Chapter 9
9
W hy couldn’t she help Delilah in the kitchen? Katie wanted to be anywhere but standing beside her husband. Just that word, husband, sent a skitter up her spine.
“First the house, then the grounds,” Josiah said. “I think you should be sufficiently rested for an afternoon ride.”
“A ride?” She could not contain her smile. “That would be lovely.”
“Thought the sleepyhead would like that as much as I do.”
“I’m so sorry about that. It’s not like me to fritter away the morning in bed.”
He laughed. “Not a problem. I was glad you could sleep.”
“Ma would be mortified.”
“As Mrs. Richardson, your life affords you a few more luxuries than you’re accustomed to.”
“You won’t tell her?”
“You’re a married woman. The only thing that matters now is if I do a good job of keeping you happy.”
Her head snapped up. “ You keep me happy?”
He laughed. “Why not? Isn’t that a husband’s pleasure?”
An unfamiliar feeling stirred in her heart, one she could not define. She had agreed to their arrangement with the forgone conclusion they would have nothing in common and remain distant. But he liked riding and tickled her funny bone with his humor. And he was kinder than she’d expected. Her emotions tumbled, trying to compute this surprising knowledge.
“Are you ready? Because you’re wearing the strangest expression.”
“Lead the way.” She swept her hand ahead.
Together they walked from the kitchen, down the hall, and through to the grand entrance. Her gaze flicked from the gilded framed portraits gracing the wall up the curved staircase to the balcony above and the lofty ceiling. How small and gauche the grandeur made her feel.
He pointed to the steps.
She stopped her ascent at the first two portraits. “Your parents?”
He nodded. “As you can see, I get my splendid looks from my mother.”
Katie studied the average-looking but commanding gentleman and the stunning woman. Her gaze flickered between the paintings and the man at her side. His tone sounded as though he was joking, but his words spoke truth.
“I brought these all the way from Williamsburg. Our Virginian family roots go back to before the Revolution, which explains the many paintings.” His gaze took on a faraway look.
“Is your family still back there?”
“No.” A shadow of darkness flickered in his eyes.
She hadn’t meant to cause him pain. “I don’t need to know.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, it’s just difficult.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he looked up at the pictures.
“My parents, Cameron and Fiona, were killed in a stagecoach accident when I was eighteen. They were known for their unpopular abolitionists beliefs, and I’ll always wonder at the legitimacy of the so-called accident that took their lives.”
Katie instinctively touched his arm. “I’m so sorry.”
He looked down at her hand, and she pulled it away.
His eyes lifted back up to the portraits. “Like my father, who didn’t have the stomach for slavery, I wanted nothing to do with that lifestyle. Being their only child, I sold the tobacco plantation and moved here. At one time, the Richardson plantation was the largest and most prestigious in the area. But it had dwindled in size over the years, due to my father selling land to pay staff and maintain a lifestyle that he and mother had long been accustomed to.”
“Was that hard, selling off the family home?”
He looked down at her. “Emotionally, yes. However, the actual ability to find a buyer, not at all. Sometimes, timing is everything. The surrounding plantation owners wanted to increase their holdings and were sure they’d be able to preserve the Southern way. I walked away with enough to purchase much better land in this valley. My one regret is that it wasn’t far enough away to live in peace. When Virginia joined the Confederacy, I was torn. I agreed with the philosophies of the North that black people should be free but joined the South, not able to raise a gun against my old neighbors, family, and friends.”
“That would’ve been a tough decision.”
“The worst. I took a bullet to the leg early in the war, which turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Although not a coward, I didn’t believe in what the South stood for. When I healed enough, they relegated me to looking after the horses and picking up the wounded. Even if this injury plagues me the rest of my days, a greater purpose was served.”
He lifted his gaze to look at his father. “All that pain, all that death. Could we not have found a better way?”
She grappled for a way to change the subject. He was clearly upset, and her curiosity was to blame. “Were you and Georgina already married before you came here?”
He shifted his gaze to look into her eyes. “All I had to do was convince Georgina to marry me, leave her family and everything she had become accustomed to, and follow me into the unknown. No small feat, but somehow I was persuasive enough.”
“Now, that’s a surprise. I can’t imagine you—” Her hand flew to her mouth. Maybe she should not be so blunt.
His eyebrows rose.
“I…just meant you have a way of convincing people to fall in line with your plans.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment.”
Why could she not pick a benign subject? She looked back at the wall. “Why is there no portrait of you or Georgina?”
“Time was not on Georgina’s side.” His voice cracked. “As for myself, all incentive died when she passed away.”
She rested her hand on his arm and squeezed. “I’m so sorry, Josiah. I keep trying to change the subject to something easier, and it’s going from bad to worse.”
A watery smile filtered through. “Do you realize you said my name without hesitation?”
“I did?”
“You did.” He offered his elbow before continuing up the stairs and, because her hand was already on his arm, it did not feel too foreign to slip it into the crook.
“Come, let’s get the inside done so we can get out into the sunshine.”
Room after room was opened. After a few, she said, “Why are so many sparsely furnished?”
“The Yankees used some of the furniture for firewood. Thankfully not all.” He looked down at her. “I’ve thought about what you said yesterday, and I agree. I have much to be thankful for.” He smiled. “With you at the top of my list.”
The intensity in his gaze caused heat to rise and burn her cheeks. She cast her eyes to the floor.
He placed a finger under her chin and raised her head. “I’m thankful you agreed to marry me, whatever the motivation, and I aim to prove your choice a wise one.”
Her stomach flip-flopped, and she gave him the best smile she could muster. His kindness touched a deep reservoir of unchartered emotion. She had spent a lifetime trying to win approval and, for the first time, someone cared about winning hers.
“We’re back to our wing of the upper floor.” He opened a room beside Katie’s. A small bassinet, crib, and rocking chair graced the nursery. “Georgina and I never—” A momentary look of yearning came over his face, but he shut the door without saying a word, just looked down at her as if she was supposed to know what to say.
He wanted children. She could see it in his eyes. But the thought made her hands twist into the folds of her dress. They would have to do a whole lot of what she longed to avoid. Her hand fluttered to her throat.
He turned toward the steps. “Our bedrooms you’ve seen. Later, we can revisit them together.” The tease was back in his tone.
He stopped for a moment to lean on the balcony rail and gaze down to the entrance. “This house is quite grand when you stop long enough to take it in.”
“Grand and unnecessary, if you ask me.”
“Ah, you’re a practical girl. I like that.” He swept his hand down the stairway. “Shall we, my love?”
As they descended the steps, she placed a hand to her heated cheeks. They must be red from his intimate remarks. She was not ready for endearments. Would she ever be?
He crossed the foyer. “This room I love.” He swung open the double doors to an enormous drawing room. The rich oak floor gleamed in the sunlight that poured through the full-length glass doors that opened to the garden beyond. A huge chandelier hung majestically from a sculptured obelisk.
“Crystal,” he said as she gazed upward. “This room transforms into a beautiful ballroom. Almost as beautiful as you.”
He ran the back of his workworn knuckle down her face, and she shivered.
“Maybe this Christmas we’ll invite the community and put this room to use. There’s still so much division between neighbors regarding the freedom of slaves. We could offer something enjoyable to bring the community back together.”
She walked farther into the room so he couldn’t read her face. Parties? Dancing? Her worst nightmare. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead. She had to change the subject, and fast.
“So, why wasn’t this place torched when they left, like?—”
“Can’t be sure, but I think there is truth to the story that a blue coat officer was stationed here and grew partial to the home’s beauty. Rumor has it that he loved music, dance, and entertaining the ladies. Unlike me. I don’t fall easily, but when I do…”
He moved close beside her. A faint woodsy scent filled her senses. When she braved a peek upward, his expression did not hide his longing. She found his honesty unnerving, especially when she felt nothing in return.
The coward in her took over. Her eyes darted around the room. “I’ve heard stories of a ballroom like this and dreamed of seeing one someday, but to think I live in a house with all this grandeur.”
“The house is to your liking?”
“Honestly, Josiah. I can’t deny its loveliness, but it overwhelms me.”
A wide grin split his face, making him look ten years younger. “Look how far we’ve come since yesterday. You’ve used my name twice without prompting. Come, one more thing.” Taking her hand, he pulled her into the kitchen. “But I need the oil lantern.”
“Where are you taking me? To lock me in the dungeon for sleeping in and not fulfilling my part of the bargain last night?”
He laughed as he lit the wick. “I do love your spunk.”
She followed him to a door that opened to a staircase down. “After you.” He took her elbow firmly while she picked up her skirt to descend the steps. The dim, dank place they entered caused an instant chill. She was glad for the glow of the lantern and the warmth of Josiah’s touch. The sound of trickling water and the moisture in the air had her curious.
“This”—he lifted the lantern to his full height, pointing to a cement-lined cistern—“gives us our own fresh water supply. The rainwater from the roof is collected into drainpipes and filtered into this tank. Delilah uses the pump in the kitchen with no need to haul water.”
“How impressive. This would save so much work. You wouldn’t believe how many hours I’ve spent hauling pails of water from the pump to the house, and you’re telling me this no longer has to be done?”
“I knew a hard-working girl like you would value this. I couldn’t take just any girl to the cellar and expect appreciation.”
She grinned up at him. Their eyes locked in the flickering lantern light. Where had her anger from the day before disappeared to? Why did she feel more comfortable with anger than the unsettling thought of liking this man who was now her husband?
“Do you have riding wear?” he asked as they climbed the steps.
“I had my brother’s dungarees, but Ma wouldn’t let me pack them. She insisted that living with you, I would be expected to be a lady. Then she informed me that, after years of riding with my brothers, women are expected to ride side-saddle in a dress and bonnet. Can you imagine the agony? Why, I would land on my backside for sure.”
“You mean you actually wore your brother’s clothes?” His eyes widened as they stepped into the hall.
Heat rose up her neck, but her pride held her steadfast. “Not all of us are born into privilege, Mr. Richardson, and have fancy clothing for every occasion. Some of us are common hard-working people who have to make do with whatever works.” She turned away from him and walked down the hall.
“Whoa, Katherine.” He caught her and reached for her arm. “I didn’t mean to insult you. But that day at the creek, you had your horse.”
Katie nodded. “Yes?”
“You were wearing a dress, not dungarees.”
She didn’t want to remember that day, much less talk about it, especially with him. “I wore the dungarees under the skirt, for propriety’s sake, but I sure haven’t ever ridden side-saddle, and I’m not about to start now. And you might as well know, in those last years of war, when deserters and rogue blue coats roamed the countryside, I wore a complete outfit of male clothing. It was the only way I could go outside safely and attend to the farm. From a distance, a passerby would take me for a young boy, and I was left alone. I learned my lesson that day in the woods.” Tears pooled in her eyes, and she blinked them back.
“That was smart. Really smart. The war brought out the ugly in so many.” He gathered her close.
She stiffened and backed away.
Both his hands flew up. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I only meant to comfort.”
The touch of a man, any man, made her want to run. She'd had to work hard to become comfortable when Charles would respectfully give her a hug. They had never got beyond that point. And now, with all the strength she possessed, she forced herself to stand still and not bolt like a scared jackrabbit. She bit down hard to stop the quiver of her lips, and the taste of blood filled her mouth.
“There are going to be many things we don’t know about each other,” he said, the deep timbre of his voice steady, “but, in time, that will change. And even though you might surprise me, I want you to share your life with me, as I will with you. Does that make sense?”
She had no words.
“I know you don’t want to recall that day in the woods.”
She shook her head.
“And I promise I won’t bring it up again until you’re ready to talk about it. But you have to know, when I arrived on the scene, you were in a very compromising situation.”
She could not bear to look at him.
“Do you know why I believed your story?” His hand tenderly slid under her dropped chin to raise her eyes to meet his. “I looked into your eyes, the way I am right now, and they shared your soul. I believed every word. Now, I’m asking the same of you. When I tell you that you can trust me with your life—past, present, and future, I mean it. I’ll say no more, other than your mother should have let you bring the dungarees.” He turned from her. “Let’s head outside.”
Katie stood for a moment without moving. His words penetrated deep into her heart. Were her assumptions about him wrong? She had no answer.
But she had to hurry to catch up, as he’d already disappeared through the door.
He stood on the portico waiting when she stepped out. “Ready?” He offered his arm.
“Ready.” She slipped her hand into the crook. The sheer size and strength of his forearm felt strange beneath her fingertips.
“I’ll show you my favorite first. The barn. I had it rebuilt because it burned down while the Yankees were using it as a field hospital. They then resorted to using some of the rooms on the main floor of the house. I can tell which rooms by the blood stains on the wood. Someday, all of that will be either replaced or refinished, but necessities such as this barn were the priority.
“I think you’ll find it quite different from what you’ve seen. The design is something I brought home from my war days.” He pointed out the two levels.
“This is so smart.” She stood back and pressed a finger to her lips. “Built into the bank like it is lets you easily access both levels.”
He beamed. “I keep farm equipment and the harvest on the upper level, and the horse stalls, livestock area, and a tack room on the lower. You’ll see by the sheer amount of horse stalls what my plans are for the future.”
She took in the rows of empty enclosures, dreaming of how they might be filled someday. “I love horses.”
“Me too. I’ll have the finest stock in the valley very soon. My good friend, Colby, is partnering with me. While he makes it here with the horses, I’ll be rustling up the finest help around. Black or white, doesn’t much matter to me. The best man for the job is who I’m looking for.
“I agree.”
They walked and talked and, somewhere along the way, a switch was made from Katie having her hand on his arm to his hand supporting her elbow. The warmth penetrated through the well-worn sleeve of her day dress. She noticed the pressure increase when he was excited about one thing or another. A comfort settled over her jitters, and she found herself genuinely enjoying his company.
“Every household needs fresh eggs, thus the hen house, but watch out for old Strut.” He pointed toward a cluster of the birds. “That rooster can be a mean one unless you let him know who’s boss.”
“His name is Strut?”
As if on cue, the rooster headed their way. He let out a shriek that hurt the ears and sent the hens darting for shelter. He proceeded to strut along the edge of his pen with his head bobbing back and forth and his comb in the air like a shooting flame.
Katie laughed. “Good name.”
They wandered the grounds toward the summer kitchen. “The separate room keeps food smells and heat out of the main house in the muggy hot months. And Delilah loves the free-standing oven. Once the bricks are thoroughly heated, the ashes are removed, and food bakes inside.”
She peeked in to take a closer look. “Ma would’ve loved this on those blistering summer days. But why so big?”
“It’s a good place to do laundry, with the pump handy. Plus, the room is set to catch the cooling breeze from the north in the summer and has thick doors that can be shut in the winter. I won’t bore you with all the details, but”—he turned his gaze on her—"it’s important you know where everything is since this is your home. You’re not just some passing guest. You’re my life partner.”
She turned from his intensity. What was she to say to that? He was far more invested than she was. A feather of guilt brushed across her heart, but she disregarded the message. “And what’s that?” She pointed to a shed in the distance.
“That’s the smokehouse, and the icehouse is over there.” He pointed across the yard.
“Icehouse? Where do you get ice, and how long does it last in this heat?”
He smiled down at her. “I love your intelligent questions.”
Her stomach fluttered at the compliment, and her heart picked up pace as he grabbed her hand and continued walking.
“There’s a pond on the property, and we harvest the ice from there. Between the limestone brick walls of the icehouse, and the ice packed in sawdust and straw, the room is kept cool right into September. All our meat and dairy are stored there.”
“We, as in you help with the work?”
“Of course. There’s nothing on this farm I won’t help with. I might not be the best, but I give a hand.”
He kept talking, but all she could concentrate on was how wrong she had been about the entitled life she’d thought he lived.
“Come. I know the blacksmith and wheelwright shop won’t thrill you, but I want to properly introduce you to Abe, Delilah’s husband.”
They rounded the corner of a sturdy log building and stepped inside. Abe looked up from his work, rose, and dusted off his hands on the sides of his trousers.
“This is Abe’s home away from home,” Josiah said. “The man is a genius when it comes to fixing just about anything—wheels, horseshoes, tools. You name it, Abe can do it.”
“Don’t be giving too much praise. It goes to the head. Then I’ll get like you, too big for my britches.”
The twinkle in his black eyes danced and the amusement in his voice caused a bubble of laughter to slip from Katie’s lips.
“I see your new bride agrees with me.” His friendly grin was hard not to like.
Katie moved across the room and extended her hand.
He hesitated, with a darted glance toward Josiah.
What had she done improperly?
Abe placed her hand in his. The warmth from his calloused palms engulfed hers as he gave a firm squeeze. “Most ladies don’t shake the hand of my color.”
“I’m not like most ladies.”
He turned to Josiah. “You done good. I like this fine lady already.” He turned back to her. “And you let me know if this youngin’ gives you any trouble. You hear?” He nodded his head in Josiah’s direction.
“From my perspective, I wouldn’t be calling him a youngin’.”
Abe’s laughter filled the room. “This indeed is the lady for you. She’s not going to worship the ground you walk on like those silly town women.” He pulled an old rag from his pocket and brushed a sheen of sweat from his brow.
“I do believe both you and your lovely wife Delilah are going to be my good friends,” Katie said.
“And me?” Josiah asked.
She lifted her head with a saucy retort on her lips, but the look on the normally confident Mr. Richardson’s face stopped her jest. A vulnerability filled his smoky-gray eyes. It was not a moment to tease. She nodded. “And you.”
His smile widened to flash a row of straight white teeth.
Katie moved out of his intense stare and gazed around the shop. A collection of woodworking and farm tools hung neatly on wall pegs. A wheel was suspended between two sawhorses, and a fire crackled in a hearth against one wall. She breathed in the smell of sawdust, grease, sweat, and smoke. A sense of hominess enveloped her. “Hope you don’t mind a visit now and then, Abe. There’s something about this place I like.”
“You’re more than welcome anytime, girl. Anytime.”
“Shall we?” Josiah offered his arm. “We’ll stop by the house, pick up our lunch sack, and head out. As far as I’m concerned, we still have the best part to see—the land.”
With one look back, she stepped into the sunshine. How would she ever feel at home in the big house when this humble shop drew her in? Under the heat of the sun, a shiver crawled down her back.