“You were living in Tennessee, you said?”
“Yes. Sometimes I recall little pieces of those times. They come and go like the flash of a firefly. When I try to remember details, I fail.”
“Did you bring any possessions with you when you came to live with the Eatons?”
She paused to think. “There was an old doll I named Rosie. And of course my clothes, although Myra insisted on having a new wardrobe made for me.”
“No papers? Letters? Anything like that?”
“No. I have asked. Why?”
“Because they might tell us who your people are.”
“I have no one. I told you.”
Charles’s brow knit. “No, you told me exactly what you have been told all your life. As you recently noted, that does not mean it’s the truth.”
“If John Eaton is hiding secrets, he will never reveal them at this point. He’s furious with me. I think he almost hopes I’ll be convicted and sent to prison so he won’t have to deal with me anymore.” She made a face. “At least Margaret does, and she has the ear of the president.”
“How is that possible? She can’t be that influential.”
“Yes, she can.” Annabelle was nodding. “Before she was widowed she ran a boardinghouse here in the city. John Eaton used to stay there. A lot of politicians did, including Andrew Jackson. Margaret is supposedly the reason why Emily Donelson, the president’s niece, moved out of the White House and he has no hostess in residence. Emily refused to entertain the Eatons.”
“The president sided with Margaret against his own family?”
“Yes. So you see my dilemma.”
“That I do.”
Annabelle cast a surreptitious glance at the rear door of the mansion. “I should go back in.”
“Why did you come out in the first place?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I have always preferred to be outside, and this morning I was particularly loath to encounter anyone other than Johnny.”
“The authorities are no longer bothering you?”
“Not at present. My freedom is legal, although that could change in a heartbeat.” The instant Annabelle mentioned hearts, she felt hers leap and placed her fingertips at the base of her throat. Such an intense fear of the unknown was new to her and gave her palpitations.
“If it would not cause tongues to wag, I would invite you and the boy to join me for a picnic lunch.”
“There is no way I dare ride out with you, sir, especially now,” Annabelle said. “Surely you understand.”
“Of course. It was a foolish notion.”
“I am sorry. Breaking bread together can be a good way to get better acquainted and I would like that. Diplomats share sumptuous dinners to help facilitate conversation.”
He eyed the house. “I hope you are not suggesting that I publicly darken the halls of Secretary Eaton’s home without being asked.”
“No, of course not. We will just have to hope a suitable opportunity arises someday. If your party was still in the city, perhaps they would be invited for lemonade and sweets again and we could spend a little time together without raising eyebrows.”
Johnny appeared, seemingly from nowhere, and ran up to them. Charles scowled at him. “Where have you been?”
“Exploring. I found another garden. Much better than here.” He started to tug on his uncle’s hand. “Come see.”
Giving Annabelle a questioning glance he resisted. “Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?”
“I think so. I’m told an old retainer and his wife used to live in an apartment of sorts at the rear of the carriage house. When the Eatons moved in, they filled it with stored possessions. The yard is not much to look at but you can tell they enjoyed their privacy.”
“Privacy? Can it be seen from the street?”
Annabelle shook her head. “I don’t think so. I really didn’t pay much attention when I first looked.”
He bowed slightly and swept an arm in the direction the boy was going. “After you.”
Raising her skirts above her shoe tops, she circled the far end of the carriage house and stable, pushing aside bushes as she went. She paused in a tiny garden surrounded by overgrown foliage and pointed to the remains of a small corral beyond. “I had forgotten this was even here.”
She could tell he was thinking because he was half frowning, half smiling. “It can’t be seen from the street. Do you realize what this means?”
“Not really.”
“We could meet here later for the picnic we dare not have in a park.” He hesitated. “That is, if you are willing.”
“With Johnny, of course,” she added, blushing.
“Of course. I would not have suggested otherwise. The boy will chaperone us and we will be meeting in broad daylight. Nothing could be more socially acceptable.” He grinned. “At least in our peculiar circumstances.”
“All right. I’ll ask Lucy to pack us a basket lunch. She does not have to know where Johnny and I have gone or who else will share our meal.”
“When shall I return?”
“Margaret meets with a sewing circle for tea today and John will be leaving for the Capitol earlier than that.” Annabelle grinned. “Will you wait until Margaret’s gone?”
“It would be my pleasure.”
He tipped his hat and gave another bow. On most men such actions might have looked effeminate, but not when Charles McDonald made them. The strength and power of his physique were impressive indeed, enough to warm her cheeks all the more.
Annabelle rested her hand beneath her throat and felt her heartbeat accelerating. And this time it was not due to trepidation. It was definitely a result of watching the Cherokee emissary walking away.
The only thing better was going to be his return.
* * *
Charles knew that every additional hour he spent in the city after the departure of his kinsmen increased his risk. Nevertheless, he was not going to just ride off and leave Annabelle. Nor Johnny. If what Eaton had told her was true, the boy’s days of good care in that household were numbered. In that case, it might behoove him to allow the child to flee as he’d wanted all along.
Unfortunately, the timing was off. If Johnny stayed until the treaty disagreements were settled, one way or the other, many months could pass. By then, chances were good that Annabelle would have been tried and probably wrongly convicted due to outside influences.
Charles grimaced. She wasn’t the only one who could end up in prison. He was in the same boat. With Ridge and the rest of the diplomats gone, there was no one to assure Washington authorities that Cherokee justice would be carried out. Charles had lost his primary defense.
He saw to the needs of his rented horse, loosening the saddle girth and watering the animal at one of the livestock troughs shaded by poplars along Connecticut Avenue. Grass there was thick and kept trimmed by sheep. Too bad he couldn’t bring Annabelle here for a picnic instead of lurking in an overgrown, abandoned garden, but he could see the problem of being seen together in public. Word would surely get back to Margaret Eaton, one way or another, and she was a force to be reckoned with.
It was not hard for Charles to accept that a woman could be in charge because that was the way his tribe functioned.