Her Safe Harbor: Prairie Romance (Crawford Family Book 4) (13 page)

On his way from Calvin Billings’s home, Zeb had stopped the
Willow Tree carriage driver six blocks away and walked the final distance to
clear his head and think about what Jolene had said.
Love? This was love?
This ache he felt when he saw Jennifer? This nearly uncontrollable urge to
shoot Jeffrey Rothchild between the eyes even if it meant prison or worse? But
more than all of it, more than anything, he longed to see her smile. There was
nothing in his world or memory to compare to what he felt when she looked at
him and smiled. When he evoked her image in his mind it was of the night of the
ball in Washington when she was talking about her work at the bank. Her face
was radiant, and she was lovely, as she spoke with enthusiasm and passion for
the work she did. The door across the hallway opened.

“Mr. Moran. You are waiting for me here?”

“Yes,” he said, and pushed himself away from the ornate
bannister. “I want to make sure that I escort you into the dining room myself.”

“Yes, of course,” she said. She looked at his arm as he held
it out for her, hesitating as if taking it spelled some greater commitment than
walking beside him down the staircase.

They entered the dining room, and Jeffrey turned to her from
where he stood beside William Crawford. His smile faded when he saw her arm
looped through Zeb’s. Rothchild walked directly to them.

“You may release my fiancée,” he said.

Zeb looked down at Jennifer. “Miss Crawford, which seat
would you like to take? Perhaps here beside your sister and father?”

Jennifer nodded, careful to not meet Rothchild’s eyes.

“There is a seat beside me and we have much to discuss,
Jennifer. Come,” Rothchild demanded and winged his arm for her to take.

“She’s already chosen her seat,” Zeb said, steering her past
Rothchild’s arm and holding her chair out until she was seated and her skirts
tucked beneath her. He moved a mere foot away from her and stared at Rothchild.

“You had best find the kitchens, boy,” Rothchild said. “I
won’t have you being so familiar with my fiancée.”

“Jennifer!” Jane Crawford said from her seat at the head of
the table. “Mr. Rothchild wants you to sit beside him. How rude you are being!”

Jennifer turned her head to her mother. “I prefer to sit
here.”

“How formal we are being,” Jolene said, and walked to the
seat beside Jennifer. Zeb pulled out her chair. “There is an open seat to
Mother’s left, Mr. Rothchild. We didn’t assign seating this evening.”

Rothchild rounded the table and seated himself with a
flourish, nearly knocking over the young man holding his chair. Zeb left
Jennifer’s side then, and walked to his seat beside Rothchild.

“The Boston Hospital Soiree is Sunday evening next,”
Rothchild said to Jennifer. “I will be escorting you, and we shall set the date
of our engagement party. My secretary will see to the invitations. Send your
list to him.”

Jennifer was staring at Rothchild, white-faced, except for
the red flush climbing up her neck. “I don’t believe—”

“Jennifer,” Rothchild interrupted with indignation. “We needn’t
argue over trivialities in front of your family. As I’ve mentioned before,
there are always consequences when a couple disagrees publically.”

Jennifer flinched noticeably, and Jolene was staring at
Rothchild with a venomous look that even a man as predisposed as Rothchild was
to being exclusively concerned with himself could barely miss.

“Miss Crawford will be escorted to the Boston Hospital
Soiree by Mr. Calvin Billings and his wife, Mrs. Shelby’s sister and
brother-in-law. The arrangements have already been made,” Zeb said and smiled
at Rothchild.

“Well, you must undo them, Jennifer,” Jane said with a huff.
“Those people are nothing. We mustn’t be seen as advancing them. You will go
with Mr. Rothchild. It is settled.”

Zeb leaned forward in his seat and met the mother’s eyes. He
smiled. “No, Mrs. Crawford. It has been arranged and will not be changed. Miss
Crawford will be attending with the Billingses.”

“That is enough,” Rothchild said and slammed his silverware
down on the table. “You will leave this house at once. Of all the
impertinence!”

The room was silent other than the hiss of the taper
candles. Zeb picked up his spoon and began eating his soup. He swallowed,
tapped his mouth with his napkin, and looked at Rothchild. “No. I am not
leaving. The soup is delicious, by the way.”

“It is delicious,” Jolene said and turned to Jennifer.
“Isn’t oyster stew your favorite?”

Jennifer looked from one face to the next. “It is my
favorite. Even when I was a young girl. Wasn’t it, Father?”

Jane was sputtering her indignation, and Rothchild turned in
his seat. “I am telling you that you need to leave this house at once. This is
a fine old family with a reputation to keep. We don’t need an upstart with no
pretense to civility at this dinner table. Leave at once.”

Zeb shook his head. “No. I’m staying. Try the soup, Mr.
Rothchild. It is delicious.”

Rothchild looked at William. “This man is disrupting our
dinner and upsetting the ladies, Mr. Crawford. I shall call Bellings to have
him removed.”

“I am not leaving, Mr. Crawford. Your cook is to be
complimented. Dinner is delicious,” Zeb stated.

William looked up then, gazing from face to face. It would
be awkward to stay at the table if this man attempted to have him forcefully
removed but Zeb did not think it would come to that.

“Lamb for the main course, I believe. Cook’s lamb is a
triumph,” Crawford said as he concentrated on his soup.

Rothchild was seething, visibly angry, and stayed that way
for the course of the meal. After dessert was served, he rose and walked to Jennifer’s
seat. “Come along, dear. We have much to discuss.”

“There is no one in the music room, Jeffrey. You may
entertain Jennifer there,” Jane said.

Jolene stood, and wrapped her arm around Jeffrey’s. “I will
be happy to play for our entertainment.”

Zeb was already at Jennifer’s seat. “Music would be very
nice,” he said.

Both couples walked through the door. Rothchild shook off
Jolene’s arm. “I am going to have a private discussion with my fiancée. Get out
of here, the both of you,” he ordered, and made a grab for Jennifer’s arm.

Zeb moved Jennifer behind his back. He shook his head. “No.
You will never be alone again with Miss Crawford. Is that understood?”

“You have no idea what you are saying or whom you are saying
it to,” Rothchild growled. “You are nothing.”

Zeb shrugged. “I am the something that is not going to allow
you to be alone with Jennifer Crawford.”

“Jane! Jane!”

They all turned to the dining room doors as they flung open
and servants hurried out. Jennifer, Jolene, and Zeb went inside to see Jane
Crawford slumped in her husband’s arms as he shouted for the doctor to be
fetched. Zeb caught Luther by the arm.

“Make sure Mr. Rothchild is escorted out of Willow Tree.”

William Crawford carried his wife up the grand staircase,
his daughters and several servants fluttering behind him. Dr. Roderdeck was
called, and Mildred prepared Mrs. Crawford’s bed. Zeb followed behind, one eye
on Jennifer and one on Luther handing Jeffrey Rothchild his coat and hat. He
watched as the door to Jane’s suite closed and reopened moments later when
William came out, slowly closing the door behind him and staring at him as he
stood across the hallway.

“My wife is ill,” Crawford said, glancing back to the door
he had just closed. “The doctor says she needs an operation, but Jane says she
will have none of it. I’m at loss as to what to do.” He looked then at Zeb,
narrowing his eyes, in a way that made Zeb think that he had just noticed who
he’d been speaking to. “Who has employed you to interfere with Rothchild?”

“I have hired myself.”

“Don’t be glib, young man. I understand you were hired by
Jolene’s husband to guard his wife. What puts Jennifer in your purview?”

“Rothchild is dangerous. His family fortunes are not as
solid as you may think, and he is desperate to marry your daughter and solidify
his position at your bank.”

“And what of your finances? The secretary to a wealthy man,
yes, but you may be just as much a fortune hunter as you say Rothchild is.”

“I am no fortune hunter. My wealth is more than ample, and
is diversified in many investments including stocks, land, and bonds,” Zeb
said. “Feel free to examine my bank accounts.”

“Then what are your interests in my daughter?”

Zeb stared at Crawford. “She is vulnerable, and I want to
take away her fears and worries. I want her to smile.”

* * *

“Dear Lord, I am exhausted,”
Jennifer said as she sank into the flowered chintz sofa in her rooms.

“It is nearly midnight,” Jolene said from the stool she sat
on close to the fire. “I thought Dr. Roderdeck was never going to leave. Even
aside from the fact that mother called him a Polish spy.”

Jennifer rolled her neck from side to side, slipped off her
shoes, and pulled her feet underneath her. “She fired one of the cleaning girls
last week and told Mrs. Gutentide that the girl had devil eyes and was casting
a spell on her while she slept.”

“She is paranoid, that is for certain. Mildred is even
beginning to be frightened of her. She told me tonight that mother accused her
of poisoning her food.”

“Mother is in so much pain,” Jennifer said. “I wish she
would take the laudanum the doctor prescribed until her surgery.”

“I can hardly believe she agreed to it.”

“What choice does she have? Dr. Roderdeck was clear that she
has little chance of surviving if she does not have the surgery and even then .
. .” Jennifer sniffed. “I do not want her to die. Even knowing how cruel she
can be.”

“Of course you don’t. None of us do,” Jolene said and stood,
stretching her back and then taking a seat beside her. “Zebidiah came to see me
this afternoon.”

Jennifer turned to her sister. “You’ll be planning your
return trip. I’m sure that Max is looking forward to seeing you.”

“Zebidiah did come by to tell me that we are leaving
Saturday morning for Washington, and that he will be making an immediate return
to see to your safety,” Jolene said and stared at Jennifer. “How remarkable, I
said to him at the time, as her family knows nothing of a threat to her
safety.”

Jennifer looked at her hands. “Perhaps Mr. Moran is
exaggerating.”

“I don’t believe he is.”

“What did he tell you?”

“Nothing, or at least very little. He feels you are in
danger but will not tell me why. He has hired one of the servants here, a
friend of your maid Eliza’s, and I would guess he is rather physically
intimidating, to guard you while he is taking me back to Washington. He said
you need to be safe while you address other issues. He did not betray you. What
are the other issues?”

“Mr. Moran is a gentleman, after all,” Jennifer mused. “He
would not speak out of turn.”

“Tell me,” Jolene insisted. “Tell me every sordid detail if
there are any. Mother is ill, father is beside himself, and we must rely on
each other.”

“I am so embarrassed! And foolish! I hardly know where to
begin,” Jennifer said, with a shake of her head.

“How did you meet Mr. Rothchild?”

“Last spring at one of the first garden parties. I’m not
even sure which one anymore. I thought he was the most handsome man I’d ever
seen. He made it clear from the beginning that he was interested in me, and
there were very many lovely young ladies in attendance,” Jennifer whispered.
“He fussed and fawned over Mother and Father. What a fool I was.”

“We are all fools at some time. Go on.”

“I met him on several occasions over the summer, and it was
clear to me at the time that he angled to be seated next to me, or dance the
first dance or the last with me. I was flattered. I thought he was in love with
me.”

Jolene shrugged. “Of course, you would think that. Why
wouldn’t you?”

“I have not had many serious admirers, as Mother remarked
often, and for once, she and I were in agreement that Mr. Rothchild was
handsome and charming. It is so exhausting to be at odds with Mother
constantly. She thought Mr. Rothchild was everything that I could wish for in a
husband, and I believed her, or I
wanted
to believe her. But he did
present himself as a prosperous man from a good family, who’d been educated
well, at least in the beginning.”

“You are assuming far too much blame for whatever
predicament you are in,” Jolene said. “Mr. Rothchild is a handsome man, and he
wore the right clothes and used the correct fork and spoke in a way you were
accustomed to. We are all drawn to what is familiar, to what seems normal, but
those things are mostly superficial. One never knows another person until they
have spent some time with them and seen them under duress. Once you did spend
some time with him, I believe you discovered something unpleasant, and meant to
distance yourself from him.”

Jennifer looked at her sister. “Yes. That is exactly what
happened. Yes.”

“I know it is what happened because you have always been the
good and dutiful daughter, and even having a mother such as we do has never
influenced your natural kindness. You have been witness to multiple family
crises and have managed to stay neutral and calm. I admire you.”

Tears filled Jennifer’s eyes. “I did not realize until this
moment how desperate I was to hear some word of praise or appreciation from my
family. I can hardly believe such a beautiful, accomplished woman as you
admires me.”

Jolene covered Jennifer’s hand where it lay on the settee.
“Your behavior has always been exemplary and you have sacrificed much for this
family. I have been ashamed, especially as of late, that I have not carried
some of the family burden. I am the oldest, after all. There is an expectation
there that I have not lived up to.”