Thursday's Child (Out of Time #5) (23 page)

When they'd retired to their rooms and the lights had been put out, they talked again, finding hope and strength in each other. If Simon had learned anything in the last year and a half of his life, it was that whatever you expected to happen, seldom did. And, much to his amazement, what did happen was usually quite wonderful.

Elizabeth groaned softly in her sleep. A small frown creased her forehead.

“It's all right,” he whispered and the worry lines melted away. He leaned over and kissed her temple and a sleepy smile came to her lips.

If only every fear were so easily assuaged.

Simon lay back down, folded his arms behind his head and stared up into the darkness. He had spent the better part of a lifetime worrying about what had been and fearing what had yet to come. Now that he had a life worth living, he'd sworn he would never go back to the way it was before, to never waste today worrying about tomorrow. Be prepared, he'd told himself, but be present.

There was no way to know if what Old Nan had prophesied would come to be until it had come to be. He would not spend his life living in fear. He would not let Elizabeth live her life that way either. They would face whatever came together and together there was nothing they could not do. It should have been an absurd thought. It was childish and fanciful. And yet, for a man of no faith, he had faith in this. He had faith in her, in himself, in what they were together.

Prophecies be damned.

He pushed out a heavy breath. They had work to do
here
.
Now
. There was a child who needed them. Now. And he'd made a promise to her. One he would not break, although he did not know how to keep it.

He lowered his arms and Elizabeth rolled toward him. He slipped his arm around her and pulled her to his chest. She rested her head on his shoulder and he closed his eyes.

They would find a way, he thought. That was what they did.

~~~

Elizabeth held Louisa's birthday present in her lap and tried not to think about yesterday. She'd spent the morning reminding herself, with an assist from Simon, that psychics were notoriously inaccurate. In fact, they'd met only a handful that were ever right. The odds of Old Nan's prediction, if it could even be called that, being accurate, were negligible.

Of course, even the possibility that she might be right weighed like a bad burrito in the pit of Elizabeth's stomach. Simon had been right about something else as well, though. Worrying about what was yet to be was pointless. They could do nothing to alter the future, but they could do something here and now. Mary Stewart needed them, and letting her down was unthinkable.

A wheel of their buggy dipped into a rut made by the recent storms and the entire thing lurched and bounced until Simon steered them clear of it.

“Sorry,” Simon said.

Elizabeth gripped the arm railing. “How far do you think we are?”

Simon looked around at the nondescript woods and shook his head. “Not far, but Genevieve's description was somewhat vague.”

The woman had given Simon a rough description of the house Alice and Mary Stewart had lived in. It was a small cottage down a shady lane near a split oak. Genevieve had said she thought it was about four or five miles out of town and just off the main road, but she'd never actually been there herself.

They traveled another half-mile or so before they came upon a man and his small wagon stopped by the side of the road. Judging from the rough shape his horse and clothes were in, it looked like the man might be a tenant farmer or a day laborer who worked for one of the so-called yeoman farmers. Both classes of poor whites in the South lived on the rung just above free blacks and slaves.

The man bent over next to his horse and coaxed it to give him his leg. He pried dirt and debris free from the horseshoe with a short knife. He looked up as their buggy drew along side and tipped his hat. Elizabeth smiled back at him as Simon eased the buggy to a stop.

“Good day,” Simon said.

The man let the horse's leg drop and then rubbed the lower calf before standing again. “Suh. Ma'am,” he said, taking off his hat and clutching it to his chest. He squinted up at them through the bright morning sun.

“We were wondering,” Simon said. “Do you know of a small cottage nearby? A woman and her child used to live there. Alice Stewart?”

The man scratched his neck and nodded. “Yassuh.” He pointed up the road. “About hundred yards up thataway.”

“Thank you.”

Elizabeth settled back in her seat as Simon lifted the reins to give them a flick.

“But, uh, it ain't there no more,” he said. “They tored it down last week.”

They both turned back to the man. “Who did?” Simon asked.

The man frowned. “Owners. I s'pose.”

She could feel Simon's impatience as he looked beseechingly to the heavens.

“Do you know who they are?” Elizabeth asked.

The man smiled up at her and then ducked his head shyly, apparently not used to speaking to a wealthy woman. “That's Harper land, ma'am.”

“James Harper of River Run?” Simon asked.

He nodded. “Yassuh. All the way back to that creek y'all just passed,” he said with a stab of his thumb back down the road.

“Do you work for them? The Harpers?”

“Naw, suh. I work for the Millers just over yonder. They's neighbors to the Harpers.”

“I see,” Simon said. He tipped his hat and the man bowed in response. “Thank you very much.”

“Yassuh. Ma'am,” the man said, bobbing his head and bowing as Simon shook the reins to their buggy and they pulled away.

“Well,” Elizabeth said. “That was interesting, wasn't it?”

“It was indeed,” Simon said. “So the Harpers were Alice's landlord.”

“And more?”

Simon sighed. “It's hard to imagine otherwise at this point, isn't it? If Mary is a Harper, either James or Eli has to be her father. They wouldn't be the first man to set up a mistress in a secluded hideaway.”

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. He'd told her about the hole he'd seen in Alice's skull. “Having an affair is one thing, but killing her is another.”

“It could have been an accident,” Simon said.

“Yeah, but you don't accidentally bury someone.”

“No,” he conceded with a wry smile. “The grave was shallow, hastily dug. Perhaps whoever killed her, panicked. If he'd taken the time to do the job properly, we'd be none the wiser.”

Elizabeth studied the terrain as they traveled on to River Run. “I'm kind of turned around. We're not that far from where they found her, are we?”

“No,” Simon said. “Not far at all, I think.” He nodded toward the woods to their left. “That small hollow. We drove the fox that way and then doubled back. That was just before I found you and that snake-charmer.”

Simon glowered at the memory and Elizabeth giggled. He turned his glare on her. “Should our positions have been reversed, I doubt you would find it quite so amusing.”

He definitely had a point there. Mostly. “You're right. Imagine though if I had to sneak into a brothel to interview a handsome gigolo. Twice.”

Simon snorted.

“Anyway,” Elizabeth said. “I just have trouble picturing Eli doing any of this.”

“He's not unfamiliar with prostitutes,” Simon pointed out with a small measure of smugness.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “I know, but having a child with one and setting her up in a love-nest when he's already in love with Rose? It just doesn't fit.”

“Perhaps it wasn't quite so romantic,” he said. “But more of a practical nature.”

“I don't know. Eli's handsome,” Elizabeth said and ignored his derisive snort. “And wealthy and fun to be with. For some of us, it just feels off.”

Simon frowned and hmm'd out loud.

“What?” Elizabeth asked.

“Well,” he said, a little reluctantly. “We've assumed Alice was the wronged party.”

Elizabeth shrugged. “Well, she is the dead party, so—”

“Yes, but what if it wasn't a love-nest or anything of the sort. There are women who seek out wealthy men…Become involved and then use a pregnancy to…”

“Blackmail them?”

“Yes,” Simon said.

“You sound familiar with this,” Elizabeth said, squinting at him, but unable to hide her smile. “Anything you'd like to tell me?”

She'd been joking, but Simon was stinking rich and honorable. He'd make a heck of a target for any gold-digger.

“Not personally,” he said with a smile. “But there were friends at school.”

Elizabeth watched the scenery roll by and said, thinking aloud, “So maybe one of them had an affair with Alice, and whether it was their own sense of responsibility for the child or her leveraging the situation, she got set up in a nice little house in the country.”

“Until something changed,” Simon said. “A month ago, something changed. Something drastic enough to cost her her life.”

“And possibly Mary's,” Elizabeth added. “Everyone's said she was a sickly child. But don't you wonder? If her mother was murdered…”

“Yes,” he said with a dark look in his eyes. “And if that's the case, God help them.”

Elizabeth felt the same way. If Mary had been murdered, she and Simon would turn over heaven and earth for justice. If only they knew where to start.

~~~

The party was in full swing by the time Simon and Elizabeth arrived. A dozen or so children, wearing their finest dresses and suits, played on the back lawn at River Run. Elizabeth could see two boys playing hoop and stick, which involved rolling a large wooden hoop and chasing after it, using the stick to keep it rolling. An Xbox, it was not. But, judging from the peals of joyful laughter, it hardly mattered. A group of girls watched primly from the sidelines, missing all the fun, as the boys raced from one end of the manicured lawn to the other.

Long tables had been elaborately set up with fine silver and porcelain for the coming lunch. Slaves hurried back and forth from the kitchen to make sure everything was perfect for the meal. Adults either lingered on the veranda or under a large white tent that provided additional shade. They chatted and drank, admiring the extravagant table overflowing with already opened presents.

Rose pulled herself away from a few guests and ascended the back steps to Simon and Elizabeth on the veranda. “I’m so glad you could come,” she said with a genuine and warm smile. “Louisa!”

Her daughter dutifully hurried over to them and curtseyed. Simon gave her a gentlemanly bow in return.

“Thank you so much for coming to my party,” she said and looked to her mother for approval.

Rose smiled.

“This is for you,” Elizabeth said as she held out their gift. “Happy birthday.”

“Happy birthday,” Simon said.

Louisa took the box and looked to her mother again for confirmation. Rose nodded and Louisa set it down and carefully unwrapped the brightly colored paper.

“Cross,” James said as he appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “Miss Elizabeth.”

He joined them on the veranda and shook Simon's hand.

Louisa put the wrapping paper aside and opened the long flat mahogany box to reveal a set of pearl handled combs and brushes. She smiled up at her mother and held one up for her to see. “Oh, they're so beautiful! Look momma, like yours!”

Rose leaned down to admire them. “They're lovely,” she said, smiling her thanks to Simon and Elizabeth.

“Look daddy!”

James scooped her up into his arms. “Very pretty. For a very pretty girl.”

Louisa giggled and toyed with the bristles of one of the brushes.

She was a pretty girl and her hair was lovely. It had been the reason they'd thought of the brushes in the first place. Enviable, gentle auburn curls framed her heart-shaped face.

As Elizabeth took in the handsome family — mother, father and daughter — at the same time, her throat went dry. She knew now what had been nagging at the back of her mind since the races: Louisa's heart-shaped face. She had a widow's peak, but neither James nor Rose did. To anyone else it would have meant nothing, but to Elizabeth it was a three-alarm job.

Everything else seemed to fade into the background as Elizabeth digested the truth. Louisa was not their biological child. She couldn't be.

Elizabeth came back to herself as James said something that made Louisa giggle.

“It's perfect,” Louisa said.

Elizabeth struggled to catch up.

“Already?” James said with a mock frown. “Even before your big present? Perhaps you don't need it after all.”

“What is it?” Louisa said, bouncing in his arms.

“Come and see,” he said as he carried her down the stairs.

Elizabeth wanted to drag Simon off and tell him, but Rose turned to her and smiled, somewhat ashamed. “He spoils her so. Well,” she said as she looped her arm through Elizabeth's, “shall we go see what he's done?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said, still stunned by the revelation. “What has he done?”

Chapter Twenty

Simon watched as the children and the parents cooed over Louisa's “big present”. As James covered Louisa's eyes one of the grooms led out a stunning white pony. The child squealed with joy in an octave only little girls and castrati could achieve, and then ran back and forth between her father and her new horse. The other children were duly impressed and wasted no time on working on their parents for the next gift opportunity.

James lifted Louisa up onto the elaborate saddle on the pony's back and walked her past her guests like the queen leaving Buckingham Palace. It reminded Simon of parties he'd been forced to attend as a child. Those were usually displays of wealth meant to impress adults and had little to do with the child's happiness. At least, in this case, the girl was clearly ecstatic.

“Just like Bonnie Blue,” Elizabeth said as she came to his side.

Simon frowned down at her. She'd promised no
Gone With the Wind
references. He was actually amazed she'd lasted this long.

She slipped her arm through his and nodded toward the far side of the garden. “Walk with me?”

Always happy to be alone with her, he gladly complied. They walked away from the crowd and Elizabeth steered him to a semi-secluded spot out of earshot of the others.