The Roswell Legacy Frances Statham (mini ebook reader .txt) 📖

“Oh, he’s in Chicago,” Martha said, appearing at the threshold. “She’s meeting him there.”

“Just like a guardian,” Miss Counts said. “Probably stopped off to spend all the poor girl’s money at the exposition. Or at the gambling halls nearby. She’ll be lucky to have any money left by the time she gets there.”

Mrs. Beauchamp ignored her as usual. “Martha, do I smell leg of lamb cooking?”

“Yes, ma’am. And that reminds me. Mama asked me to go upstairs to the attic and bring down some of her good mint jelly.”

“Good evening, Mrs. Beauchamp, Miss Counts,” Maggie said, coming into the parlor. “I trust you both had a pleasant day.”

“Tolerable,” Mrs. Beauchamp admitted. “Just tolerable.”

“We spent the afternoon at the bookstore,” Miss Counts said, trying hard to disguise the excitement in her voice. “Mr. Innis located a copy of Hawaiian history for us. We thought it might be educational to read it after meeting Miss Biggs.”

“Yes. That should make for interesting reading,” Maggie agreed, knowing full well what their dinner conversation for the next few weeks would be.

At the Forsyte house that evening, a shy Ginna sat at the dining table with her father.

He smiled at her and said, “I’m glad that you’ve agreed to visit Morrow. An hour ago, I wasn’t even sure that you would be here for supper.”

“I might be making a mistake, Papa, by visiting her. But I think maybe my curiosity helped me to decide. I thought Cassie was the only sister I would ever have. It comes as a shock to learn I have another one. And I’m sure that Morrow will be just as shocked over me.”

“You must write me, Ginna. Tell me what she’s like.”

“Oh, Papa. How sad for you, never to have seen her. Allison—Mrs. Meadors, that is—told me about the gazebo at Rose Mallow. And how she buried your picture in the silver frame under the floor so that the Yankees wouldn’t steal it. She wanted Morrow to have it. But I guess it’s still buried there.”

Charles quickly looked away and Ginna realized what she had done. “I’m sorry, Papa. I didn’t mean to say anything to hurt you.” She reached out her hand to him. “I’m still mixed up. Allison is so beautiful and kind that I sort of wish that you and she could have found each other years ago, before you married Mummy. But then, if that had happened, Nathan and I wouldn’t be here.”

Charles made a supreme effort to smile again. “And I can’t imagine my life without you and Nathan. You’ve both brought me so much pleasure. No, the past is buried, just as surely as the picture.”

“Not quite, Papa. But life doesn’t seem nearly so black to me as it did three days ago.”

“I’ll go with you to the station tomorrow, Ginna. To see you off. But I’d like to ask a favor of you.”

“Yes, Papa?”

“For Allison’s sake, wear Jonathan’s engagement ring. The Montgomerys won’t question your going to visit your prospective sister-in-law.”

“But I don’t have it.”

“Allison returned the package. It’s on my desk in the office.”

“But even if I agree, I can’t ever marry Jonathan. That’s more apparent now than ever. I’ll have to give the ring back to him later.”

“Whatever you decide, Ginna,” he assured her. “But for now, wear the ring.”

“Does Allison still have the letter?”

“Yes. We felt it would be best for her to talk with Jonathan first. Then she’ll give him your letter.”

That night, as Ginna slept in her own bed, she cradled her left hand. Her finger had felt so bare without Jonathan’s ring. Now that she was wearing it again, she knew she could not afford to become too attached to it, for it was not hers to keep.

CHAPTER

22

The next afternoon became a whirlwind of activity—hat-boxes, trunk and valise packed full of clothes, all brought downstairs at intervals, with Barge placing them in the carriage. He lashed the trunk to the rear with strong ropes so that it would not fall on the way to the station and then placed the other luggage carefully inside the carriage, managing to save barely enough space for his single passenger.

It had been arranged that Allison would meet Ginna at the rail station to introduce her to the Montgomerys at the last minute. And so Charles had said good-bye at breakfast that morning, for in the end it would have been too awkward for both Charles and Allison to be present at the same time to see her off.

“Clara, take good care of Papa while I’m gone,” Ginna said as she climbed into the carriage.

“I sure will, Miss Ginna. Now don’t worry for one minute. You just have yourself a good time in Chicago. And if you can find a little something to bring me back from the fair, I sure would admire to have it—so’s I can show my friend, Winnie.”

“I won’t forget,” she assured Clara, and then waved goodbye.

As the carriage traveled along the route to Union Station, Ginna began to think about Nathan. She had written him, but so far had received nothing from him. The only communique had been the letter her father had received from Mr. Graves, telling him that Nathan had arrived safely at Braxton and was settling in with the other young boys who had also been sent to school early for one reason or another. But Ginna knew Nathan well enough to understand what his silence meant. He was either awfully happy or dreadfully sad. Ginna prayed it was the former.

Only a short distance away from Maggie Gregory’s boardinghouse, a regretful Ginna remembered her promise to Martha, to finish painting her china at the institute. Somehow, Ginna had lost all desire to paint anything at all. She had not touched a brush ever since that day she’d discovered the devastation in her attic studio. But perhaps she would feel differently by the time she’d had some time to herself, to think and decide what she