“I fear Horace Titch has nothing better to do than make matters worse and cause whatever trouble he can.”

The attendant gazed furtively about, then lowering his voice, leaned close and spoke out of the corner of his mouth. “Seein’ as yer heart’s in the right place, sir, I’ll tell ye a thing or two what will straighten yer hackles an’ maybe the sheriff’s when he comes out.” He tapped Ashton’s silk-vested chest with a hairy knuckle. “I’ve got me suspicions, all right. I found where some fuses were set over there by the part that isna completely burned. I’m thinkin’ t’weren’t no accident, sir, but a deliberate act against these poor people here. An’ another thing…I scrubbed the floor in the cookshack meself yesterday, an’ when I come in there this morn’n, there was blood on the floor in front o’ the hearth an’ marks like somethin’ had been dragged through it. The poker had fallen into the fireplace, an’ a large knife was missin’ from the table. I’d be guessin’ there was some mischief done in there, but I canna be sure, an’ ’tis only yerself, sir, that I’ve talked with about it.”

“The sheriff is a friend of mine. He’ll be interested in what you have to say. If the fire was started, then the man responsible should be caught and made to pay.”

“Aye, whoever the begger was, he should’ve set another fagot over his handiwork to destroy it. There be enough proof to show the sheriff an’ make him believe.”

Ashton’s eyes flitted over the bedraggled figures gathered around the campfire, taking note of the mixed gender. “I see you have women here, too.”

“Madness an’ misfortune are not confined to men, sir,” Peter responded laconically. “It attacks where it wills…even children.”

Ashton had promised Dr. Page he would make an inquiry, but he did so with distaste, feeling as if he were being disloyal to Lierin by allowing the question to come into his mind. “Are there any women missing?”

“As a matter o’ fact, sir, there is one. I’m thinkin’ she escaped from the house, but I canna be sure. Who’s to say? She might’ve gotten scared an’ run back in.” He paused again and thoughtfully chewed on his lip. “She was a strange one…She didn’t seem that bad off generally…then there were times when I thought she was a ravin’ lunatic. Somethin’ would set her off, an’ then I think she could’ve killed a mon.”

An icy rivulet trickled along Ashton’s spine. He could not say what had caused Lierin to react in such a panic before he left her. He kept telling himself it could be explained with a plausible reason, but even so, he was half afraid of making further inquiries.

“The attendant who’s missin’ watched after her a bit,” Peter continued, taking the decision from him. “Every now an’ then, he’d bring her a pretty or two, maybe somethin’ to wear or a wee comb or whatnot. She wasna too hard to look at when she was in her right mind.”

“Was she young…?” Ashton awaited the man’s reply with bated breath, not knowing why he should even feel the least bit unsettled or anxious about the woman. Surely it couldn’t be Lierin they were discussing.

“Fairly young, I’d be sayin’, but this kind o’ place has a way o’ agin’ a body. Who knows her age? At least she was still young enough to have her natural hair color….”

“And that would be?”

“A reddish hue, if I recall aright.”

Ashton stared at the man as the churning of dread began anew in his stomach. By dint of will, he forced himself on to another topic, not wishing to arouse the man’s curiosity by his interest. “What will you do now?”

“I canna say, sir. There’s a place in Memphis where we can go, but I’ve no way o’ gettin’ them there.”

“I have a way,” Ashton stated after a thoughtful pause and, at the man’s look of surprise, explained: “I can arrange for a steamer to take you there. In fact, there’s one at the docks now.”

Peter was truly astounded by his generosity. “And ye’d do this for”-he waved his hand to indicate the ragged misfortunates who made up his camp-“these people?”

“Their plight seemed very distant to me…until today. I would like to do something more than donate a few baskets of clothing and food.”

A sudden smile broke upon Peter’s countenance. “If ye be really serious about the offer, sir, then I’ll be more’n willin’ to accept. Whene’er ye tell us, we’ll be ready to move.”

“I’ll make the arrangements and notify you when you’re to leave. It shouldn’t be too long, only a few days or so. The steamer has to unload and take on supplies.”

Peter glanced about at the facilities that had been erected only that morning. “I managed to borrow these tents from the railroad, but the men there told me I’d be havin’ to bring everything back ’fore the month was out. I was wonderin’ how we were goin’ to manage after that. Now it seems me prayers have been answered. I canna thank ye enough, sir.”

Ashton shook the man’s hand in farewell and returned to the carriage. As he leaned back in the seat, he released a long sigh. It would probably work out well for all concerned if Peter Logan took his band of misfits to Memphis. Then he could be assured that Lierin and Peter would never meet.

The sun played out the day and had settled behind a billowing froth of vivid hues on the western horizon before Ashton concluded his business in Natchez and his carriage was seen coming up the drive. The house rang with Luella May’s strident announcement, prompting Marelda to check her appearance quickly in the silvered glass and apply a fresh touch of her favorite perfume to her temples and behind each earlobe. She was determined to dominate as much of Ashton’s attention as she could and planned to extend her visit to the plantation in order to fight for what she considered was hers. Once her adversary sank her hooks into Ashton and he became totally convinced that she was his wife, the game would be lost. Invitations to Belle Chêne would be limited. Ashton would become the doting husband again, and if the last time could be used as an example, no other woman would command his notice for more than a nominal length of time.

Leaving her guest room, Marelda moved down the hall, but paused in the shadows beyond the upper balustrade as she heard the low murmur of exchanged greetings in the front foyer. Ashton came into the main hall, and was followed by Willis and Luella May, who bore several elaborately tied boxes. Marelda’s envy seethed anew as she took note of the fancy dressmaker’s boxes. Anyone could tell the contents had not been procured at the general store, but had been purchased from the most successful and expensive couturier’s shop in Natchez. It seemed that Ashton was eager to outfit his so-called wife in the finest apparel.

“Miz Lierin’s asleep, Massa Ashton,” Luella May informed him. “She ain’t woke up hardly none at all since yo been gone. Doctah Page come, an’ he say she jes’ plum tuckered out.”

“I won’t disturb her then,” Ashton replied and gestured for the pair to leave the boxes on the sideboard. “Willabelle can take these things up later.”

Luella May set her parcels down and could not resist caressing the silken bows. “Yo musta bought somepin real pretty fo’ Miz Lierin.”

“Only a few essentials to tide her over until Miss Gertrude can send out some of the rest. They should be delivered later this week.” He lifted the corner of a smaller box with a finger and grimaced ruefully. “At least, it seemed like only a few when I left the shop.”

The servants left the hall, and Marelda smoothed her gown and hair in anticipation of meeting Ashton, preparing herself to flow into view when he reached the upper level. He had ascended only three steps when a booming bass voice sounded from the back of the house. Much to Marelda’s disappointment, Ashton turned and promptly descended the stairs again. A huge black strode into view, meeting Ashton in the middle of the lower hall where they clasped hands in a hearty greeting that bespoke of a close friendship.

“Judd! It’s good to see you.”

“Welcome home, suh.”

Marelda’s lip curled in repugnance as she observed the two from her lofty niche. She could not understand their bond, and vowed if she ever became mistress of Belle Chêne, she would see the black displaced as overseer and his friendship with Ashton terminated. Such familiarity with a servant was most degrading.

“I’m anxious about the spring planting,” Ashton said to the black, “and I have a few ideas I’d like to discuss.”

“Yo wants to see Miz Lierin now, suh. Ah come back later,” Judd offered.

“Luella May said she was sleeping, so I won’t disturb her. Come to my study, and we’ll talk about the planting now. I suppose you heard about the accident….”

The two men turned away from the stairs, leaving Marelda to fume in outraged frustration. It was apparent she would have to wait if she wanted a private moment with the master of the house.

Wait indeed! Ashton devoted himself to making arrangements for the steamboat’s journey to Memphis, sometimes coming home too late to take the evening meal with the family. While the cargo from the trip downriver was being unloaded, Ashton spread the word abroad that the stern-wheeler would be making the short jaunt upriver, and there would be room enough for some cargo if any of the planters or merchants had a need for shipment to or from the other city. Contracts were hurriedly drawn up, and merchandise and goods began to arrive even before the old was gone. From all indications the trip would not be one of loss.

Lierin could hardly do more than sleep. It was her only escape from the unrelenting pain that savaged her waking moments. The slightest effort to accommodate necessities brought her back to the bed in blinding agony. The pain sapped her strength and plagued her every waking moment. Still, in the morning after a basin bath, she would don a fresh gown and allow her hair to be brushed by the black woman who gently tended her. Though it was not readily made use of, a green velvet robe was left within easy reach at the end of the bed, and satin slippers were placed nearby for her convenience. She was distantly aware that these articles were new and well fitting, but she had neither the will nor the strength to inquire as to their ownership. Slowly, almost imperceptively, her strength returned. With each new dawning of a day she could spend a few more minutes on her feet before the intolerable ache drove her back to bed. When the pain did relent and she found some ease from its intensity, she would sometimes prop herself up against the pillows and read or chat with Willabelle or Luella May as they cleaned the room.

She saw little of Ashton. He came to her room after her morning toilettes to exchange a few inconsequential words with her, but he seemed almost stilted and unsure of himself as he watched her. He stood beside her bed, tall, lean, handsome, well dressed and well mannered, with almost a hungry look in those soft, hazel eyes which hinted of his restrained emotions. She could only surmise that her outburst of fear had caused his reticence, but she failed to find a way to intrude into their polite exchanges and ask him what he was really thinking.

When she roused from slumber during the day, he would either be in Natchez or busy someplace else on the plantation. Sometimes she sensed his presence in the night, but could not break her bonds with slumber to rouse and speak. On one of her brief ventures from bed, she passed a window and glanced out to see him riding one of his stallions around on the lawn. The sight drew her admiration, for the dark, glistening steed pranced in high-stepping cadence while he arched his long neck and flagged his sweeping trail. The man on his back seemed in total control of the animal’s movements, yet he did it with such ease, the pair flowed together as one.

The days of the week accumulated in number and were without success for Marelda. She despaired that she would ever have any time alone with Ashton. Her failure to seize the advantage made her increasingly anxious, for she realized the time wherein she could carry out her campaign without interference were quickly dwindling. At the onset of her maneuver she had been confident that Lierin would not jeopardize her injured demeanor to run after Ashton, thereby leaving the course open. But as the week aged, her panic increased, for it seemed that her plans went awry even before they were launched, giving them no chance for fruition.

The excuses were varied. On the second and third night after the mishap, houseguests from the Carolinas had to be entertained. Marelda breathed a sigh of relief when they left the next morning, but when the family gathered in the parlor that night to await the call for dinner, Latham came running in to inform his master that one of his blooded mares was showing signs of foaling. It was not enough that Ashton had been gone all day; he finished his brandy in a single gulp, excused himself, and hastily departed to change clothes, leaving Marelda in all her finery, with nothing more to look forward to than a chatty meal with the two older women. Her smile and temper were sorely tested even before Luella May announced the evening meal was ready for consumption.