Simpson? She felt sorry for him,” Emily chattered on. “Funny, isn’t it? After what he did with the Klan, he doesn’t deserve pity. He may have served his time in prison, but Trent’s right, and I’m worried about you. Had I realized Harry was courting you, I would have warned you right off. That man is a little weasel, and you shouldn’t trust him.”
Constance frowned. “Don’t worry, I’m—”
“Wouldn’t it be dreamy if you and Etienne hit it off?” Emily kept going. “You and he would make a wonderful couple. You’re both tall and attractive so you’ll look good together. You’re both teachers. You like to read, and to ride. Why, you already have a great deal in common!”
Constance smiled wryly and finished what she’d wanted to say before, “I’m a confirmed spinster. It goes with being a teacher.”
“The consummate bachelor and the confirmed spinster,” Emily chortled. “A perfect match!”
As they neared the immense stable yard, the sounds of Daniel and Jules’s giggles could be heard. The boys were inside the barn, and the gas lamps had been lighted.
“So much for catching fireflies,” Emily scoffed. “Now what do you think they’re up to? At least Wally’s in there. They can’t get into too much trouble with him around.”
A second later, still with Emily’s arm tucked under hers, Constance stepped through the large double doorway. And froze.
She forgot about Emily. She didn’t see Wally, or the two stable boys, or the other white man in military uniform, either. She didn’t see her mare, Izzy, or any of the other stalled horses. She didn’t see Daniel or Jules. Their laughter no longer resounded. The only noise reverberating through her skull was a blood-curdling scream.
It was George!
George, who’d died and been buried, was standing in the middle of the Emerson’s barn! George, with his back to her, just as tall and broad, with the same dark, wavy hair, was less than twenty feet away. George, who would take her back to Maryland, to that other life…
George spun, as if as startled by her presence as she was by his, but Constance couldn’t look at him. She tried to move, to get away, but her legs wouldn’t work. She couldn’t breathe, and someone was yanking on her arm. In that one infinitesimal second everything went black.
EIGHT
“Miss Pruitt? Are you okay, Miss Pruitt?” Daniel’s young voice broke through the haze in Constance’s head. He was there, on his knees beside her.
Emily was there too, on the other side, leaning over her, waving a fan. “Constance? My goodness, Constance.”
She was lying on shreds of hay… on the floor of the barn, and there were voices—male voices—murmuring, but Constance couldn’t see who was speaking. She couldn’t see anything except Emily’s fan, madly whipping back and forth, dousing her face with puffs of air.
And that was okay, because she didn’t want to see past Emily’s fan. Like this, she couldn’t see George. She knew though, that he was still there.
Constance didn’t see the men until Emily closed the fan. There were three of them, and they were staring at her. One was Wally. The other was a young man with sandy blond hair, his expression as anxious as Wally’s. By his uniform he was a lieutenant. Between them was a tall man, a colonel, with dark wavy hair, and the most striking face she’d ever seen. He was so stunning, she almost forgot about George.
Where was George?
Constance closed her eyes, and reality returned. George wasn’t here. He was dead, buried, gone forever. He couldn’t take her back to Maryland. He could do nothing to her ever again…
“Constance, are you alright?” Emily repeated.
When Constance opened her eyes, that man—the stunning man—was there on his haunches next to Daniel. She scrambled to sit, realizing as she did so that her skirt had hiked up, leaving one of her knees exposed. Thankfully her stockings were in good repair. Hastily she pushed the skirt
Constance frowned. “Don’t worry, I’m—”
“Wouldn’t it be dreamy if you and Etienne hit it off?” Emily kept going. “You and he would make a wonderful couple. You’re both tall and attractive so you’ll look good together. You’re both teachers. You like to read, and to ride. Why, you already have a great deal in common!”
Constance smiled wryly and finished what she’d wanted to say before, “I’m a confirmed spinster. It goes with being a teacher.”
“The consummate bachelor and the confirmed spinster,” Emily chortled. “A perfect match!”
As they neared the immense stable yard, the sounds of Daniel and Jules’s giggles could be heard. The boys were inside the barn, and the gas lamps had been lighted.
“So much for catching fireflies,” Emily scoffed. “Now what do you think they’re up to? At least Wally’s in there. They can’t get into too much trouble with him around.”
A second later, still with Emily’s arm tucked under hers, Constance stepped through the large double doorway. And froze.
She forgot about Emily. She didn’t see Wally, or the two stable boys, or the other white man in military uniform, either. She didn’t see her mare, Izzy, or any of the other stalled horses. She didn’t see Daniel or Jules. Their laughter no longer resounded. The only noise reverberating through her skull was a blood-curdling scream.
It was George!
George, who’d died and been buried, was standing in the middle of the Emerson’s barn! George, with his back to her, just as tall and broad, with the same dark, wavy hair, was less than twenty feet away. George, who would take her back to Maryland, to that other life…
George spun, as if as startled by her presence as she was by his, but Constance couldn’t look at him. She tried to move, to get away, but her legs wouldn’t work. She couldn’t breathe, and someone was yanking on her arm. In that one infinitesimal second everything went black.
EIGHT
“Miss Pruitt? Are you okay, Miss Pruitt?” Daniel’s young voice broke through the haze in Constance’s head. He was there, on his knees beside her.
Emily was there too, on the other side, leaning over her, waving a fan. “Constance? My goodness, Constance.”
She was lying on shreds of hay… on the floor of the barn, and there were voices—male voices—murmuring, but Constance couldn’t see who was speaking. She couldn’t see anything except Emily’s fan, madly whipping back and forth, dousing her face with puffs of air.
And that was okay, because she didn’t want to see past Emily’s fan. Like this, she couldn’t see George. She knew though, that he was still there.
Constance didn’t see the men until Emily closed the fan. There were three of them, and they were staring at her. One was Wally. The other was a young man with sandy blond hair, his expression as anxious as Wally’s. By his uniform he was a lieutenant. Between them was a tall man, a colonel, with dark wavy hair, and the most striking face she’d ever seen. He was so stunning, she almost forgot about George.
Where was George?
Constance closed her eyes, and reality returned. George wasn’t here. He was dead, buried, gone forever. He couldn’t take her back to Maryland. He could do nothing to her ever again…
“Constance, are you alright?” Emily repeated.
When Constance opened her eyes, that man—the stunning man—was there on his haunches next to Daniel. She scrambled to sit, realizing as she did so that her skirt had hiked up, leaving one of her knees exposed. Thankfully her stockings were in good repair. Hastily she pushed the skirt
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