The Orphan's Dream (25 page)

‘Pa never mentions her to anyone outside the family,' Jerusha said, sniffing. ‘She's been like this for three years or more, since the riding accident, but she used to be so full of life and so beautiful. We had big parties in those days, with lanterns in the trees and dancing on the lawn. She used to love music and she could sing like an angel, but that's all gone now. Pa has taken her to the best doctors but none of them can do anything for her. They say she might improve with time, so we keep on hoping.'

‘I'm truly sorry,' Mirabel said earnestly. ‘I never really knew my mother; she died when I was very young.'

‘I'm sorry to hear that, I truly am.' With a palpable effort Jerusha managed a wobbly smile. ‘At least my mother is still with us, and I believe she understands more than she lets on.' She walked on. ‘It's time we got changed and joined the gentlemen, or they'll be wondering what's happened to us. I do hope Cook has done something special for dinner.'

The meal in the elegant dining room had been a lively affair with Jerusha at her best, and Vincent regaled them with stories of his struggles to rebuild the plantation after the war. Hubert had eaten well and Mirabel was reassured by his improved appearance, although he retired to bed early, leaving Vincent to sit and smoke his cigar alone on the veranda. Jerusha was seemingly tireless but Mirabel had begun to wilt. After coffee accompanied by crystallised fruits, which Jerusha tucked into even though she had just enjoyed a substantial meal, Mirabel was forced to admit defeat and go to her room.

That night she was lulled to sleep by the hypnotic sounds of the cicadas and katydids and the haunting call of the whip-poor-will. A breeze rustled the leaves of the mighty oaks, but in her dreams the sighing of the wind became the sound of the sea. She was once again on a ship, but this time it was not the
Servia
, but a three-masted schooner buffeted by a great storm. She was on deck, calling out to the man who struggled to control the ship's wheel as it fought to escape his grasp. Even before a sudden flash of lightning illuminated his face she knew who it was. She awoke to the sound of thunder, her heart was racing, and for some inexplicable reason she was convinced that he had survived.

THE CERTAINTY THAT
Jack was still alive, however ill-founded, made the world a more colourful place and infinitely more interesting. The next morning Mirabel joined in with everything Jerusha suggested with an enthusiasm she had not felt for a long time. She put her fears aside and allowed the D'Angelos' groom to help her onto the grey mare, riding side-saddle around the plantation with Jerusha, who was an accomplished horsewoman. In the afternoon she sat in Mrs D'Angelo's bedroom while Jerusha read several passages from
Daisy Miller
, a novella by Henry James. Whether or not the story registered with Betsy was questionable, but the sound of her daughter's voice seemed to soothe her and she drifted off to sleep. Jerusha closed the book with a sigh. ‘I keep hoping that one day she'll come back to us.'

‘Miss Betsy's doing just fine,' Kezia said, moving silently from her chair to the bedside. ‘She understands more than you think, she just don't have much to say. When the time comes she'll open her mouth and speak.'

The sound of horse's hooves broke the ensuing silence. Jerusha leapt to her feet and ran to the window. ‘It's Ethan, and about time too. I declare I'm going to give him a piece of my mind.' Picking up her skirts, she raced from the room.

Mirabel sent a questioning glance to Kezia, who shrugged her shoulders. ‘Ethan Munroe. His family own the neighbouring plantation.' She turned her attention to Betsy, plumping her pillows and smoothing the sheets.

‘I – I'll leave you to do your work,' Mirabel said lamely. She hurried from the room and made her way slowly down the wide staircase.

In the entrance hall Jerusha was berating a tall young man, whose fair hair flopped over one eye as he raised her hand to his lips. ‘I came as soon as I heard you'd come home,' he protested.

‘I might just forgive you,' Jerusha said, smiling. ‘But only if you promise to stay for dinner.'

‘I'd love to, honey, but I have a business meeting in Richmond.' He bowed from the waist, clicking his heels together. ‘I regret that I cannot accept your kind invitation, Miss D'Angelo.'

She slapped his wrist. ‘If you mock me, Ethan Munroe, you can just get back on your old horse and ride on to your boring old meeting.'

He grinned and gave her a hug. ‘I've missed you more than you'll ever know.'

‘Oh, well, since you put it that way, I guess I'm pleased to see you too.'

Mirabel cleared her throat to announce her presence and Jerusha spun round, her eyes shining and her cheeks flushed. ‘Mirabel honey, may I introduce my old friend, Ethan Munroe.' She turned to Ethan, adding proudly, ‘Mirabel is from London, England.'

Mirabel met his curious gaze with a smile. ‘How do you do, sir?'

He acknowledged her with a courtly bow. ‘How do you do, Miss Mirabel? I must say it's a pleasure to meet an English lady.'

Jerusha slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. ‘We'll take tea on the veranda, Amos,' she called to the servant who was standing to attention awaiting instructions. ‘I'm dying to tell you about the things we saw in Europe, Ethan.' She turned to Mirabel with an eager smile. ‘Will you join us, Belle?'

Mirabel nodded. ‘I'll come in a minute.' She had just spotted Hubert sitting in the parlour reading a newspaper, and she realised with a pang of conscience that she had not seen him since breakfast. She entered the room, pausing in the doorway to give him a searching glance. To her intense relief she noted that his colour had improved and he looked more like his old self. ‘Hubert.' She crossed the floor and pulled up a stool to sit by his side. ‘I'm so sorry. I'm afraid I've been neglecting you.'

He looked up, peering at her over the top of his spectacles. A slow smile spread across his thin features. ‘Nonsense, my dear. You have every right to relax and enjoy yourself.'

‘But you are feeling better, aren't you?'

He folded the newspaper and set it aside. ‘I'm completely recovered and looking forward to continuing our travels.'

Somehow the thought of moving on had lost some of its appeal. Their unplanned detour had been a delight, and Mirabel knew that she would be sorry to leave: she would miss the plantation and the generous hospitality of their hosts. ‘I think we should stay here a while longer, Hubert. You need to get your strength back.'

‘It was a passing sickness. No doubt I'll suffer it again when we embark on the next part of our journey, but we must get to Florida in time to see the ghost orchids in bloom.'

‘Of course, but wouldn't it be better to travel overland instead of by sea?'

He shook his head. ‘I went into all the possibilities in London, and I think I can safely say I have the best itinerary possible. I've discussed it with Vincent and he also agrees that the best route would be by rail to Newport News and from there by sea.'

‘But you were so ill on the
Servia
, Hubert.'

‘I hope to find my sea legs, as they say.' His eyes glowed with enthusiasm and he grasped her hands in his. ‘This is my last chance to find a ghost orchid to add to my collection. Any amount of physical suffering will be worth it in the end.'

She withdrew her hands and stood up. ‘All right, Hubert. If you're sure.'

‘I am absolutely certain. We'll do it together, my dear. I can't fail if you're at my side.' He picked up the newspaper and opened it. ‘Now go outside and join your young friends. Make the most of your time here, my dear girl.'

‘I will.' She knew that there was no use arguing with her husband once he had made up his mind, and for herself she was undaunted by the prospect of a long sea voyage. She left him reading his paper and went outside to join Jerusha and her beau, for it was obvious that Ethan Munroe was not a casual acquaintance. Mirabel suspected that her friend was more interested in the young man than she was prepared to admit.

Ethan stayed for an hour or so before taking his leave, promising to return next day to take them on a picnic on the banks of the James River. Jerusha jumped to her feet and gave him a hug. ‘You darling man, I just knew you'd think of something particularly nice to do for Belle. Sadly she's leaving us the day after tomorrow.'

Ethan hesitated as he was about to step down from the veranda. ‘That's too bad, Miss Belle. We could have shown you all the sights had you been able to stay a while longer.'

‘That would have been lovely,' Mirabel said with feeling.

‘I hope there'll be a cherry pie in the picnic basket.' Jerusha followed Ethan down the steps to where Caleb stood holding his spirited mount. ‘And fried chicken.'

He leapt into the saddle. ‘Our cook most probably has a list of the things you love to eat. I'll be here at noon tomorrow. Good day, ladies.' He rode off along the allée, waving his hat as his horse broke into a canter and then a gallop.

‘That boy just loves showing off,' Jerusha said with a satisfied smile. ‘I only encourage him because the Munroes' cook is the best in the county, and I just die for her cherry pie.' Twin dimples played on either side of her lips and her eyes twinkled mischievously. ‘I might just have to marry him so that I can have cherry pie every day of my life.'

‘You don't mean that, Jerusha.'

‘Why not?' Jerusha put her head on one side. ‘It wasn't a love match between you and Hubert was it?'

Mirabel felt the blood rush to her cheeks and she looked away. ‘No, I told you the reason why I accepted his offer, but I am very fond of him.'

‘Of course you are, honey. I didn't mean to imply that you married the man for his money. I understand, I really do.' She angled her head, frowning thoughtfully. ‘Now what can we do for the rest of the day? We must make the most of our time together.'

The picnic on the banks of the mighty James River ended a day of sightseeing organised by Ethan. Mirabel was totally in love with everything she saw, and the way of life at the plantation seemed idyllic compared to the harsh realities of London, but she also knew that nothing was perfect. There was poverty and hardship in communities outside the plantations and in the city itself, just as there was at home in England. Beneath Jerusha's carefree smiles there was the tragedy of her mother's crippling accident, which had struck her down in the prime of life. It was, Mirabel thought, as they drove back to Loblolly Grove in the dying rays of a fiery sunset, the way of the world.

‘It's such a shame you have to leave tomorrow,' Jerusha said, breaking into Mirabel's reverie and bringing her back to the present with a start.

‘I know, but I've had a wonderful time,' Mirabel said wholeheartedly. ‘I can't thank you and your father enough.' She smiled at Ethan, who was seated next to Jerusha, holding her hand. ‘And today has been lovely. I'll remember it forever.'

His tanned cheeks flushed and he smiled. ‘Why thank you, Mirabel. It's been a pleasure showing you around. I just wish I could accompany you on your voyage south.'

‘I suppose we'll be able to book passage on a ship bound for Florida,' Mirabel said, frowning. ‘Hubert had our journey all worked out in London, but he couldn't have foreseen our detour. Although,' she added hastily, ‘I've never enjoyed myself so much as I have the last few days.'

Jerusha exchanged meaningful glances with Ethan. ‘Maybe you could persuade your husband to stay on a little longer, honey. I mean to say, the old ghost orchids aren't going anywhere.'

A vision of orchids flying off like huge butterflies made Mirabel chuckle. ‘I don't think Hubert sees it that way. It's his long-held ambition to find them growing in the wild and take specimens home. I don't think anything or anyone could stop him now.'

‘Well, I'll accompany you to Newport News tomorrow,' Ethan said easily. ‘I have a shipment of tobacco, last year's crop, ready to send to England, and I like to be there to make sure everything goes to plan.'

‘I wish I could go too,' Jerusha said, sighing. ‘But Papa would never allow it.'

‘If we were married you could go anywhere with me.' Ethan lifted her hand to his lips, and although he was smiling there was a question in his blue eyes.

Mirabel could see that he was serious, and she held her breath.

‘Why Ethan Munroe,' Jerusha said, staring at him wide-eyed. ‘That surely sounds like a proposal of marriage.'

‘Will you marry me, Jerusha? I had intended to ask you with moonlight and magnolias, but the question is still the same.'

She blushed rosily, attempting to pull her hand free, but he tightened his grasp, curling his fingers around hers. ‘Hush now, Ethan. We've got company.'

He glanced at the straight back of the coachman, who seemed to be affecting deafness, and turned his gaze on Mirabel, who could feel her own cheeks reddening. ‘I'm sorry, Mirabel. I didn't plan it this way, but it just seemed to be the moment.'

‘Don't mind me,' Mirabel said hastily. ‘I think it's wonderful.'

‘You do?' Jerusha stared at her, raising a delicate eyebrow. ‘And you're so English.'

Mirabel tried to keep a straight face and failed. ‘We're not as prim and proper as you seem to imagine. Do give him an answer, Jerusha. Make us both happy.'

‘Well, I can see that I'm outnumbered.' Jerusha tossed her head, but her eyes were sparkling and her lips curved in a delighted smile. ‘I suppose I'll have to agree then, or I'll never hear the last of it.'

Ethan released her hand, wrapping his arms around her. ‘You're saying yes?'

‘I guess I am. Yes, Ethan Munroe, I will marry you.' Her last word was muffled by his kiss. She pushed him away, but only after returning the kiss with equal enthusiasm. ‘You're very forward, sir,' she said, laughing. ‘You should have asked Pa first.'