“I better go.” Abby reaches for my hand. “But I want you to know I love you, Gracelynn Doherty. Even if it’s sinful. I can’t help how I feel.”
Fear and desire make a confusing tangle in my chest. I’m intoxicated with the feel of Abby’s kisses, her love, but I’m also afraid. Bellflower saw us. He knows what we are, now. And if I’ve learned anything about preachers, demon possessed or not, they’ve got no use for our kind of love.
But I also know that no matter what it takes for Abby and me to be together—I’ll do it. I’ll protect her, no matter who tries to tear us apart.
FOURTEEN
DEIRDRE
1881
Deirdre woke, her head pounding in time with the sound of the train’s rattle and clack. She pushed herself up onto her elbows and the pain behind her eyes throbbed in response. She was undressed, down to her shift. When had that happened?
The last thing she remembered was the sight of Gentry in the rail carriage. She blinked in the dim, coppery light. Early morning. Sunrise. How had she lost so much time?
“Ah, you’re awake.” The woman’s voice came from the shadows. As her form unpeeled from the murk, Deirdre glimpsed a starched pinafore and cap. A nurse. “You’re likely to have a mighty headache,” the nurse said, placing a cool hand against Deirdre’s forehead. A sharp, antiseptic smell came from her skin. “Chloral hydrate does that. It should go away within the next few hours.”
“Chloral hydrate?” Deirdre had no idea what that meant.
“It’s a sedative. You don’t remember what happened, do you? The medication sometimes brings confusion. You were disturbed by something you thought you’d seen. The steward heard you screaming. We had to isolate you in a private carriage.”
“Where is he?”
“The steward?”
Deirdre winced. “No. The man. That preacher.”
The nurse placed her cool hand on Deirdre’s. “There were no other passengers in your car.”
“I saw him. He was real as you. I saw him.” Deirdre vibrated with agitation.
“That’s what you’ve been saying, over and over.” The nurse pressed her lips together. “You were only hallucinating. Once you’ve arrived in Charleston, Dr. Phipps will give you a referral to a doctor—an alienist—”
“He was there. He was!”
“Delusions can seem very real. People with disorders of the mind often see people who are not there.”
Disorder? There was nothing wrong with her mind. Nothing.
The nurse stood with a crisp rustle of sound. “I can show you the railway manifest if you don’t believe me. You were the only passenger in first class. Now, if you don’t calm yourself, I’ll be forced to sedate you again for your own good, Miss Werner.”
Deirdre sagged against the thin mattress. There was no use arguing. She thought of what had happened to poor Tessa Ray—her ravings and screams. If she didn’t pipe down, they might put her back to sleep and escort her straight to a hospital once they got to the next stop. Best to go along. Be amenable and keep her wits. She pushed the heel of her hand against her eyes. “Could I have some water, please? My mouth feels like I swallowed cotton.”
“Yes. I’ll be back shortly with water and coffee. Sometimes it helps ease the pain. The porter will bring your valise so you can dress.”
The nurse left the car, letting in the clatter from the vestibule. The sound set Deirdre’s teeth on edge. She knew what she had seen. Gentry had followed her. Somehow, he’d disappeared. But Deirdre knew he would be back—just like he promised.
Four days later, Deirdre arrived in Charleston, tired to the bone. Her mind still swam with train tables and all the transfers she’d had to make, but to her great relief, she’d seen no more sign of Gentry. She climbed down from the streetcar she’d boarded at the depot, and found herself on a wide boulevard lined with strange trees. They stood as tall as the loblolly pines back home, but instead of branches, they had feathery, fanlike tops, blown back like hair in a gale. Odd. The air was thick with moisture and smelled of salt.
The streetcar driver tipped his hat to her and handed down her carpetbag from the luggage rack. “School’s just down the way, around the corner from the church, miss. You’ll see it. Big double house behind an iron fence, with balconies and a cupola.”
Deirdre had no idea what a coopla was, but she nodded her head like she understood, and handed him a quarter dollar. “Thank you.”
He drove off, and she shouldered her valise. The boulevard moved like a river, flowing with carriages and streetcars and people on horseback going about their business. Deirdre hurried on her way, glancing down every alleyway and shadowed corner, expecting to see Gentry’s menacing presence. Charleston was big enough that she could get lost in the crowd if she had to. Unlike Tin Mountain, she could disappear. Be someone else. The thought livened her.
Maybe Charleston wouldn’t be so terrible. She need only be here until the end of summer, after all, and then she’d return to become Robbie’s bride at the harvest. She could hardly wait to write to him of this strangely beautiful city, with its rows of colorful houses.
But even in her best traveling clothes, she felt out of place. The women here wore light-colored muslin dresses to fight the heat, their heads adorned with straw hats tied under their chins with bright ribbons. Deirdre, in her dull, faded brown homespun was a sparrow moving among doves. Unremarkable. She was also miserably hot. By the time she made it to the corner and passed the towering, whitewashed church, she’d already sweated through her drawers. Her thighs chafed and stung. Her head pounded from the heat.
Up ahead, she glimpsed a large mansion through the fanlike trees, with a pretty glass tower on its roof that reminded her of the top of the Liberty Lighthouse. A knot of anxiety clenched in Deirdre’s stomach as she neared the gate and saw just how fine the house was—all Roman columns and porch rails hung with ferns. She smoothed her plain skirts and went up the porch’s steps. A plaque nailed to the clapboards next to the door said:
MISS MUNRO’S FINISHING SCHOOL FOR YOUNG LADIES OF CHARACTER
Deirdre looked over her shoulder once more, pulled in a shaky breath, and knocked.
Two girls answered, giggling as they jostled one another. One was fair haired, with a round face and a comely figure to match. The other was tall and slender as a coachwhip, with dark eyes and brown hair done up in long curls. The blonde swept her eyes over Deirdre and scowled. “I’m sorry, Miss Munro isn’t hiring any help.”
“I . . . I’m not here for a job. Miss Munro should’ve had a telegram from Hannah Bledsoe? I’ve a letter from her, too.” Deirdre reached into her pocket and offered Hannah’s letter of referral.
The blonde snatched it from her hand, raising her brows. “Wait here,” she said.
The girls turned as one, slamming the heavy door shut behind them. Deirdre slumped, her shoulders rounding forward. She had no mind what she might do if they wouldn’t let her in. What if Gentry found her, out here alone?
Run little rabbit, run.
Minutes passed, soupy hot and slow. A bead of sweat crept down Deirdre’s temple, and she wiped it away.