Thursday's Child (Out of Time #5) (13 page)

Elizabeth's eyes went wide with shock. “Pregnant?” She'd been hoping to give the impression of general malaise, take two aspirin and call me in the morning vagueness, not pregnancy.

“Possibly.”

“No,” Elizabeth said with a small forced laugh. She was definitely not pregnant. “I'm not.”

“It could be something else, a tumor perhaps. A full examination should tell us more.”

Elizabeth shifted in her seat. “It's nothing. I'm sure. I'm sorry I wasted your time.” She started to stand, but the doctor held up a hand and waved her back into her chair.

“Hardly time wasted, my dear.” He walked over to the door, pulled it open and called to his nurse. “Would you help Mrs. Cross undress?”

~~~

“Cross!”

Just as he was about to climb into his buggy, Simon turned to find James and Elijah Harper pulling up in their barouche.

“What are you doing here?” James said amiably.

“Business, I was just returning.”

Eli arched an eyebrow, but kept silent.

“Fortune is on my side today. I was just thinking of you,” James said. “We're going down to the landing to supervise the arrival of some new equipment. I was hoping to show you our warehouse facilities. Since you expressed an interest the other day,” he added hastily.

Simon could see the hopeful gleam in his eye and was happy to oblige. He joined them in their carriage, ignored Eli's smirks and made small talk as they neared the end of Water Street and the road down to the landing.

“Elizabeth has found her current trousseau inadequate,” Simon said. “Is there someone in town who can help rectify the situation or do we need to wait until New Orleans?”

“I'm afraid, I stay out of such matters,” James said. “But I'm sure Rose can help your wife.”

“Thank—”

A loud boom interrupted and Simon barely suppressed a flinch. He and Elizabeth had heard that sound a few times since they'd arrived, but it had never been quite so loud. “What the bloody…”

“Our cannon,” James said, gesturing up river. “It announces every steamboat's arrival. For some, it's still something of a novelty.”

Right on cue, a dozen or so boys ran toward the bluff, dashing across busy streets and hopping fences. They clustered at the top of the hill to get a good view of the ship as it came up river to the landing. It was a majestic sight.

Two tall twin stacks with crowns on their tops belching out black smoke while two smaller stacks billowed steam from the engines. The great paddlewheel at the back churned the water and people gathered on the decks to watch the landing.

“For me,” James said looking out at the river. “It's prosperity coming up river. Money flows faster than water on the Mississippi.”

Simon had to agree. The volume of commerce in the harbor was astonishing, goods and people in constant motion. “Impressive.”

James puffed up a bit and took them down the landing to one of the large warehouses. He gave Simon a tour of their contents and his plans for expansion. James did everything he could to prime the pump and present Simon with a sizable investment opportunity.

James excused himself and went over a shipment manifest with the warehouse manager, leaving Eli and Simon alone together. During the tour Eli had seemed impatient and sullen. Perhaps this was yet another area the brothers didn't agree upon.

“So, Mr. Cross,” Eli said. “How are you enjoying Natchez?”

“Very much.”

Eli pushed back the brim of his hat and eyed Simon. “Your
business
this morning was satisfactory?”

There was definitely more than a hint of accusation in his tone. Did Eli know where he'd actually been?

“Quite,” Simon said curtly, hoping to stop the conversation there.

“I'm sure it was.”

Simon clenched his jaw and turned his attention back to James. A large, heavy-set man with a large flowing mustache had interrupted his conversation with the warehouse manager. It was clear from James' body language that he was not happy to see this man. After a tense moment, James pulled the larger man aside and cast a nervous glance around. He saw Simon and Eli watching him and offered them a rictus smile.

James and the heavy-set man's conversation was brief, but tense. James pulled out an envelope from his inner jacket sleeve and gave it to the other man. The big man tipped his hat and left. James tugged on his waistcoat in annoyance and tamped down his anger as he rejoined Simon and Eli.

“Trouble, brother?” Eli asked, almost hopeful.

James answered with a glare and turned his charm back on for Simon. He smiled broadly and gestured for them to leave the warehouse. “We have a manufacturing facility just outside of town. Twenty spindles working now, but we have room to expand.”

Simon managed to escape the textile tour and assured them he would see them at the races tomorrow near River Run for the start of their weekend celebration.

He didn't like leaving Elizabeth alone for too long. When he returned to an empty hotel room, he realized he'd been right to worry. Not finding her there meant an immediate surge of adrenaline. He felt the sharp prickle of it as it shot out through his veins. It was reflexive. It always would be where Elizabeth was concerned. She was a veritable magnet for trouble, but he reminded himself, there was no reason to assume anything untoward had happened. Perhaps she just went for a walk. He pushed out a cleansing breath, and looked for a note.

He found it resting on one of the end tables and sighed in relief. It was short-lived, however. The note read simply:
Gone to see the doctor
.
Love, E

Simon read the note again. Had she taken ill while he was gone? It wasn't as if she could call him and let him know. If she had, why didn't she say more in the note?

He stuffed the paper into his jacket pocket and strode for the door. Perhaps the desk clerk knew where she'd gone.

Simon gripped the door handle and yanked open the door only to find Elizabeth attached to the other side. She stumbled into the room and he caught her as she fell against his chest.

“Criminy, where's the fire?” Elizabeth said as she disentangled from him.

Simon clutched her arms and held her away from him, searching for signs of injury. “Are you all right?”

She took off her now-lopsided hat and her eyes flashed with exasperation. “I'm fine, but you look a little crazy around the edges.”

“Elizabeth,” Simon said, trying to shift from worry to wonder. “Why did you go to the doctor? Are you ill?”

She tossed her hat onto a table and waved him off. “Don’t be silly.”

“Of course not.” Simon closed the door to their room.

“You'll be happy to know I am quite salubrious.”

He shook his head. This woman was maddening. He dug into his pocket and produced the note. “
Why
did you go to the doctor?”

“To do some investigating,” she said as though it should have been obvious.

A retort stood at attention on his tongue, but he swallowed it. “It would have been helpful if you'd mentioned that.”

“Oh!” The light finally blinked on for her. “You thought…” She came to him and patted his chest. “I'm sorry.”

Simon crammed the note back into his pocket and nodded.

She pushed up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

“I'm glad to hear at least,” he said, “you're in good health.”

“And, I have superlative birthing hips.”

Simon frowned and shook his head. “Perhaps you should start from the beginning?”

Chapter Eleven

Elizabeth looked around the fairgrounds and decided she definitely needed more clothes. She was already repeating and, judging from the sea of frills and lace surrounding her, that simply wouldn't do.

She and Simon nodded and smiled as they passed through the crowd looking for the Harpers. They'd been invited to be guests at the Jockey Club's private pavilion at the racetrack. The track was a far cry from the shabby ones she used to tag along to with her father in Texas. The atmosphere was more, definitely more, Ascot than Amarillo. A cluster of food stalls at the entrance gave way to the enormous field that held both the tented pavilions and the half-mile track.

The stables and paddock area were a hub of activity as horses were warmed up and prepared for races. Adjacent to that were corrals for horse trading. From plow horses to young thoroughbred colts, there was something to entice every level of society.

The whole thing felt more like a county fair celebrating Spring and the end of planting season than a regular old horse track. There were food stalls and jugglers and musicians, and even a few buckboards with people drinking and eating in the back. A sort of 19th century tailgate.

She and Simon were nearing the large white tents of the Jockey Club when Elizabeth saw Catherine and the Colonel. Catherine waved happily toward them and the Colonel remained as stone-faced as ever.

Just as they were crossing a path to join them, two tenant farmers and their mules came between them. The men bellowed at the two teams of mules as they tried to convince the animals to head to the paddock area. They yelled and begged, whipped the reins down on their backs and slapped their flanks with their straw hats, and argued with each other until the mules heehawed and went on their way.

The Colonel might have actually harrumphed as he glowered after them. “Commoners and Negroes racing,” he said. “Mules for God's sake. It's desecrated the club.” Almost as an afterthought, he bowed his head and greeted them. “Cross.”

“Colonel. Miss Catherine,” Simon said.

Catherine rolled her eyes at her father and then smiled at Elizabeth. “So good to see you. Are you feeling…well?” she asked with a slight wiggle of her eyebrows.

How could she possibly know that she'd seen the doctor yesterday?

As if reading her mind Catherine added, “Since her husband's death Mrs. Turnbull has little more to do with herself these days than gossip.”

The Colonel grunted in displeasure. “And what's your excuse, Cat?”

“Touché, father.” Catherine looked as though she were going to follow up with a volley of her own, but resisted the temptation. Barely.

“I'm fine, thank you. No news to report,” Elizabeth said, hoping to stop any Stanton family war before it started.

That won another grunt from the Colonel. Maybe there were nuances to his grunts like lowland gorillas.

“Do you have a horse here today, Colonel?” Simon asked, clearly hoping to put the conversation back on safer ground.

The Colonel's chest puffed a bit and he fought down a proud smile. “Yes.” He gestured to the stables, urging Simon to walk with him. “Are you a good judge of horseflesh, Cross?”

Simon bowed to the ladies and let himself be led off by the Colonel.

“I'm sorry about before,” Catherine said. “It's none of my business.”

“It's all right.”

“It isn't,” Catherine said. “I hate it when father's right.”

Elizabeth laughed and Catherine joined her. She wound her arm through Elizabeth's and they started toward the main tent. “Be sure to try the applesauce cookies.”

They found the Harpers under their own white canopy shading them from the warm Spring sun. Tables and chairs had been set up in a comfortable living arrangement, complete with a rug underfoot. Rose oversaw several slaves as they rummaged in large wicker baskets and set the long table for luncheon.

“Hello,” Rose said, giving one final instruction to the slave. “I'm so glad you could come. Would you like something to drink?”

“Thank you, no. I have wagers to make!” Catherine said and then whispered to Elizabeth. “Despite what my father might say, the smart money is on Lionel Duncan's filly.” She winked and promised to find them later.

“Would you like something?” Rose watched Catherine go with an amused smile, before turning her attention fully to Elizabeth. “Sweet tea?”

Elizabeth gladly accepted. Between the ride over and the walk through the dusty concourse she was sure she had half of Natchez in her throat.

“Sit, please,” Rose said, offering Elizabeth a chair.

They both sat down and Louisa hurried over to her mother's side. “Look,” she said, showing her mother a beautifully carved and painted horse, “Uncle Eli got him for me. Isn't he beautiful?”

“Manners, darling,” Rose said with a firm, but encouraging smile.

One of the slaves handed Elizabeth a cool glass of sweet tea.

Louisa gave Elizabeth a quick, shy smile and bobbed a curtsy. “Hello.”

Elizabeth grinned and leaned forward. “Hello. Your horse is very handsome.”

Louisa beamed and her mother pulled her daughter against her side. She examined the wooden animal carefully. “Oh, he is fine looking, isn't he?”

The girl nodded and rested her head on her mother's shoulder as she stared adoringly at the little wooden horse and ran her fingers over its mane.

“Do you like horses very much, Louisa?” Elizabeth asked.

She chewed her lip and nodded. “Daddy says when I'm old enough I can get a pony.”

Rose frowned, but only for a second. “We're still discussing that, darling.”

“I'm going to be eight next week and that's plenty old. Daddy said I can ride as well as any boy twice my age and that I'm twice as pretty too.”

Her mother stifled a laugh and hugged her. “Your father has a way with words.”

“Are my ears burning?” James said as he appeared at the edge of the tent.

“Mrs. Cross,” he said as he took off his hat.

“Elizabeth, please.”

He smiled and leaned down to kiss his wife's cheek. Rose tilted her head to present it, but there was something in her body language, the tilt of her head, the way she looked away that struck Elizabeth. She'd sensed some underlying tension between them at dinner at the Stantons', but had thought perhaps it had been her unfamiliarity with the etiquette of the time. Now, however, she felt sure there was more to it than primness.

“Look, daddy!” Louisa said proudly holding out her horse.

“What have we here?” James said as he scooped his daughter up into his arms.

“From Uncle Eli!”

James admired the horse. “An impressive specimen. But he's a little small to ride, don't you think?”