<< Go Back

Secret Promise

By Mary Lou Cheatham

Order Now!

Chapter One
The Clemons Household

Spring 1907

The thought occurred to Caroline that no one would believe what went on inside the Clemons household. She slipped out of Millicent’s bedroom. Glancing over her shoulder, she rushed through the dining room back to the warm kitchen, leaned by an open window, and drew the breeze into her lungs.
“Land’s sakes . . . you done got too hot.” Rachel brushed the thick soft back of her brown hand against Caroline’s cheek. “Sit a minute. I’ll fetch you some cool water.”
Caroline swigged it down and set the empty glass on the worktable. “Thank you, Madear. Got to go.”
“You can’t let Miss Horsey catch you back here when you supposed to be at the front door.”
In the parlor Caroline plumped the needlepoint-covered pillows on the sofa. A burst of wind blew a filmy curtain into her moist face. Reaching to straighten it, she looked through the window in time to see two Tennessee Walking horses pull an elaborate surrey with fringe trim into the circle drive.
A dark-haired man perhaps in his early twenties stopped the team next to a hitching post. He jumped out to tie the horses and bounded up the steps to the high front porch.
***
Jacob MacGregor thought he was at the right place – the corner of East Main Street and Old Town Road. The steps led him onto a porch, which wrapped around the north and east sides of the pristine white house. When he raised his hand to knock, a young woman with sparkling blue eyes swung open the door with its etched glass panel to welcome him into the Clemons house. Smiling without speaking, she motioned him inside and then floated away through the dining room and toward the swinging kitchen door. Even though the door had a wide crack on the hinged side, he lost sight of her.
High hat in both hands, he stepped into the Victorian parlor of Mrs. Hortense Smith Clemons. She had sent him a formal invitation to come for tea. Delectable smells of baking food wafted from the kitchen to the front of the house.
“Oh, do come in. Place your hat on the table or hang it on the rack, whichever you prefer.” Hortense, bustled in from a bedroom opening into the dining room on the left side. She tripped and almost fell.
Having plastered a solicitous smile across her face, Hortense stretched one hand toward him. She teetered in her high-heeled shoes to her wing-backed chair, where she sat too hard. “Caroline should have taken your hat.”
“It’s all right,” he said.
“Girls, we have a guest.” She turned her head and shouted, “Come here now.” She looked back at Jake and forced a laugh. “How are you?” The left of her mouth turned up and the right side curved downward. “Do be seated on the sofa or the love seat.” When she talked her voice went up and down two octaves.
“Caroline,” she scolded. “Bring the tea.” She clapped her hands. “Make haste.” Almost losing her balance, she leaned toward Jake. As she recovered her composure, she daubed her flushed face with a dainty handkerchief.
Jake sat on the sofa. Mrs. Clemons was not at all as he had expected her to be.
She folded her hands in her lap. “Ah, here we are. This darling girl is Lydia.” Hortense beamed with pride as she pointed toward the tall thin young woman. “This precious one is Millicent.”
Jake arose and stood until the young women entered, curtsied, and seated themselves. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, ladies.” He nodded his head in a polite gesture.
The server, whom he supposed was the person Mrs. Clemons called Caroline, entered with the tea.
He thought: it isn’t supposed to happen this way.
In all of God’s creation, he had never seen anyone so lovely. She was graceful but unassuming. He forced himself to focus on Mrs. Clemons and her daughters. What could be more uncouth than feasting his eyes on a servant in the home of the Senator’s wife?
Caroline moved with fluid grace as she served. Her intriguing eyes remained focused on her task. Her facial expression was pleasant, but it seldom changed from a sad half smile. He leaned forward to take the teacup and saucer from her hands. The smell of her perfume – ah, what was it? A blend of roses, peaches, and sandalwood, all floating above the exotic black tea.
No one bothered to introduce her. “Come here, Caroline,” Hortense tapped her spoon on her saucer. “Bring me my medication so I can add a spoonful to my tea.”
At the mention of the medication, Jake thought he saw the slightest hint of a sparkle in Caroline’s eyes accompanied by a covert grin.
“Here it is, ma’am.” Caroline had anticipated the woman’s needs. Mrs. Clemons doctored her tea.
“For my lumbago,” she explained to Jacob. Caroline walked through the opened French doors with glass panels. She placed the bottle somewhere in the dining room.
“Now bring us some teacakes. Be quick about it,” Hortense said.
Did he see her looking back? She gazed over her shoulder at Hortense Clemons. What was behind the expressive glance of her cornflower eyes?
Jake, despite his sensibility of etiquette, found himself admiring Caroline as she walked away. He noticed the way her skirt swished.
“I was saying, Mr. MacGregor, it is hard to get decent help nowadays.”
“Oh, really?” he replied, as she jerked his attention back into the proper focus.
“Yes, I have Rachel, my cook. Jim is my flunky. He drives us. We have a serviceable buggy for every day and a surrey we use on special occasions. He takes care of the horses and yard. He goes to the Mercantile with our list and brings home our groceries. If the Senator would require Caroline to take boarding elsewhere, I’d have room to place someone more reliable.”
Jake, not the least interested in her domestic affairs, gave the woman a blank look. Caroline had rare grace and elegance for a serving girl. She hardly acknowledged his presence. Try as he might, he couldn’t bring her into eye contact. Except for the look she gave Hortense, she looked away or down.
A braided cord held her hair away from her delicate face. Blonde waves flowed in rivulets down her back. At the neck of her navy dress, she wore a plain collar and a large locket hanging from a crimson satin ribbon. In her pierced ears she wore sparkling diamonds, out of character for a serving maid.
He noticed the sisters’ elaborate hairstyles with pompadours crowning their heads and shiny curls streaming over their shoulders. He was amazed to see such professionally arranged hairstyles in Taylorsburg, Mississippi, in the middle of the week.
He gazed at Caroline . . . he was losing control. He admired the gentle pleasantness of her expression. Her apparent concern was to make everyone comfortable.
He blurted out the words on the tip of his tongue: “Beautiful hair.”
“What?” Hortense demanded.
“Uh . . . .” He thought fast. “Excuse me, if I’m forward, but your daughters have their hair arranged beautifully.”
“Oh, thanks. We do our best,” Hortense said.
“You do it yourselves?”
“The sisters do.” She spoke a half-truth.
Caroline appeared with a tray of crisp molasses teacakes, smelling of cinnamon and nutmeg. She placed them on the coffee table and retreated to the kitchen. Jake devoured more than half of them. As Millicent reached for her fourth, Lydia hissed, “Millicent, stop.”
The three of them turned to smile at Jake. He wondered whether Caroline was watching from behind the kitchen door.
***
Caroline tried to watch the front room through the crack where the hinges supported the kitchen door. She felt a strong attraction toward the handsome young man.
Her father, Senator Chad Clemons, devoted his life to noble causes. Her precious friend Rachel was passing through life with all her dreams for her grandchildren deferred. Caroline’s students lacked the textbooks, supplies, and creature comforts needed to develop their minds.
Helping others move a few steps along life’s road to a better existence – a greater good – mattered more than whatever pleasures for which she could hope. Years ago she gave her word, she made a promise she had not failed to keep. She would honor her commitment at any cost. No amount of understanding and forgiveness, however, could reverse the damage she received last winter; as a result, she would never marry.
***
When Jacob left a few minutes later, his mind was hazy. He would need to return to the Senator’s home soon. He was sure Mrs. Clemons would invite him to see her two eligible daughters, since he was the newest bachelor in town. He could gain business in his mercantile from them, also from their friends. But what about Caroline? Having entered his mind uninvited, she lingered.
If she arranged her hair the way Lydia and Millicent had fixed theirs and if she didn’t keep her eyes aimed at the floor, she would look like a Gibson Girl. She had the height – about five feet seven. The severely plain dress she wore drew attention away from her elegant proportions and tiny waist.
She obviously knew the finer points of etiquette, but why was she serving? Was she Hortense’s personal maid?
She seemed ashamed. Had she done something in the past or was she afraid of someone? He couldn’t help wondering what her story was. Where did she fit?
Hortense Clemens was the woman he came to see . . . the town’s most prominent citizen. He didn’t know how he could make the Mercantile succeed without her support. He wondered whether he could ever engage Caroline in conversation or if he would have the opportunity to become acquainted with her.
***
After the visitor left, Caroline started cleaning. Lydia went to her room on the west side of the parlor with Millicent following.
“Get me a dining chair,” Hortense said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Caroline said.
Straddling it backwards, Hortense pulled her skirt between her legs and mounted the chair. “You know what to do.”
Caroline kneaded the loose grainy flesh on Hortense’s neck. The color of the skin on the back of her neck resembled a pumpkin. The woman’s face had a newly acquired sallow appearance. Something wasn’t right.
“Sing to me,” Hortense said.
But Caroline didn’t feel like it. She cleared her throat in hesitation.
“I said, ‘Sing.’ Can’t you see my nerves are frayed?” Hortense pointed toward her low back. “And keep massaging.”
“Hush, little baby, don’t say a word . . .” Caroline’s voice, pure and sweet, floated across the parlor. She could feel Hortense relaxing.
Lydia’s door flew open. “Give that back to me,” she yelled. She and Millicent scuffed over a book.
Millicent scurried across the parlor to her room with Lydia chasing her. Blowing hard, Millicent ran as she held a tiny key. In the meantime, Caroline’s percussion of the back of Hortense’s chest provoked spasms of coughing.
“Give Lydia her diary,” Hortense ordered in a wavy voice with gasps, but Millicent, ignoring her mother, ran through the dining room and into the sewing room. Lydia was not far behind. The sounds of furniture being knocked around made it evident that the fight continued.
“Take your hands out of my hair,” Lydia’s voice sounded from the sewing room.
“You pulled mine first.” Millicent was breathless.
Lydia emerged with the diary and key, but Millicent followed. Dress ripped and hair disheveled, Millicent giggled. Lydia ran back to her room and slammed the door.
“Look at you,” Hortense said. “You’ll never catch a man the way you act. You’re nothing but a fat little pig.”
“Listen to this, y’all,” Millicent ignored her mother’s rebuke. She smoothed out a crumpled page from Lydia’s diary. “Mrs. Lydia Suzanne Smith MacGregor – that’s what she wrote. She thinks she’s going to marry him, but he’s mine. Did you see the way he looked at me?”
Rachel peeked through the kitchen doorway. “Time for me to go, Miss Horsey.”
“You come here,” Hortense scolded between coughs.
With hesitation Rachel walked toward Hortense. “I done stayed later than usual ’cause you had that man over here.”
“Yeah. Be here bright and early in the morning.”
“Yes’m.”
“Tomorrow I’ll unlock the Senator’s room so you can freshen it up.”
Caroline didn’t tell Hortense she had already cleaned it. She saw no reason to let her stepmother know she possessed her own key to the Senator’s room.
“Is he coming home?” Rachel asked.
“That’s an impertinent question, which is none of your business. You and Caroline have cleaned all the rooms on the east side and Lydia’s room fairly well. You need to keep working down the west side. The library needs airing out.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Rachel said.
“What’s in the sack?” Hortense asked.
“My own stuff. You can see I ain’t toting nothing off.” Rachel held up her flour sack, which contained only her personal items.
Caroline carried the dishes to the kitchen. Rachel followed and closed the door. “Go home. Get some rest.” Caroline hugged Rachel.
“Okay, sweet baby. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Bye.”
“God watch over you . . . I can’t stay no longer.”
“Do you need a ride home?” Caroline asked.
“No, my preacher man, he’s done out here waiting in the wagon,” Rachel said.
“You’ve got Brother George trained.”
“He knows how my legs has been bothering me, and he wants cornbread.”
“I bet he’s done made you some cornbread to have with buttermilk for supper,” Caroline said.
“Maybe.” Rachel’s eyes flashed as a smile illuminated her face.
“Go with God.” She hated to see Rachel leave. They needed to talk.
In the corner of the big kitchen was the laundry area. A pile of starched and ironed curtains lay spread across the ironing board.
“Oh, Lord,” Rachel said.
“What’s the matter?” Caroline asked.
“I didn’t get back up the stairs to hang them curtains today. If Miss Horsey sees them here, she’ll have my hide.”
“Don’t worry, Madear. As soon as she goes to sleep – and it won’t take long the way she’s been nipping from her medicine bottle today – I’ll go hang them.”
“You’s tired already,” Rachel said.
“No, I’m fine. I’ll do it.”
Caroline returned to the parlor with a polishing cloth to remove the crumbs and smudges from the oval coffee table. Seeing Hortense still sitting backwards in the dining chair, Caroline jumped back.
“Okay, Car-o-line.” The name Caroline sounded ugly spoken by Hortense’s mouth. “What did you do?”
Caroline backed out of reach of her menacing stepmother. “Nothing, ma’am.”
“Don’t give me that. I saw how Mr. MacGregor was ogling you.”
“I didn’t do anything, ma’am.”
When Hortense stood and took one step forward, Caroline placed her left hand behind her.
“Don’t start your pitiful act. It won’t do you no good. Nobody here’s going to pay you any attention.”
Caroline guarded her left lower back with the top of her hand touching her dress and the palm turned outward. Backing away, she continued to straighten the chairs in the room.
As Hortense loomed closer, she could feel her skin tighten in pain. The portly matron raised her hand and made a fist. Caroline danced out of reach.
Hortense, losing her balance, fell onto the sofa. “You’ve got to stop wearing your hair down. Put it up in a bun or something not so showy.” She pointed her finger to emphasize what she was saying.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to take the time to fix it.” Caroline offered a hand to help Hortense stand.
“Don’t give me none of your backtalk. Just do as I say.”
Caroline, reached for the dust mop and started pushing it across the wooden floor. She watched Hortense wobble to her bedroom and slam the door.
I would have help her walk to her room, but she would have slapped me.
A second later Hortense returned and went to the dining room cabinet to get the brown bottle of medication. “I’ll expect a sandwich on a tray in my room at six.”
As soon as Caroline finished cleaning the parlor, she took the pile of curtains up the staircase next to Millicent’s room. She was glad the Senator had included three landings; otherwise, she could have tripped with the cumbersome load. Hortense had furnished the spacious upstairs room with couches, chairs, and tables, but the family seldom used it. She loved to entertain and the Senator built the room according to her specifications.
Caroline enjoyed the view from the west windows as she hung the curtains. She could see all the way down the low hill to MacGregor’s Mercantile. Her thoughts drifted to Jacob’s dark blue eyes with gray flecks in them. They had a piercing quality – clear but brooding. She thought it would be easy to tell when he had something on his mind but difficult to guess what it was. When he smiled, his eyes squinched along the outer edges. She could imagine he was aiming his sincere eyes at some customer that very moment.
Upon finishing the curtains, she walked over to the south side of the room. Double doors enclosed a suite consisting of an elegant bedroom and a private parlor. The Senator had built these rooms for her. She tried the doors just in case she might find them unlocked. As always, the secure locks kept her out.
Making as little noise as possible, she walked back across the vast party room and descended. Before she could step off the stairs, Lydia moved in front of her and extended her long arms from one banister to the other.
“We can work something out, Caroline.” Lydia loomed in front of her. Caroline knew she was stronger than Lydia, but she was too much of a lady to push or shove.
"I won’t tell Mama you’ve been messing around in the upstairs apartment where you are not supposed to go if . . .”
“Wait a minute. I was not in the upstairs apartment. Anyway, Papa built those rooms for me.”
“Right.” Lydia stood in front of Caroline to prevent passage. “You say he did. You know Mama keeps you down here for good reasons.”
Caroline bit her tongue.
“We keep you close to the kitchen so you can help with the meals and earn your keep. We’re saving those upstairs rooms for guests.”
“You’ve finished?” Caroline asked.
“No,” Lydia emitted a coarse laugh. “We can’t trust you to manage a chamber pot on the second floor.”
Caroline felt her face grow hot. “Please move over.”
“I will when we finish our little talk.” Lydia smiled in a condescending way. “Here’s the deal. I’ll keep quiet about you messing around upstairs if . . .”
“I was hanging curtains,” Caroline said.
“Oh, doing Rachel’s work. That fat so-and-so is too lazy to do it herself.”
Caroline stood in silence waiting to take the last two steps of the stairs.
“If you’ll keep away from Jacob, I won’t tell Mama you’ve been snooping around upstairs,” Lydia said.
Caroline glared at Lydia.
“And I won’t tell her you’ve been covering for Rachel,” Lydia added.
Millicent popped out of her room by the stairs. “What’s going on here?”
“Oh, nothing of any concern to you,” Lydia said.
“I heard every word,” Millicent said. “It is my concern.”
“You’re nothing but a fat baby,” Lydia said. “Shut up.”
“Jacob is mine,” Millicent said. “If you don’t let me have him, I’ll tell Mama you smoke cigars.”
“Liar,” Lydia said.
“No, it’s the truth.”
As Lydia turned to face Millicent, Caroline passed by them.
“I was on my way out,” Lydia said.
“I’m going with you,” Millicent responded.
“In a torn dress? With your hair messed up? I don’t think so.”
“Does Mama know you’re going?”
“I don’t have to ask her,” Lydia said. “I’m old enough to do as I please. As drunk as she is, she won’t remember what happens tonight anyway.”
Leaving them arguing, Caroline went to her room. To reach it, she walked from the kitchen through the pantry. The exact size as the pantry, it was a chamber intended either for a second pantry or for a servant’s quarters. The latter seemed to be the case; at least Caroline felt like a servant in her own home.
Life was easier when school was in session. She had her work. Most of the time she could stay out of her stepmother’s reach. The best part of the summer vacation was spending time with Rachel. Caroline valued every minute. The old cook’s health was failing.
Her little room had two beautiful windows, matching the others in the house. Crisp white lace curtains hung from the tops, and she had cloth shades she could raise or lower. Along the bottom halves were thick curtains, which made it possible to have privacy even though the shades were raised.
On her bed was a colorful quilt Rachel had helped her make. The room was a haven other family members seldom entered. She looked into the mirror above her bureau. She thought: What will I do with my hair? I know. I’ll braid it.
She brushed her hair and parted it in the middle from her forehead to her neck. She made two large braids. Next she wrapped the braids around her head in a circle. The ropes of hair felt slightly heavy, but she would grow accustomed to them. Having a new hairstyle was fun.
She had a little time before serving the evening meal left on top of the wood stove. She’d check with Hortense again to make sure a sandwich was the final order. The collard greens, hot water cornbread, and fried chicken on the stove would be almost impossible to resist.
On the shelves in the corner of her room were schoolbooks she needed to review. She wanted to be familiar with all the material in the McGuffey readers.
Her Bible lay open on the top shelf to Ephesians 4:32: “And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.”
She sat in her straight chair by the window. “Lord, Mama Hortense doesn’t intend to be hurtful. She seems to be having a bad day. Forgive . . . ”
What a handsome man . . . what a kind expression on his face . . . no, I can’t dare think about him. I could never marry any man.
His thick hair was close cropped and brushed back. She’d observe every little detail about it next time
“Lord, please don’t let me have sinful thoughts. I’m just admiring your handiwork.” She laughed at herself. “Surely you have made this man in your own image.”
He had a broad forehead. His masculine nose was slightly prominent. It was narrow, but it flared at the nostrils. Something about his mouth gave him a pensive expression. His white teeth were perfect. When he smiled, he had dimples. She could see he would have a heavy beard if he let it grow, but he was clean-shaven. She loved the way he looked.
I wonder which of my stepsisters he’ll court. Probably Lydia. She’s older. They’ll make an attractive couple. She needs someone tall.
“Father in heaven, if Rachel has to quit working, how I can keep my promise? What will happen? Please watch over Lydia. Don’t let her get hurt. Keep her from dishonoring the family.”
She must have dozed in her chair. She heard a bell clanging in the kitchen. Millicent called, “Caroline, it’s supper time. I’m hungry.”
 

Order Now!

<< Go Back