Free The Last Heiress by Mary Ellis

he’s heard from Richmond yet.”
    â€œIf there was word from Jefferson Davis, don’t you think I’m capable of conveying the message during tea or at dinner?”
    Amanda winced with a blush. “Goodness, I implied that, didn’t I? Forgive me.” She came down the gallery steps to the flagstone courtyard. “Certainly you would tell me, but I’ve grown impatient since the passing of my father.”
    Her forlorn tone changed his irritation to pity. “It’s been onlya month since we sent a letter to the president of the Confederacy. I fear he has more urgent matters than the business concerns of Dunn Mills or Henthorne and Sons.”
    â€œI understand that, but I received a letter from Mr. Pelton, the mill’s chief supervisor. He is anxious for an update on raw materials. He said his workers will be idle by midsummer if the mill doesn’t receive a substantial supply of cotton. I feel responsible for the families working for us.”
    â€œI will speak to my father today. Rest assured, we wish to resume trade as much as you do.” Jackson climbed into the open carriage. “In the meantime, please try to get my wife out of the house. Why not call on one of her friends this afternoon? Pining away in our bedroom for weeks isn’t healthy and won’t bring your father back.”
    â€œYou insist we make social calls while in mourning?”
    â€œI’m only suggesting close friends in the neighborhood, not that she don a ball gown for a cotillion. She can wear her unrelenting black if she chooses, even though mourning attire only worsens her melancholia. Abigail is a lighthearted, carefree woman. At least she used to be. She’s barely left our bedchamber since we heard the news.” The horse pranced and pulled against his harness. “What say you? Do we have a bargain?”
    She nodded. “I will get her out of the house today.”
    Jackson thumped his walking stick and the carriage began to roll. Talking to his father had been on his mind anyway. Their company thrived and grew with the movement of goods. With less cotton and tobacco flowing out of port, their balance sheet must be suffering. He aimed to find out how bad things were before the situation became irreparable.
    He found his father at his desk enjoying his favorite morning breakfast—sweet dough rolled in chopped pecans, coiled into a circle, and then baked. Whenever Randolph left the plantationbefore dawn, he carried several with him to eat at his Wilmington office.
    â€œGood morning, Father. Will we have the pleasure of your company at dinner this evening?” Jackson asked as he slouched into one of the soft upholstered chairs.
    â€œYou shall because I’m staying in town.” Randolph set down the icing-topped pastry and looked at his son, his bloodshot eyes ringed with dark circles.
    â€œYou look terrible, sir. What’s wrong?”
    â€œI went over the books last night. Today I plan to meet with our clerks and bookkeeper. There must be some mistake. Perhaps receivables haven’t been properly tallied on the ledgers.”
    Jackson recognized his perfect opportunity. “If you don’t mind, I would also like to meet with the bookkeeper and assess the company’s financial condition.”
    â€œVery well. I would appreciate your input, but I don’t think either of us will like what we see. President Davis’s edict of no trade with England has hurt us badly. Britain is the chief market for cotton and a substantial amount of tobacco. Your houseguest isn’t the only one needing restored trade routes.” He rang the bell for more coffee. “I’ve spoken to your mother about curtailing orders from her favorite couturiers and also to the overseer about not purchasing more people. Tomorrow I have an appointment with the banker about an extension of credit. Our family is trying to maintain standards until this conflict is