Ryan's Bride (40 page)

Clarice was annoyed by Selma’s silence. “I asked you a question, stupid girl.”

Selma started crying. She couldn’t help it. “Yes’m, I know all about it, but I haven’t said anything to anybody and I never will.”

“That’s because you know if you do, you’ll be sold, too, don’t you?”

Selma’s head bobbed up and down. She was crying too hard to talk.

“Now, then. Let’s talk about you, Selma. It really would be a shame to have Mr. Fordham put you in a wagon in the middle of the night and take you down to North Carolina or maybe Georgia and put you up on a block and sell you to the highest bidder. You’d never see Toby again. And your new owner might beat you with a whip. Not all slaves are treated as kindly as here at BelleRose.”

“Don’t…don’t do it…” Selma begged, tears streaming down her face and running off her chin. She didn’t dare wipe them away with her apron. She was afraid to move at all.

Clarice was enjoying the torment, knowing Selma would eventually agree to do anything she told her to. “Just think, you would never see any of your family again. And Toby would be told you were dead. He might guess the truth, but there wouldn’t be anything he could do about it.”

Selma fell to her knees and clutched at her skirt. “Why are you doin’ this to me, Miz Clarice? I always do what I’m told. I always do my work, and I don’t sass you. Why would you want to sell me and take me away from my Toby?”

Looking down at her with amusement and contempt, Clarice murmured, “Well, it doesn’t have to be that way. All I want you to do is say that you saw Miss Angele being sick, and that she told you she thought she was going to have a baby. You’re also to say that she told you how she planned to ride a horse and jump him and you said it was dangerous with her thinking she was pregnant. But she said she didn’t care. She was going to do it, anyway.”

Selma slowly got to her feet, and she dared to rub her face as she backed away and whispered in horror, “But she didn’t say all that to me, Miz Clarice, and if I say she did, Master Ryan is going to be real mad with her, ’cause he’s terribly upset over her losing the baby.”

Clarice shrugged. “It’s either that or you’re going to find yourself on an auction block. Now, which is it to be?” Her eyes narrowed as she put her hand on Selma’s shoulder and squeezed so hard her nails cut into her flesh. “And if you deny it later, Toby won’t be wrong in thinking you’re dead.”

Selma felt a roll of nausea. She couldn’t let them sell her, not when she loved Toby so much…not when she was going to have his baby.

She bowed her head and quickly said a prayer asking forgiveness for the sin of lying.

Clarice gave her a rough shake. “Do you want me to go and tell Mr. Fordham right now to get ready to take a stupid little girl slave to the auction block?”

Her voice breaking on a sob, Selma answered, “I’ll say whatever you want me to, Miz Clarice. Just please don’t sell me…don’t take me away from my Toby.”

Clarice smirked in triumph. “It seems the stupid little girl might not be as stupid as I thought.

“Now, you will listen to me,” she continued gravely, “and do exactly as I say…”

In the light of the bedside lamp, Angele seemed to be bathed in an ethereal glow.

Ryan was keeping vigil. Dr. Pardee had left, saying there was no need for him to stay the night. The house was quiet. Everyone had apparently gone to bed. But Ryan had no intention of doing so.

Losing the baby had crushed him deeply. That was a small blow, however, compared to the pain of wondering if Angele would now leave him.

And since Clarice’s visit, the fear was even greater.

She had come to ask if there was any change…anything she could do, then broke down and cried.

She said she couldn’t help it, because she felt so bad about the baby.

And she had also said how sorry she was for Angele and only hoped, prayed, that it might make her reconsider her discontent, and plans—if she had any—to leave. After all, Clarice pointed out, Ryan and Angele had made a baby together, and even if God had taken him before he had a chance to be born, it was still a holy thing and bonded them as man and wife.

Ryan had never seen Clarice so moved over anything, and he almost thought she was going to collapse into hysteria when she grabbed him by the front of his shirt and sobbed, “Ryan, tell me she didn’t know…tell me she wouldn’t have done such a thing if she had…”

He had wished Corbett were there to peel her off him. He finally managed to do it, trying not to hurt her as he pulled her arms from around his neck and pushed her into a chair.

He had then assured her that he’d had no idea Angele was pregnant and was confident Angele hadn’t either, or she would have told him.

Clarice had wept and thanked him for that. She said she needed to hear it…needed to believe Angele wasn’t so homesick and miserable that she’d purposely try to have a miscarriage so she wouldn’t be tied down and could go her own way.

And if that scene hadn’t been enough to set his teeth on edge, Denise came not long after Clarice finally left to offer her condolences.

She said she also wanted to apologize if she had made him uncomfortable by anything she might have said or done.

“I feel absolutely wretched over this,” she had avowed fervently. “Had I known she was carrying your baby, Ryan, I would never have admitted to loving you, wanting you…wishing things could be different. But I couldn’t keep still any longer. I had to tell you how I’ve rued the day and hated myself ever since for teasing you like I did.

“So love her if you must,” she had said, weeping as she backed toward the door. “You have my blessings, and I’ll never bother you again, I swear. But I’m here if you need me. Know that, my darling…”

He had locked the door after her, determined there would not be another intrusion this night.

He was, by God, going to sit by Angele’s bed and hold her hand so he would be there when she awoke. And the second she did, he planned to look her straight in the eye and tell her that he loved her, and beg her, if need be, to give him a chance to prove it.

He was willing to do anything in his power to make her happy. If she wanted him to take her riding, he would, by damn. And if she didn’t want to tat and sew and do all the other things she found so boring, he wouldn’t ask that of her, either. He had probably been a clod to expect her to conform, anyway. She was a free spirit, and that was one of the reasons he loved her, and he knew now he had been wrong to try to change that.

He only hoped it wasn’t too late.

As for whatever it was in her past she found too painful to share, he would respect her need to lock it away.

They would go forward, together, into the future.

There would be other babies, as many as they both wanted.

And nothing else would matter.

If she would only let him love her…

Selma had been standing rigidly outside the door to Angele’s bedroom so long that her legs were numb.

Even if she could count, she wouldn’t remember the number of times she had raised her hand to knock but hadn’t mustered the nerve.

It was getting very late, and she knew she had to do it or Miss Clarice might make good her threat.

She could be on her way south by morning, in the back of a buckboard wagon, heading for a slave auction.

The deep breath she took seemed to come all the way from the tips of her toes.

Her arm was shaking, her hands trembling, as she finally tapped on the door.

When there was no response, she thought Master Ryan might be sleeping but knew Miss Clarice would tell her to knock louder till she roused him. So she did. And it wasn’t long before the door swung open, and he was glaring down at her.

“Yes, Selma, what is it?”

She pulled her voice from somewhere deep within. “I wanted to sleep near Miz Angele. On the floor. I want to be here if she needs me…if you need me.”

“I suppose that’s a good idea.” He waved her inside. “And if anybody else comes, you can be the one to tell them to go away.”

Selma sat on the rug near the empty fireplace and hugged her knees to her chin. Miss Clarice had told her to wait till the right time before saying anything.

It was not long in coming.

“I’m going to stay here till she wakes up,” Ryan said soberly, absently, as though talking to himself “I want to be the one to tell her about the baby. She’s going to be so hurt.”

Selma tried to speak but no sound came.

Then the image of Toby’s dear face swam before her tear-filled eyes.

She also thought of the tiny life growing inside her.

And she knew she had to do it for Toby’s sake…and her baby’s.

Finally, she was able to say, “I expect she’s gonna be real upset, but I warned her she might lose her baby, and she wouldn’t listen.”

Ryan winced. “What did you say?” Dropping Angele’s hand, he whipped about to stare at her, hoping he’d not heard right.

Selma drew a sharp breath. She had gone too far to stop even if she could. “She said she was gonna ride anyway, ’cause she could jump a horse as good as any man, and—”

“Wait a minute.” He reached her in a flash to grab her by her shoulders and yank her up, leaving her feet dangling inches from the floor. “Are you saying Angele knew she was going to have a baby? She
told
you that?”

Selma had never been so scared in her life as she repeated the lie Miss Clarice had coached her to say over and over till she knew it by heart. “She was sick a lot…throwin’ up…and said she was afraid she was gonna have a baby.”

“Afraid? She said she was
afraid
? You mean she didn’t want to?”

“…can’t speak for her…” Selma wished he would put her down, afraid he’d go crazy and throw her across the room, because he had a scary look in his eyes.

He shook her so hard her head bobbed to and fro. “Did she say she didn’t want the baby? Answer me, damn it.”

“Sorta…” she managed despite the terrified sobs racking her body. “She sorta said she didn’t want no baby…”

To her surprise, he suddenly, and gently, set her down on her feet and backed away.

Covering his face with shaking hands, he whispered, “I’m sorry, Selma. I shouldn’t have grabbed you up like that. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I…I’m not hurt,” she stammered, edging toward the door. “But I think maybe I’d like to go sleep in my own bed if you don’t think you need me.”

“No. It’s all right.” He sighed. “The only thing I need is a drink.”

Opening the door, Selma watched as he shuffled across the parlor to his room, head down, shoulders curled.

She knew she had never seen such a broken man.

And prayed she never would again.

She also asked God, if He could, to forgive her for what had to be the biggest sin she had ever committed.

“Now for the coup de grace,” Clarice said happily, after telling Corbett how she’d had Selma lie to Ryan about Angele. “All that’s left is for him to find out she’s only half French and she’ll be gone as soon as she’s well enough to travel.

“Maybe even sooner,” she added, giggling. “He might be so angry he won’t wait that long. He might make her pack her things and get out now.”

It was after midnight. Clarice was sitting on the side of Corbett’s bed. Too excited to wait till morning, she had awakened him as soon as Selma reported the deed was done.

But, to her surprise, he did not share her elation.

“Don’t count on it.” He yawned and rubbed his eyes. “It might not make any difference to him at all.”

“Are you out of your mind? Of course it will. He’s going to be absolutely furious that she dared do something so foolish when she knew she was going to have a baby. Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said?”

“Yes, but you need to calm down and remember we don’t want to look like we’re a part of any of this. If I show him the letter right now, he’s liable to get angry with me for meddling in his business.”

“He’ll do no such thing,” she yelped. “He’ll be grateful you cared enough to find out the truth about the deceiving little tramp. And that, in addition to believing her recklessness caused her to lose his baby, will make him want to be rid of her once and for all.

“And I’ve asked Denise to stay the week,” she added. “I want her close by to offer him comfort when he needs it.”

“Well, I’m not willing to take any chances. How many times do I have to tell you he loves Angele? And love makes men do foolish things sometimes.”

“Then go to your uncle. Tell him the truth. Tell him how Ryan met Angele…how it worried you so much you hired someone to see what they could find out about her. Tell him how her uncle in England even offered a reward after she and her mother ran away, because they probably stole from him. When he hears that, he’ll order Ryan to run her off.”

Corbett sighed wearily. “We have already discussed this, Clarice. Angele’s got the old man wrapped around her little finger. It might make him angry at me for meddling, too. I just can’t take the chance. We have to look innocent in all of this.”