To Whisper Her Name (53 page)

T
his
is how you repay my family’s kindness, Olivia?” General Harding stood over her in his office, the control in his voice contrasting the fury in his eyes. “You sneak behind my back to teach in this school and knowingly endanger the lives of my servants. And their children!”

His voice rose, and Olivia jumped.

“Not to mention yourself!”

Still shaken from the incident, her hair and clothes reeking of smoke, the hem of her skirt in burned tatters, Olivia steadied her voice and her emotions. “I didn’t decide to teach in a freedmen’s school to spite you in any way, General Harding. Or to endanger anyone. I simply wanted to help.”

“To help?” He gave a harsh laugh and began pacing. “How is this helping? Do you realize that last week one of these schools north of here was set on fire just as this one was tonight?” He stilled. “But they
shot
the men, women, and children as they fled
that
building. Including the white teacher.”

Olivia closed her eyes, not having heard of that incident but able to imagine it only too clearly after this evening. “I didn’t do this naively, sir. I knew there was danger involved. But … every choice comes with risk. And a cost.” How well she was learning that lesson.

He leveled a stare. “Rest assured, Olivia … Today, of all days, I am most fully aware of that fact.” Sighing, he sat heavily in his desk chair. “Big Ike says there were four men, but their faces were covered.”

“Yes, sir. Once we all got out, we met in the woods and accounted for everyone. Then hurried back here.”

“There was nothing recognizable about any of the men?”

Olivia shook her head. “It was dark, and they were a ways off.”

“Injuries?” he asked, voice solemn.

“A few have minor burns, but … it could have been much, much worse as you know. Rachel is treating those with burns.”

No one at Belle Meade had seen the flames or, with it being dark, had detected the smoke, since the old hunting cabin was over a mile away. Still, word spread quickly and a small crowd had gathered near Rachel’s. Olivia had expected — hoped — to see Ridley there. But neither he nor Uncle Bob had shown.

“You’re not to speak a word of this to my wife, Olivia. I will not have her already-weakened health further compromised. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” she answered, not quite sure how she’d manage that but determined to follow his wish. She didn’t want to upset Elizabeth either. And it was her aunt’s prerogative whether or not to tell the general about her own part in the school. Not Olivia’s.

“This is certain to be in the newspapers later this week.” He rubbed his temple. “I pray they don’t include your name. Or mine. But they likely will.”

That reminded her of something. “Sir, I want you to know that when looking for a site for the school, we specifically chose somewhere not on Harding land. To help protect you.”

“How considerate.” His smile was cool. “If only you would have chosen not to involve my servants and my wife’s personal companion, who is also a guest in my home.”

She realized nothing she could say would change his opinion. And looking at it from his perspective, she understood.

“You say ‘we’ about the freedmen’s school, Olivia. I’m no simpleton. I assume Mr. Pagette was involved, since you met him in my office that day. Who else assisted in this?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t tell you that.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

“Won’t, sir.”

“It was one of the servants, wasn’t it? Betsy, perhaps? Big Ike? Jedediah?”

“General.” Olivia moved to the edge of her seat. “These people did nothing wrong. And none of them deserve to be punished. They simply want to learn, to better themselves. To have an opportunity at a richer, more meaningful life.”

Seeing the surprise on his face, Olivia was a little surprised herself at the tone she’d used. Not harsh. But certainly not … submissive.
And what she’d said about the servants’ lives wasn’t lost in relation to her own either.

“None of the servants will be punished, Olivia. But neither will I tolerate any further involvement in a freedmen’s school. From them.
Or
from you.”

“But, General, teaching is something I’ve come to love. And … I’m good at it. I’ll never be allowed to teach in one of the —”

“Perhaps the way I phrased it left the issue open for debate. So let me state it again … As long as you are in my home, Olivia Aberdeen, you will
not
teach in a freedmen’s school or be associated with one in any way. Not and remain under my household and my guardianship.”

She knew only too well what he meant by guardianship: His financial support. “I understand, General.” He opened the door for her. “Good night, General Harding.”

“Olivia …”

She paused.

“Big Ike told me what you did. Going back inside to save Jolene … That was a very brave thing to do.”

“Thank you, sir. But I didn’t feel very brave at the time.”

“One rarely does when one is doing something brave.”

She was still thinking about that when she walked into her room and got ready for bed. Wishing she could have washed the smoke from her hair, she looked out the window and could barely see the outline of the old Harding cabin. No light in the window. But it was late, and she was exhausted anyway.

She climbed into bed and an inexplicable loneliness settled over her. And she realized what it was … She wanted to talk to Ridley, to tell him all that had happened, to see his reactions, his eyes when he smiled, his scowl when he got cross with her. Which he surely would after learning about tonight. He hadn’t been in favor of her teaching at the school, at first. But he would know exactly what to say right now to lift her spirits. Only, there was nothing he could say to cure what she was feeling.

Because
he
was the cure. And he was leaving.

The loneliness inside her fanned out.
Oh, Lord, what am I doing?
She could scarcely breathe. She sat up in bed and took several deep breaths, the events of the night crowding close, like the smoke clinging to her hair, and the forthcoming proposal from General Meeks.

She laid back down but sleep evaded her. She kept thinking about
how there would be no more freedmen’s school for the servants here, and her heart ached for them. And for herself. Then she realized …

A number of them had already learned to read and write. Quite well. So even if she never got the opportunity to teach any of them again — or anyone else for that matter — the people she’d taught could teach each other.

The realization brought a momentary slice of peace, until she thought about how she still wanted to share all this with Ridley.

The next morning, not feeling hungry, Olivia skipped breakfast and — with Betsy’s help — washed her hair instead. She towel-dried it as best she could, put it up in combs, then visited Aunt Elizabeth as promised.

With her encouragement, Elizabeth decided she felt well enough to sit up in a chair in the bedroom and take an egg and half of a biscuit. When Elizabeth inquired about class the previous evening, Olivia went into great detail about Betsy reading the article and tried to mimic what Betsy had said and done, much to Elizabeth’s delight. But as the general had requested, she shared nothing more.

And surprisingly, that sufficed.

But the simple act of sitting up proved to be too much, too soon, for Elizabeth, and Olivia helped her back into bed just before Mary arrived.

Olivia made a beeline for the stallions’ stable, knowing Ridley would be there by this time of morning. But he wasn’t. She asked one of the stable hands about him but the man hadn’t seen him. Surely Ridley would have heard about the fire by now from either the general or one of the servants. That would prompt him to come and find her, to see how she was.

She worked in the supply room on the inventory until noon, at which time she’d almost begun to think Ridley was avoiding her. Not a difficult thing to do at Belle Meade, she knew from experience. Yet also not easy in the long run.

But when she walked into the mares’ stable and saw Seabird’s empty stall, she relaxed.

He was out riding. A little late in the day to still be gone, but heaven knew the man did the work of two men. He deserved a little time to himself. After lunch, she made her way back to the mares’
stable when she spotted Uncle Bob in one of the corrals with a pretty little bay mare. “Uncle Bob!” she called.

He looked up and waved. Then promptly went back to work. She hesitated for a moment, then continued on inside. But when she saw Seabird’s still-empty stall, she retraced her steps and let herself inside the corral.

Uncle Bob looked up as she approached, absent his usual smile. “How are you, Missus Aberdeen? I done heard ‘bout what went on last night, ma’am.” He shook his head. “I sure am sorry. You all right?”

“I’m fine.” She nodded. “Thanks to Betsy and Big Ike.”

“Them’s good people. Both of ‘em.”

“Yes, they are.”

He reached into the pocket of his apron, pulled out a small apple, and offered it to the mare. The horse grabbed it.

Olivia stepped closer to rub the mare on the forehead. “Uncle Bob, do you know where Ridley is? I’ve … been looking for him.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his gaze elsewhere. “I do. But first …” He reached into his shirt pocket this time. “I’m to give you this.”

Instinctively, Olivia held out a hand, but when she saw the seashell he placed in her palm, her world began to narrow until, finally, all she could see was the shell. And suddenly she was back in the cabin, on the night Ridley had been injured.

I’ve wondered if you still had that
, she’d asked him.

‘Course I do
, he’d said.
I’ll never part with it. At least not willingly
.

His response echoed in her ears —
I’ll never part with it
, reverberating inside her. And without being told, she knew. Her fingers closed tightly around the shell as an unseen fist closed tightly around her heart.

“When did …” But she couldn’t finish the question. She looked at Uncle Bob through tears, an unseen chasm threatening to swallow her whole.

“Yesterday, ma’am. The general, he …” Uncle Bob blew out a breath, his bottom lip quivering. “He give Ridley ‘til noon to clear out … after Ridley told him.”

“
Told
him?” Olivia felt a flush of hot, then cold. “You mean … about —”

“Yes, ma’am. Told him everythin’. Said he couldn’t leave here, much less take the auction money, without settin’ things straight ‘tween ‘em as men.”

Oh, Ridley …

“But it’s all right, ma’am. I already knew he couldn’t, ‘cause I know Ridley Cooper. I done gave him permission to tell my part too.”

She frowned. “Your part?”

He nodded. “‘Bout that night Ridley and me first met on the mountain …” He glanced south. “Back durin’ the war.”

“You and Ridley met during the war?”

His eyes widened. “Oh, Lawd, ma’am … He ain’t said nothin’ ‘bout that when he told you the rest?”

She shook her head, seeing by the look on Uncle Bob’s face that he was wishing he hadn’t either. But he was sure going to.

Gone. Ridley was gone.

Olivia paused in the meadow and looked behind her to where Uncle Bob still stood on the front porch of the old Harding cabin. He lifted a hand, and she did the same, then continued toward the mansion, her thoughts in a tumult. Ridley had met Uncle Bob during the war, with orders to confiscate the thoroughbreds. And yet … he hadn’t. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t stop crying. She was so proud of him. But a part of her was angry too.

Angry Ridley hadn’t told her he was leaving. That he had just up and —

No sooner had the thought formed than its flaws showed themselves. If there was one thing Ridley Cooper had made clear to her from the start, it was that he was leaving. He’d never left any doubt of that.

“He done left me half his auction money too,” Uncle Bob had told her. “I ain’t got no idea what to do with all that money. Got everythin’ I need right here.”