Glorious Angel (9 page)

Angela found herself blushing. “I really don’t know what you mean,” she said awkwardly. “But if you’ve finished your meal, don’t let me keep you. Surely you must have something to do, other than keep me company.”

He laughed heartily. “But my dear girl, I have nothin’ but time on my hands, and I can think of no better way to spend it than with you.”

Angela’s face reddened and she sat down and busied herself with piling food on her plate. She could see that it would be easy to obtain Robert as an ally, but she was afraid the sacrifice expected of her would be too great.

“Don’t you have a plantation to run, Mr. Lonsdale?” she asked pointedly.

“Not as long as my father’s still livin’. He deplores my help, and frankly, I deplore givin’ it. Even though the war greatly diminished his wealth, the old man was able to pay the back taxes on The Shadows and he’s managin’ quite well by himself. It’s almost as if the war never was. I find things to do, to pass the time agreeably.”

Angela was incensed by his laziness. “Drinkin’ and gamblin’, no doubt. All you planters’ sons are alike.”

“Not all of us,” Robert came back with a grin. “Some are not as lucky as I.”

She stared, aghast. He had taken her statement as a compliment, not as the sarcasm she intended. He really was insufferable. She had thought that the breed of men who lived each day only for pleasure, leaving work for others, had ended with the war. But apparently she was wrong. Robert Lonsdale was just such a man.

“Perhaps you would care for a ride this mornin’,” Robert continued confidently. “To see The Shadows? Father has done considerable repair, and it’s really quite beautiful once again. It went to ruin durin’ the last years of the war, what with most of the slaves runnin’ off when things started gettin’ bad. But they came back soon enough, once they found the Yankees’ idea of freedom was a lot worse than what they’d left.”

Angela cooled her temper. Robert couldn’t help being what he was, and she needed him as a friend, not an enemy. She held back the caustic words and instead gave him a radiant smile, grateful that she had an excuse to decline his offer.

“I’d love to see The Shadows with you, Mr. Lonsdale, but Jacob wants to see me after breakfast. Maybe another time though, if that’s all right.”

He frowned for just a moment, then smiled brightly once again. “There will certainly be another time. And no more ‘Mr. Lonsdale,’ Angela. You must call me Robert—I insist.”

Eleven

Jacob Maitland took her to Mobile a little later. They traveled in a comfortable enclosed carriage that kept out the hot sun.

She hadn’t realized the extent of Jacob Maitland’s generosity. She had never dreamed that when he said he wanted to be like a father to her, he meant to bestow on her everything the rest of his family took for granted.

“Angela,” he had begun that morning, “I know you told me yesterday that you never had time for schooling. Now that you no longer have to work, would you like to go to school?”

She sighed regretfully. “I’m too old for school now.”

“Nonsense,” Jacob returned with a smile. “You’re never too old to learn. And I didn’t mean a public school for children, my dear. I meant a private school for young women.”

“But I can’t even write my name.”

“I will arrange for you to have a special tutor to teach you all the basics, and then you can go to classes with the other girls. The choice is entirely yours, of course. I’m not saying you have to go.”

“But I’d love to go,” she said quickly. “I’ve always wondered what folks found so interestin’ in books.”

“You can find that out for yourself now. And when you come home, you might like to help me with my ledgers.”

“Oh, I’d love to help you any way I can, Mr.— Jacob.”

“Good. Now we have to decide on the school. There are many to choose from, here and up North. There is a fine school in Massachusetts. One of the teachers there, Naomi Barkley, was a very good friend of your mother’s. In fact, your mother attended that school when she was your age.”

“My mother went to a northern school?”

“Yes. Massachusetts was her home until she came to Alabama and married your father.”

Angela was dumbfounded. “I didn’t know—I mean, Pa never told me. I always thought she was born here. How do you know this?”

Jacob hesitated before answering carefully, “I used to live in Massachusetts myself. I still have business interests there. My father was acquainted with Charissa’s parents. They were well-to-do before the Depression of 1837. They
died after that, and left your mother penniless. Charissa became a governess for a while, and then she came here.”

“Why did she come here?”

“Well, I don’t…When you are older, perhaps you will be able to understand.”

He knew the reasons, but he didn’t want to tell her. And she couldn’t press him for answers. She just couldn’t. But she wanted to know.

“Now, about the school,” Jacob continued. “I am of the opinion that northern schools are the best. Both my sons went to school in the North. But you have a choice. I could send you to Europe, but I thought you might like to see your mother’s home.”

“Yes, I would!” Angela said with excitement. “The school in Massachusetts is my choice.”

“You don’t have a dislike for the North, then?”

“No. Bradford—I mean, your older son—fought for the North. I have nothing against Northerners.”

Jacob was frowning at her now.

“How did you know Bradford fought for the Union?”

Angela paled. How could she have let that slip?

“I—I—” She couldn’t think of an explanation.

Jacob saw how upset she was and quickly smiled to put her at ease. “It’s all right, Angela. I was just surprised that you knew. It doesn’t matter anymore who knows, now that the North has won.” He dismissed the subject. “You will have to
leave in about ten days, Angela, and that doesn’t give us much time. We will go to the city today to have you fitted for clothes. I’m told seventeen dresses should be adequate for the school year. There isn’t enough time to have that many made for you here, and the North will feature warmer materials anyway. So Miss Barkley, the woman I mentioned earlier, will help you complete your wardrobe once you are there.”

Angela was shocked. “But I don’t need—”

But he anticipated her objection. “I have asked that you let me think of you as a daughter, Angela,” he interrupted her softly. “I would do no less for Zachary’s wife, so please let me do as much for you. And if you are feeling shy about it, think of it as helping out some poor seamstress who needs the business.”

So they were on their way to the city to choose dress styles and materials appropriate to a young lady of seventeen. Later, they bought all the accessories Jacob insisted she needed, in the very stores she had once looked in on so wistfully. Trunks were bought, and bonnets and shoes, toilet articles, warm jackets for the colder weather she would soon encounter. So much money changed hands that Angela was dazed. It was all really happening, and to Angela Sherrington!

Twelve

After three winters in South Hadley, Massachusetts, Angela should have been used to cold weather, but she wasn’t. She didn’t think she ever would be. The other girls didn’t seem to mind it, though, for most of them came from northern states.

Angela didn’t have any friends in school, except for Naomi Barkley, who treated her more like a daughter than a pupil. Angela had long ago given up hope of finding a friend. It wasn’t her fault. She had tried hard to be friendly. But the other students took an immediate dislike to her because of her southern accent, for many of them had lost brothers and fathers because of the war. As they blamed the South for the war, they blamed her.

Wishing it had been different, Angela managed to live with the hostility the first year, for she had
Naomi, and Angela lost herself in learning. But being the butt of practical jokes, she couldn’t help losing her temper occasionally. She shocked the other girls with her knowledge of swear words. Angela would hurl expletives at them that turned their faces red. She enjoyed shocking them. It was the only relief she had.

One good thing was that, through Naomi, Angela came to know more about her own mother. She even learned about the things that Jacob Maitland had been reluctant to discuss, her mother’s reason for leaving Springfield, Massachusetts.

Charissa had been thirteen when her parents’ world crumbled in the Depression of 1837. But they managed to keep her in school, and she was kept in the dark about their poverty and mounting debts. She didn’t discover the truth until they died in 1845. Since Charissa’s family and the Maitlands had been good friends, Charissa became a companion to Jacob’s mother. When Jacob’s mother died, in ’47, Charissa became a governess for a banking family.

Naomi saw her occasionally then, and Charissa confessed that she was in love with a married man, that it was impossible for him to leave his wife and children. She wouldn’t say who the man was, but Naomi suspected it was the banker. Because of the hopelessness of her romance, Charissa left Springfield for Alabama.

Angela wondered why Jacob had been so reluc
tant to tell her the truth. She was certainly old enough to understand.

On one of the girls’ frequent outings to Springfield, Angela huddled close to the entrance of a store, waiting for the other girls to finish with their purchases. She really shouldn’t have come today, for she had a lot of studying to do. But she needed a little more blue yarn to finish a sweater she was making for Naomi.

Angela pulled the hood of her cape tighter about her face, feeling the fur lining cold against her skin. She wished the other girls would hurry.

Suddenly a commotion caught her attention. Down the street, on the opposite side, two little boys were having an argument. Angela watched with alarm as one boy pushed the other, and a fight began. But just then, a tall man approached and said something to the boys. They immediately stopped fighting and ran off in separate directions.

The man seemed vaguely familiar, and she watched him intently.

Angela gasped, drawing the attention of Jane and Sybil, who had come out of the store.

“Did you know that man, Angela?” Jane asked.

Angela turned around to look at them, the color gone from her face. It had been almost five and a half years since she last saw Bradford Maitland. For some mysterious reason that the family wouldn’t talk about, he had not returned to
Golden Oaks since the summer of ’62. What was he doing in Springfield?

Sybil giggled and whispered something to Jane, whose eyes opened wide. But Angela wasn’t paying attention to them as she stared at the brown building across the street. She was lost in the past. In all these years, hardly a day passed that Angela didn’t think about Bradford, and now she had seen him once again.

Jane shook Angela’s arm. “Why don’t you go in there and see him? You know you want to.”

“I—I couldn’t,” Angela stammered.

“Of course you can,” Jane said, a gleam in her eyes. “We will say that you met a lady friend who offered to take you back to school.”

“But that’s a lie.”

“We’ll keep your secret, Angela,” Sybil offered encouragement. “And you can always hire a carriage to take you back to school if your friend won’t. It’s early in the afternoon. You won’t be missed until dinner. Go on into the building.”

Angela handed her small package to Jane and slowly crossed the street.

But when she reached the steps that led to the brown building, she suddenly had reservations about going on. It was an awfully brash thing to do, to go looking for a man. What would Bradford think of her?

Angela turned about quickly, suddenly ready to run back to the store. But the girls were gone.
Why not see it through? It seemed silly not to talk to Bradford.

Angela mounted the steps and knocked loudly on the door. A few moments later the door was opened by a tall man in rolled-up shirt sleeves and vest, a cigar stuck between his teeth, who waited for her to speak. When she didn’t, he grabbed her arm and pulled her inside, closing the door behind her.

“Got to keep the cold out, honey,” the man said in a gruff but friendly voice.