Whispers from the Past (33 page)

She shoved her shades back on. “When will you leave?”

“I don’t know.” That was misleading. It had to be by this weekend, but there was no use telling her any details.

Shaking hands raked through her hair again, combing, twisting. “So, you’re going after her even though I don’t want you to?”

I looked at her, pity and sadness welling up in me. She had offered me the opening I needed to end this here and now. In a weird way, this moment felt inevitable. I’d agreed to be half of a fake couple with her because we’d been hanging out together already as a “pair” of friends. Yet I’d always known it would never progress to something real. Summer would come. We’d go our separate ways. There would never be anything serious or magical about the way I felt for Gabrielle.

I might not have known that if there had never been a Susanna. Even though the breakup was horrible, I couldn’t regret what we’d shared. Gabrielle needed to feel that way about a guy, and she needed a guy to feel that way about her. That would never happen with me. I had to take this opportunity that Gabrielle had handed me to do the right thing. “I will
always
choose Susanna. You deserve better than that, Gabrielle. You have to find the guy who will put you first.”

Her mouth rounded in horror. “What are you saying?”

I had to spell it out. Clearly. “It’s time for our agreement to be over.”

“Stop, Mark. That’s not what I want. It’s just—”

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice firm. “This isn’t working for either of us. We need to let it end.”

She shook her head in forceful denial, brushed tears from her cheeks, and then reached for the door. Choking back a sob, she slipped into the dusk.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-N
INE

A
N
O
PEN
D
ECLARATION

The very next morning, Dorcas joined us at Mrs. Whitcomb’s house and quickly absorbed herself into the patterns of the household. My responsibilities to Mrs. Whitcomb would lessen as I grew into a role as lady’s maid to Dorcas. Already, I knew what to do before she asked.

Dorcas, as always, treated me more familiarly than was wise. I knew better, and so did she. Yet we could not bring ourselves to behave. The other servants noted this and were resentful. It was unfortunate, but I did nothing to change her. Perhaps I had been overly influenced by the future. Not only had it shown me how to step over boundaries, it had also taught me that boundaries were something we were meant to breach at times.

On Monday, Dr. Eton arrived at half past ten as he had been wont to do over the weekend. I noted the shy blush in Dorcas’s cheeks and the amused gleam to Mrs. Whitcomb’s eyes as he entered the parlor.

“Why, William, what a lovely surprise. I do not see nearly enough of you.”

“Good morning to you too, Aunt Cornelia.” He gave a small bow to Dorcas. “Miss Pratt.”

The timbre of his voice changed with her. It held suppressed excitement. I was so very glad for her, though I knew a pang as well. He might have been my brother-in-law if things had been different. Was it a betrayal of my sister’s memory that I should be pleased to see his admiration for Dorcas?

“Have you made plans to return to Edenton?” My mistress kept her attention on her needlework, but her sideways glance let me know of her deep interest.

“I shall wish to…” He stopped and frowned. “I have an issue to resolve before I am willing to leave.”

So, Dr. Eton did plan to return to Edenton. When his wife died in a house fire last year, it was said that he buried his grief by working ferociously. The gossips claimed that he’d grown exhausted and had come to his parents’ home in March to rest. He had extended his visit for so long that we’d all begun to wonder if he planned to stay.

William nodded at his aunt. “The good people of Edenton need me. I shall not disappoint them.” He sought and held Dorcas’s gaze.

I watched her, too. Her face reflected conflicting emotions. There was bright-eyed wonder in her eyes, and yet her lips had paled with despair. How I longed to pull her aside and offer comfort, but it would have to wait until we were in private.

Later, as I helped Dorcas dress for her birthday party, I was finally able to speak freely. “What is wrong?”

She met my gaze in the mirror. “I do not like to hear Dr. Eton talk of leaving.”

“Has he made any expression of fond regard?”

Something like a sob forced its way past her lips. “I cannot tell if he is being kind or if it is something more. It might be easier if he did not care. Papa will not allow me…” The words died away.

I nodded. It did not matter that this was a far more brilliant match than any of the Pratt children could have ever expected, or that Dorcas had few prospects for marriage. Jethro Pratt would never agree to this alliance. His humiliation at the hands of both Dorcas and William Eton in the courtroom had guaranteed his lifelong hostility.

“Please do not lose hope, little one.”

She shook her head. “I already have. Papa would have many excellent excuses to deny a marriage between me and William. We have known each other too briefly. I am too young. Edenton is too far. A young lady with a limp cannot sustain the household of a doctor’s wife.” She pressed a fist to her lips. “William will go home to Edenton and forget me soon enough.”

Did she worry that he would find another? “He will not forget you, Dorcas. It is impossible. His admiration for you is clear.”

“Is admiration enough to survive three years of separation? Without Papa’s consent, I shall be forced to wait until my twenty-first birthday to choose for myself.”

“Perhaps Dr. Eton feels something stronger than admiration. If time is the only obstacle, he will wait.” I searched my memory for recollections of his will. William had left all he had to nieces and nephews. I’d assumed he’d never remarried. Yet now, he had met Dorcas.

Had my petition altered their history, too? Oh, I wished it to be true.

“Susanna, I cannot allow myself to hope.”

I spun her around and gazed on her beauty with something akin to maternal pride. “If I must, I shall hope enough for the both of us.” I hugged her against me. “Let us go. The carriage has been brought around by now.”

The Etons had graciously offered to hold Dorcas’s birthday party in their side yard. The weather had cooperated. Tables groaning with refreshments lay in discreet locations about the lawn. As our carriage pulled up, Dr. Eton hurried over and helped Dorcas down, his expression filled with a hunger that I recognized—for I’d seen it on Mark’s face many times.

My hope for them expanded.

A pleasant crowd had gathered to celebrate, and soon Dorcas had shed her somber mood. She moved from group to group, laughing and chatting, sometimes with Dr. Eton at her side and sometimes with Miss Judith Eton. I watched from the perimeter.

A carriage rattled up the lane an hour into the party. Mr. Pratt jumped out, threw the reins to a waiting servant, and strode up the path.

“Papa, you have found us.” She hurried to him, extending her hands. “They are holding a party in my honor. It is for my birthday.”

“I had not forgotten. April twenty-ninth is your birthday every year.”

The glow left her face. “Of course. Might I take you to greet our hosts?” She took his arm and drew him toward the crowd.

I shrank back into the shadows, but not before he’d sent me a fierce frown.

Mrs. Whitcomb offered her hand. “Mr. Pratt, I am so glad you’ve joined us.”

“I cannot stay long. I am here to fetch my daughter.”

Dorcas’s smile remained in place, but I could see it was strained. “Must I leave so soon?”

“We would not wish to prey on Mrs. Whitcomb’s hospitality.”

My mistress inclined her head. “It is no trouble, Mr. Pratt. She is welcome to stay longer.”

“Thank you, but I must decline.” He gave a small bow. “We shall leave directly after the end of this celebration, while there is still time to reach our home before the sun fades.”

I debated what to do. I could not let her go. Not for another week. Dorcas must not be in Worthville on Sunday, but neither could I intervene before so many. A servant had no role in this affair.

Dr. Eton had stepped forward. “Perhaps I could have a word with you in private, Mr. Pratt.”

“I do not see the necessity,” Mr. Pratt said. “If you have nothing to hide, then speak.”

“Very well.” William reached for Dorcas’s hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. “I should like your permission to court your daughter.”

The entire assemblage quieted. William Eton—son to a senator and war hero, grandson to a royal governor—had made an open declaration for my sweet Dorcas. In so public a forum, it was tantamount to an offer of marriage.

The smile of supreme joy that lit Dorcas’s face was breathtaking. It struck even William mute. This moment was wonderful—for it said not only that they loved one another, but also that she had worth despite her damaged limb. Dorcas Pratt had landed the catch of Raleigh society.

All eyes were on the happy couple. Only I switched my attention to Mr. Pratt.

His stunned expression hardened into a mask of fury, at them and perhaps at himself. Had Dr. Eton approached him in private, the rest of us would be none the wiser when Mr. Pratt turned him down—as most assuredly he would have.

Truly, Mr. Pratt had no options here. He could not reject one of the state’s finest families for a daughter who would, arguably, have languished without any suitors otherwise. It would be simply unthinkable to deny William Eton’s suit—for courtship or marriage. If Mr. Pratt did so, he would be a pariah, unlikely to sell a horse to anyone present again. His reputation would be in tatters.

His gaze locked on me with a suddenness that prevented any attempt to hide my interest. His fury altered into something closer to malice. Did he blame me for this turn of events? As much as I would have liked to lay claim to the cleverness of the matchmaking, it was not my victory, no matter what he thought.

“Mr. Pratt?” William prompted when he was able to wrench his attention away from Dorcas.

“Yes, Dr. Eton, you may,” Mr. Pratt said with barely concealed reluctance. “You would be wise to set a slow pace, as you have noticed, no doubt, that my daughter will never be able to keep up otherwise.”

What a vile…asshole he was!

There were gasps from the crowd. The color drained from Dorcas’s face as she stared with shocked eyes at her father. William slipped his free arm behind his back, fist clenched.

Mrs. Eton stepped forward and broke the embarrassed silence. “Their courtship will be bounded by the fact that my son returns to Edenton at the end of May. Might I beg your permission to have Miss Pratt remain another week? We should not like to see their time together so cruelly paused before it has even begun.”

Mr. Pratt eyed her with mild impatience. “It will not be possible for me to return again for a while.”

“Papa,” Dorcas said, her voice wavering only slightly. “Aaron and Deborah will be here next week. They can fetch me.”

“I do not think—”

“A perfect solution,” Mrs. Eton declared. She laid a light hand on Mr. Pratt’s arm. “Thank you.”

“Indeed.” He glared at her, his mouth a slash of thwarted frustration. She had boxed him in before too many valuable people.

“Then that is settled.” Mrs. Eton smiled as she tugged gently on his arm. “Allow me to find you some refreshment.”

As Mr. Pratt followed Mrs. Eton, Dorcas and William strolled toward a quiet bench under a spreading oak. I followed at a discreet distance to maintain the proprieties.

“William, I am so very happy,” she whispered. “I adore you. Did you know?”

“I had hoped.” He kissed her hand and then murmured something I could not hear.

She blushed a deep shade of rose. “I can hardly believe my ears. We shall be together.”

He laughed. “When I see my future, you are there at my side.”

“Yet there is only a week before I return to Worthville.”

Their words were too private for me to listen. I edged away, but not before I heard him say, “I have no intention of being separated from you so soon.”

And he would not, for a tragedy lurked ahead. There would soon be no Worthville to return to.

On Sunday, May fifth, everything would change.

C
HAPTER
F
ORTY

E
NOUGH
T
HINKING

Friday night found me hiding out in my bedroom, packing my stuff in a canvas sack. Tomorrow morning, I would visit the past through Whisper Falls, probably for the last time. The construction company’s website said that the channel would be cut through on Monday. It had been easy to make my decision about when to leave. Saturday had to be the day. My parents would be at the lake house for big chores. Marissa had to work at the literacy center. I’d be long gone before anyone read their email.

I couldn’t be sure when I’d get back, and I didn’t want any more arguments.

My phone buzzed. I glanced at the caller ID and reached for it.
Jesse
? “Hey.”

“Yeah.” There was a pause. “So, it’s been awkward.”

“Agreed.” The past two days at school had been a nightmare. Jesse and Benita, of course, knew about the “breakup,” but no one else did. The stress was horrible.

Psychology had been the worst. Gabrielle and I sat next to each other. She’d continued to make tiny gestures toward me so that anyone watching would think we were a couple. Only I could see how forced they were.

“You sure you can’t make it to Benita’s concert tomorrow?”

“Sorry, no.”

“Is it because Gabrielle’s going?”

“No, I’m actually busy.” I missed losing Gabrielle as a friend. I missed hanging out with Jesse and Benita, the four of us. But I didn’t know how we could go back to the way we’d been.

It was my last month of high school, and I might be spending it alone.

I would’ve preferred getting the news out there. No, not Gabrielle. That decision had been made in committee. Olivia didn’t want it known how quickly the post-Korry relationship with a normal guy had fallen apart.