Strands of Bronze and Gold (38 page)

I studied his expression. Was it possible I was going to be allowed to be happy again?

“So do you”—Gideon looked unsure—“do you care for me at all?”

Well, I must simply tell the truth. “Of course I’m head over heels in love with you too.”

I let myself be pulled against his shoulder then, where I clutched his collar and buried my face into his waistcoat while my tears streamed down.

“And—and I’m afraid I’m going to be very wealthy,” I said when Gideon finally held me back so he could wipe my eyes with his handkerchief. “At first I didn’t want it. I panicked at the thought of that horrible money being mine.”

“I understand. You don’t know how much of de Cressac’s riches contributed to his warped personality or how much of it has been accumulated from the misfortune of others.”

“Exactly. But then both Mr. Bass and the attorney explained things. They said I could do whatever I desired with the abbey. I could turn it into a museum or a school or a home for unattractive and abandoned cats or some such thing, and lots of people could see
it, because it really is a wonderful building, especially once I wipe out all signs of Monsieur de Cressac. I want to turn it into a place that does good. I also have a responsibility to all the people on the plantation and at the abbey. In those first days when all I wanted to do was run as far away as possible, the only thing that stopped me was remembering them. I haven’t figured everything out, but the first thing I’m going to do is buy Anarchy’s son and granddaughter and give them their liberty. Then I’ll find a way to free all the Wyndriven slaves so they’ll only stay there working for a salary if they want to. Of course obtaining freedom papers for so many is a complicated business, but Mr. Bass assures me that the money will help to pave the way.”

Gideon waggled his eyebrows. “All the neighbors will love that, won’t they? But they’ll get used to it. Well,” he said, stretching his arms in front of him, “it sounds like you’ve done a lot of thinking, but once again I’d urge you to not make any important decisions without giving yourself time. Except for the one thing I mentioned.”

“Mr. Bass has helped me with the thinking. He’s really wonderful now that he’s not following Monsieur de Cressac around like a dog who’s been kicked too often. When Junius and Anne come—I sent them a telegram and they sent one back saying they should arrive in the next few weeks—they’ll help too. All this is just what Junius does well. Anyway, to do all that, I really do need to keep the money.”

Gideon looked thoughtful. “Yes, you’re right. You know, I’ve wondered if, in the next few years, we ought to emigrate to the West. They need churches built out there. But we won’t go without being sure everyone you’re responsible for is well taken care of. Now, you still haven’t answered my question. Will you marry me?”

“Oh, yes. I thought you already knew. If you’ll wait a while. Because I have all this business to attend to first—the servants and the property, not to mention I’m only seventeen and three-quarters, you know. Or perhaps you didn’t know that is my age? In any case, nineteen and three-quarters is much older, I think, much more ready for marriage.” I smiled at my beloved. “In the meantime Anne and Junius will live with me at the abbey, and I’m going to help my brother Harry get an appointment to West Point Academy. Also, I—I want to be certain I’ve recovered as much as I ever will from all that’s happened. It was so—so horrible, Gideon. There’s not a word for how ghastly it was.”

“I’m so sorry for all that, Sophie. I’ll wait as long as you want.” He put his arms around me, and they trembled as he kept himself from crushing me to him. And then he did crush me to him. It was the most perfect thing I’ve ever felt in my life. We didn’t speak for some time. There were a few things I had learned from Bernard that I could teach Gideon. (None of my “missish pecks,” for instance.) Perhaps I didn’t want to wait two years to marry my darling preacher after all.

Gideon gave a sudden gasp. I turned and followed his eyes. The misty shade of a redheaded woman in a primrose gown stood among the daffodils. For a moment she watched us, smiling. Then the world seemed all of light, she was gone, and I thought I heard a far-off, soft rush of wings.

I leaned back against Gideon, and all sorts of beautiful futures with him flashed through my mind. Because, you see, anything was possible for us.

I wish to thank the Brothers Grimm and Charles Perrault, who told versions of the tale of Bluebeard, which I read (and was disturbed by) when I was a child.

I’m very grateful to my wonderful agent, Wendy Schmalz, and my discerning editor, Allison Wortche, because they recognized the value of this story and were willing to help me make it what it could be.

I am indebted to Ellen Anson, Monica Webster, Carol Trost, Emily VanYperen, Bethany Bailey, and James, Phillip, and Stella Nickerson, all of whom read early drafts of this book and offered encouragement and suggestions.

Finally I express my love and gratitude to my husband, Ted, who allows me to take over the computer, helps with word-processor mysteries, and always lets me spread my wings.

For many years Jane Nickerson and her family lived in a big old house in Aberdeen, Mississippi, where she was the children’s librarian. She has always loved the South, “the olden days,” Gothic tales, houses, kids, writing, and interesting villains. She and her husband now make their home in Ontario, Canada. Please visit her on the Web at
jane-nickerson.com
.