Holly Read online

  When Lorrie stopped, the others waited.

  “What about the treasure?” James snapped.

  “Ah yes, the treasure. Those were different times than today. After the trial, Jason asked to be released from jail for twenty-four hours so he could clear up some family matters. He gave his word as a gentleman that he’d return.”

  “He killed Arthur!” Taylor said.

  “Oh no, it was much worse,” Lorrie said, smiling.

  “Belle Chere,” Holly whispered.

  “Yes. Belle Chere. Somehow, Jason kept his brother away for a day. First, he married his beloved Julia, who was carrying his child, then he and a trusted servant—isn’t there always a trusted servant?—removed every item of wealth from Belle Chere. Jason hauled off wagonloads of silver objects and he emptied the vault—which is still in the basement, by the way—of all the proceeds from the sale of that year’s crops. If it had any resale value, Jason took it.”

  “And hid it,” James said.

  “Yes. He hid the treasure so well that it’s never been found.”

  “And he took the secret to his death,” Marguerite said. “It’s horrible what jealousy can cause.”

  “I believe I remember reading that Julia Bayard Pemberton married Arthur Beaumont,” Holly said.

  “Right again. Jason was hardly cold when Julia married Arthur, and seven months later, she gave birth to a son who looked very much like Jason.”

  “I understand why she married Arthur,” Taylor said. “If she was pregnant, she needed a husband, but why did Arthur marry her? After all, she’d publically humiliated him.”

  “Did I mention that Jason, along with being handsome, was also a cousin to Midas? My great-aunt said that Jason could buy a dying company and it would revive. At the time of his death he was a very wealthy man.”

  “Belle Chere,” Holly said again. “Arthur no longer had the money to keep Belle Chere going so he married his brother’s widow so he could use his brother’s money to keep the place.”

  “That poor child,” Marguerite said. “How Arthur must have hated Julia and Jason’s child.”

  “He never saw him,” Lorrie said. “A few months after his brother was hanged, Arthur fell off his horse, broke his neck, and died. Julia’s son inherited everything and did an excellent job of keeping the Yankees from burning the place to the ground.”

  For a few moments the five of them sat there, sipping the wonderful old brandy and thinking about the story.

  “The artifacts have never been found, none of them?” James asked.

  “No. When part of the icehouse collapsed in the seventies, we found the silver service—what you ate with tonight—that my family hid from the Yankees, but we never found the big hoard, what Jason hid.”

  “And the servant?” Holly asked. “What happened to him? He must have known where the treasure was hidden.”

  “We don’t know what happened to him. My great-aunt said she’d been told that the man was supposed to have told Julia where it was buried, but he didn’t.”

  “Probably took it himself,” Taylor said, finishing her brandy. “After poor ol’ Jason was hanged, Faithful probably went back to wherever and took everything.”

  “Maybe, but I don’t think so. The night after Jason was hanged, one of the four witnesses got drunk and was cursing Arthur Beaumont for not paying his debts. The next day he was found floating facedown in the river. Within hours, everyone in town put the story together and realized Jason had probably been innocent. However, since in those days Belle Chere was too rich to disparage, no one said anything. My great-aunt said that Arthur threatened death to the house slaves if it got out that Jason had stolen everything. Arthur was able to suppress the whole story so it never became local legend.

  “As for the hiding place having been emptied, all I can say is that my great-aunt assures me that it’s never been found.”

  Lorrie took a breath. “Anyway, I think that if anything suspicious had happened then, such as a slave suddenly becoming wealthy, the town would have questioned why.”

  “And there would have been another lynching of an innocent man,” Holly said.

  “Probably.”

  James was looking at Lorrie in speculation. “You said that this story isn’t usually told in your family. So why are you telling us now?”

  “Caught,” Lorrie said, setting down his empty brandy glass. “When the local gossip was that you’d bought Spring Hill and that all your family was returning here, I formed a devious, underhanded plot to try to persuade Holly to help me look for the treasure. All I know is that it’s on this property somewhere.” He looked at Holly, his eyes darkening, his lashes lowered. “Could I persuade you to help me search?”

  Holly restrained herself enough to keep from jumping up and dancing about the room. “Yes, I think I could do that,” she said, as though contemplating the matter. When the others burst into laughter, not at all fooled by her apparent reticence, Holly laughed, too.

  “I’ll split it with you,” Lorrie said.

  Holly wanted to say, You mean like in community property? but she didn’t. “My reward will be in writing a dissertation that gets me my doctorate. Instead of writing the whole history of the house, I’ll write the true story of Arthur, Jason, and Julia, and I’ll end it all with photos of pre–Civil War artifacts I found hidden.”

  “If anyone can do it, it will be you,” Lorrie said, looking at her so hotly that a little trickle of sweat ran down the back of Holly’s neck.

  “Shall we start tomorrow?” Holly asked. Lorrie and Belle Chere. Life was good.

  “Oh,” Lorrie said, “there’s a problem. I’m afraid I have commitments in town. I have a lot of work to do to set up my new law practice. There isn’t enough work in Edenton, so I have to make my former clients believe that I’m willing to go where they are.” He shrugged. “Living out of a suitcase is a price I’ll have to pay to be able to take care of Belle Chere. In fact, I have to go to New York tomorrow.”

  “That’s all right,” Holly said. “I know where the attic is. I’ll just—”

  “Stay here all day alone?” James said. “Over my dead body. I’ll send that lawn boy to stay with you. He looks strong enough to protect you and heaven knows he’s a terrible gardener. He cut the daffodil leaves down yesterday. I doubt if they’ll bloom next year.”

  “I think it would be safe for Holly to stay here during the day,” Lorrie said. “I don’t see the need for an escort.”

  “Humph!” James said. “Last week we got a call from the police saying they suspected she’d been kidnapped. All of us went through hours of hell before we heard she was safe. You know what happened to her? She was wandering around inside one of those rotten old houses she loves so much, saw a rattlesnake—yes! a rattler—and fell into a concrete-lined pit. It was only by chance that some trucker found her and got her out before she died of exposure.”

  His eyes bore into Lorrie’s. “I know that you two revere this place, but the truth is that every other board is probably being held up by termites holding hands, and I can tell you that when it comes to old houses, my daughter has no sense at all. What if she fell through the attic floor or got herself locked in your vault? What if a ceiling fell on her? With you gone and with us busy, she could go for hours undiscovered. No, if she’s here then she isn’t to be alone. If it’s not to be the gardener who doesn’t know a weed from a flower, then who else plans to stay with her? One of you?”

  For a moment no one spoke. What James had said was true.

  “I think the gardener will do nicely,” Marguerite said.

  Taylor smiled at Holly and she knew what her stepsister was thinking. She would be visiting Belle Chere to continue her pursuit of the handsome gardener, away from her stepfather’s watchful eye.

  Holly wanted to protest, but could think of nothing to say, You see, Dad, she could say, I want to marry Lorrie, but I keep having sex with the gardener. I’m afraid that if the gardener’s around me all the time I�