The Last Heiress Read online

  By the time her father’s coughing spell passed, Amanda had made up her mind. “I would be happy to represent Dunn Mills with one condition, Papa. Mr. Pelton remains here in Manchester while I sail solely with my maid.”

  For a moment her father’s lips opened and closed like a trout floundering on the riverbank. “A young woman traveling alone? That is unheard of. Your mother would never permit such recklessness.”

  “How could it possibly be reckless? I assume you would book first-class passage. If necessary I could remain in my cabin until we reach the Carolina coast. At that point, I would be the guest of Mrs. Jackson Henthorne and under her husband’s protection.” Amanda offered a wry smile.

  “Nevertheless.” He dragged out the word for emphasis. “By your own admission, you know nothing about textiles. How can you be useful in convincing the brokers to restore the cotton trade?”

  “The fact I’ve been little help to you since Alfred’s death troubles me. I’m of little use…period.”

  He shifted against the pillows and waved his hand in dismissal. “That doesn’t alter the fact—”

  “Please, Papa, I’ve listened patiently to you. I would appreciate it if you would afford me the same courtesy.”

  His eyes grew round. “Go on.”

  “Because we wouldn’t set sail before March, I plan to study the textile business until then, night and day if need be. I have a month to learn all about cotton so I can represent Dunn Mills adequately.”

  He laughed, pressing his fingertips to his eyelids. “I’ve spent thirty years learning the business. You think you can fill my shoes within thirty days? And a woman, no less.”

  “Certainly not. I’m not interested in producing garments or managing employees. I merely intend to determine what constitutes quality material and what does not. You and Mr. Pelton can run things here while I deal with those American factors.”

  “Amanda, my darling girl—”

  “May I suggest you book my passage along with Helene’s for four weeks from now? If you’re not satisfied by then that I can represent you, I will accompany Mr. Pelton merely as a figurehead. After all, I am a woman as you pointed out. Would that be agreeable to you, Papa?” Stretching out her hand, Amanda held it steady while he laughed again at her.

  But when she held her ground, his expression changed from mirth to contemplation. “You won’t abandon us and marry some fast-talking trickster?”

  His question caught her off guard. “I will not, sir. I love you and Mama.”

  He slumped deeper into the pillows and closed his eyes, looking older than when she had entered his bedchamber. “You have a bargain, daughter. Report to Mr. Pelton tomorrow and begin your education.”

  “Oh, thank you, Papa—” She stopped speaking when she realized he was falling asleep. Creeping quietly from his room, she ran smack into her mother.

  “Are you going to America?”

  “You were listening?” Amanda asked in surprise.

  “Of course I was. You’re my only child now. What would I do without you?”

  Rely on a houseful of servants the way you always do? Amanda squashed the uncharitable thought and selected the logical reply. “You have another daughter, Mama. She resides in North Carolina.”

  “Do you think I’ve forgotten?” Her mother wrapped an arm around Amanda’s waist and led her toward the stairs. “That’s the reason I’m overjoyed you’ll make the trip.”

  “Not because hundreds of families depend on Dunn Mills to provide bread for their tables?”

  “That is all well and good, but you must check on your sister. I may be a grandmama without my knowledge. And you must convince her to return to England.”

  Amanda laughed without amusement. “Do you think she would abandon her husband and come home after five years?”

  “Your father never thought much of the Henthornes. Perhaps Abigail has had enough frontier living and desires civilization again.”

  “The coastal Carolinas are not the western territories. They live as civilized as we do.”

  “How would you know that? And if that’s the case, Abigail can bring Jackson along. Your father needs someone in the family to run the mill after he’s gone.”

  “I doubt Papa considers the man who eloped with his little girl as part of the family.”

  “We must put that behind us, considering….”

  Halfway down the grand staircase Amanda halted. “Considering what? Is there something you’re not telling me? I thought Papa had a mild case of influenza.”

  “Yes, of course. But neither of us grows any younger. We need to prepare for the future.” Her mother patted her back. “Shall we read in the parlor for a while? I believe Joseph built a warm fire in there.”

  “No, thank you. I intend to have the carriage brought around for a tour of Dunn Mills. There’s no time like the present to begin my schooling.”

  “Splendid! Take the rest of the day if you like.”

  If Amanda had wanted to speculate on her mother’s response to her plans, enthusiasm would have been last on the list. All of this continued divergence from Mama’s typical behavior made her more than a little nervous.

  April 1864

  “Do you suppose I should hire another lady’s maid?” Abigail Henthorne’s question drifted toward the twelve-foot ceilings of the dining room without a corresponding answer. “Jackson,” she murmured in her modulated tone.

  “What’s that, my dear?” Her husband lowered his copy of the Wilmington Star News. Lately, he’d picked up the habit of reading at the breakfast table, something her father never would have tolerated.

  “My sister will be arriving in a few weeks. I was wondering if I should hire another maid.” Abigail sipped her coffee, an acquired taste since coming to America.

  Jackson folded his newspaper. “Five years in the Carolinas and some customs still escape your notice. If one needs additional help, the lady of the house doesn’t run an advertisement in the paper for available domestics. She informs her husband, who then purchases another slave either from a broker or the auction.” He picked up his fork and began eating with great gusto.

  Abigail glanced nervously at the slaves lined up by the break-front—maids, footmen, and the butler—all with faces from light cocoa to deepest ebony. It wasn’t as though Dunncliff Manor hadn’t an equal number of servants, but they had been paid wages along with room and board. “All right then, dear husband. I wish for another maid to assist Amanda during her visit. You know how horrible I am at sharing.”

  “And why should you share? I will happily accommodate you, but don’t expect to receive someone who has been styling the latest coiffures.” Jackson gestured toward her elaborately arranged curls.

  “Why not? Estelle is quite handy with a brush and comb.”

  He smiled indulgently. “She was a wedding gift to you from my mother. She’d been specially trained to assist a lady. I will certainly inquire among the brokers, but house slaves aren’t usually as talented as Estelle.” Jackson held out his cup, which was promptly refilled by a footman. “But enough about tiresome subjects. Do you really think your twin will step off a clipper ship here in Wilmington?”

  “I do. According to her letter, Amanda should arrive by month’s end.” Abigail could barely contain her excitement. “And she’s sailing alone. Can you imagine my parents permitting such liberty? She must have grown adept at maneuvering Papa.”

  “Apparently you’re not identical in all aspects.”

  “No, I suppose not. I never could stand up to him. He seldom granted me more than a few moments of his precious time.” Abigail folded her hands in her lap, her eggs and ham forgotten.

  “Don’t trouble yourself with that old codger, my dear. That’s all behind you.” Jackson sipped his coffee without taking his focus from her.

  “According to her letter, the name on her travel documents is Mrs. Amanda Dunn, as though she had married a cousin or some such. Papa agreed, saying that a matron wouldn’t attract m
uch untoward attention during the Atlantic crossing. Truthfully, I would be surprised if Papa didn’t have her locked inside her cabin until the ship docks. He always treated Amanda as though she were a rare porcelain vase.”

  “Your sister lied on the ship’s manifest?”

  “Those were her plans. I wonder what the village vicar would say about bearing false witness. Of course, it was probably the best course of action. The captain might have refused passage if he knew she was single.”

  Jackson sniffed. “Indeed. Just don’t get too excited too soon. Storms or overly calm winds, not to mention infernal interference by Mr. Lincoln’s navy, could delay her arrival considerably. If the ship is forced to seek port in Virginia, Amanda would have to make her way south overland.”

  “Perhaps, but with my sister’s luck she’ll be here when expected and without encountering so much as a mild case of seasickness.” Abigail pushed away her breakfast plate.

  “Time will tell. Now, what are your plans for today?”

  Abigail tossed down her napkin. “I intend to oversee the gardeners among the roses. I wish large bouquets without thorns in every room. Then I plan to take luncheon with Carolyn Lowell. As long as there’s no hint of rain, she’s having eight ladies on the terrace. Then I’ll probably read and nap until your return from the office.”

  “That sounds delightful, but don’t overtire yourself. Remember what the doctor said about resting.” Jackson reached for her hand and kissed the backs of her fingers. “I must be off.” He paused in the doorway and looked over his shoulder. “Nothing stronger at Carolyn’s than lemonade.”

  “Stop worrying, husband. I’m fine.”

  Jackson accepted his coat and hat from a footman and strode out the door.

  From the window, Abigail watched his carriage until it turned the corner. How she loved that man. He was tall and handsome, generous and kind—at least to her. Anything she asked for he graciously provided and asked for nothing in return except an heir, a son to carry on the family business, the prestigious Henthorne and Sons. Thus far she’d been unable to fulfil his one request. Two earlier pregnancies had ended abruptly within a few months.

  But this baby she was carrying would be hearty and strong. Abigail just knew it. And Amanda journeying to the Carolinas was a very good omen.

  “Miz Henthorne?” A child appeared in the gap in the privet hedge.

  “Yes, I’m Mrs. Henthorne. Who might you be?” Abigail smiled kindly at the young boy—a slave, judging by his clothing.

  “I’m Daniel from Mr. Phelps. He’s the dockmaster.”

  “The dockmaster?”

  “Yes’m. I was sent to say the Queen Antoinette has come to port.” He shuffled his feet in the dirt.

  “Is my sister, Miss Dunn, aboard the ship?”

  “Yes’m. I was ’spose to say that too, but I forgot her name.” Daniel stole an anxious glance. “Mr. Phelps say you should send your carriage.”

  Abigail rose to her feet. “I shall at once. Before you run back, Daniel, stop at the kitchen door and ask the woman there to give you a cookie.”

  When the child had vanished, she moved almost as quickly. Within thirty minutes her carriage pulled into the loading area of the wharf.

  “Looks to be fewer ships than usual, Miz Henthorne.” The driver shielded his eyes from the sun with his hat.

  “Don’t dawdle, Thomas. Find Miss Dunn and then tell the porter to bring her luggage to the carriage.”

  Thomas jumped down and tied the horse to a post. “How will I know which lady is Miss Dunn, ma’am?”

  Abigail giggled behind her fan, trying to stem her enthusiasm. “That’s easy. She’s my twin sister. She looks exactly like me.”

  Thomas disappeared down the ramp toward the docks and returned with a pale waif of a woman a few minutes later. Amanda wore a somber gray suit that fell in a straight line to the ground, a drab hat with a veil, and sensible lace-up boots. Except for her face, the two women looked nothing alike.

  “Amanda! At long last,” Abigail called. “I’ve been so worried.”

  “My dear Abby! You have no idea how glad I am to be on solid land without all that swaying from side to side.”

  Abby. No one had called her that in years. Jackson abhorred nicknames. He even cringed when his brother called him Jack. “I assume it wasn’t a smooth voyage?” Abigail extended her hand.

  Climbing into the carriage, Amanda clasped her fingers as though too weak to walk another yard. “I refuse to begin our overdue reunion by complaining. There will be plenty of time for that later.” Amanda threw her arms around her sister’s neck and hugged. “I’m overjoyed to see you.” Her dimples deepened with her grin.

  Her sister’s smile hadn’t changed one bit. Abigail said, “And I, you, although you were expected a week ago. I’ve been sitting atop pins and needles.” Suddenly, an ominous thought crossed her mind. “Your dark clothes…oh, goodness. Please don’t tell me something dreadful has happened to Mama or Papa.”

  Amanda’s gaze rotated between her charcoal wool and Abigail’s aqua silk and lace. “I see why you might assume such a thing, but no. Rest easy. Our parents are fine. Papa had a cold when I left, but the doctor insisted he will be better soon.”

  “What a relief, although I suppose neither gives a whit about me anymore.”

  “Then you would suppose incorrectly.” Amanda leaned back against the upholstery. “They both expressed their regards, and I am to send word upon arrival to let them know how you are.”

  “Hmm, I’m sure you exaggerated their fond wishes somewhat, but no matter. You came to see what’s become of me, and I’m happy to report that Jackson and I are doing splendidly,” Abigail said, smoothing her palms down the expensive fabric of her frock.

  “Judging by the opulence of your carriage, I would say that’s no exaggeration.” Amanda fingered the ornate brass trim. “And you look the picture of health, Abby. Marriage suits you.”

  Abigail spotted the porter wheeling two huge trunks toward the back of the carriage, with a small, dark-haired woman at his heels. “Who is she? Did you bring your maid overseas?”

  “Yes. It was the only way I could leave Manchester without Papa sending one of his mill managers for my chaperone. Her name is Helene. I hope she won’t pose a problem.”

  “Not at all.” Abigail opened the window and leaned out. “Helene, you may ride topside with my driver. Thomas, I wish to leave the moment the porter loads the trunks. These docks attract an unsavory type of worker as well as shiftless vagabonds.” Abigail closed the window and settled back. As soon as they left the docks, she turned toward her sister. “There may be another reason for my healthy glow. I believe I’m expecting a child.” She whispered even though they were alone.

  “How wonderful! I’m pleased for you. When does the doctor anticipate the child’s grand entrance?”

  Abigail snapped open her fan. “I haven’t consulted him yet. I wish to be certain first as we’ve suffered several disappointments thus far.”

  “That sounds like a wise move.” Amanda swiveled around to peer out the side window. “Your adopted city appears quite prosperous.”

  “Wilmington is small but growing by leaps and bounds.” Abigail was happy that Thomas had chosen the most flattering route through town. There would be plenty of time for her sister to learn about the unfortunate privations of war.

  “Do you live very far from the river?”

  “Perhaps another five minutes.” Abigail cracked open the window to let a little of the early spring air in. “I’m sure you’re eager to rest in a real bed.”

  “I had no idea how cramped a ship’s quarters could be, especially during so long a voyage. Helene and I were the only female passengers, so other than dining at the captain’s table, we mainly confined ourselves below deck. Unfortunately, reading and sewing often triggered nausea, so we had little to occupy the hours.”

  “That sounds dreadful. I’m glad your ship wasn’t further delayed.” Abigail smiled as t
he carriage stopped in front of the mansion.

  “Is this where you live, Abby?” Amanda swung the door open the moment Thomas lowered the steps. “It’s magnificent! A rather enormous house for a young couple, no?”

  Abigail followed her onto the stone banquette, letting her gaze travel up to the soaring roofline. “The house belonged to Jackson’s grandparents, but they have since passed on.”

  “Do your husband’s parents live here too?”

  “No, they have a plantation in the country, although Jackson’s father often stays with us when he conducts business in Wilmington.” Abigail turned toward Thomas. “Please see that Miss Dunn’s trunks are delivered to her room.” Turning back to her sister, she said, “Would you like to rest before tea?”

  “Actually, I’m eager to stretch my legs after weeks of confinement. Could you show me your garden instead?”

  “Of course. Let’s take the path to the left through the roses. We’ll end up on the front veranda eventually.”

  The twins set off at a leisurely pace, with Helene keeping a respectable distance behind them. Amanda asked many questions about the flowers of North Carolina, which were quite different from the blooms of Manchester or the western coast of England. Before long, however, it wasn’t the magnolia, climbing wisteria, or flowering crepe myrtle piquing her interest.

  “Who lives in there?” With a slender finger, she pointed at two cottages along the back property line.

  “Our servants.” Abigail kept her answer short and to the point.

  “All of them? How is that possible?”

  “The single women live in that cabin. Our cook is married to our driver, and they live in that one.” She indicated the second narrow doorway. “The other men live in the loft of the carriage house.”

  Amanda frowned, her lower lip protruding. “Why don’t they live on the third floor of the house? There would be so much more room.”