“No, he isn’t. Those letters of his affair.”
Her mother frowned and stared in Bex’s direction.
His blank expression gave nothing away, but he was part of this now. He didn’t need to leave.
Stepping away from Ester, Mama pulled off her reddish-brown gloves and stuffed them into her satin reticule. “That is my business, Ester. Mine. Not yours. We worked through that long ago. I don’t know why he kept the letters.”
“You knew? But you looked so hurt when you read the letters.”
“Your papa told me when he ended the affair. He told me and promised me to never let anything break us again. Those letters brought back that hurt, but that debt had been forgiven.”
“I don’t ever remember you even getting mad at him. You knew of his failings. Why didn’t you stand up for yourself?”
Mama grabbed Ester’s hands and led her to the mirror. “I had you and Ruth and an evil family on a sugar plantation an ocean or two away. Could I leave to go back to Jamaica—with two girls—so your cousins or uncles or even your grandfather could have at you as an enslaved mistress? ’Cause I was born enslaved. Those that look like Mr. Bex in Jamaica can claim you as their property and use you up for nothing but evil. That’s why this very actor fights for abolition. You remember the articles on Mr. Bex’s cause in the papers.”
Ester knew Bex’s stories, but her mother had never said much about her upbringing in Jamaica. When Ester had asked, it had made Mama’s face fill with pain. “Mama…I…”
Her mother picked up Ester’s bag and set it on the bed. “I forgave a man who was repentant, and we rebuilt the trust we had when we married. Yes, I was mad, but your father is a good man. He’s a big man, with beautiful black hands, and we’ve created two beautiful, ungrateful girls.”
Bex went to the door. “I could step outside.”
“You leave this room, Mr. Bex, and Josiah may find his other gun from the carriage and shoot you. There are a lot of woods outside this inn, the kind you could be shot in and buried with no questions. That happens to our people all the time, so it’s best you stay here, where I can see you. That is, if you want to live.”
Ester winced and reached for Bex before she lowered her hands. “Stay, Bex. Mama’s right about my father’s temper.” She turned back to her mother. “Why didn’t you say something about this, or even about Ruth? I am old enough to understand.”
Mama gripped her shoulders and shook her. “Because it was my business, Ester. Mine. It was private until you got a hold of those old letters. And Ruth didn’t want anyone to know about her failings. Her little baby has no name, just a fake one. It is hard enough to be Blackamoor, but illegitimate, too? It’s too much.”
Wanting the world to stop moving, Ester stepped into Bex’s shadow. If only she could fall into his arms and have him hold her to stop the shaking. “You could’ve explained instead of offering lies. I would’ve listened, Mama.”
“You don’t listen, Ester. You’re like your father in that way. You judged me weak. You don’t know what type of strength it takes to hold a marriage together, to be the bigger person and forgive. The way you two are starting off, learning to forgive will be a necessity.” Mama rifled through Ester’s bag until she whipped out the party gown. “Put this on. It’s the one you will marry him in. Mr. Bex. What is your full name?”
“Bex…Arthur Bex,” he said, “But your daughter has changed her mind. I was getting ready to put her on a coach to send her home.”
Mama came near and swatted her on the bottom. “You haven’t come this far to change your mind. If you or Ester have cold feet, stick them in the fireplace. This wedding is happening. I made your father agree. There’s no going back on this. Now put this on.”
Ester looked at Bex, and he caught and held her gaze. “Yes, Mrs. Croome. if your daughter will still have me.”
“I already told you she accepted. Now turn around so she can put this dress on.”
Bex nodded and turned to the door. “I could step outside.”
Whipping through the buttons on Ester’s carriage dress, Mama shook her head. “Step outside, Mr. Bex, and you could get shot. Just face the wall.”
Ester clasped her hands. “Mama, he’s…”
“You ran away with this man. In a few more minutes, he’ll be legally able to see everything, if he hasn’t already. Don’t be modest now. You’re a runaway bride. I’m getting a wedding out of one of you girls. I won’t have you looking like an urchin.”
Beet red across her bosom, face fevered, Ester stood in her chemise and corset as Mama dragged her carriage gown to her hips.
“These shoes are horrid, Ester. They’ll show under your ball gown. But that can’t be helped.”
Bex had his good hand to his face as if to shield his eyes, but the shadows of the ribbon loops of her chemise were obvious on the wall.
She couldn’t think about what was to come, marrying Bex, not with her dress at her knees. “Hurry. I can’t stand here like this.”
“Don’t be shy now, Ester. You’ve been five days with this man.” Mama pulled the party dress up the rest of the way, then slipped on the shimmering overdress, tightening the laces, fluffing the netting. “Your chignon is horrible.”
She took Ester’s locks and smoothed them with her palm. “There is no time to redo this. It will have to do.”
