“Off gadding about again?” she asked, tsking me with a smile in her voice. “Your grandfather is in a state. We must hurry.” She began to untie the lacings at my back.
“I was not gadding about,” I told her as I slipped out of my gown. “Did you know the purpose for Governor Shepherd’s visit today?”
“Aye—and I suspect you did, too.”
“Grandfather has told me nothing before now.”
“Are you that naïve, Caroline?” she asked. “Surely, you knew that he would marry you to his advantage.” She turned me to look at my image in the mirror as she helped me into my muslin gown.
“Look at how pretty you are. ’Tis a wonder someone didn’t scoop you up before now.”
My brown eyes stared back at me from a face that some called beautiful, though I saw all the flaws. A square jaw, thick eyebrows, a petulant mouth, and a rebellious gaze—one I tried to quell.
I shared some similarities with my parents in 1927, but neither of them had brown eyes. Did Anne, my mother in 1727, have brown eyes? Or were they the eyes of her sea merchant husband? The man with a name I’d never been told.
Nanny helped me restyle my hair as I used a wet cloth to wipe the sweat and dust from my face. When I was young, I tried telling her about my other life, but she had shushed me, threatening to whip me for speaking such blasphemy and lies. She had put her trembling hand against my lips and said, “Speak not such things. You’re already marked by your ancestors.” She had moved her hand to my chest where I bore a sunburst birthmark, the same one she said my mother had possessed, and perhaps my grandmother before her. “Do not give them a reason to destroy you as they did them.”
Her words had further terrified a frightened child. For years, I had lived in fear and uncertainty, wondering if I was insane. Perhaps my two lives were a work of my imagination. But, if so, which one was real, and which was made up?
I wanted to ask Nanny who had destroyed my ancestors, but my questions would go unanswered, so I heeded her words and spoke no more about the second life I lived as the fortress of secrets grew around me, holding me captive. Over the years, I had come to accept that somehowbothof my lives were real, and therehadto be an explanation—one that was being kept from me.
One that perhaps my mother could answer.
Moments later, as I walked down the stairs and into the central room of our home, I felt all eyes upon me.
My gaze met Elijah Shepherd’s, and my heart filled with dread. He looked me up and down, assessing me with a coolness that was all business. He did not smile or offer any warm welcome but analyzed me as if he were purchasing livestock or seed.
“Caroline,” Grandfather said as he lifted a hand to beckon me. “May I present Governor Shepherd and his son, Mister Elijah Shepherd?”
I curtsied as I’d been taught, and the men bowed.
“How do you do?” I asked them, trying to hide the revulsion from my face and voice.
Elijah was at least ten years my senior, and he did not bear the look of a man who worked his own land. He was thick about themiddle, and his skin was pale, telling me he spent his days indoors. There was no depth to his gaze, no sign of intelligence or character.
More than anything, I longed for a man with fire in his eyes.
“’Tis a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Reed,” Governor Shepherd said. “We’ve been working through the details of the betrothal, but I believe we’ve finally arrived at an agreement.”
“Indeed we have,” Grandfather said with a smile.
I could think of no greater prison or worse fate.
I left the men to their cigars and brandy the moment I could be excused. It had been an unbearable supper as Elijah stared at me. Grandfather and Governor Shepherd spoke of farming and politics, though neither man included Elijah in the discussion. The longer I sat in his presence, the more I worried Elijah was simpleminded. Was he even capable of inheriting such a large plantation? Or taking a wife?
I didn’t want to find out.
My pulse thrummed as I left the room, needing to be free of the confines of my life and the expectations placed upon me. I shivered just thinking about Elijah Shepherd touching me or living with him day after day.
I wanted so much more from this life. Freedom, the opportunity to make my own decisions, and most of all, I wanted to know my mother.
But paramount to all of that was the need to know why I lived two lives.
I felt breathless as I raced up the stairs to my bedchamber, an oil lamp in hand. Tomorrow I would be in 1927 and could have a reprieve from this life—yet I would wake up here the next day, and it would be waiting for me.
I thought of my mother and wondered if Grandfather had tried to force her into a loveless marriage. Was that why she had fled South Carolina at such a tender age?
There had to be an answer—a way out of this nightmare.
