Thursday's Child (Out of Time #5) (8 page)

Simon eased the buggy off the main road toward the livery stable. “Was she doing anything? Gesturing?”

“Like charades?”

Simon rolled his eyes and pulled to a stop.

Elizabeth conjured the image in her head again. “No, she was just standing there. Staring.”

“At what?”

Elizabeth felt a fresh chill. “You.”

Chapter Seven

Simon put the globe back on the freshly lit oil lamp and closed the door to their hotel room behind him. Elizabeth fought the urge to check under the bed for ghosts.

Simon placed the lamp on the bedside table and slipped off his jacket. “It's remarkable really.”

“It's creepy is what it is.”

“Elizabeth,” Simon said not unkindly.

She turned her back to him and he began to work on the long row of hooks at the back of her dress. “It is, after all, why we're here.”

“I know.”

Simon helped her lift the dress over her head and hung it in the armoire.

“Maybe I've just seen too many Spanish horror movies,” Elizabeth said as she stepped out of petticoat after petticoat.

Simon unbuttoned his vest. “No doubt.”

“It's just the way she was looking at you,” Elizabeth said with an involuntary shiver.

“How do you mean?”

“All,” Elizabeth said, wiggling her fingers in the air. “Ghosty.”

Elizabeth unhooked the front of her corset and sighed happily as it fell away.

“As opposed to?” Simon asked.

“I don't know.” She scratched her ribs to ease the sudden itch of finally being unconfined. “That…now, I'm here, now I'm not. Corporeal, non-corporeal. It's disconcerting.”

Simon pulled down his bracers and sat down on the edge of the bed. “I imagine it's far more so for her.”

Elizabeth stopped fussing with her clothes and plopped down next to him. “You're right. I'm sorry.”

Simon squeezed her hand. “Don't be. We're dealing with something new. It's difficult to accept.”

“You do, don't you? Accept it, I mean. That what I saw was a ghost.”

“Yes,” he said simply.

“That's not like you.” Simon was usually the Scully and she was the Mulder.

“No, it's not,” he said with a frown. “And I can't explain why exactly. I just…know it.”

Poor Simon appeared utterly flummoxed at the idea of having taken something on blind faith instead of relying on his usual rigorous examination of the facts. Elizabeth kissed his cheek. “I'll be the cynic this time.”

Simon laughed outright at that and then tried to pull off his boot, but it wouldn't budge. “Would you?”

Elizabeth gripped the heel of his boot and, with some effort, pulled it off, before moving to the left. “What do we do now? Wait for her to contact us again? How will we know what she needs from us?” She placed the boots by the armoire and then crawled into bed.

“We'll keep doing exactly what we have been doing.” Simon finished undressing. “Learn as much as we can about her life and death and identify that man from the cemetery. Find the connection between the two.”

He pulled back the covers and slipped into bed next to her.

“Right.”

“But now, we'd better get some rest. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

Elizabeth nodded and Simon blew out the last candle. He leaned over and kissed her. “Good night, darling.”

“Good night, Simon.” Elizabeth rolled onto her back and sighed. “Good night, Mary.”

~~~

It was a little before one in the afternoon when Simon and Elizabeth's buggy neared River Run, or at least, Simon hoped they were near. The sun blazed down onto the black roof of their little carriage and only the breeze of the journey brought relief. They'd been on the road for nearly two hours and he cursed himself for not having thought to bring along something to drink.

The road wound along the bluffs above the Mississippi, but seldom gave them a view. Tall oaks and maple trees or the grounds of a large estate obscured most of it. The inland side of the road was mostly pasture land and freshly plowed soil for the farms and plantations beyond.

Elizabeth watched another empty field go by. “I remember some of the cotton farms when I was little back in Texas. Just fields of white as far as the eye could see. Most of it's oil or gas land now.”

“Everything changes,” Simon said and then spotted the sign he'd been looking for. An engraved wooden sign on the edge of the road pointed down a side road. Simon eased the buggy down it.

“Well chit my chitlins and corn my pone,” Elizabeth said in wonder.

The entrance to River Run was magnificent. They drove under an enormous wrought-iron arch with “RR” at the top in a fanciful script and onto the main drive to the house. Each side of the road was flanked by a row of one-hundred-year-old oak trees, their branches reaching out to each other and forming a canopy over the road. Streams of sunlight broke through gaps and gave the whole thing a golden, slightly ethereal feel.

“When they said it was beautiful, they're weren't whistling Dixie.”

Simon had actually been looking forward to Elizabeth's bad Southern jokes and painful puns. Her silliness and his feigned admonishment had become part of their routine and, honestly, they both loved it. He knew she'd be disappointed if he didn't play his part and offered his best admonishing, but amused, “Elizabeth.”

She simply shrugged and smiled.

It took them another minute or so before they could fully see the house beyond. Bright white and three stories tall, it was a classic antebellum home in the traditional Greek Revival-style. Eight massive Doric columns lined the front of the house; behind them a double-sized gallery with black trimmed railings ran the length of the house and appeared to wrap around each side. Tall black shutters stood on either side of French doors, four up and four down.

King Cotton had certainly been good to the Harpers.

Simon helped Elizabeth from the buggy and then up the steps to the oversized front door. He turned the lever for the doorbell. A few moments later the door opened.

“Mr. and Mrs. Cross calling to see the Harpers,” Simon said.

The slave, an older black man with grey hair and simple black livery, bowed and invited them inside. Just as they entered the towering main foyer, Rose Harper appeared at the top of the grand staircase. “Hello, so wonderful to see you both,” she called out and then quickly made her way down the stairs.

Simon hadn't had much of a chance to speak to Rose at the party last night, but she was every bit as attractive and warm as Elizabeth had said. Men had called her the most beautiful woman in Natchez. As she glided down the long staircase, tall and slender, her full skirts swaying musically, he had to concede she was quite comely. Her distinctly Southern grace and the elegance of River Run would be missed when the Old South ceased to be.

Rose reached the end of the stairs. “I was just putting Louisa down for her nap. I'm so pleased you could come.”

She took Elizabeth's hands. “Are you feeling more yourself today?”

“Much better, thank you.”

Seeing them together struck Simon. Despite Elizabeth's claim to the contrary, she was as lovely and as lissome as Rose. Although, perhaps, he was slightly prejudiced in his wife's favor.

“You both must be parched after that long ride. How about a nice glass of sweet tea?”

“That sounds perfect,” Simon said.

Rose led them through the long main hall. “James and Elijah are on the porch out back.”

As they got closer to the rear of the house Simon heard their voices, raised in argument.

“You're a fool, James. That Southern Pacific stock will triple in five years. More than that!”

“It is not your decision to make, little brother.”

“The future is in the West. The first men to get there will profit, but the men who help the rest get there will be kings.”

It was fascinating to hear a conversation straight from the history books. Men like Cornelius Vanderbilt and the Big Four including Huntington and Stanford were just some of the railroad barons who made a virtual mint out of the nation's westward expansion. Older brother might do well to listen to his little brother, Simon thought as he emerged onto the back veranda where the men were arguing.

“I won't give you the—” James stopped mid-sentence and cleared his throat, embarrassed. “My pardon, I didn't realize…” He glared at Elijah who didn't appear ready to let the argument drop, but a pleading look from Rose bent him to her will.

Rose called to a servant, who lingered obediently close by, and asked for fresh tea. She smiled graciously at Elizabeth and Simon and looked out at the land behind the house with unabashed affection. “Welcome to River Run.”

The rear porch was really just a continuation of the massive double-deep gallery that ran all the way around the house on both upper and lower levels. The back gallery overlooked a well-manicured lawn with lush, ornamental gardens on either side. Tall trees lined the edges closest to the house and a few outbuildings were barely visible. It was an impressive estate. Every aspect was a show of power and wealth, but unlike Simon's home in England, Grey Hall, it managed to feel like an actual home as well.

Elizabeth walked to the railing and breathed in deeply. “It's beautiful.”

Rose joined her. “I think so.”

Shortly, the servant brought out a tray with glasses of sweet tea. It was far too sweet for Simon's taste, but it was cool and wet so he drank it gratefully. Elizabeth hummed happily and held the cold class against her cheek. “Heaven.”

Eli leaned casually against the railing. “I was going to ask if you were feeling better, but I can see that you are,” he added with a broad smile.

Simon swallowed his displeasure with another sip of tea. The sweetness did little to change his disposition toward Elijah Harper. It was too soon to tell if he was simply too charming for his own good or potential trouble. He had never liked men who played games with other people's affections, whether it was for business or pleasure. Whatever Elijah's end game, his attention to Elizabeth set Simon's teeth on edge.

“I can't decide which of you is prettier,” Elijah said to the two women. He scratched his chin as though pondering one of the great mysteries of the universe.

Both Rose and Elizabeth blushed at the compliment. Simon felt a reflexive flash of jealousy, but ignored it. He knew he had no rival for Elizabeth's affections, but Elijah would bear watching.

James cleared his throat and forced a smile. He gestured to a set of whicker chairs and a settee. “Why don't you two rest for a few minutes? Elijah and I have some business to attend to,” he added with a pointed look at his brother. “But, it shouldn't take long and, if you'd like, I'm happy to give you a tour of the plantation. If that would be of interest.”

“Very much,” Simon said. “Thank you.”

James and Eli excused themselves, and Simon waited for Rose and Elizabeth to take seats before sitting down next to his wife.

“You have to forgive, Eli,” Rose said. “He's harmless. I think he does it just to provoke my husband. Brothers, you understand. When the rest of them are here, it's a miracle the house doesn't fall down around us.”

“How many Harper brothers are there?” Elizabeth asked.

“Two others surviving, although they live so far away now we don’t see them very often. There were six boys when I was a girl. Of course, the Lord has seen fit to take a few to Him since then. All three Harper sisters have been lost to us.”

“Nine children?” Elizabeth said. And five of them dead now, Simon thought.

“Yes,” Rose said. “I also come from a large family. Seven brothers and three sisters. They're all in Charleston and Richmond and spread all over. I do miss them, dearly.” She looked down at her hands folded neatly in her lap. “I always wanted a large family myself, but some things are just not meant to be.”

The melancholy in her voice was palpable.

Both Simon and Elizabeth were only children. It was difficult to imagine growing up in a household with so many siblings, although, large families were much more commonplace in this time period. A woman could easily give birth every year or year and a half for ten or twenty years.

“I hope we'll get a chance to meet Louisa later,” Elizabeth said.

Just the mention of the girl's name and Rose shed her grief. “Yes, of course.”

~~~

As promised, James and Elijah returned to join them about twenty minutes later. Simon could still feel the tension between the two men; perhaps it never abated. Rose had a minor crisis with the house staff that had to be taken care of and begged off and the rest made their way around the back of the house and through one of the gardens.

“River Run is just under 2000 acres right now. We have one hundred field hands and can produce nearly 1000 bales of cotton per season. Although, I hope to do better,” James said as he gave them the overview of the plantation. He was particularly proud of his slave-to-bale ratio and overall crop value when it came time to market.

Simon was about to ask a question, when he felt Elizabeth squeeze his arm. He looked down and she nodded toward a patch in the garden with the same blue flowers they'd seen at Mary's grave. Without knowing more about the scarcity of the flower, it was hardly conclusive evidence. For all he knew, those flowers could be in every garden in Natchez.

“Of course,” James continued. “We have other holdings. My brothers grow rice in Yemassee, South Carolina and sugar over in the Ascension Parish. But my heart is here in River Run.”

They had emerged from the garden and into a clearing with multiple outbuildings, including, Simon realized, a massive stable.

James spoke to one of the grooms, who hurried inside. He turned to Simon and Elizabeth. “I assume you both ride.”

“Have you met a Texan who can't?” Elizabeth said with a smile.

What on earth was she thinking? There was reckless and then there was Elizabeth. Why did she always seem to go out of her way to find dangerous situations to explore? Simon shot her a sharp look that she studiously ignored.

“Very good.” James said.

He glanced at Simon who nodded, reluctantly. “Something gentle for my wife, please. Her skills are not as sharp as her wit.” He ignored the face she gave him.