The fallon legacy, p.45
The Fallon Legacy, page 45
“No, sir. But—”
“What about here? Are the Nullifiers still holding off?”
“Yes, sir, but …” The lanky Georgian took a deep breath. “Sir, you’d better get home quick as you can.”
“Is someone sick?” His breath caught in his throat. “Moira?”
Morton shifted uneasily. “No, sir. She’ll tell you about it, though.”
Robert broke into a run for the street. If it wasn’t Moira, it was Elizabeth or one of the boys. And he hadn’t been there. A horse was tethered to a hitching ring at the end of the warehouse. He took it. The owner could claim it later. Or never. He didn’t care.
His ride down East Bay Street was a wild gallop, pedestrians leaping from his way, carriages and cotton drays colliding in his wake, frenzied curses following him. He scrambled down in front of his house, leaving the horse to wander free, and dashed inside.
In the entry hall Frank Hill and Albert stood in conversation against one wall, Ben Miller, Lafitte, and Kenneth Graham near the other. Kemal, pacing, towered over them all.
“What’s happened?” he asked, and was met by silence. His stomach shriveled.
“Sir,” Albert said finally. “Sir, I’ll take you to Mrs. Fallon.” Lafitte grimaced and looked at the floor.
Moira was in her sitting room, lying on the chaise longue with a compress on her forehead. To Robert’s surprise, Edward was there, pacing and casting worried glances at Moira.
At his entrance, Moira gave a sob of relief. “Thank God, you’re home. She’s gone, Robert. She’s gone!” Her eyes were red and puffy, and her mouth quivered.
“Elizabeth?” he said shakily. “Dead?”
“No, no,” Edward said. “She’s not dead. I keep telling Aunt Moira she’ll be all right. This is just a prank.”
“If she’s put her mother in this state with a prank—” Robert began, but Moira cut him off.
“Her bed wasn’t slept in last night. No one’s seen her since yesterday afternoon.”
Robert swallowed a mouthful of bile. “Where can she have gone? If there’d been an accident, surely you’d have been notified. Now let’s think about this rationally. She had to leave the house of her own free will, else someone would’ve heard something. There’s that in favor of her being all right.”
“I’ve already thought of that,” she said wearily.
“Yes, but why would she go without telling you? You … you don’t think she’s run away? Surely she’s not that foolish.” He blanched at the thought of Elizabeth trying to make her own way in the world. She had no skills. She was too hot-tempered to become a servant, and that left … he refused to think of it.
“There’s been no reason. Not for weeks,” Moira said.
“There was something then?”
Moira put her hands over her face, and he dropped to his knees beside the chaise longue, cradling her, feeling her silent sobs.
“Don’t cry, Moira. Don’t cry. We’ll find her. We will.”
“That Edward Hammond,” she breathed. “I told her to stop receiving him, so she began sneaking out, saying she was going to Cornelia Pinckney’s when she was actually meeting him for carriage rides.”
“There’s nothing wrong with Hammond,” Edward said with surprising heat.
Moira sat up, momentarily blazing with spirit. “And I say there is. He’s talked more than one young fool around here into pitting some field hand against that brute of his. There’s been at least one death as a result.” The brief flash faded, and she sank back listlessly. “It doesn’t matter now, though. She came to her senses two weeks ago.”
“It was their own choice,” Edward said. “He never forced anybody to pit their blacks against King.”
“I doubt the field hands had much choice,” Robert said drily. “Why don’t you forget about Hammond, and set your mind to where Elizabeth might be?” Edward retired sulkily to the fireplace. “Don’t worry, Moira,” Robert went on, smoothing her hair. “I’ll find her if I have to search the city building by building.” Even as she huddled against him he was wondering how he might go about that. Advertise for her, like a runaway? There was a knock at the door, and he said, “Come.” He kept on stroking Moira’s hair, thinking feverishly.
Hannah entered, somewhat deferential outside her domain of the kitchen, pushing a bony young black woman ahead of her. The cook had gained weight with each passing year, till she was almost completely round, but she still waved her wooden spoon like a scepter and ruled the kitchen absolutely. “Welcome home, Mr. Fallon,” she said. “They done told me downstairs you was back. You gots to pardon me for coming up here like this, but this here Anna girl, she seen something last night, and she too much fool to know it any important.”
Moira gripped Robert’s arm tight with both hands.
Hannah waved her wooden spoon in front of Anna’s face, and the young woman jumped a foot, words tumbling out of her mouth. “It was last night, I don’t know what time, exactly, only I was going back to the necessary, pardon me, and I seed Miss Elizabeth come down the back stairs carrying a hatbox, only I never thought nothing of it ’cause Mr. Edward was with her, and I reckoned whatever it was happened had to happen after that, so I didn’t say nothing, on account of I didn’t think it was important, and …”
Robert had heard nothing beyond Edward’s name. He stared at Edward as if he’d never seen him before.
“The girl’s lying,” Edward burst out. “You going to believe some nigger wench …” He quailed under Hannah’s glare, tried to meet Robert’s gaze, and failed. He finished up muttering at the floor. “She’s lying, I say.”
“Hannah,” Robert said, “would you leave us, please?” He felt Moira’s nails digging into his arm, and hugged her tighter. When the door closed, he said, “She’s with Hammond, isn’t she?” Moira made a sound in her throat, half moan, half growl.
“I told you—”
“Damn you, boy, don’t lie to me!”
“I wouldn’t do anything to hurt Elizabeth,” Edward said angrily. “You know that. Damn it, they’re getting married.” He shut his mouth abruptly.
“Married!” Moira whimpered.
“You helped my daughter elope?” Robert said hoarsely. “With a man like that? Where is she?”
“It’s too late, Uncle. They’re married already. She loves him, and he loves her, only Aunt Moira just couldn’t see—”
Robert tried to keep his voice down, but it came out a roar. “Damn you, where is she?”
Edward took half a step back and wet his lips again.
“They went straight from here to a minister. Briarwood,” he said quickly, as Robert started to rise. “Up on the Neck. You know it. Hammond rented it.”
“Get out,” Robert growled. “Get out of my sight!” Edward started to speak, took a look at his face, and ran out of the room. Robert discovered he was trembling. “I’ll bring her back safely, Moira. I promise.”
She stroked his cheek, and he was shocked to realize she was comforting him. To his mind it should be the other way round, but he realized, not for the first time, there was considerable iron in her. He got up, but she caught his hand.
“Robert, send Albert and Frank Hill to me. Please? I must talk to them.”
“I’ll send them,” he said. “You rest.”
When he reached the bottom of the stairs, his face was stone. Lafitte, Albert, and the others gathered around him, waiting. “Elizabeth has eloped.” His voice was so hard none of them moved except to breathe. “The man’s name is Edward Hammond, and he’s a bad sort. If she’s lucky … if she’s lucky, he actually does intend to marry her, but I intend to bring her back if I have to kill him. I may anyway.”
“By damn, we are with you,” Lafitte said, and Albert said, “If he’s hurt her, Mr. Fallon, you won’t have to kill him. We’ll do it,” Kemal growled and brandished a fist the size of a ham.
“Wha’ are we waiting for?” Graham’s voice almost broke. “He could be … she might need us this minute.”
“Albert,” Robert said, “Mr. Hill, would the two of you go up to my wife, please, and stay with her?” They started to protest, but he silenced them quickly. “She asked for you in particular. I think she might be afraid to be alone, without a man about. I would appreciate it if the two of you would look after her till I get back with Elizabeth.”
The two men shared a look. “Very well, sir,” Albert said.
“We’ll take care of her, Mr. Fallon,” Hill said.
They went past him up the stair. “The rest of you,” Robert said, “come with me, and we’ll get a brace of pistols apiece. There are horses aplenty in the stable.”
The coach carrying Marie Fourrier—for so she had always thought of herself, even when married to Southford—was forced to stop at the Fallon carriage drive by a knot of horsemen galloping out. Through the window she could make out faces as they passed, though none of them spared a glance at the coach. Robert Fallon’s was a shock. She hadn’t known he was back in the city. And from the look on his face, he knew at least some of what was happening.
She opened the trap in the roof. “Briarwood. Quickly!”
As the coach lurched forward again, she settled back. The damned fool was ruining everything. She hadn’t prayed in years, but now she began to pray in earnest.
It wasn’t fair, Edward Fallon thought. He paced the second-floor drawing room, nervously eyeing the door. Hammond wasn’t a bad sort, and if he had an occasional nasty streak, well, it wouldn’t harm Elizabeth to be taken down a peg or two. It wasn’t as if Hammond would actually hurt her. He certainly hoped they had gone straight to a minister the way Hammond had said they would. If he knew her, she wouldn’t let him get away without marriage for long; but what did it matter, so long as they loved one another, and they both said they did?
Of course, Uncle Robert wouldn’t see it that way. Being her father, he’d likely never noticed what a toothsome piece she’d become. Why, there’d been a time or two when he’d wished she wasn’t his cousin. His overtures in that direction had been slapped down pretty sharply—he’d lived a month in agony waiting for her to tell—but he had managed to bore a hole from his dressing room to hers when he came back from Harvard. God, sometimes she’d flaunted herself as if she knew he was watching. And here they were worrying because she’d eloped. It was a damned good thing she had, before she got herself in real trouble.
He became aware of the door opening and snatched up a fire iron. Damn it, he shouldn’t have stayed in the house. Then he saw it was Albert, and the ridiculousness of his position, poker held like a club, half-poised for flight, washed over him, changing his fear to rage. “God damn you! What do you mean barging in here without knocking?” He became aware of Frank Hill behind the butler; he was vaguely aware that Moira had some connection with the man, from days before he owned half the fishing boats in Charleston. He sometimes wondered if Robert’s wife had cuckolded him with Hill, but now his anger simply spilled over. “And you! What are you doing, lurking about? We don’t need any fish, fishmonger!”
“Mrs. Fallon wishes to see you,” Albert said coolly. “In Mr. Fallon’s study.”
Edward opened his mouth to blast the man for disrespect, but a needle of fear stabbed him. “Is my uncle with her?”
“Mr. Fallon left ten minutes ago,” Albert said. “Mrs. Fallon did say right away.”
Edward lowered the poker, and thrust it back in the holder. “Very well, Albert. You may go.” The butler made no move. “I said you may go, Albert. I know my way around this house.”
“Mrs. Fallon said I was to return when you did.”
Edward grimaced. The man was probably fool enough to think he had to stick to the letter of her instructions. He contented himself with checking his tie lingeringly in the mirror above the sideboard. “Lead on, Albert,” he said finally, and followed the butler out of the room.
Hill fell in behind them without a word, and Edward had the uncomfortable feeling of being under guard. Why didn’t he just walk on out the front door? He certainly didn’t have to subject himself to Aunt Moira’s tongue. It wasn’t, he told himself, because the two of them might stop him. Preposterous to think that a butler and a fishmonger would lay hands on a gentleman.
They entered the study. Moira was just turning the last key to lock Robert’s safe, and there was a stack of banknotes and a leather pouch on the desk.
“A little peculation, Auntie?” he said. “Buying yourself something you don’t want Uncle Robert to know about? I hope he doesn’t find out.” He essayed a laugh, but it felt awkward with the two wooden-faced men behind him. “Listen, Auntie, do we need these two? Couldn’t you send them off on an errand, or something?”
Her face was expressionless as she took the chair behind the desk. “There is thirty-seven hundred dollars there. You’re going to take it and leave Charleston tonight. In fact, you’re leaving South Carolina, and you’re never coming back.”
He chuckled, but she didn’t flicker an eyelash. “That isn’t even a good joke, Auntie. Remember, I come into my inheritance in a few more months. Tell you what, when I do, I’ll give you thirty-seven hundred dollars. You can buy yourself some trinket or other.”
“I’m not joking, Edward. I’m saving your life. No, the truth of it is, it’s Robert’s life that I’m saving. If you’re here when he comes back, it’s killing you he’ll be, and I don’t think he could live long with that.”
“You’re exaggerating,” he blustered. “Of course, he’ll be mad for a bit, but he always comes around in the—”
“You fool!” she spat. “Do you think I don’t know that man has … has had his way with my daughter already?”
There was a growl behind him that lifted the hair on the back of his neck. He took a quick step to one side, where he could see both Albert and Hill, but he couldn’t tell which had made the noise. They watched him with cold eyes. For the first time since learning Robert had gone, he began to feel uneasy.
“If not for the love I bear Robert Fallon,” Moira went on, “I’d be cutting your throat myself this minute. And if you refuse the offer I’m making you, I’ll be doing it still.”
He scrubbed his hand across his mouth, eyeing her the way he would a rattlesnake in his bed. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you? Plotting to steal my inheritance.”
“Don’t be a fool, Edward.”
“I’ll be a rich man! You can’t throw me out, you bitch!” The world seemed to explode, and he found himself on the carpet, Albert standing over him. He touched his face gingerly. “You struck me,” he said in disbelief. His voice turned shrill. “I’ll have you hung for striking a white man!”
Then Hill was helping him up, the hands still scarred from his years as a fisherman brushing him off. “Sorry about that,” Hill said. “Should’ve known you’d object to a black hand.” Edward had just time to see the big fist coming, and he was on the floor again.
“My nose!” he groaned. “You broke my nose!”
“Stop this!” Moira said. “I don’t want him beaten to death.”
“I can have him fed to the sharks in the harbor before Mr. Fallon gets back,” Hill said.
Edward stared wildly from one to another of them. They meant it. “You can’t murder me! I’m Edward Fallon, God damn it!”
Moira pushed the money nearer to him. “The choice is yours,” she said calmly.
If he pretended to give in, they’d let him go. He could catch Uncle Robert on his way back from Briarwood. Uncle Robert had always stood up for him, no matter what. Damn them, he’d see them all pay for this. “I’ll take the money,” he croaked. God, his nose hurt.
Hill hauled him to his feet again; Albert stuffed the money in his pockets. Despite himself he was grateful for the support. He didn’t think he could have stood unaided.
“We won’t hurt him, ma’am,” Albert said to Moira; Hill added, “We’ll just see him to a horse.”
From her frozen face Edward didn’t think she cared if they took him out and hung him. He let them half-carry him out, relishing the thought of bringing her down. His first fantasies about women had been about her. God, it would be almost as good as bedding her to see her broken. She’d always hated him, always been ready to leap on everything he did. She … He realized they were taking him out the back way, down the brick stairs leading to the stable.
“I can walk,” he said, but they continued to drag him. “I said I can walk!”
They turned suddenly, slamming him against the brick wall of the kitchen building. “Albert and me had a talk,” Hill said, “after Mrs. Fallon told us what we were fetching you for.”
“And we figured,” Albert said, “maybe you weren’t smart enough to believe Robert Fallon will kill you.”
Edward struggled futilely. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Let me go. I agreed to her terms.”
“A bit too fast,” Hill said. “So this is what we’re going to do to make sure. The two of us know men who’d cut your throat for ten dollars cash money. We’re going to let them do it.” Edward struggled again, briefly, subsiding when Albert’s fist in the pit of his stomach set him gagging. “The fine Mr. Edward Fallon is well known around the city, and if he’s seen in the city thirty minutes after we leave you, he’ll die here. Do you understand me, Mr. Edward Fallon?”
Edward suddenly wished he could vomit. “I understand,” he managed. “I said I’d go, didn’t I?”
They backed away from him so suddenly he had to clutch at the bricks for support. “Just you remember,” Albert said, and abruptly they were gone in the night.
He hung there, dazed, willing himself to wake and find it all a dream. The pain, the blood trickling down his face, told him it was no dream, though. Damn it, they had broken his nose. Broken his nose, thrown him out, stolen his inheritance. His inheritance. He fumbled in his pockets. The money was actually there. Three thousand seven hundred dollars. That wouldn’t support him long, not the way he liked to live. And that raised the question of where to go. New York was his first thought, or Boston, but there were people in the North who knew him, people who’d be all too ready to pity him when his money was gone, and dole out charity for which he would have to be properly grateful. Damn them, and damn their charity.
