown Masonic Hall to listen to a celebratory address. Children from the school gathered at the corner of Prince and Common Streets, where Mr. Frost handed out scholarships along with notebooks and peppermint candies. Now, like so many others, he moved beneath a shroud of loss, barely able to meet his own needs.

Behind her someone giggled, and she turned her head to see Mr. Betancourt enter the church, holding his daughters by the hand. Marie-Claire, her hair in a thick braid adorned with a white ribbon that sat slightly askew, stared straight ahead, her expression sullen, but Anne-Louise grinned and waved to Charlotte as their father ushered them into a pew. He saw Charlotte then and bowed. She dipped her head in greeting as the opening hymn began.

The minister, now robed in a white alb and stole, stood and pronounced the opening sentences, his rich voice reverberating in the space. “The Lord is in his holy temple . . .”

Charlotte closed her eyes and relaxed into the familiar rhythm of the prayers, responses, and readings.

“The psalm appointed for this day is Psalm 95.”

Charlotte opened her Psalter to follow along. But her thoughts returned to a verse she’d read earlier in the week. She turned to it instead:

O what great troubles and adversities has thou showed me! and yet didst thou turn and refresh me; yea, and broughtest me from the deep of the earth again.

It was a powerful thought. She glanced around at the sea of somber faces and the many worshipers still dressed in mourning clothes. Surely everyone in the Lowcountry must be hoping for deliverance from the travails the war had thrust upon them.

The air inside the church grew warm. Lettice and Josie took out their fans as the readings ended and the homily began.

Charlotte dabbed at her forehead with her handkerchief. So much was at stake, and so much remained to be done. Easter had passed almost without her marking it. But by Christmas, if her meager furnishings arrived soon and if the rice crop was successful, Fairhaven might look like a real home again. Perhaps she’d place lighted candles in every window and cedar boughs above the door as her mother had done. Invite the neighbors for mulled cider and sweets. In her mind, she flipped the calendar forward to the day when her troubles would be over and she could laugh again.

At last Mr. Glennie pronounced his blessing and led them in a final hymn, the notes lingering in the close, humid air. Charlotte rose and followed Lettice and Josie outside. While everyone waited to greet the minister, Charlotte excused herself to speak to Mr. Frost.

His eyes, so pale a blue they seemed colorless, misted at the sight of her. “Dear Miss Fraser. I am deeply aggrieved at the loss of your father.”

“Thank you. I miss him terribly, but I could not wish him back. His last months were unbearably painful.”

“I’m sorry for that, and sorry I missed the funeral. I was in Washington and heard of his passing on my return.” He studied her intently. “What are you doing here? I assumed you’d take up residence in Charleston.”

“I promised Papa I’d try to keep Fairhaven going. It meant
more to him than anything. Besides, it’s all I have left, except for the summer house on Pawley’s.”

Mr. Frost shook his head. “Noble sentiments, to be sure, but I must advise against it. I’m sure it’s no secret that I myself have lost nearly everything, and Ben Allston is not far behind. Stolen blind by those who once depended on us and decimated by last year’s storm, not to mention that prices have dropped to a disastrous level.” He shook his head. “How do you suppose a woman alone with no resources can hope to succeed when experienced men have not?”

“I’m not completely inexperienced. I’ve worked alongside Papa all my life.”

“Admirable, but not the same as being in charge on your own.”

“Perhaps I will fail, but I must try.”

He jammed his hat onto his head. “Stubborn as a mule, just like your father.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Mr. Frost.”

With a curt nod, he headed for his rig and climbed inside. Lettice hurried over carrying a teakettle, a basket of strawberries, and a jar of cream. “Here you are.”

“Cream? I can’t remember the last time I had any.” Charlotte popped a berry into her mouth and savored the explosion of sweetness on her tongue. “Oh, how I wish I could afford a cow.”

“We have only one, but she produces more milk than Charles and I can use. You’re welcome to more if you can use it.”

“Thank you, Lettice. I don’t know what I’d do without your kindness.”

“It’s nothing. Now, I must speak to Mr. Glennie before I go.”

“I suppose I should pay my respects as well.” Charlotte joined Lettice and Josie and a few others and took her turn greeting the minister.

Mr. Betancourt emerged from the church, his daughters rushing along in front of him. “Miss Fraser.” He smiled down at her in a way that made her heart lurch. With his thick shock of dark hair and strong, even features, he was attractive as could be, but now was not the time to be distracted by sentimental feelings. Not when her future and the future of her plantation hung in the balance.

“Mr. Betancourt. How are your daughters? No more close calls in the river, I hope.”

“None. We recovered my boat, I’m happy to say, but I have forbidden Marie-Claire to take it out again until further notice. A restriction she finds most grievous, I’m afraid.”

She watched Marie-Claire and Anne-Louise playing tag beneath the trees. “They must miss their mother.”

An imperceptible nod of his head and then: “I was hoping to see you today. I have a great favor to ask.”

“Oh?”

“Perhaps it’s presumptuous of me, since we’ve only just met, but I’m in a most difficult situation, and I have no one else to turn to.”

Josie Clifton hurried over, the satin ribbons on her hat dancing in the wind. “Mr. Betancourt.” She curtsied and offered her hand for a kiss. “How perfectly lovely to see you.”

“Miss Clifton. You’re well, I trust.”

“Just fine, sir. And better than ever to know we have such a dashing new neighbor on the Waccamaw. My mother says you must come to dinner very soon.”

He flushed beneath his tan. “I’ll look forward to it.”

“Are those your children?” Josie asked. “I mean, they must be, since they were sitting with you during the service. Aren’t they just the most darling little things?”

He laughed. “Well, yes, to me they are. But I suppose all fathers think their children are a cut above the rest.”

“Well, they are darling. Simply darling.”

Josie stood rooted to the spot and looked expectantly at the two of them. “Oh dear, I’ve intruded upon your conversation.”

“Actually, I do have something to discuss with Miss Fraser. If you will excuse us?”

“Oh. Well, certainly.” Josie smiled at Charlotte. “Will I see you at the Ladies’ Society meeting on Wednesday, Miss Fraser?”

The prospect made Charlotte’s head pound. She’d never felt at home among the women who flitted like gilded butterflies from one social engagement to the next. Reared mostly among men, she’d never been much good at the small talk that was the lifeblood of such gatherings—who was engaged to whom, whose coconut pie was the most delicious, what so-and-so had worn to town last Saturday. “I’m not sure I can get away.”

“Well, come if you can.” With a sweep of her new skirt, Josie turned and hurried to rejoin her mother.

The minister left in his rig, and soon the churchyard was deserted. Mr. Betancourt eyed the basket of berries. “Those look good.”

“Mrs. Hadley brought them. Would you like one?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” He plucked a berry from the basket and ate it. “As I was saying, Miss Fraser, I am in a bit of a fix.”

“I can well believe it. All of the Lowcountry is in trouble these days.”

“I’m not speaking of Willowood, although my lands are as much in disarray as any.” He inclined his head toward the children who had abandoned their game of tag and were picking violets growing beside the gate. “It’s Marie-Claire and Anne-Louise that are of most concern to me.”

“I see.”

“Despite my best efforts, I have not been able to find anyone to teach them.”

“Perhaps you should write to Mrs. Allston in Charleston. I understand she engaged a new French teacher for her school last year. Mademoiselle Le Prince. Girls from some of the best families in the city attend Mrs. Allston’s. I’m sure your daughters would get on well.”

“No doubt. However, the tuition and boarding fees are quite steep, and Anne-Louise, especially, still mourns their mother. I’d rather they stay with me if possible.” He paused. “I was hoping you might tutor them. I can’t pay as much as I’d have to pay Mrs. Allston, but—”

“I’m not a teacher, Mr. Betancourt, either by temperament or by training. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“But you are well educated and well read, judging by the books I noticed in your library the other day. And you treated the girls with great kindness when they appeared at your gate.”

“I was happy to help. But I’ve a plantation of my own to run, and I know you’re aware of the many difficulties one faces these days in doing so.”

He let out a long breath. “Then your answer is no.”

“I’m afraid it must be.” The basket of berries and cream and the teapot grew heavy. She shifted the basket to her other arm. “Have you tried placing a notice in the
Charleston Mercury
?”

“Twice. But nobody suitable applied.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” He looked around. “I don’t see your rig.”

“I haven’t one. I walked.”

“Then you must allow me to drive you home.”

“You are kind, but I don’t mind the walk, really.” She smiled. “Walking has a most salutary effect upon my constitution.”

“I’ll say good day then.” Moving with the power and grace of a thoroughbred, he crossed the yard and collected his children. She popped another strawberry into her mouth and stepped
through the churchyard gate in time to see his rig disappearing around the bend.

To be certain, Nicholas Betancourt had his troubles, and she was not unsympathetic to his plight. Perhaps she should have tried harder to help him. But she was too beset by troubles of her own.

Five