Hunter's Prize (21 page)

The week since Addie last saw Pearson passed in a dizzying blur. It took days to settle poor Ceddy into his comforting routine.

As happy as she felt to see the Sabbath roll around again, she dreaded it with equal measure. What challenges might the day hold? How would Ceddy react to returning to church, the most likely place where he’d been harmed? Or to seeing Pearson, who Priscilla believed to be the culprit?

As for Addie, she didn’t think for one minute that Pearson had hurt Ceddy. He might be a cad in matters of the heart, but his gentleness with the boy was genuine. Whoever the vile person was who cut and bruised Ceddy, nothing could convince her that it was Pearson.

She heard the boy whimpering before she turned the corner into his room.

Delilah stood over his bed, holding a warm cloth to his bare stomach while Ceddy rolled back and forth.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He got a touch of misery in his belly, that’s all. It happens on occasion.”

“Like this? How frequently?”

“Oh, ‘bout twice a month, I s’pose.”

Addie frowned. “Come to think of it, the same thing happened last Wednesday. The poor dear lost his lunch. What do you suppose is causing it?”

“I cain’t say, Miss Addie. I ain’t no doctor.”

“Have you called one?”

“Oh yes’m. Lots of times. He say nothing wrong, near as he could tell.”

“Well, it’s happening too often to ignore.” Addie crossed to the bed and smoothed his forehead. “What did you give him for breakfast?”

“He wouldn’t eat this mornin’. Miss Priscilla got mos’ his milk down, but that’s all he had.”

Addie jerked her gaze to Delilah. “He drank milk?” She returned to watching Ceddy. “And this was the outcome?”

“Yes’m, I s’pose.”

Priscilla swept in, tugging on her gloves. “Are we about ready?” Pausing at the door, her eyes flashed to Ceddy. “Oh my. What ails him?”

“His stomach again, Miss Priscilla,” Delilah said.

Hands on her hips, Addie faced her. “Did Ceddy drink his milk last Wednesday?”

“I don’t recall,” she said, her brows furrowed. “Wait. Yes, I do.” She beamed proudly. “I coaxed him to finish every drop.”

Bracing for battle, Addie stamped her foot. “You’re not to give him any more milk. And no sugary sweets.”

Both women gaped at her.

Delilah straightened. “But he love his treats, Miss Addie.”

“No more, I say.”

Worrying her bottom lip, Priscilla approached the bed. “Oh Addie. Are you certain? Sometimes Delilah’s cookies are all that will settle him.”

“Do you trust me, Priscilla?”

She thrust her shoulders back. “Implicitly.”

“Then let me try this, please. It’s my theory that a constant diet of sugared foods may be contributing to Ceddy’s bad behavior. He’s always much worse after he’s eaten a treat.”

“But the milk? It’s good for him.”

Addie shook her head. “I don’t think so. He holds his stomach and moans for hours after ingesting milk. It’s why you have to force him to drink it.” Moving to the bed, she patted his flushed cheek. “Poor dear. He’s smarter than all of us.”

Priscilla stared at Ceddy, her eyes dazed. “If it’s true, then it’s very astute of you to make the connection, dear.”

Crossing the room, she stood over Ceddy’s bed. “He does look miserable.” She sighed. “Very well, Addie. You’ll have a chance to test your theory.” She turned, a determined set to her jaw. “Delilah, no more desserts. And no milk.”

“But Miss Priscilla … what do I do when he come pulling on my skirt and moaning like he do?”

“Give him dried apples instead,” Addie said. “Or a spoon coated with honey.” Bolstering her courage, she voiced her next concern. “And we should stop treating him like an invalid. He can do many things for himself, but we’ve allowed him to become lazy. He’s perfectly capable of combing his hair and dressing, yet he stands like a limp doll and lets Delilah do it for him.”

“Are you sure, Addie?”

“Quite sure. And another thing … everyone talks over him, past him, about him. Hardly ever directly to him. We must start addressing him as though we expect a response. He understands very well, whether he appears to or not.”

Delilah huffed. “I talks to him all the time, but he don’t say nothin’ back. How you gon’ converse to a body who don’t answer?”

Addie briskly nodded. “Yes, he does. Granted, not vocally. You have to watch him closely, but in his own way, he answers.”

Priscilla slid her arm around Addie and leaned to kiss her forehead. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am for your keen insight and concern for Ceddy.”

A blush warmed Addie’s cheeks. “I’m very fond of him.”

“And it shows.” Priscilla patted her shoulder. “Go dress for church. You could use a day out of the house. I’ll sit with him this morning.”

Addie shook her head. “I couldn’t allow you to miss church for me.”

Priscilla stole a glance at Delilah. “Perhaps we could both go, then, if only …”

Delilah’s big brown eyes rounded.

Smiling, Addie walked to the door and held it wide. “I won’t have either of you missing your service. Ceddy is my responsibility, and I’ll sit with him today.”

Truthfully, she felt immensely relieved. While she hated for Ceddy to suffer, staying home with him solved both of her problems. She wouldn’t have to deal with his reaction to being at church, and she wouldn’t have to deal with her own scattered emotions about seeing Pearson.

S
tanding with Reverend Stroud on the steps of the church, Pearson’s heart pitched at the sight of the Whitfield carriage. His disappointment when the lady of the manor climbed down without Addie stung more sharply than he cared to admit. Happy to see his new friend nonetheless, he smiled broadly as Miss Whitfield approached. “Morning, ma’am. Good to see you again.”

“Good morning, gentlemen.” Her wary eyes slid to his and then away so fast, Pearson’s stomach clenched. Something was obviously wrong.

“Priscilla, I hope you intend to remove your hat for the sake of those seated behind you,” Reverend Stroud teased. “Mercy is a virtue, you know.”

Her trembling hand reached for the sky blue contraption sprouting assorted feathers and bows. “Do you really think I should?”

He chuckled. “Why break with tradition? Besides”—he nudged her—”haven’t you noticed? No one ever sits behind you.”

Instead of laughing with him or offering a barbed retort, she edged toward the door. “I’d best go inside. The service will be starting soon.”

The reverend’s brows rose. “I hope not, dear lady, since I’m an integral part.”

With a tight smile, she slipped inside and disappeared.

Pearson and the reverend exchanged looks.

“What was that about?” Pearson asked.

The man shook his head. “I’ve never seen her like this.” He chuckled. “Perhaps I can figure her out by the close of service. My sermon is rather lengthy, I’m afraid. I’ll have plenty of time to observe.”

Pearson followed him inside then joined Theo on the front pew. The sensation of someone staring at the back of his head persisted so strongly throughout the singing and the message that followed, he gave in a few times and stole a glance behind him. Each time, he met Miss Whitfield’s startled gaze.

He caught only snippets of Reverend Stroud’s discourse on the importance of loving your neighbor and lending a helping hand to those in need. Based on their earlier conversation about the servants’ quarters, he suspected the reverend had directed his sermon, at least in part, to Miss Whitfield. Too bad she didn’t seem to hear a word.

Her odd behavior so distracted Pearson, it robbed him of the peace he sought. After the closing prayer, unlike the week before, he didn’t feel as if he’d even been to church.

Outside, a welcoming committee—self-appointed no doubt—of Marshall’s unmarried daughters and their mothers descended on Pearson and Theo. To Theo’s delight, they brought baskets of baked goods and pretty smiles. Beaming like a cat in a birdcage, he bowed as they filed past, whispering promises to each of them that he’d taste their gift first.

Grinning and shaking his head, Reverend Stroud strolled to where Priscilla stood anxiously wringing her hands. After a hushed conversation that didn’t appear to end in her favor, he waved them over.

Pearson pried Theo from the circle of tittering girls and urged him toward the carriage.

“Gentlemen, we’re graciously invited to the manor for lunch, if you have no prior plans.”

Pearson ducked his head, trying to read the lady’s face. “Are you sure, ma’am? We don’t want to intrude.”

She drew herself up and took a deep breath. “Of course, Mr. Foster. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Seven days ago, she’d insisted on calling him Pearson. Something was definitely wrong.

The milk Priscilla forced on Ceddy that morning would trouble him no more. Most of it now splattered the front of Addie’s uniform; the rest puddled on the floor.

With one hand she held a damp cloth to the poor child’s forehead; with the other she tried to work his arm free of his nightshirt. “It was a wise move to abide by my suggestion, Ceddy,” she told the drowsy-eyed boy. “Otherwise we’d face a skirmish to rival First Manassas the next time you’re offered milk.”

He groaned and rolled to one side.

She hadn’t the heart to jostle him further, so she tucked the covers around his thin shoulders and left him be.

The sound of footsteps on the stairwell, too slow and heavy for Delilah’s yet too quick for Priscilla’s, stirred her heart to pounding. Before she could react to her fear, Priscilla hurried into the room.

Addie’s hand went to her heart. “It is you! Heavens, you frightened me silly.”

“Addie, you won’t believe this,” Priscilla whispered. “He’s downstairs.”

“Who?” she asked, but she already knew. “Not Mr. Foster?” Snatching the rag from Ceddy’s head, she swiped self-consciously at the sour mess on her skirt.

Closing the door quietly, Priscilla whirled, a frantic look in her eyes. “The very same. Only it’s even worse than that.”

Addie didn’t see how it could get any worse, but she didn’t bother making the point. “What happened?”

“He’s going to be living here.”

Her hand stilled, clutching the cloth. Pointing at the floor, she frowned. “Here? In this house?”

“Nearly as bad. In the servants’ quarters out back.”

Addie knew the place she meant. The row of crumbling buildings along the back corner of the property.

Many questions raced through her mind. Only one made its way to her lips. “Why?”

“Are you asking why they want to or why I let them?”

She waved the back of her hand. “Yes, both of those.”

“If I understood right, they’re trying to conserve money so they might continue their search for the
Mittie.”

“And?”

Priscilla’s face flushed, and she paced the room. “Reverend Stroud pressed me to allow it. The man is simply thick when it comes to social graces. He asked me right in front of those two. I had no choice but to agree.”

Addie bundled the rag with Ceddy’s soiled clothing. “What are we going to do?”

“That’s what I asked myself the entire ride home.”

She stopped walking and faced Addie. “It’s all so perplexing. When I spend any length of time with that young man, the idea of his hurting anyone seems outlandish.”

Addie nodded. “I know just what you mean.” Except for his fixation on a married woman, Pearson seemed a most agreeable man. She didn’t hold it against him for finding her mother attractive. He wasn’t the first to fall under the spell of Mariah McRae. The unforgivable part was his seeming determination to follow his wayward heart.

“And I trust Reverend Stroud’s instincts completely, or I would never have agreed. Yet we can’t lose sight of the fact that
someone
hurt our boy. To answer your question, dear, here’s all we can do—we’ll welcome Mr. Foster and his friend to the estate. After all, some hold with the notion of keeping one’s enemies near enough to watch.” She offered a tight smile. “You can’t get much closer than your own backyard, now, can you?”

Dazed, Addie shook her head.

“There’s more bad news.” Priscilla grimaced. “Until repairs are made, they’ll be taking their meals with us and—”