Ryan's Bride (23 page)

Another thing that annoyed her was how not a day went by that he didn’t find a subtle little way to remind that he had saved her life. Even Ryan had remarked once or twice that Corbett was so proud of himself he’d probably never let her forget what he’d done. She longed to tell Ryan how it gnawed at her that she wasn’t at all sure anyone else but Corbett was around that night. But to do so would make it appear she was accusing him of pushing her overboard, and, without proof, she didn’t dare say anything. After all, Corbett and Ryan were kin. And what was the old saying about blood being thicker than water?

Every time she was around Ramona Wright, she longed to ask about Foxwood, how it looked now, and did she hear of a horse named Vertus when she and her husband had spent a weekend there.

Finally, they reached the bustling seaport of New York. Angele rushed out on deck as soon as she heard they were sailing in and was glad when Ryan joined her at the railing to share the excitement.

As they stood together, he casually put an arm around her shoulders. Instinctively, she pressed closer. It was a good moment, the two of them standing side by side as they arrived in America to begin their life as husband and wife.

She stole a glance at him from the corner of her eye. He was a very attractive man. He treated her well, and, so far, she felt like the luckiest woman on earth.

He turned to smile at her. “Happy?”

“Very. But I have to admit I’m nervous.”

“About meeting the rest of my family, I suppose. That’s only natural, Angele, but don’t worry. Give them time, and they’ll accept you. They have to. You’re my wife.”

She didn’t want them to accept her merely because they had to. She wanted them to like her for herself but supposed that was asking too much. But that wasn’t her only concern. “It’s all so new and different. I just hope I won’t disappoint you.”

“You won’t. And don’t worry. Clarice will teach you everything you need to know about what goes on around the house, and I’ll hire a tutor to come in and give you lessons in other things.”

She frowned. “Like what?” She hated pretending to be ignorant.

“You need to learn to speak English. And you need to learn how to read and write, Unfortunately, the South is behind in education compared to the North. There are fewer schools and even fewer girls attending. But BelleRose women have always been literate, and so will you. Besides, you won’t have anything else to do but study.”

That didn’t exactly set her afire with enthusiasm. She had always been active. Even when her parents sent her away to school, she’d spent the afternoons riding or hiking. “I’m sure I’ll find lots to do,” she said. “I’m not the sort to stay indoors.”

“You’ll learn to be a lady, and ladies stay indoors a lot,” he said pleasantly…but firmly.

Just then, Corbett joined them, and the cozy time ended—for Angele, anyway. He positioned himself on the other side of her and commenced to monopolize the conversation.

She lapsed into silence, and soon Ryan was talking to Corbett about the horses and how anxious he was to get them to BelleRose. He seemed to forget she was even there, and she wondered if that was how it was going to be in the future…if he would have any time for her at all.

After disembarking and saying goodbye to their fellow passengers, Ryan told Angele to wait for him on the pier. “I want to watch when they unload the horses. Then I need to make arrangements to get them to Richmond.”

“How are you going to do that?” He hadn’t even told her what
their
mode of transportation would be.

“I’ll hire wagons. I’m sure not going to drive them like cattle. And once they’re taken care of, I know of a nice inn where we can get a good meal and spend the night.”

“Ah, we’re going back to Mrs. Dudley’s.” Corbett walked up to where they were standing. Angele had noticed him spending an unusual amount of time saying farewell to one of the female steerage passengers.

“That’s where we spent the night before we left for Paris,” Ryan explained to Angele. “Mrs. Dudley is a widow and rents out rooms.”

“Well, at least the food is good.” Corbett smiled at the girl again and waved, then turned back to Angele and Ryan. “I’m afraid I can’t say the same for the beds. It was like sleeping on a sack of rocks. But after spending these last weeks in steerage, I won’t complain if she puts me out in the barn. And don’t forget there’s a tavern just across the street.”

Ryan was brusque. “I’m not interested. Now, look after Angele while I see to the horses.”

She felt like telling him she might be safer on her own, but that kind of thinking could only lead to trouble.

“So,” Corbett said, folding his arms across his chest and rocking back on his heels. “How do you like New York?”

She shrugged. “It looks big. Lots of construction going on, from what I can see. Buildings. Houses. I can tell there’s a diversity of people, and that’s interesting. Actually, I wish we could spend a few days here.”

“Ryan is chomping at the bit to get back to BelleRose. You could never get him to stay.”

“Well, maybe one day.” She hoped it wouldn’t take Ryan long to see to the horses, so he would join them again.

“A lot of planters come north during the summer months, you know.”

That caught her interest. “Really? Maybe Ryan and I can do that.”

“Don’t count on it. I think once we get home you’re going to see a whole new side to him. You’re in for some surprises, I’m afraid.”

“In what way?” she asked stiffly.

“Well, for one thing, you’ve had him all to yourself on the ship. And that’s good, because you just got married. But when he gets to BelleRose, he has a lot of responsibilities, so don’t expect him to spend much time with you. He’ll be much too busy. I know Ryan.”

“Maybe it will be different now that he’s married.”

“I doubt it. After all, we both know why he married you, Angele.”

She had turned away from him, as though to shut him out, but at that, she whirled about. She felt her ire rising and fought to keep it down. The last thing she wanted was to lose her temper, but he had her dander up with his last remark. “And just what do you mean by that?”

“He didn’t propose because he was in love with you. You’re just chattel—like his slaves. And I’m sorry if it bothers you for me to say all this, but I just think you ought to know what you’re in for.”

She could kick herself for even bothering to debate with him but had to say, “Well, I don’t think it’s going to be that way at all.”

He shook his head in wonder that she could be so naive. “If you expect more, you’re going to be terribly, terribly disappointed. Listen…” He reached to touch her arm, but she drew back. “I’m your friend, and I want you to remember that, no matter what. If you have problems, even with my wife, I want you to come to me. Understand?”

Angele understood only that, despite all his efforts, she still didn’t trust Corbett.

Maybe it was because of what happened in Ryan’s hotel room that day in Paris.

Or perhaps it had to do with how he tended to drink so much and her suspicions that he might be unfaithful to his wife.

But there was something else she didn’t like to think about and that was how she couldn’t help comparing him to her uncle. Never once had Uncle Henry given any hint that he was anything but loyal to her father and devoted to him as his only brother. She even remembered how her father had said, over and over, how deeply he respected Henry for accepting that he didn’t inherit any of Foxwood. He also vowed that Henry would never want for anything. He would always have a home there.

And all the while Uncle Henry had been scheming to destroy her father and take everything.

Since the situation with Ryan and Corbett was somewhat similar, Angele couldn’t help but think about it.

She also recalled Corbett saying his wife’s cousin was the one everyone thought Ryan would marry. It was only natural Corbett would have preferred that he had, because then he would never have had to worry about being asked to leave BelleRose.

And it could also be his motive if he had, indeed, been the one who tried to push her overboard.

Corbett, eyes hooded with concern, prodded, “You do understand I want to be your friend, don’t you?”

“Yes, but I’m curious about something. What makes you think I might have problems with your wife?”

“Nothing specific. She can just be a bit hard to get along with sometimes. That’s all. You come to me, and I’ll take care of it.”

Coolly she informed him, “I doubt that will be necessary. I try to handle my problems in my own way. But thank you for your concern, although I have to say I don’t like being compared to chattel.”

He shrugged. “That’s how it is.”

Something else had needled her. “You said chattel…
like his slaves
.”

“That’s right.”

“He mentioned having servants, not slaves.”

Corbett shrugged again. “Servants. Slaves. What difference does it make?”

“A lot if what I’ve heard is true about the way slaves are treated. And besides, servants are paid. I know, because”—she paused, about to say that her father had servants at Foxwood—“I have heard how it is done in France. People are paid to work. And they can come and go as they wish.”

“Well, it’s different here. Slaves are bought, sold, and traded. Planters have to have them to work the crops.”

She felt tension at the back of her neck, and her pulse began to pound as indignant anger surged. “Then they should have to pay them.”

At that, Corbett’s face darkened. “You should watch making remarks like that.”

They locked gazes for a long, steely moment, then Corbett softened his tone. “I hate to seem harsh, Angele, but it’s for your own good.”

Over his shoulder, she could see Ryan approaching. “You’re probably right,” she said to pacify him and end the tension. Regardless of her suspicions, nothing would be gained by making an enemy of Corbett.

That night, as she lay in Ryan’s arms after he had made love to her, she asked him to describe to her in detail everything about BelleRose.

He did so, and she could tell he was extremely proud. But when he mentioned having over two hundred field hands and how Clarice was always complaining about having only eight servants in the house, Angele seized the opportunity to bring up the subject of slavery

“I suppose it costs a lot to hire that many people,” she said carefully.

“They aren’t paid, Angele,” he said quietly. “They’re slaves. I call them field hands, or servants, but that’s what they are—slaves. And some of them have been at BelleRose since before I was born. Like Mammy Lou. She took care of me when I was a baby, and her mother took care of my father when he was little. She has a granddaughter—Selma—and I’ve already decided she’ll be mammy to our children. But till they’re born, I’ll see to it she’s your personal servant. You’ll like her. She’s every bit as likable as Mammy Lou.”

Angele had had her own maid at Foxwood. So had her mother. But they had received money for their services. The idea of slavery was appalling, and she said as much, explaining she had heard how they were mistreated…beaten. “I could never stand for that.”

He had been lying on his back but quickly turned on his side to face her. “Slaves aren’t beaten at BelleRose. They never have been, and they never will be. They’re treated well. Not like on some plantations. You don’t have to worry.”

“But if they’re slaves, then they’re held against their will.”

His mouth tightened. “It’s a way of life. They don’t know any other…and neither do we. Corbett told me you two had a discussion about this and that he warned you to keep your opinions to yourself. I agree, because it wouldn’t do for my wife to go around saying she’s against slavery. There’s a lot of debate over it. People are taking sides. Some folks even think it might lead to a war between the North and South one day. I hope not. And I want to stay out of the controversy. Life will go on at BelleRose like it always has, and you’ll be expected to accept things the way they are without comment. Do you understand?”

He looked grim.

He also looked on the verge of anger.

“I understand,” she whispered.

Even though she didn’t.

Ryan took note of Angele’s discomfort, which she tried to hide. “I’m sorry it’s been such an uncomfortable ride,” he apologized, “but till steamboat travel is available all the way to Richmond, this is the only way to get there except on horseback.”

“I’d prefer that,” she said as the stage wagon hit a rock and threw her up to bump her head.

“This is a lot nicer than the old freight wagons with boxes built on top for passengers. They had to sit on backless benches, all facing forward, and enter from the front by scrambling all over the seats. At least we’ve got a door on the side, and we can face each other.”

Corbett, sitting opposite them, said, “And don’t forget we have room in here for nine passengers on three seats, and I guarantee before we’re a quarter of the way to Richmond we’ll be full and all squeezed against each other. But don’t worry,” he teased Angele. “You can always sit outside with the driver on the box if it gets too crowded. Of course, it might rain and you’ll get wet, and then there might be bandits. You could get shot.”