In His Eyes(32)

“Hmm. Where else would she have been?”

Westley tugged at the collar of his shirt, which seemed to grow tighter the more he was in this woman’s presence, and contemplated telling her he did not have a wife. But he had become intrigued with this imposter who was bold enough to make such claims, so he wanted to see what she would do when confronted.

“It took weeks after my injury to awake. Only then could I convey my name and rank. I am told the army sent word thereafter.” Again, the truth.

“I see.” The older woman sat back in her seat and studied him, the questions behind her dark eyes thankfully not springing to her thin lips.

“Well, we have had difficulty with correspondence, Mr. Remington. Things being what they are, if letters are not delivered by messenger….” She let her words trail off.

They rode in silence for a time, until it seemed Miss Martin could no longer contain herself.

“She is quite lovely,” she said with a mischievous grin. “I can see why you would be so taken with her that you married in a rush.” A smile holding notions of romance Westley doubted he was capable of turned up her mouth.

“I am sure she would be glad you thought so.” Most likely true. Women forever hunted for compliments.

Miss Martin pressed her fingers to her lips and looked out the window. “Ah, the joyous reunion awaits.”

Mrs. Martin chuckled. “I dare say, it should be most interesting to see.”

Westley declined a response. Interesting, indeed. The carriage made the turn from the river road to the drive up to Belmont, and he ran a hand over his freshly shaven face. Now, little imposter, we shall see what game you play.





Ella rubbed her temples. “Sibby. The Yank gave us two weeks, and already one of them is past. We must discuss this.”

Sibby’s nostrils flared. “Now, you look here. I done told you I is workin’ on it.”

Ella nearly groaned. Why did this woman make all things difficult? Patting Lee where she kept him tied to her chest, she began to pace around the library. “What is it that makes you so against listening to reason?”

“What?”

She’d thus far played along, but the more she did so, the more Sibby seemed to mistake her gratitude for weakness. She pointed a finger at the other woman. “There are things you are not telling me.”

Sibby narrowed her eyes. “You don’t know nothin’.”

Obviously. “Only because you will not tell me. How am I to help?”

Sibby let out a long sigh and then suddenly her shoulders drooped, as though a burden kept hidden weighed them down. In that moment she seemed much older than her years.

Ella sank into one of the armchairs in the library and motioned for Sibby to take the other. “How are we to keep your home if you sit by and allow the army to take it?”

Sibby perched on the edge of the chair and picked at her fingernails. “I never did wanna be like the white ladies, you know.”

Ella frowned, wondering what that had to do with their conversation, but held her tongue.

“Mrs. Remington, she was always worryin’ over folks. Makin’ sure they was cared for and all.”

Not a bad thing. Ella may have liked this lady who, from what she’d heard told, was vastly different from most others.

“My Ma, she was thata way, too. Was her that told all us what to do, and her that all the Negroes under the Remingtons looked to. Then she died.”

Ella started to offer condolences, but Sibby kept talking.

“I weren’t but eighteen summers, but with Mrs. Remington so sick with worry over the war and her boy, it went to me to run things for her like my Ma did.”

Ella watched Sibby closely, some of the woman’s desperation to keep a tight hold on things making more sense.

Sibby met her eyes. “Then Mr. Remington died, and the missus….well, she weren’t right in the head after that.”

“Oh.”

“I was right glad Mr. Westley and Mr. Remington weren’t here to see her like that. Scared folks the way she had dem fits….”

Ella plucked at the hem of her sleeve. “I’m sorry.”

Sibby took on a faraway look. “Onlyist thing that made her smile was my Peter.”

“Your son?” Ella asked softly.

Sibby nodded. A tear slid down her cheek, but she quickly flicked it away as though it had no place upon her. “Then he took sick, too, and Mrs. Remington, well, she just couldn’t bear it….”

Ella’s throat constricted, and she tightened her grip on Lee.

Sibby’s eyes flew to the child and she shook her head. “I tried to tell her it weren’t her fault.”

Though Ella had guessed that something must have happened to Sibby’s child, she had not wanted to pry.

Sibby drew a breath and rose. “He died two days ’for she did.”

Ella stood and placed a hand on the woman’s arm. “I’m so sorry, Sibby. Truly I am.”

She stepped away, and the softness that had made her speak such things hardened once more. “Weren’t nobody left ’round here to take care of folks, so I had to do it. Been doin’ it ever since, and I is goin’ to do whatever I gots to do to make sure we is safe.”

Once more returned to the positions they had thus far held, Ella frowned. What kind of things might Sibby have done to take care of the people? From what she’d seen of the fields, cotton harvesting wasn’t one of them. Gardens somewhere, perhaps? The cellar shelves held jars of preserved vegetables that must have come from somewhere.