For Love's Sake (11 page)

“You should. A gentleman needs his country sports,” Mrs. Stroup agreed. “When I was a young girl – back before the War – we lived on a large farm a few counties west of here. My father and brothers were keen sportsmen in those days.”

In all her years of knowing Hattie Stroup, Laurel never heard her mention foxhunting. For all she knew, the old woman had never even been on a horse, but here she was talking about it with a complete stranger. In fact, they were so engrossed in their conversation that they seemed to forget that Laurel was even there!

Christopher loved a good hunting yarn, and like any other self-respecting gentleman, he had accumulated his fair share over the years. This one was a particular favorite, but each time he told it, he spoke as if recalling it for the first time.

“…So there we were, soaked to the bone –
freezing –
miles away from home, and with only one horse between us! You can imagine the looks on their faces when we caught up to the pack, two grown men riding double, and still going as strong as ever.”

Mrs. Stroup laughed heartily, leaned over, and patted Laurel on the knee. “I like your young man!” she said with a wink.

On the way home, Laurel asked if they could take a detour through the countryside. She led him a few miles out of their way, stopping at a large open piece of land. Not too far from the road, a decrepit antebellum farmhouse sat surrounded by pastures, not yet given over to cotton. For as far as they could see, meadows stretched across the rolling foothills, and in the distance, small mountains rose up from the pines, a foretaste of the mighty Appalachians that lay beyond.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” she asked him as she led the way down a narrow cow path that cut through the tall brown grass. “I used to play here when I was a girl.”

Christopher was none too pleased to plod through a field, but he agreed that it was breathtaking. “Who owns this?”

“People have been trying to buy it up – or at least, pieces of it – for years, but nobody’s ever located the owner.”

They came to an ancient oak, whose shady branches spread out like an enormous umbrella above them. An old rope-and-board swing hung down to the ground, a testament to the children who had once played there.

“Push me!” Laurel laughed as she plopped into the weathered seat.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Christopher asked, studying the rope all the way up to the sturdy limb of the tree.

“Then don’t push me too high,” she argued, giving the ground a good stab with the toe of her boot.

He pulled the ropes back while she held on tight, then let them go, sending her swinging through the air. The branches creaked and groaned with every pass, the tree grumbling like a stiff old man. Despite its protests, it never gave out, and Laurel enjoyed a few moments of feeling the wind whipping through her hair as she cut through the air.

“I always dreamed of living here,” she said as she looked out across the seemingly endless grassland. “The Meadows, I would call it.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The ticking of the spinning machines droned on as Laurel worked her sides. Down one row and back again, she fixed broken threads and helped the doffers exchange full bobbins for empty ones. As she did so, the supervisor walked over, inspecting her work.

“I guess everyone has an off week. Just don’t make it a habit,” he said, finding no fault in her. “His Lordship wants to see you, and while you’re up there, I think you should thank him for letting you keep your job.”

She had not seen Christopher at all that week, except for passing him in the hallway or when he walked through the spinning room. Laurel tried her best not to run down the aisle and up the stairs, instead taking them step by step. It was only when she was in the safety of his office that she let her true feelings show.

“I couldn’t take it any longer,” Christopher confessed as she enfolded herself into his arms. “I had to see you.”

He took her face in his hands and trailed kisses along her cheek. When his lips met hers, Laurel lost herself. It was not until she felt her back slam against the cold wall that she realized what he intended to do.

“Not here!” she said. “Someone will catch us.”

Christopher paid no attention to her protests, and hiked her heavy skirts up around her waist. After fumbling with the buttons on his trousers, he drove himself into her with enough force to make her yelp. Laurel wrapped one of her stocking-clad legs around his waist as his hips thrust again and again. She could feel his warm breath in her ear, his face buried against the wall. Everything shook from the vibrations of the spinning machines, and Laurel was just beginning to feel the surge of passion welling up inside her when the front door to his office burst open.

It was his secretary, and she looked right into Laurel’s face.

Their eyes met as the young woman stood transfixed, unable – or unwilling – to move. Laurel tried in vain to stop him, but Christopher held her trapped between his heavy body and the wall. She was forced to endure the woman’s gaze until she felt every muscle in his body tighten simultaneously, and the tension drain with each shudder.

The door clicked against the frame before Christopher could turn around.

“She saw us!” Laurel cried. “
Oh God!
Now everyone will know.”

“Go back downstairs and finish your work. I will try to handle this.”

Laurel went back to her machine feeling like she had been gone for an eternity, when really she was not away long enough to arouse any suspicion. Not even Deirdre, who had been watching her like a hawk those past few weeks, bothered to look up from her spinning.

Christopher assured her that no one would find out, but days later, Laurel began to notice that people were treating her differently. As she walked through town, Lottie Dellinger and her mother even went so far as to cross the street to avoid her. Shopkeepers who were once very friendly would only speak to her when absolutely necessary. The worst of all were the mill-workers. They had always accepted Laurel into their ‘fold’, but now she was no longer welcome in their homes, and none of their children were allowed to associate with her.

It seemed that Deirdre was her only steadfast friend in the entire town. “Tell me it’s not true, Laurel!” she said. “Please tell me you aren’t sleeping with him.”

“He’s really very nice. And you know as well as I do what Christopher did for Danny…”

“
Christopher?
” Deirdre stamped her foot into the ground. “Do you hear yourself? Nothing good will come of it, even my momma says so.”

Laurel ignored her friend’s warnings and went to see Christopher anyway. Saturday had become the one night that she allowed herself to sleep over at the hotel, and she looked forward to it each week. Dressed in her navy blue wool gown, she held her head up high as she walked through the lobby, past the disapproving desk clerk, and up the stairs to his room.

Dinner was laid out and waiting for her – boiled beef with potatoes, carrots, and turnips. Christopher took his seat at the little table, enjoying his second glass of whiskey.

“My, you sure do drink a lot,” Laurel observed.

“Do I?” he asked, unconcerned. “I have never noticed.”

“And a fine job you did keeping your secretary quiet.
Everybody
knows about us!”

That seemed to bother him, but only just a little. “I am sorry about that. I suppose I should let her go.”

Laurel could not believe that he was acting so nonchalant about the whole ordeal. Her entire life had just been ruined, and all he could think about was whether or not to fire his secretary!

“Please try to take this a little more seriously,” she said. “It’s the least you could do.”

“What would you like me to do, Laurel?” he asked as he speared a bright orange carrot with his fork. Bringing it up to his mouth, he chewed it slowly as he waited for her answer.

“I don’t know – something. Anything! Just don’t sit there and act like it doesn’t even matter. This is my
life
we’re talking about!”

Laurel awoke in the early morning hours alone in the large bed. As her eyes adjusted, she looked around the room for him. Clothes had been thrown about, and the silver tray that usually held the contents of his pockets was no longer on the bureau – it was on the floor.

“Christopher?” she called into the dark room.

There was no answer.

“
Christopher?
”

Again, the room was deathly silent.

She climbed out of bed and inspected everything for herself. He was not in the bathroom. He was not even out in the hallway. Laurel wanted to go searching for him, but she did not have a door key, and was afraid that she would not be able to get back in the room if she left. As a last effort, she pulled back the curtains and looked out the window.

In the distance, the blue-black night sky glowed orange. Down on the street below, a large crowd was gathering. They had to move aside to let the fire department hose-wagon pass.

Something is on fire!
She had only seen the fire department at work a few times in her whole life, the last being when one of the Wilson girls overturned a candle onto one of their mother’s silk drapes. The entire dining room went up in flames before anything could be done.

She dressed as fast as she could, deciding that she could just go to her apartment if she was locked out of the room, and ran downstairs. A group of bellboys stood on the porch, talking amongst themselves.

“What’s going on?” Laurel asked one of them.

 
“The mill’s on fire. His Lordship went down there about a half hour ago.”

The mill!
Laurel pushed her way through the throng of people standing dumbfounded in the street. Although she did not know where she found the strength, she ran the entire way, barely stopping to take a breath. As she grew closer, the smoke stung her eyes, and the air, which was thick with burning cotton, burned her lungs. The heat was already intense, and flames licked the sky above.

Against the bright red backdrop, she studied the dark figures in silhouette, trying to find Christopher among all the chaos. Dozens of mill-workers gathered a safe distance from the inferno, watching as the fire brigade pumped water onto the relentless flames. A few were even crying, knowing full well that this spelled disaster for them and their families. Laurel shoved her way through, still searching for Christopher.

“They’re gonna need every fireman and water truck in the county to get this one put out,” one of the men said to another.

“Ought to just let it burn,” another said, spitting a mouthful of tobacco juice onto the ground in disgust.

Laurel ran through them all, trying her best to ignore their conversations. She wanted to know everything that was going on, but first she had to find Christopher.

“You can’t go no further.” A firm grip held her elbow. It was the spinning room supervisor, and he was in charge of keeping the crowd under control. “It aint safe. This whole thing’s liable to come down at any minute.”

She licked her lips, which were already cracked and dry from the heat. “Where is His Lordship?”

He pointed toward a lone figure, standing dangerously close to the burning building, his hands shoved into his trouser pockets. Laurel wrenched free of the man’s grasp, running as fast as she could toward him.

“It’s a total loss,” Christopher said to no one in particular. “Everything. Gone.”

Not giving a damn who saw, Laurel wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his burning hot face down onto her shoulder. They both stood there for a long time, each comforting the other. A deep rumble from the bowels of the building sent chills up her spine despite the intense heat, and they stepped back just as flames engulfed the entire second floor.

“What will you do now?” Laurel asked him. Dawn was already streaking the sky.

Christopher sighed a deep, ragged sigh. “I will go home.”

“
Home?
”

“I only planned to remain here long enough to sell the mill, and now it is gone.”

“But what about everyone else? What about me? We have no jobs, no way to earn a living.”

“I know,” he said, running his fingers up and down her arm. “I’ll pay the men to clean up, and not charge rent until something can be figured out. Even if I rebuild, it would take a year at least.”

Laurel’s entire world was shattering right before her eyes. “They won’t stay,” she explained. “They’ll move on to another mill.”

“I’m sorry, Laurel. I wish that there was something I could do to help.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The smoldering ruins of the Hathcock-Holbrooks mill stood as a sort of memorial for the lost way of life that so many of the mill-workers were grieving over. People came from miles around to see it, making day trips with their families and packing a lunch. Laurel heard that the flames could be seen as far away as Belmont, and did not think for one minute that they were exaggerating.

Christopher spent almost every day afterwards writing to his solicitor in London and dealing with the insurance company. Mr. Holbrooks felt so sorry for him that he even offered to lend a hand, helping out with whatever information he could give. The entire town waited with bated breath to see what would happen to the mill, the mill-workers, and their livelihood.

“Between you and I,” Christopher explained over dinner. “I settled everything today. The insurance company finally came through, and demolition work will begin in a few weeks. I think someone would be more apt to buy a new mill than an older one, don’t you?”

“So you’re staying then?”

He looked at her in a way that made her heart catch in her throat. “No. I will be back home in England before Christmas.”

Laurel almost dropped her fork. That was less than a month away!

“But, I have something I’d like to discuss with you,” Christopher continued. “I would like for you to come with me.”

“To
England?
What in the world am I going to do there?”

“Probably a great deal more than you would be able to do here…with no job.”

She was stunned, but he did have a point. Even with the mill being rebuilt, it would be a year or more until it was operational, and while she could find some work as a seamstress, it would not be anywhere near the kind of money she earned as a spinner.