Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

Darien, Georgia

“ S o ye are the widow Edmond wrote me about.” The petite, redheaded woman Edmond had just introduced to Tabitha as his mother possessed a surprisingly strong grip for someone so wan and thin. The way her blue eyes bored into Tabitha’s and the retaining and squeezing of Tabitha’s hand suggested some special meaning. What had Edmond shared about her? “I am most glad to meet ye.”

“And I you.” Though she was still befuddled at how she came to be here, in the crowded parlor of this modest little house in Darien with children and youths running in and out and the ring of their father’s anvil at his blacksmith forge echoing from the yard.

Edmond had escorted her and Dulcie here a couple days after the ball during his leave, accompanying them on the stage from Savannah. But he had not prepared Tabitha for meeting his family. Had offered no explanations in the public conveyance. She could only assume he meant to make those now, or after.

Standing beside her in his new dress uniform—which his mother had exclaimed over when he had hugged her in greeting only moments before—he cleared his throat. “I am escorting Mrs. Gage and her servant home on my way to Fort Howe, but first, we have some business here in town. And before I ask her to trust me with that business, I thought she should meet you. I wanted her to understand that you are one of my main reasons for wishing a partnership with her.”

“Oh?” Freya Lassiter’s ginger lashes fluttered as she released Tabitha’s hands. “What type of business?”

“We should sit down.” Edmond touched his mother’s arm and gestured toward a frayed paisley wingchair near the blackened hearth, cold on this blistering late-June day.

“You sit down. I must serve tea,” Mrs. Lassiter said and smiled as her brown-haired sister-in-law, Meg Grant, entered the room, followed by Dulcie, both carrying trays of refreshments. The two women had scurried to the kitchen moments after Dulcie, Tabitha, and Edmond arrived.

“ I will serve tea.” Meg, Dulcie, and Tabitha all said the same thing almost simultaneously. Everyone broke into laughter.

“Rest, Mother.” Edmond took her arm with a gentle concern that confirmed what Tabitha had suspected the moment she met Mrs. Lassiter. The woman was unwell.

Edmond’s aunt turned from settling the creamware pitcher and cups on a side table. “I shan’t have guests pourin’ in me home.” She lifted the brace for the hanging front of the table, expanding it so that Dulcie could place her tray of cookies beside the tea. Meg narrowed her gaze on the servant. “That includes ye.”

“Allow me to help with the cookies, ma’am.” Dulcie dropped a tiny curtsy.

“Verra well. Then ye can sit over there.”

As the woman indicated a rush-bottomed chair, Dulcie’s brows flew up—no doubt in surprise she wasn’t being sent back to the kitchen.

Tabitha smiled at the woman’s kindness and moved toward the sofa, where Edmond’s mother settled next to her.

Mrs. Lassiter patted her arm. “Edmond told me about the cattle contract with the army. Does yer joint business have to do with that?”

“No, ma’am. I fear the Loyalists absconded with most of my cattle.” Thank goodness, Cyrus had rounded up another ten head in the weeks before Tabitha left the Altamaha. But she could never sell those—not if she hoped to rebuild the herd. “Your son had the idea that I might log my land for timber, and he offered to introduce me to Jack McMullan.”

“Oh, yes. We know Jack well. He’ll be delighted to meet with you.”

Tabitha managed to swallow the unladylike guffaw which attempted to escape as Mrs. Lassiter’s sister-in-law set steaming cups of fragrant tea before them.

Seated across from her, Edmond covered a smirk with a rub of his clean-shaven jaw. So handsome, with his hair and brass buttons shining in the sunlight from the window.

“My special apple cinnamon herbal blend.” Mrs. Grant winked at Tabitha, turning the handle of the creamware cup toward her. “Heavy on the cinnamon for Freya’s heart. And otherwise, a reminder that these insufferably hot days willna last forever. And the cookies are our Scottish shortbread.”

“Thank you. Both sound wonderful.” Her heart? So that was what was wrong with Edmond’s mother. Tabitha chanced a glance at him when the older woman leaned forward to pick up her cup.

He gave her an almost imperceptible nod, but he addressed his aunt. “Has Mother been resting as the doctor ordered, Aunt Meg?”

Mrs. Grant turned from pouring herself a cup of tea. She peeked around Dulcie, who was distributing cookies on small plates. “Indeed, no, Edmond. I just about have to drive her from the kitchen with me broom.”

Edmond angled a chiding frown on his mother, who sank into the sofa and hid her face behind her teacup. “Well, I cannae allow Meg to do all the cookin’ mornin’, noon, and evenin’, now, can I? Not with me livin’ under her roof.”

“Ye’re family, Freya. As I so often tell her, Edmond.” Mrs. Grant shot him a look that enjoined his understanding as she settled into the wingchair.

Likewise finished serving, Dulcie took her seat at the side of the room, apparently too uncomfortable to assume she should partake of the refreshments herself. Tabitha wanted to urge her to sample one of the delicious shortbreads, but the conversation went on without pause.

“And I love bein’ here, but I willna be a burden to ye.” The firmness of Mrs. Lassiter’s reply, coupled with the flush that stole onto her sunken cheeks, gave testament of her fiery Scottish heritage. No question, her inner strength far exceeded the outer.

“Never a burden. A blessin’, ’tis what ye are.” Mrs. Grant served up a scowl with her reassurance and delivered it over the top of her teacup.

Edmond sighed. “Maybe soon I can rent you rooms at Mrs. O’Reily’s, Mother—close enough to visit as often as you wish but private enough to give you all more space. At least until I can get a place of my own. The promotion should help. As will this logging contract, should we obtain it.” Edmond’s glance at Tabitha confirmed his meaning. Helping his mother was part of his desire to help her. A reassuring reason, indeed. “Until then, you must do as Aunt Meg says, and I’ve arranged for another doctor to come down from Savannah next week. He may be able to suggest a better course of treatment.”

“Ah, Eddie, you didna need to do that. I trust me doctor here just fine.” Mrs. Lassiter’s use of Edmond’s nickname and the adoring way she looked at him warmed Tabitha’s heart.

“Nonsense, Mother. Why do you think I wanted this promotion so badly?” The same reason he wanted the partnership with Tabitha and McMullan, no doubt. “There is nothing I would not do for you. ’Tis little enough after…” His sentence strangling in sudden emotion, Edmond looked away.

Tabitha’s chest squeezed at the pain that flashed across his face.

“Wheest, laddie. What yer father did had aught to do with ye.” The fierceness was back in Freya Lassiter’s eyes, like blue fire.

Edmond shook his head. “If I had not failed him in his hour of need…if I had come to him sooner…”

Tabitha sat up straighter, holding her breath. What was this?

“Nay. Dinna take that on yerself. Not ever. Y’hear me?” Mrs. Lassiter waited for a response, and when Edmond only clenched his jaw, she shook her finger at him. “That was his decision. Not yers. And if I lay responsibility at anyone else’s door, ’twould be at that of Hugh Jackson.”

Edmond swallowed hard. “That is another reason I want to help Tabitha secure this contract.” At his use of Tabitha’s name, his mother’s eyes widened, and she looked quickly between them. Edmond failed to notice as he blinked away a sheen of moisture before he glanced at Tabitha again. “Her husband sold most of his land to Hugh before he died, as well as leaving her in Hugh’s debt.”

Mrs. Lassiter inhaled a soft breath, her gaze settling on Tabitha, who dipped her chin.

Edmond balled his fist on his knee. “Now Hugh wants the rest of her land. And we must find a way to stop him. I will not see another family ruined if there is anything I can do to prevent it.”

His mother and aunt nodded, mouths compressed and eyes soft with compassion.

Tabitha curled her fingers over her beaded bag, which she had laid next to her on the settee. “Before I left, my mother and sister spared me what they could to alleviate the debt.” She had told Edmond in the coach how Mother had used her own stash of coins she kept in her room so Father would not know. Tabitha had assured both of them she would pay them back. “Combined with the money I made from sale of the cattle, I can pay Mr. Jackson about half of what I owe. If he knows I have a way to pay the rest by the end of the year, it should satisfy him for now.” After all, had the money lender kept her debt, the amount would have made her current on her payments.

“Then I will pray for your success.” Mrs. Lassiter reached over to clasp Tabitha’s hand.

“As will I,” Mrs. Grant echoed.

“Thank you.” Tabitha bit her lip. While she had the ear of godly women, she might as well take advantage, seeing as how inexperienced she was herself in such matters. “Please pray also that Mr. McMullan does not require a down payment for his services, which would cut into what I could offer Mr. Jackson.”

“We will ask for just that, Tabitha.” Edmond’s mother patted her again. “But ye shouldna fash. Edmond will take care of Jack McMullan for you. Will ye not, Edmond?” Her expectant glance at her son produced a firm nod.

Now it was Tabitha blinking back tears. The warmth and support of this family was what she had been missing in her own —until recently. The evidence of it now gave rise to both regret and hope. Mainly hope, because she had more people in her corner than she had ever hoped she could—Dulcie, Cyrus, then Mother and Temperance, and now Edmond and his family.

His mother let out a soft, slow breath, set her tea aside, and eased back against the sofa. She tugged on her bodice as though in need of cool air.

“Are you quite all right, Mrs. Lassiter?” Tabitha fumbled for her fan. She snapped it open and leaned over to swish it near the woman’s flushed face.

“Aye. ’Tis just the heat that gets to me.”

And the emotionally charged topic, no doubt. Tabitha cast a concerned glance toward Edmond, but he was up, widening the cracked-open window in vain hope of a breeze.

“Perhaps yer mother should have a wee lie down before supper,” Mrs. Grant suggested, coming to her feet. “But ye will stay to dine with us, will ye not? ’Tis been so long since we have seen ye, and she has been so worried for news of ye.”

“Of course, we will sup with you. That is, if Mrs. Gage is willing.” Edmond turned back from the window to seek Tabitha’s reaction.

“I would love that.” The bustling warmth of Edmond’s family drew her. Made her so much more at ease than the stultifying formality of her own home, which had stifled her spirit. “Though perhaps we might find our lodgings for the night and come back later.” Tabitha rose also, and Dulcie followed her lead.

“A good idea.” Edmond came over to drop a kiss on his mother’s forehead. “That will give Mother time to rest and me time to arrange a meeting with Jack McMullan for tomorrow.”

And Tabitha time to find out what had made Edmond shoulder the weight of his father’s guilt. She’d started to accept the arm he offered when his mother caught her other hand. Tabitha turned back to her with a smile.

“Me dear, I do so look forward to knowin’ ye better. Any friend of Edmond’s is a friend of ours.”

“Thank you. I feel the same.” Tabitha shoved down a swell of disappointment at that word… friend . But that was more than a business associate—and all she ought to allow herself to expect.

Yet Mrs. Lassiter went on. “I never dared to hope he would trust a woman again. But ye’re not a woman, are ye, but a lady? And maybe just the one the Good Lord has sent to right the wrongs of the past.”