When the Splendor Falls (29 page)

Shivering slightly, Leigh hid her face in her hands, ashamed of the rush of heat that had burned into her cheeks just at the thought of Neil. Would she ever be able to forget his touch, the feel of his lips against hers? Why did he have to come swaggering into her life? A week ago she would have gladly accepted Matthew’s proposal of marriage. Never doubting that she was in love with him, never doubting she would happily spend the rest of her life with him. But now…now she was no longer certain of her feelings for Matthew.

What did she feel for him? When he had arrived at Travers Hill she had been glad to see him, but her heart hadn’t quickened its beat, thumping uncomfortably because she was near him. He was still one of the most handsome men she knew, with his black hair and soft brown eyes, so full of gentle humor and compassion, and love when they met hers. Tall and broad-shouldered, he stood above every other man in a crowd, but not just because of his greater physical attributes. Matthew had a presence about him, a quality of honor and integrity that came from within. He was all that she’d ever dreamed about in a man, and he wanted to marry her.

Leigh drew a deep breath, thinking of Althea, of her gentle words of wisdom, of the love she shared with Nathan. In fact, Matthew reminded her quite a bit of Nathan with his quiet strength. Then she thought of Stuart James, and the sadness of the broken dreams he could not hide, of his hopes that now, because of Matthew, he might see fulfilled.

What was she to do? Why should she even be questioning her feelings? Leigh asked herself. After all, Neil was a stranger, and he’d never been part of her life at Travers Hill, nor did he wish to be. He had made that very clear by his absence. And from what Guy had told her, he apparently had been enjoying himself at Evergreens, and in the company of Sarette Canby the last few days.

Continuing to stand before the opened window, lost in her thoughts, Leigh became aware of the sunset, reflected by a rosy glow shimmering on the river in the distance. Above the dark silhouette of the trees along the bank, the sky was losing its golden light, the streaks of mauve and lavender fading into violet. Leigh shivered slightly as she felt the coolness of twilight touch her, then her laughter sounded softly. She was being foolish. Everything would work out the way it was meant to. She needn’t worry, for she had all the time in the world to discover her true feelings—and Neil’s. No one was forcing her to do anything against her will. She touched her throat, easing the restriction that had momentarily tightened it. Feeling the bareness of skin beneath her fingertips, she suddenly remembered her cameo brooch, left in her mother’s bedchamber yesterday. Her mother was going to attach a new velvet ribbon to it so it could be worn this evening. She had to retrieve it, before their mother began the lengthy preparations of her toilette—and no one dared disturb her then.

Leigh hurried from her bedchamber, stopping briefly to close the half-opened door to Guy’s room, which was now being used by their Aunt Maribel Lu and Uncle Jay. She knocked first, peeking around the door, just in case her aunt and uncle were inside, but on seeing the empty room, she started to close the door, her gaze lingering in disbelief on the jumble within. Trunks were stacked almost to the ceiling against one wall. Round, striped hat boxes were piled high on the bed, with a couple of the exotic bonnets having escaped to perch on top of the bed posts, while stockings of every shade were tied like big bows around the girth of each fluted post. Dainty parasols, some fringed, some spangled, some lace-edged, and one that looked like a small red pagoda, were propped against the foot of the bed. Several headless dress forms, garbed in Aunt Maribel Lu’s finest gowns, stood at attention near the windows, and were surrounded by a small army of shoes, slippers, and boots.

Shaking her head, Leigh backed out of the bedchamber, wondering if there had been room left in the trunks for Uncle Jay to bring a change of clothes. She had almost reached her mother’s bedchamber when Leigh paused, a puzzled expression on her face as she wondered about the empty spaces on Guy’s bedchamber wall. Many of his valued pistols were missing from his collection. Odd that he would take those with him, when he’d cleaned out his chest of drawers for his short stay in the bachelors’ quarters, Leigh thought. She was starting to take a step closer to her mother’s door when she heard voices coming from within and she stopped, not wishing to intrude. The voices, however, which she recognized as her parents’, were clearly audible.

“…and you’ve put far too much money into Willow Creek to help Stuart James make that plantation pay, and so far there has been little enough to show for it, except for Thisbe Anne’s efforts. I will say that much for her, she, at least, has been putting her time, and our money, to use. I only wish I could say the same thing about your son. Did I not already know the answer, I would demand an accounting of exactly what those funds are being spent on. But I can tell you exactly what that money has been spent for. Thisbe has been spending all that we send down there just to make that house look like some kind of palace,” Beatrice Amelia said. “And I doubt very seriously it will ever be another Monticello. Do you know what she is talking about doing now? She is actually thinking about renaming Willow Creek. The name is not dignified enough for our Thisbe, oh, no, she has to have something fancy in French. Asked me, she did indeed, since I attended Madame Talvande’s, and, if I do say so myself, can speak French as well as my ancestors in France did, if I had any ideas? Your grandmother, and a fine woman she was, must be turning in her grave, and I said as much to Stuart James. But he just shook his head. Never have known what that boy is thinking.

“Well, I can tell you, I gave Thisbe an idea or two to think about. I declare, but she must have thought when she up and married Stuart James that she’d be living like a queen, being waited on hand and foot. If we all sat around fanning ourselves nothing would get done around here. She didn’t even know how to mix up a decent batch of medicine, and claimed she wouldn’t set foot inside one of those dirty cabins out back. Well, I ask you, if the house servants get sick and die, who’s going to do all the cooking, scrubbing, and cleaning she expects to be done every day so she can lie in bed until noon? Yes, doesn’t stir herself until then, and then she’s off calling on the neighbors in her carriage. You cannot leave your home and the servants unsupervised, it’s asking for trouble. And I tell you, Stuart, I don’t like her attitude toward her servants at all. I’m not surprised they’re sullen and surly to her. Treats them like animals, and mistreated ones at that. I declare, I heard she even took the whip to some of them herself. Scandalous behavior! And can you imagine, she didn’t even know how to salt pork, Stuart. And the linens at Willow Creek the last time we visited weren’t fit for decent folk to sleep on. She doesn’t know anything about washing. Some neighborhood woman always came in and did it for her family in Philadelphia. I don’t really blame Thisbe Anne for that, because it was her mother’s place to prepare her for marriage. She hasn’t got an excuse now, but she won’t raise a finger to do anything around that place. Thinks she can just sashay out and buy whatever she needs.

“Not that I don’t think Stuart James and his family ought to have a proper place to live, but really, Stuart, do they need a twelve-columned portico and eight chimneys? And the furniture she has special ordered, have you heard about that? Took three hours to show me all of the swatches, and I’ve never seen the like. Striped satins in the brightest colors I’ve ever seen and funny-looking doodads stuck all over everything. She went up to Philadelphia to order her furnishings. You’d think Richmond, or certainly Charleston, would be good enough. Well, apparently not for the likes of Thisbe, I’m thinking. Has all of her gowns made by some outrageously expensive dressmaker, and in New York of all places. What do they know about fashion up North? Except for the fact that Thisbe doesn’t even blink an eye about owning slaves, she is about as Yankee as they come,” Beatrice Amelia said, sniffing with disapproval. “I never did think Thisbe would make our Stuart James a good wife. He has gotten so thin and nervous since last we saw him. I’m sure you remember my very words, and spoken in this room not more than six years past,” Beatrice Amelia reminded her husband. “Nothing good will come of that marriage, I said. Not that I’m displeased with young Leslie and Cynthia, for they do us proud. Cynthia Amelia is already blossoming into a beauty, and how she does love her Grandmama Travers’s sugar cookies,” Beatrice Amelia said with a pleased chuckle.

“Needs a hickory stick taken to her more than another sweet,” Stuart mumbled.

“She’s a bit high-spirited, that’s all,” Beatrice Amelia said, defending her granddaughter.

“Noelle is a bit high-spirited. Cynthia is spoiled rotten,” Stuart corrected, ignoring the irritated glance he knew was being leveled at him from a pair of narrowed, dark blue eyes beneath finely arched eyebrows. “And if a man hasn’t enough gumption to remain master in his own house, then he should be gelded and sent out to pasture. If Stuart James was master of Willow Creek, he’d sit that Thisbe Anne down and give her a good talking to. Have you seen the way that young woman’s been flirting with any man who can fill up a pair of breeches?”

“It seems to me that Stuart James isn’t the only one who can’t seem to stand firm when Thisbe Anne starts her wheedling ways. I’m surprised you haven’t busted a button so puffed up you’ve become,” Beatrice Amelia returned, not seeing the startled look her husband sent her from under hastily lowered bushy brows, but her remark had been innocently spoken.

“And here you stand before me now, telling me that we can’t even paint our own house, when Thisbe, the young Mrs. Travers, has painted and repapered that mausoleum of hers inside and out, and with our money! And off to Newport for a month to recover from the redecorating, then on to Philadelphia to spend the holidays with her family, when we haven’t even been to Charlottesville once this month, and, I dare say, we won’t be able to visit Warm Springs this year. The waters would do me such good. Well, I just don’t know what to say,” Beatrice Amelia said with a tearful catch in her voice.

“I’m certain you will find something, my dear,” Stuart said patiently.

“Are you being impertinent, Mr. Travers?”

“Not at all, Mrs. Travers. Just confident of your ability to find the appropriate words to express yourself.”

“Well, I always have prided myself on saying what was on my mind. I’m not one to suffer in silence, as well you know,” Beatrice Amelia declared. “I do so wish Stuart James had taken my advice and married that Bartley girl. An only child, Stuart, and an heiress now. They say she has had several offers from European royalty. Even Sarette Canby would have been better.”

“No son, or daughter, of mine will ever marry a Canby.”

“That’s just because you think none of them has any horse sense. Well, at least Althea Louise made a splendid match, and Leigh Alexandra will even outdo Althea. I wonder how wealthy Matthew Wycliffe really is. I’ll have to get a letter off to my cousin Benjamin and find out. Oh, Stuart, I declare, this truly is the best news I’ve heard in some time. I feel quite refreshed by it all, despite everything else. Indeed, dear, I feel all of our worries are past. You mark my words.”

“I will not borrow money from my children, or their spouses, Mrs. Travers,” he said, more sternly this time.

“Now, now,
Mr. Travers
, dear,” Beatrice Amelia responded with a conciliatory note in her voice. “I wasn’t suggesting anything of the kind, and well you know. However, it certainly would be to our advantage having Matthew as our son-in-law. He would hardly foreclose on Travers Hill and evict us from our home like others might if we failed to make our mortgage payments on time. Out in the snow, the lot of us! Lucky you are, Mr. Travers, he is indeed to become our son-in-law.”

“I am no fool,
Mrs. Travers
, despite what you may believe, and I only dealt with Matthew in the first place because he is so honorable a gentleman. There would never be any cause for concern should I default on my payments. He’d never call in the mortgage, even if his suit were rejected by our daughter, and he remained outside of this family.”

“Hmmmph, you know nothing about an
affaire de coeur,
Mr. Travers, if you believe that,” Beatrice Amelia warned her husband, thinking men were indeed fools at times. “We cannot afford to take any chances, or make any mistakes now. Things are not as rosy as you would paint them. I know you’re planning to sell off that bottom land on the south side of the river.”

“The Braedons have wanted that land ever since they got River Oaks Farm, and before that old Merton himself tried to buy it off my papa. Reckon it just might be the time to sell it to them. We don’t have much use for it anymore,” he explained, his reasoning sounding well even in his own ears, Stuart Travers thought, wondering if he’d fooled Beatrice Amelia.

“I heard you talking to J. Kirkfield Samuelson not more than two hours ago about getting a loan from his bank. I could see he was reluctant to agree to that. Never seen a man who can wiggle and squirm more than he does and never move an inch. Then I heard you tell him you were thinking about selling off those city lots you own in Richmond. Saw him perk up at that. You mark my words, Stuart Travers, J. Kirkfield is a banker first, and a brother-in-law second, and he’s the first to remind you of that. Many a time I’ve heard him say he must think of the bank’s investors and answer to the board of directors for every penny spent. And I might add those very same directors he claims he has to be so subservient to are all friends of his. But he is fond of assuring you that if it were up to him alone, then the bank’s vault would be open to you. Cold comfort indeed, the tightfisted miser. I’ve yet to see a penny squeezed out of his bank that he doesn’t get back a dime.”

“Now, now, Bea. We will do just fine. I don’t want you worrying about this. The memory of the ol’ colonel, and that sword he was fond of wearing strapped to his waist, is still too vivid in my mind to ever do anything to disturb his resting in peace. His daughter will never be destitute, promised him that when I asked for your hand in marriage. But good Lord, woman, no one is ever going to foreclose on Travers Hill. This is our home. I’d die before I’d ever let that happen. I’m a Travers! Don’t I always manage to find the money we need? Persiana is in foal, and she gave us Tuscany, don’t forget that. And when he wins the race on Sunday, well, you just wait and see, we’ll be sitting pretty again, and I’ll take you to Charleston to get yourself some fancy new gowns and gewgaws, then we’ll go to Newport, and enjoy ourselves promenading. And, this is in confidence, don’t want to tip our hand to any of our neighbors, but Matthew has been talking, just hints, of course, about leaving Sea Racer here. Put that beautiful stallion in the paddock with Blanchefleur, or perhaps even Damascena. And Matthew will pay plenty for that privilege. Of course, it will be Leigh’s decision. Figure we might even be able to get one of the foals as part of the deal the next time, if she, and Matthew, agree, of course.”