Elizabeth pulled away. “Why did you jump just then?”
Anabelle trembled, a hand pressing to her midsection. “Are you going to send me away like my mama?”
“Of course not. Why would you think that?” But it did explain Anabelle’s reaction. Elizabeth softened her tone. “Did Father or Aunt Virginia say something to you?”
Anabelle bowed her head. “What makes you say that?”
“Because I know my father and great-aunt.” Elizabeth blew out a sigh. Handling servants was much more difficult than it looked. “How did my mother do it?”
“Do what?”
“Manage the household.”
Anabelle was silent for some moments. “Your mama knew God’s grace.”
“What do you mean?”
“She cared about people.”
“But then why send me to Charleston? Why promote a man I don’t like? Why send Mammy away?” Elizabeth caught her breath. Mammy wasn’t just her nurse, she was Anabelle’s mother. “Why did she leave?”
Bitterness stole across Anabelle’s face. “She didn’t leave. She was sold.”
“Why?” Was that her fault too? Had Elizabeth’s mistakes sent Mammy away?
“Some things it’s best not to know.”
A chill shivered up Elizabeth’s spine. “It was my fault.”
Anabelle’s lip curled with disgust. “It wasn’t your fault. It’s the way it is.”
“She must have told you why. She must have said something.”
Anabelle wouldn’t look her in the eye. “One night Cook woke me up saying my mama was going away.”
Elizabeth could not imagine watching her mother being taken away by force. “Did you see her before she left? Did you get to talk?”
“She told me enough.”
The bitterness in Anabelle’s voice should have warned Elizabeth, but she had to try again. Mammy was the only one who’d been around at the time of the illegitimate baby. “And she never told you about . . . about . . . another baby?”
Anabelle neither nodded nor shook her head. “Your mama would have known.”
“I know. She kept a diary. I found it in her room and I read it.” Elizabeth reached into the rosewood chest and fumbled retrieving the volume. “She wrote it all in here, but she never gave names. Do you know who?” She held out the diary to Anabelle.
She didn’t take it. “Forget the past. Look to your future.”
Rourke was her future. If Anabelle wouldn’t talk about what happened years ago, she might help Elizabeth move forward. She took a shaky breath. “You know where to find him, don’t you?”
“Find who?”
“You know who. He hasn’t left for home yet, has he?”
Anabelle looked away. “I don’t know where he is.”
Elizabeth wouldn’t let this go so easily. Her entire future depended on finding Rourke. Under no circumstances could she marry Mr. Finch. Rourke was her escape. “Tom must know. I saw him talking to you. Where is he staying? Tell me.” She grabbed Anabelle’s shoulders. “Tell me.”
“What good will it do? Your father locks the gates at night.”
Elizabeth drew in her breath. “Why would he do that?”
“Why do you think?”
“He thinks I will run off? But that makes no sense. I can go out the front door anytime.”
“Can you?”
Elizabeth knew the truth of Anabelle’s question. No doubt Father in his nighttime pacing would hear her open the door, but she could not give up this opportunity. “I will find a way. Tell me where Tom is staying.”
Anabelle stared into her eyes. “I will tell you if you take me with you to the Harvest Ball.”
“To the ball? Why?” Of all the things that Anabelle might request, this made no sense. “How on earth would I explain that?”
“Many ladies will bring a maid to ensure they look their best throughout the evening.”
Elizabeth doubted that, but it was a simple thing to grant, especially since she had no intention of attending. “All right.”
“Do you promise upon your mama’s grave?”
That made the request more serious and even more perplexing. “Why do you want to go to a ball? You would only sit outside with the other servants.”
Her maid’s gaze dipped. “I want to see it.”
“Why?”
“Please.” Anabelle wrapped her arms around her midsection and rocked, her expression so desperate that Elizabeth feared she would do herself harm if not granted this request. “It’s not much to ask of someone who grew up as your friend.”
Pain closed Elizabeth’s throat at the memory of what they had once shared. It was little price to pay for a chance to find Rourke. “I promise upon my mother’s grave. Now where is Tom?”
Anabelle drew a shaky breath. “Mrs. Mallory’s boardinghouse, but he is likely already gone.”
That was enough. Elizabeth’s mind whirled with a daring plan. She would call on the boardinghouse and pry the location of the Windsprite from Tom. Then . . . She eyed the tamarind. She hadn’t shinnied down it since she was a girl. It was time to give it a try.
17