To Whisper Her Name (22 page)

Finding that prelude none too comforting, Olivia turned.

“The general and I will be hosting a dinner party sometime next month for a number of his …
colleagues
from out of town with whom he fought in the war. Now before you say anything” — Elizabeth rushed her words, as though sensing the resistance building in Olivia — “I want you to know from the very outset that both the general and I realize you’re still in mourning and that you’re not interested in
any
way in marriage right now. Which is as it should be. This would only be a dinner party where you would meet and visit with our guests.”

“All of whom will be older and unmarried, I assume?” Olivia asked, remembering the general’s comment awhile back, while also honing in on the phrase
out of town
.

“But, Livvy dear, we can’t help but think that if the right gentleman
were to come along — in time — you might be willing to consider his proposal. Someone kind and gentle. Someone with whom you got along. Someone who was nothing like … your late husband.”

Although Olivia loathed the idea of remarriage, she knew it was inevitable. After all, despite what Aunt Elizabeth had said to the contrary, she couldn’t — and didn’t — expect to live at Belle Meade forever. And honestly, why would she want to? While she was carving out some friendships here, she wasn’t welcomed by anyone in Nashville. And there would come a time — a time Olivia was loathe to even consider — when Elizabeth would no longer be here, and her own time of being here at Belle Meade would end.

She had no idea where she’d go then. Charleston and Savannah were lovely cities, she’d heard. As were Mobile and Chattanooga. But she had a feeling once Elizabeth was gone, which she prayed again would be a long way off, almost anywhere in the South would be preferable to Nashville.

Olivia did her best to remove defensiveness from her tone. “I’m so grateful to you and the general for all you’re doing for me, Aunt Elizabeth. And, of course, I’ll attend the dinner. But please,
please
communicate to General Harding that I’m in no way interested in pursuing anything with any of these gentlemen. I’m simply not ready.”

“I completely agree with you, my dear. It’s far too soon. The general will be certain to tell them you’re in mourning. And they’ll see your manner of dress of course, so there’ll be no misunderstanding, I promise.”

Having no choice, Olivia nodded, determined not to dwell on this for now. After all, she had at least one year — if not two — before she would have to consider any man’s offer.

If
an offer even came.

A while later, Olivia finished a chapter in a novel she was reading aloud to Elizabeth when she looked up to see Ridley striding toward the house, sun on his face, his dark hair disheveled. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal muscular forearms, and his work trousers were caked eight inches deep in dust and dirt.

He stopped a few feet from the porch, and even though she knew his smile wasn’t aimed only at her, it felt like it was.

“Afternoon, ladies. Mrs. Harding, I hope you’re feeling better today.”

“I am. Thank you, Mr. Cooper.” Elizabeth gestured. “Might I interest you in a glass of lemonade or perhaps a cup of hot tea? Though I doubt the latter will hold as much appeal today.”

“No, thank you, ma’am. But I appreciate it.”

“According to my husband” — Elizabeth smiled — “you have recently bested him in a gentleman’s agreement, Mr. Cooper.”

Olivia looked from Ridley to Elizabeth, then back again, not having heard about this. Ridley looked down briefly. “I would hardly call it besting him, Mrs. Harding. Your husband and I did have an agreement though. I fulfilled my end of the bargain, and he did his. But he managed to gain a fair amount in the process, I assure you.”

“He usually does.” Elizabeth regarded the man in the yard below, her expression hinting at pride. “But from what he tells me, one of his prize thoroughbreds now belongs to you.”

Olivia stared. Ridley Cooper owned one of General Harding’s thoroughbreds? It had to be the mare she’d seen him working with so often.

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded, pleasure in his eyes. “And I’m grateful to have her. But I’m sorry … I didn’t mean to interrupt you ladies. I just came to see if Mrs. Aberdeen,” Ridley continued, hazel eyes moving to Olivia, “is coming to inventory today.”

Olivia sensed a subtle hope in his tone, but wondered if it was her wishful thinking. “I am, Mr. Cooper. In fact, I was on my way there now.” She narrowed her eyes, enjoying her higher vantage point. “Is there a problem?”

“No, ma’am. No problem. I just came across something else you might want to inventory. If you’re coming now, I’ll walk with you.”

Olivia could tell by his behavior there was something he wasn’t telling her. But it didn’t matter. She wanted to go. “I need to get the ledger, and I’ll be right there.”

She went upstairs to get the book and returned minutes later to find Ridley standing on the porch steps speaking to Elizabeth. Catching bits and pieces of what he was saying, Olivia padded softly to the open front door and paused to the side, not wanting to interrupt just yet.

“Yes, ma’am, I was. I was assigned in Nashville. For most of the war, anyway.”

“Did you have opportunity to meet the general?”

“No, ma’am, but … I knew who he was.”

“Of course you did.” Warmth softened Elizabeth’s voice. “I’m guessing every Confederate soldier in Nashville knew who he was. My husband is the type of man people seem to notice.” Wifely pride colored her tone. “You
do
know he was incarcerated, do you not?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Ridley’s voice grew quiet. “I knew about that.”

“The Federals took him from me and delivered him to a Northern penitentiary. Fort Mackinac. Have you heard of it?”

“Yes, ma’am … I have.”

Elizabeth sighed. “It was an awful, awful time for us all. I feared he would freeze to death up there. As it was, when he stepped from the train upon returning home I scarcely recognized him. He seemed so … changed.”

“I’m sure it was a difficult time for you, Mrs. Harding.”

The silence lengthened.

Feeling guilty about having listened for so long, Olivia made a shuffling sound against the carpet and then bustled through the doorway, ledger clutched to her chest.

Ridley lifted his gaze, looking almost relieved to see her.

He was quiet as they walked to the barn, but when he bypassed the door and continued on around to the side, Olivia’s curiosity heightened.

“I thought you said you came across something I needed to inventory.”

He paused at the corner of the building, his reticence from moments earlier all but gone. “I said something you ‘might’ want to inventory. Big difference. And I need for you to close your eyes.”

“Why?”

He smiled. “Just give me your hand and close your eyes, Olivia.”

“There’s not a horse around the corner, is there?” She’d gotten the occasional feeling he wanted to help her get over her fear of horses, and she wasn’t the least bit interested.

Hand outstretched, he gave her a look that said she should know better. “No, there isn’t. I wouldn’t do that to you. I promise.”

The way he said it, the way he looked at her, she knew it was true. Still, she was hesitant to put her hand in his. But that had nothing to do with horses.

R
idley led her around the corner, watching to make sure she didn’t peek. Her hand was so tiny in his, and she clung so tightly. None too certain he’d be able to talk her into trying this, he was determined to give it his best. Especially when remembering the blisters on her feet from last month. “Okay, stop here.”

She did, her eyes still closed, holding the ledger against her chest.

“And now, m’lady …” He gave her hand a little squeeze. “Your chariot awaits!”

She opened her eyes. And blinked.

Judging from her expression, Ridley guessed she either didn’t make the connection to what it was or — more likely — didn’t like it.

“It’s so
small
.” She released his hand. “But … what’s it for?”

“It’s a horse cart.” He placed a hand on one of the wheels. “Something to get you back and forth between the businesses on the plantation.”

She eyed him, then the cart again. “This is very generous of you. But a small cart or a regular carriage … It still has to have a
horse
to pull it, correct?”

“Don’t make up your mind just yet.” Ridley gestured, and Jimmy walked from the stable on cue, cap tucked low over his ears, smiling for all he was worth — and leading a Shetland pony behind him.

Ridley heard a bubble of laughter escape from Olivia before she clamped a hand over her mouth. A glint of possibility lit her eyes. As if he’d rehearsed it, the miniature pony looked over at her, a bushy tuft of golden-brown hair hanging down in his eyes, his short stubby legs working to keep up with Jimmy’s pace.

Olivia’s sigh held humor. “He’s adorable. But he’s still a horse.”

“Actually, he’s more like a …
quarter
horse.” Ridley waited, seeing if she’d catch it.

She cut her eyes at him and slowly … her mouth tipped upward.

He shrugged. “At least it made you smile. Have you met Jimmy yet?” He gestured. “This young man helped me build this for you. We couldn’t run Belle Meade without him. Jimmy, this is Mrs. Aberdeen.”

The boy doffed his worn cap, ducking his head as he did. “I know who you is, ma’am. I seen you walkin’ before.
A lot
. You must like to walk.”

Olivia slid Ridley another look, and he gave her a quick wink, hoping she knew her secret was still safe with him. Her tiny smile made him think she understood.

“Yes, Jimmy, I
do
like to walk. For the most part, anyway.”

“Mr. Ridley here, he done fixed you up a real nice little ridin’ cart, ma’am.”

“I didn’t do it alone, Jimmy. Remember, you helped me.”

The young boy smiled. “Yes, sir. I did.” Jimmy pulled on the pony’s lead rope. “I get Copper all hitched up for you, Missus Aberdeen, then you can take him for a turn.”

Olivia’s laugh came feather soft. “That’s not necessary, Jimmy. I … ahh … don’t need to go anywhere right now.”

Jimmy’s smile slid away. “But don’t you wanna try it out, ma’am? Least see how it rides?”

Ridley knew if he’d asked her that, she’d have turned him down flat. But Jimmy asking? That was different. He’d chosen his young apprentice wisely.

Olivia’s lips started moving before the words were formed. “Well … I …” Then she stopped, and the prettiest smile spread across her face. “Why don’t you show me instead, Jimmy? First, I mean. Then maybe I could do it after you.”

Ridley inwardly shook his head. Oh, she was good.

Jimmy set to work — oblivious to the woman’s ploy — and had the little pony hitched to the cart in no time. The boy climbed in, reins in hand. “Are ya sure you don’t wanna go with me, Missus Aberdeen? This gonna be fun!”

“Oh, I’m quite sure.” She gave a little wave. “I want to see you first.”

With a smile, Jimmy gave the reins a slap and little Copper took off at a nice easy pace, just like they’d practiced, his stubby little legs stomping.

“Now see there.” Ridley sidled up to Olivia. “Doesn’t that look like fun? Nothing to be afraid of. Just a nice smooth ride.”

She nodded, watching Jimmy and Copper’s every move. Jimmy completed half a circuit around the meadow and headed on back, just as Ridley had instructed, when a couple of mares came galloping up from the lower pasture. Copper saw them, and his short legs started churning. The Shetland pony was no match for the mares’ speed, but he gave it his all.

“Whoa, boy!” Jimmy yelled, pulling back on the reins at first, the cart bumping and bouncing beneath him. Then the boy started laughing. “Get ‘em, Copper,” he yelled, slapping the reins. “We can catch ‘em, boy!”

Ridley watched as his brilliant idea unraveled before his eyes — even while part of him wanted to laugh.

Jimmy finally brought the cart to a standstill beside them, laughing nearly as hard as Copper was breathing. “I told you, Missus Aberdeen. It was gonna be fun!”

Olivia’s smile blossomed. “And you were right, Jimmy! It
looked
like fun! But I think I’ll wait on taking that ride for now. For Copper’s sake,” she added quickly. “He appears to be a tad winded at the moment.” She turned to Ridley and laid a hand on his arm. “Thank you, Mr. Cooper, for thinking of me,” she said, her voice lowering. She leaned in, smiling, and whispered, “But not … on … your … life.” And with that, she turned and walked into the stable.

Ridley started to follow, to get her to reconsider. Then he decided to bide his time and give her some room. After all, he had a backup plan.

Later the following afternoon, Olivia finished her day’s work in the tack room, discovering the inventorying process much easier the second time around — and also discovering Ridley Cooper to be a kinder, more thoughtful man than she’d previously believed. A continuing theme, it seemed.

Still, after seeing how little Copper had behaved while pulling that cart yesterday, there was no way she was putting herself in that situation. But she did appreciate what Ridley, along with young Jimmy, had done for her. She’d find a way to thank them both.

She picked up the nearly empty glass of iced lemonade Ridley had brought her earlier and drank the last of it, the lemony pulp tasting
both tangy and sweet. The glass still felt cool in her hand, though the ice was long melted — not unlike her harsh opinion of Ridley following their first meeting. She’d been disappointed that he hadn’t lingered after delivering the drink and that he hadn’t been back since.

Her stomach alerted her that it was nearing dinner time, so she finished reviewing the last drawer, made her notes, and closed the ledger. On her way out of the stables, she kept to the exact middle of the aisle, walking with purpose, her gaze focused straight ahead, not daring to return the looks of dark eyes following her progress. They were beautiful creatures, all of them. But their sheer strength and unpredictability literally stole her breath.

Once outside, she inhaled deeply, appreciating the fresh air and the late-day sunlight. She was growing more accustomed to being in the stables, but that didn’t mean she liked them any better.

She’d started for the house when she spotted Jimmy — at least she thought it was him — sitting cross-legged on a barrel by the stable, his face mostly hidden by his cap.

She approached, but he didn’t look up, apparently lost in the magazine in his lap. “Jimmy?” she tried softly. And then again more loudly, when he didn’t answer.

He lifted his head. “Missus Aberdeen!” His smile was immediate. “How you doin’, ma’am?”

As she had yesterday, she felt an instant liking for the boy. “I’m doing very well, thank you. How are you?”

“I’s good.” He tipped his cap to her. “Just lookin’ through this paper the general give me.” He held it up.

“
American Turf Register and Sporting Magazine
,” she said, smiling. And not hard to believe, it was an issue she’d already read to Elizabeth. “So that’s what you’re reading.”

No sooner had she said it, than she realized she’d likely misspoken. The flicker in the boy’s expression and his gentle half shrug confirmed it.

“Well, I ain’t ‘zactly readin’, but …” He hopped off the barrel, appearing unaware of her faux pas. “If you got a minute, please, ma’am … Maybe you could help me find somethin’ in it?”

Still a bit embarrassed over her misstep, Olivia nodded. “I’d be happy to, Jimmy.”

“The general said somethin’s in here ‘bout Jack Malone comin’ to Belle Meade, and I want to see it.” His smile brightened. “I can usually
pick out the plantation’s name by them double sticks, but I just ain’t seein’ ‘em this time.”

Double sticks
. It gradually registered with her what he meant, and Olivia motioned toward a nearby tree stump. “I’d be happy to help you, Jimmy. Let’s sit over here.” She sat, balancing the ledger on her lap and liking the way the boy plopped right down beside her. She guessed him to be eight or nine, though something about him seemed older.

“I happen to have read this issue before.” She flipped through the pages until she located the article. “I know exactly where it is. Here.” She held the magazine between them and read slowly, moving her finger beneath the words as she did. “And see, here’s the name of the —”

“There’s them double sticks,” he said, tapping the two Ls in the word
Belle
. “You read good, ma’am. And smooth too. Like my mama’s gravy.” He made a face like he was tasting it.

Olivia laughed. “Jimmy, how old are you?”

“I’s nine, ma’am. Gonna be ten soon.”

She studied him, aware of an idea pushing to the forefront of her thoughts — also pushing against propriety and everything she’d always known or been told about Negroes. But looking into this boy’s eyes, seeing an eagerness she recognized, she couldn’t help but question the validity of what she thought she knew.

Though no one else was around to hear, she still lowered her voice. “Would you like to learn how to read, Jimmy? Better, I mean. More than just … the double sticks?”

His eyes flickered with hope. “I’s s’posed to start learnin’ to read a ways back. At a free school, my mama called it. But it done closed down ‘fore I could get there.”

Olivia nodded. “A freedmen’s school, since you’re a
free
young man now.”

He grinned. “Yes, ma’am. That be it.”

She knew something about these schools, though not much. Charles had always taken the newspaper with him to work, most times before she could read it. Part of his attempt to control her, she knew. Which he’d done quite well, looking back on it. But she’d read each
Harper’s Weekly
from cover to cover when it arrived. She’d pilfered money from the food budget over time to pay the four dollar yearly subscription in advance.

She finished reading the article on General Harding’s purchase of Jack Malone, then closed the magazine, her decision measured and made. “Why don’t you ask your mother if it’s all right with her if I teach you how to read. And if she says yes then we’ll start this week.”

Jimmy looked up at her. “Really, Missus Aberdeen?”

Olivia felt a funny tickle in her chest. “Really, Jimmy.”

His grin nearly stretched from ear to ear. Then just as quickly faded. “I’m sorry you didn’t like your cart, ma’am.”

“Oh, no, don’t think I didn’t like it. I liked it very much, Jimmy. I just … Well, I wasn’t in the frame of mind to ride yesterday, that’s all.”

“So, you still be willin’ to try it sometime then?”

If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought Ridley had put him up to asking her that, and she glanced around just to make sure he wasn’t standing nearby somewhere, listening.

Unable to say no to this little boy, Olivia felt the word coming and was helpless to stop it. “Yes,” she said, her insides twisting just thinking about it. “I’ll try the cart … sometime.”

Then she hurried on her way before he could pin her down as to ‘
zactly
when.