Unlike the rest of the house, this room, shaded by the gumbo-limbo and sea grapes, had windows only on the side due to the housing over the cistern. The shelves of law books, the ponderous furnishings, and the partially closed shutters only added to the dim light.
As a child, Elizabeth had called this the throne room. The ornate mahogany chairs upholstered in burgundy velvet looked fit for a queen. She’d often crept into the room with Anabelle to play, only to be found by Mammy and shooed away. Once, Elizabeth had insisted Anabelle sit in the other chair and play princess rather than her usual lady-in-waiting. Mammy had swatted her daughter and scolded Elizabeth so thoroughly that neither of them dared enter the study again. Elizabeth could still remember her nurse’s rebuke. “Yo’ Daddy catch you bringing da help in here, he whup yo’ behind.”
She had never quite realized that Anabelle was considered help. True, Mammy was a servant and Anabelle’s mother, but Anabelle had always been Elizabeth’s friend. They played together and slept in the same room. Anabelle learned her letters just like Elizabeth. Until that moment, she hadn’t grasped that Anabelle would one day leave the nursery to work in the cookhouse.
“One day” had arrived the next morning.
Afterward, Anabelle could play only after she finished her chores. Elizabeth’s schoolwork extended to the entire day. She only saw her friend at night when Anabelle combed out Elizabeth’s hair and slept on a cot at the foot of her bed. When nights were cold, Elizabeth would whisper for her friend to join her. Sometimes Anabelle came, but most times she refused. She would never say why.
Now the memories sifted over Elizabeth like raindrops. Above the fireplace, Mother’s portrait overlooked the room. She had the same blonde hair and blue eyes as her daughter, but she’d been petite. Elizabeth had inherited her height from Father. Mother’s gentle smile exuded a calm grace and dignity that Elizabeth hoped to emulate. She arranged her skirts in the same manner as in the portrait and folded her hands upon her lap. Then she waited.
Father set his spectacles on the desk and paced to the window. Instead of opening the slatted shutters wider to let in the breeze, he closed them. Even then he did not sit. Father seldom sat. His restless pacing had punctuated the nighttime hours for as long as she could remember. He would traverse the halls, hands behind his back and brow drawn. She’d learned many years ago never to interrupt.
He stopped at the chair opposite hers and rested his deeply veined hand on the back. Four years had changed him. His frame was thinner. Gray peppered his brown hair at the temples. His strong chin still poked from between the sideburns, but his jaw had developed jowls.
As an attorney, he never spoke in haste. Today was no different. He tapped his fingers on the chair back for some time before launching his opening volley. “I did not expect to see you arrive here in such a state.”
A stranger might assume he meant her disheveled appearance, but she knew he referred to her marital status. Father had made his expectations quite clear over the years. She was not to return to Key West except as a bride.
Elizabeth fixed her gaze on the mantel clock. “When I learned of Mother’s death, I had to return.”
“By the time you received my letter, she’d been in the grave over a month. There was no need.”
“But there is. You need me. You and Charlie.”
He waved off the sentiment as if swatting at a mosquito. “As I told you, we are doing perfectly well. If I had need, I would have summoned you.” He sat in the opposing chair, knees mere inches from hers. “You went to Charleston with but one objective—to marry well. It was your mother’s dearest wish.”
A knot formed in her throat. She’d never wanted to disappoint her mama, but marriage was so . . . final. She jutted out her chin. “I cannot marry without love.”
“Love will come with time and better acquaintance. I understand you rejected suitors after a single interview.”
“One or two. I knew at once that they were of questionable character.”
“Questionable character?” He hopped to his feet. “How can you know a man’s character? You are young and inexperienced. The wrong sort can mislead and take advantage of you.”
“I believe I have good judgment.”
His scathing look said otherwise. “I have sheltered you from the worst of society and placed you in the capable hands of your great-aunt.”
Elizabeth kept silent on that last.
“You cannot realize that there are many who would pretend love merely to take advantage of your good name.” He sighed. “Perhaps I should have listened to your mother. She wanted you to know why it was so important that you marry well.”
Elizabeth held her breath. No one had ever explained this.
“You are heir to a small fortune, Elizabeth.”
She gasped. “Fortune? From where?”