While Passion Sleeps Read online

  From the practical books she learned of farming and breeding—knowledge she put to good use; from the others she satisfied a yearning for adventure.

  There was little resemblance between a young woman who now called herself "Beth" in January of 1840 and the shy Elizabeth who had gone so miserably to her husband that night in 1836. The events of that afternoon had done more than just take her virginity—they had stripped away her innocence and left in its place a shell. A shell no man was ever going to shatter.

  She had changed physically, too, her body ripening into the beauty that had been just a promise that night. Slim still, but a slimness now that did nothing to hide the full bosom, or the narrowness of her waist or the slender shapeliness of her hips. Her face had matured, too, revealing the loveliness that had been there all along. She had gained confidence, too, with her successes with Briarwood.

  No one had been more surprised than Beth at the excellent results of her ideas concerning Briarwood. She had discovered a love of the land and an ability to foresee certain economic trends. She was, she thought with an enchanting gurgle of laughter, simply a clever farmer at heart.

  But on this dreary morning of January, she felt a sense of dissatisfaction, a dissatisfaction that had been growing for several months. The desire to prove all those haughty cotton kings wrong was gone, the challenge of taking the raw land and making it productive was gone, and the pleasure of turning Briarwood house into a showplace was gone.

  Wistfully, she wondered if this would be her entire life. Was there nothing more for her than continuing to gamble with the elements of nature, facing skepticism and patronizing amusement at her attempts to try new ideas in an area where old ways died hard, and turning a blind eye to the pitying looks of other wives whose husbands were the leaders of society? She shook her head. No, that wasn't how she envisioned her future.

  She no longer dreamed of love and romance, but there was a driving hunger for something more than the life in which she found herself. What she longed for she couldn't name, she just knew that she wanted something more than to continue to live out her remaining years in this half-alive fashion. She craved excitement and new horizons, new challenges.

  Her glance slid to Stella's letter lying on the walnut desk, and she pulled a face. That was probably why she was so moody this morning. Stella was full of the hacienda and the news of the birth of her second child four months ago; Beth decided she was probably envious of Stella's happiness. Thinking of that second child, a girl named for herself, she felt a pang deep in her heart—she would never have a child—and resentment of Nathan clogged the back of her throat.

  But that feeling departed soon enough, for in many ways she was grateful to Nathan—he was kind to her and he encouraged her to attempt things she would not have dared by herself; he infused her with courage during those times when she wondered if perhaps she had blundered and made a wrong decision.

  Angry with herself for indulging in this maudlin mood, she shoved Stella's letter into one of the drawers of her desk. There! Out of sight, out of mind. But the yearning the letter aroused—the longing to see Stella and the new baby—would not be banished, and it occurred to her that there was no reason why she shouldn't see her friend and... and travel the old Spanish route through San Antonio, down to Durango in Mexico, then head north up toward Santa Fe.

  There was money enough. Her money was sitting safely in the bank—it had been Nathan's ample fortune they gambled with, the cautious bankers willing to pay for many things, but not the experiments with crops that Beth had tried. A satisfied smile curved her rosy mouth, remembering the looks on Mr. Tyler's and Mr. Deering's faces when she had deposited the money Briarwood had received last fall for her corn crop—the crop she had insisted upon growing in spite of their condescending advice to the contrary. Oh, yes, she had enjoyed that triumph.

  The smile faded and a look of concentration came into the violet eyes. Why shouldn't she go to Santa Fe?

  There was a competent overseer at Briarwood, she had the money, and there was no pressing reason for her to remain in Natchez. The more she contemplated it, the more the idea appealed to her. To see Stella and the baby Elizabeth, and to view those awe-inspiring prairies. Perhaps even to see a wild, romantic-looking Comanche? The thought gave her a shiver of delicious excitement, and guiltily she admitted that she still dreamed of adventure. How Stella would scold, she thought with a twist of her lips. But still...

  A rap on the door interrupted her reflections, and she glanced over to see Nathan, looking exceptionally dapper, entering the room. He gave her a warm smile and murmured, "Not disturbing you, am I, my dear?"

  Elizabeth smiled back. "No, I wasn't doing anything in particular." Noticing the superbly fitting claret frock coat and the slimly cut trousers of fawn moleskin, she added, "You look very handsome this morning. Are you going out?"

  "Well, yes, I rather thought that I would take the brougham into town and spend the day at the Mansion House. It's boring when it rains. At least at Mansion House there'll be others looking for a way to spend some time until evening. Then I suspect a few of us will 'go down the line.'"

  Elizabeth shot him an old-fashioned look. "Silver Street again, Nathan?"

  He flushed, his fair skin turning pink. "Now, Beth. You know that I..."

  "Never mind, Nathan," Beth replied, unwilling to discuss a subject they both found embarrassing.

  Nathan hadn't changed a great deal in four years. Though he was approaching thirty, the only signs of passing time in his youthful countenance were a faint sagging of the jowl line and the hint that his waistcoats fit more snugly than they had a few years back. He still wore his muttonchop whiskers and his fair hair fell in a graceful sweep across his forehead. Gray eyes abashed, he murmured, "If you don't want me to go, Beth, I'll stay the day with you."

  Knowing he would if she asked because he honestly did try to please her, she shook her head. "No. Go ahead and enjoy yourself."

  "What do you plan to do today?"

  "I don't know. But you're right about it being boring when it rains." Without conscious thought she blurted out, "Would you mind if I went on a trip, Nathan?"

  Alarmed, he crossed to her side and took her hand in his. "Are you unhappy, my dear? Have I done something to distress you? I know my... my... activities have been a trial to you, but I didn't think it worried you anymore. If there is something that I can do... or... or..."

  "Nathan, don't! It has nothing to do with that!" Beth answered hastily, knowing how easily he could work himself up into an orgy of guilt. Her eyes searching his, she said slowly, "I would like to go visit Stella. It's been years since I've seen her. And now there is the baby Elizabeth. Oh, Nathan, do say you won't mind."

  "Visit Stella Rodriguez?" he asked incredulously. "Why, she lives in Santa Fe." He made it sound as if Santa Fe were situated on a distant planet.

  Elizabeth smiled. "Nathan, Santa Fe isn't that far away, you know. It is on the same continent."

  "Well, I know that," he retorted somewhat huffily. "But it's out in the middle of God knows where. It's uncivilized! I know Stella is your friend and that you miss her, but how can you even begin to think of going there? No, it's absolutely out of the question."

  Her eyes holding his, she murmured, "Nathan, I want to go. And unless you have some very good reasons to the contrary, I intend to go."

  "I see. My wishes make no difference to you."

  "You know that isn't true," Beth replied, amusement peeping in her eyes. "I shan't be gone more than six months or so, and it would mean so much to me."

  "Six months! You're going to go off and desert Briarwood for six months! You actually want to leave Natchez and willingly spend months out in the middle of some God-forsaken place that is inhabited only by wild savages, poisonous reptiles, and buffalo? I cannot believe it! Beth, tell me you're not serious."

  "Unfortunately I am. I suppose you would like it better if I were going to England, though."

  "England! Why yes,
let's go there, my love. Now, I'm sure you would enjoy that. Why—why—we could visit your father and stepmother and their child," Nate enthused. "We could even cross the Channel to France. I know you would enjoy Paris, Beth."

  Remembering the last time she had seen her father, Beth's soft mouth tightened. "Nathan, you're deluding yourself. I have no desire to visit Three Elms, and the thought of seeing Melissa's son is of no interest to me. Someday, perhaps, we may visit Paris, but this year it is to Santa Fe that I want to go." Why she was being so stubborn about an idea that had just occurred to her she didn't know. But the more Nathan protested the firmer became her resolve. It was so unlike him to deny her anything and she was puzzled. What in the world did it matter to him if she wanted to brave the rigors of travel in the wild, untamed Southwest? If she was willing to cope with the lack of amenities in Santa Fe, why should he cavil? He would be comfortably ensconced here in Natchez, spending his days imbibing Mansion House's famous mint juleps and his nights gambling and indulging in his particular vice along Silver Street.

  She misjudged him. After several minutes of earnest argument between them, he seated himself in a chair near her desk and said unhappily, "You are determined to go, my dear? Nothing I can say will change your mind?"

  "Oh, Nate, don't look so downcast," Beth teased him. "I shall take Mary and several other servants to insure adequate protection, and everything will be just fine. You'll see."

  "Perhaps it won't be too bad," he said gloomily. "When did you plan for us to leave? We can't just pack up and leave at a moment's notice, you know."

  Astonished, Elizabeth stared at his depressingly resigned countenance. "Us? We? You're going with me?"

  Looking affronted, Nathan replied testily, "Well, of course I am. You don't imagine I would let you go unescorted out into the wilderness, do you? Why, anything might happen. I couldn't sleep a wink not knowing where you were or if you were safe. What kind of a monster do you think I am, Beth? I wouldn't enjoy myself at all while you were gone."

  She was touched. Beth's eyes were misty as she stared at him. "Oh, Nathan, it really isn't necessary. If I take a half a dozen or so of the male servants and Mary and a serving girl or two go with me and... if we join up with a caravan, we should be safe. And once I'm at Stella's everything will be fine."

  "Yes, that might be true, but getting to and from dear Stella's may be the problem. I don't mind confessing to you that I am not a particularly brave man. The thought of crossing the plains and all the unknown dangers that entails I find rather unnerving, but I couldn't rest easy unless I were with you. Besides," he added simply, "I would miss you!"

  "Oh, Nathan, dear! Are you certain you want to go with me?"

  "Of course I don't want to go! Why do you think I just spent the last hour or so trying to get you to change your mind?" Nathan muttered. "But if you insist upon haring off into an unexplored wasteland, then I must go with you." His face wearing the expression of a martyr, he inquired, "When do you plan on leaving? I will need at least a week to prepare myself." Recalling the new cream-colored coat, lined with velvet, that his tailor was currently designing for him, he amended, "No. I would need two weeks. Hobbins won't have that coat done for another ten days. I must have it before we leave."

  Beth smiled to herself. Nathan was ridiculously vain about his clothes, and she wondered with amusement how he would cope on the long, dry, dusty journey into Mexico before swinging up towards Santa Fe. Somehow, she decided fondly, despite all his posturing and little foibles, he would indeed cope.

  The next days passed in a whirl for Beth, the hours flying by, meshed into one continuous haze of frantic packing and anticipation. Beth wrote instantly to Stella apprising her of their approximate arrival; as she sealed the letter she sent up a fervent little prayer that the letter would reach its destination before she did.

  The overseer of Briarwood was given a detailed account of what was to be done in their absence, and Nathan's velvet-lined jacket was finished on time. The servants who were to accompany them were readied; accommodations on the steamboat that would take them to New Orleans were obtained; reservations were made for a hotel in New Orleans; and their place on a packet leaving from that city to Galveston Island in the Republic of Texas was secured.

  Everything was ready, Beth thought happily as she undressed for bed some three weeks later. Tomorrow she would start the first phase of the long, dangerous journey to Santa Fe, and she was nearly sick with excitement. Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough, she decided drowsily, after tossing for hours. Tomorrow the adventure begins.

  The next morning, however, things began to go wrong. In her haste to double-check the last-minute packing Mary Eames stumbled over one of the valises left by a careless servant at the top of the sweeping staircase; she somersaulted wildly down the many steps, breaking her leg in the process.

  Beth, agitated and distressed by the accident, considered postponing the trip until Mary's leg had mended, but once the doctor arrived and set the leg, Mary convinced her that it was absurd for everything to be undone because of her clumsiness.

  Grimacing as she lay comfortably propped by pillows, her leg plastered and resting on several more down pillows, and hovered over by two wide-eyed young Negresses, Mary said sensibly, "Don't be silly. Everything is arranged and it is my fault that I'm not going to be able to go with you. I see no reason for you to undo all your plans for me. Go ahead and leave. I shall be fine. What could you do to make things any different?"

  Torn between the desire to leave as planned and an equally strong desire to remain at Mary's side, Beth dithered for another few minutes. Finally making up her mind, she asked anxiously, "You won't mind if we go on without you?"

  "Of course not. Charity was going along to help me with your clothes, and she is so well trained that I am confident she can act as your maid. Press into service one of the other girls, if you like, to assist her, but please, do not delay your journey because of me."

  Knowing Mary was right, Beth wasted no more time, and the entire entourage—ten husky, eager young male slaves, two giggling Negresses, Nathan's two servants, two wagons, and the coach containing Nathan and Beth—pulled away from Briarwood's oak-lined driveway three hours after the time originally planned for their departure. Beth's face was bright with excitement and the violet eyes were blazing with the spirit of adventure as the carriage pulled away. Beth didn't look back. At last, she was going West—West to Stella, West to meet her dreams.

  Chapter 7

  They stayed one night in New Orleans, and the morning of the last Monday of January found Beth waking to the gentle hush of the waves against the packet taking them to Galveston. She was glad they hadn't remained long in New Orleans—tired from the river-boat trip from Natchez and sleepless with excitement at the prospect of boarding the ship for Galveston, she'd had no time to dwell on the events that had occurred the last time she had visited New Orleans—no time to recall a pair of mocking gray eyes, or to wonder if Rafael Santana remembered the girl he had taken so carelessly in a small house on the ramparts.

  Charity proved an able maid, deftly helping her mistress dress in a lace-trimmed, white linen spencer and a full skirt of green-printed muslin over a light and cool crinoline. A leghorn straw bonnet edged with green velvet and short white gloves laced with green silk cord completed the picture. It was an exceedingly pretty picture, too, that Beth made, with her violet eyes sparkling and the silvery-blond hair arranged in long ringlets on either side of her face.

  Unaware of her own startling beauty, Beth stepped outside her room and crossed the deck to stand near the railing, and watch the turquoise waters of the Gulf of Mexico. She was well and truly going to Santa Fe, she thought with growing pleasure. Determinedly she quelled the desire to pinch herself to see if she was really standing here on the deck of the ship.

  "Good morning, my dear," Nathan said to her right, jolting her just a bit.

  "Oh, Nathan! What a start you gave me!" she exclaimed.

  "S
orry, I thought you heard me coming," Nathan replied, his eyes puffy from a late night at the gaming table below decks.

  Guessing what he had been up to, Beth asked resignedly, "Did you lose very much last night?"

  Nathan grimaced. "Enough. Nothing to worry over, my dear." He hesitated a moment, before asking, "I wonder... would you mind if a young gentleman joined us at our table for breakfast?"

  Beth stiffened, and stared incredulously at her husband.

  Nathan realized the train of her thoughts and burst out, "You don't think that I would bring a young man that I..." He broke off, horrified that she thought him capable of subjecting her to a meeting with one of his amours. Stiffly, he said, "Sebastian Savage is a young gentleman from New Orleans who happens to be traveling to San Antonio. I met him last night, and as we are both traveling to San Antonio, I thought it polite to have him join us. If you object I shall have to make an excuse. Though," Nathan muttered, "what I shall tell him to explain my sudden reversal, I have no idea!"

  Contrite, Beth said quickly, "No. No, that won't be necessary. I apologize. I should have known you would not do such a thing."

  "Beth, I know it has not been easy for you. Please believe me, my dear, you never have to worry that I would deliberately harm you any more than I have already."

  She patted his arm. "I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions, Nathan. Let us not talk of it further—I shall look forward to meeting Mr. Savage."

  Happily diverted, Nathan said eagerly, "You will like him, I am sure. He is a young man, not much older than you, I think, and very merry and lively. I think you will find his company amusing."

  Beth smiled. "Perhaps. But tell me what business takes him to San Antonio—is he visiting friends as we will be, or is he going there to settle?"