Remember Me - Regency Brides 03 (3 page)

Helen opened her mouth to inform him that he definitely was
not
the good reverend but stopped before any words could escape. A thought suddenly seized her-a truly wicked thought.

If North knew he was a duke-a nobleman-sixth in line to the throne of England, then Helen could never hope to win his affections, for he would be social y far above her station.

But as a reverend ...

Oh, surely she could not consider it, much less go through with such a deed!

But she could not help it. If North believed he was a reverend, then he would be in the same class as she. The barrier of position and means would no longer be an obstacle, and the brotherly affection North always showed toward her could change into something more if he believed he was Hamish Campbel .

"Miss Nichols? Were you indeed tel ing the truth when you said you knew me?

You suddenly seem confused about ..."

"You are!" she blurted out before she could think twice about it. "I … I mean...you are ...the reverend ...Hamish Campbel ," she stammered, as she began to already feel the weight of the lie she had just told.

He let out a breath as he ran a hand through his shimmering blond curls. "I was hoping ..." He paused and began again. "I don't know what I was hoping. It's just that I do not feel like a Hamish Campbel . I cannot imagine choosing to be a vicar, either. I do have a sense I am a fol ower of God and have attended church in my past, but...being a vicar does not seem to ...
fit!"
He threw his hand in the air with frustration.

If he only knew!
Helen thought guiltily. "What sort of man did you imagine yourself to be?"

North seemed to think a minute before he answered. "I real y don't know, except I look at my clothes and, though they are faded and worn from being wet and then dried in the sun, I somehow know they are very finely made and that the fabrics are not something a poor man would wear." He held up his long, lean hands. "I look at my palms and see no evidence of cal uses from hard work."

"Perhaps you spent your time in studying and contemplation," Helen inserted.

"I suppose you could be right, but it doesn't explain the clothes."

All the lies were making Helen very nervous, and she wasn't finished tel ing them yet. "Perhaps your family is somewhat wealthy, but as you were the youngest son, you chose the church as your occupation," she improvised.

He raised a dark blond brow. "Perhaps? You mean you don't know?"

"Uh..." Helen scrambled to answer him without tel ing another lie. "We were introduced through a mutual acquaintance and saw each other only a few times after that," she answered truthful y.

His expression fel to a frown. "Then you don't know me wel enough to tel me anything significant?"

Helen breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that this revelation would stop his questions. "I am sorry, but no." She looked toward the crowd and noticed the Baumgartners were looking her way. "I'd better go. My employers are about to leave."

She started to walk off, but he stopped her by touching her arm. "Wait! May I ask you one more question?" Seeing the confusion in his beautiful blue eyes, Helen could not turn down his request. "Of course you may." "Everyone keeps tel ing me I have journeyed here from Scotland, yet I clearly do not have a Scottish accent. Do you know anything about this?"

This question she could answer truthful y. "Actual y, I do. You were raised in England, but later when your family bought an estate in Scotland, you would spend summers there. I suppose you've moved back there recently." She felt compel ed to put her hand over his. "Good-bye, Nor ... er … I mean, Reverend.

I'm sorry I was not more helpful."

He gave her a smal , preoccupied smile, nodded, then stepped away from her.

Helen took one last look back before she ran to where her employers were waiting for her. As she suspected, they were full of questions.

"You must tel us how you know our new preacher, Helen!" Mrs. Baumgartner ordered immediately as they settled in the carriage. Imogene Baumgartner looked much younger than her forty years. Though she didn't have the style the ladies in England had in the way of clothes or hairstyles, she was always very prettily dressed in her flowered cotton and linen gowns that she so preferred, her dark brown hair knotted low on her neck.

Robert Baumgartner, on the other hand, sat quietly, as he usual y did whenever his wife was going on about something, preferring the solitude of his thoughts as he looked out of the carriage window. Helen often wondered if he regretted his choice of marrying the daughter of his father's butler. After al , it caused him to be disinherited by his father and, in turn, to renounce his claim to the title of Marquis of Moreland. Josie had told Helen they'd taken his smal inheritance from his mother and moved to America soon after.

It seemed like such a grand love story, and since Helen was also in love with a man above her station, it gave her a smal hope her own life could have a happy ending with North by her side.

"Helen, dear?" Mrs. Baumgartner prompted, shaking Helen from her thoughts.

After remembering her employer had asked how she knew North, Helen answered, "I knew him briefly through a friend." She wished Mrs. Baumgartner would take the hint that she did not want to talk about it, but the woman was very persistent when she wanted to know something.

Imogene stared at her as if waiting for more, but when Helen remained silent, she tried again. "He certainly was wearing a very fine suit of clothes to be a poor vicar. I almost had the feeling when studying his bearing and regal pose that he might be a nobleman!" She leaned closer to Helen from across the carriage. "Do you know if he is indeed from a noble family?"

243

Helen could feel sweat beading on her forehead, and it wasn't just because of the humidity. "I know he is from a wealthy family."

That answer seemed to be enough for Imogene. She leaned back and folded her arms as if pleased with herself. "Of course he is. I am quite good at spotting a gentleman of means." She paused and frowned. ' Although he must be quite a younger son and not entitled to the wealth if he has chosen to be a clergyman."

"Must he?" Helen answered, trying desperately not to lie.

"Wel , of course he must!" Imogene declared. "But his misfortune is our good luck. I had not looked forward to trying to find another vicar to take his place."

The questions seemed to be at an end as they rode the rest of the way in silence. But Helen's reprieve was only a brief one.

"Helen, it just occurred to me he might be a good match for you!" Imogene exclaimed as they exited the carriage. Josie piped up. "I had told her the same thing!"

Imogene clasped her hands together as if thril ed with her idea. "You are a gentleman's daughter, Helen, and he is a gentleman! If you married him, you could stay right here in Golden Bay with us. Wouldn't that be just the thing?"

Just thinking about living in the rugged, swampy lands of Louisiana forever made Helen shiver with horror. But on the other hand, if she could spend her life with North by her side ...perhaps it might not be so bad.

"I barely know him ... " she prevaricated, but Imogene was not one to let anything distract her.

"We have al the time in the world for that!" she declared as the carriage slowed to a stop in front of the home. "Leave it to me, dear, and you shal see yourself wed by fal !"

As Helen climbed out of the carriage behind Imogene and Josie, she wished her employer's words could be true, but if North remembered who he was before he could fal in love with her, her hopes of even being his friend would be permanently dashed.

Chapter 3

The more North learned of his life, the more confused he became. Many days and long hours since he was rescued, he tried to find just the tiniest of memories"

just the smal est tidbit to help him feel less lost, less bewildered.

The only information he'd heard that felt as though it belonged to him was when Helen Nichols had cal ed him North. The more he said it to himself, the more the name seemed to fit him, as though he'd final y had one little piece of his missing life back.

But saying it did not bring back any more memories or any other sense of familiarity like he hoped and prayed it would. There was nothing in his mind other than a few memories since he'd awakened. The rest was this large, gaping black hole that refused to give up any answers.

Now as he sat in the tiny house the church leaders had shown him to, with its two rooms divided only by a large piece of cloth, he felt more out of his element than ever.

Since he had nothing but his deep-down gut feeling to rely on, North assumed he had never lived in such a smal , barren house, nor had he ever known anyone who had. Before they had left him, he'd been shown the barn behind the house, where a cow and a few chickens were kept. He trusted the feeling of dismay that washed over him when they told him the animals would give him al the milk, eggs, and poultry he could eat.

They actual y expected him to
milk
the cow and somehow get eggs out from
under
the chickens. Then, if he actual y wanted to
eat
chicken, he would have to
kil
one to have it?

Appal ing!

He almost told them so, but when they said that North should be familiar with the animals since he had been raised on a farm, North bit back any retort he had been about to make., .

Helen Nichols had left out that little piece of news. If his family had been wealthy, why would he be milking his own cows?

Confusion crowded his mind as he thought about it. Perhaps they'd lost their money, he tried to reason, which is why he never tried to pursue a deeper acquaintance with Helen Nichols.

Oh, yes, those thoughts had run through his mind when she'd informed him they barely knew one another. The very first thing that popped into his head was he must have been a blind fool to let such a beautiful, delightful woman slip in and out of his life so easily.

And she
was
beautiful, with her inky black curls that fel about her rosy cheeks and those dark blue eyes that seemed to look right though him, straight to his heart.

When he realized he was contemplating pursuing a woman instead of focusing on his immediate problem, he jumped up from his hard, wooden seat and stomped out of the cottage.

As
he breathed in the cooling air that the darkening sky had blown in from the

~North strove to find some sort of peace, anything to take away the uncertainty plaguing his heart and mind. Spying the church that was in front of his cottage, he began to walk toward it. The church leaders had told him the building had been used seldom, only when a traveling preacher was in the area.

North thought it looked as lonely as he was, standing there empty with its freshly painted wal s and its dark, gleaming windowpanes. Again North tried to look inside himself, to find some sort of connection with the church, to feel the cal ing he must have had-but he came up empty.

God must surely have some reason for taking away his memory, North tried to rationalize. Perhaps in his forgotten past he needed to learn a valuable lesson, or perhaps someone's life would benefit from his dilemma. Of course, he couldn't think of one thing that would benefit anyone, but he was only a man; God was al -

knowing, so there must be a reason.

Briefly North reached out and braced both hands on the smoothed planks of the church. "Help me, dear Lord, to remember. If I have been cal ed by You to serve as Your minister, then I want to know that certainty once again. I am frightened by what lies ahead of me, Lord, and I have an idea that I don't feel this way normal y. But most of al , dear God, please do not let me fail these people." He stopped as he once again felt the enormity of his situation bearing down on him.

"In Jesus' name. Amen." He finished quickly and backed away from the church.

He was about to walk back to his cottage when the sound of horse hooves broke the calm silence of the night.

North immediately recognized the two-wheeled, smal curricle as being one of excel ent quality, though he wished he understood
how
he knew this! Instead of focusing on the frustration that was boiling up within him, he watched as a tal , slim, brown man climbed down from the conveyance and walked toward him.

The man was dressed in a black suit with a fluffy white cravat tied at his neck.

North noticed there was an air of self-confidence about him in his walk and posture, and he wondered, not for the first time, about the class system within the slave and non-slave community.

"Reverend Campbel ," the man's deep voice sounded as he gave him a brief bow. North returned the gesture, and the man continued. "I've been sent by Mr.

and Mrs. Baumgartner, sir, of the Golden Bay plantation. They would like to extend to you an invitation to dine with them this evening."

Food!
It was the only thing that stood out in North's nutrition-starved mind. He was invited to eat food he wouldn't have to cook, milk, or kil .

***

"Oh, this dress is wrong!" Helen wailed as she stood in front of her mirror, critical y surveying the light blue taffeta. "The ribbon is wrinkled, and the material just droops in this heat!" She dramatical y grabbed two handfuls of hair on either side of her head. ' And just look at my hair! It wil do nothing but curl! I look like a ragamuffin."

Mil ie, the young slave woman who served both Helen and Josie, propped her hands on her slim hips and made a
tsk-ing
noise as she shook her head. "Miss Helen, I don't know what's wrong with yo' eyes, honey chil', but there ain't nothin'