Free The Last Heiress by Mary Ellis Page B

and walked to his small office—an office that had contained too much daydreaming and not enough work. But those days were behind him. He’d always assumed he would take the helm once his father passed on, but what if there was nothing left to run when that time came? Considering the state of affairs in Wilmington, bold action was needed, not reminiscing about how life used to be.
    For the remainder of the day, Jackson pored over recent correspondence from cotton planters, other area factors, and then studied the books and ledgers for hours. Although many notations for expenditures were gibberish, one thing became crystal clear by day’s end. The economic health of Henthorne and Sons had been in steady decline for the past two years. If something wasn’t done to turn the tide, they would soon need to sell assets to satisfy creditors. His father should have come to him before now, but Jackson had done little to instill faith in his abilities.
    When William left to join Braxton Braggs’s troops, his father had been so proud. Randolph had begged Jackson not to do the same because Wilmington had become the most important port on the eastern coast. Nevertheless, Jackson had yearned for a way to make his own mark.
    This might be the best chance he would ever get.

    Amanda crept down the back stairs to the garden as quiet as a mouse. She had no desire to disturb anyone at this hour, but she couldn’t stay in her room any longer. Jackson had kept his word. Now that he’d taken over the day-to-day operations at Henthorne and Sons, cotton would soon leave the Wilmington wharves and head to the sprawling textile mills of Manchester and Derby. The elder Henthorne was apparently required at his country home, but Jackson assured her Dunn Mills would receive their fair share under his leadership.
    She had kept her word as well. For the past week, she and her sister had gone out five afternoons out of seven. After a shaky start, Abigail appeared to thrive under the attention. Although she still wore unrelenting black, usually reserved for widows, Abigail secretly confided to Amanda her second reason for sorrow—the absence of a pregnancy.
    Jackson was grateful his wife had rejoined society on a limited basis. And Amanda was grateful for an afternoon that didn’t involve sipping tea, eating iced petits fours , and listening to gossip about people she didn’t know. Today’s overdue task involved a tall shopkeeper with strong hands, an easy smile, and a lock of hair that was often in his eyes despite his efforts. She had waited long enough to visit Cooper’s Greengrocery. She hoped Nathaniel didn’t believe her opinions matched her brother-in-law’s, because nothing was further from the truth.
    â€œMiz Dunn? You ready for your breakfast? Miz Henthorne gonna take a tray in her room.”
    Amanda turned to find Salome under the arbor. “Yes, I am. Just toast and jam will be sufficient.”
    The cook frowned. “I already got cheesy grits and ham. That no good?”
    â€œIt will be fine.” Amanda followed Salome into the subterranean kitchen. “I could just eat down here to save time and steps. It’s cooler than one would suppose.” She wandered around the immense room, ducking under hanging pots and branches of dried herbs and spices.
    â€œDon’t know who’s doing the supposin’, but you go on up to the morning room. I’ll have Josie fetch your breakfast shortly. That’s how we do things.” There was no censure in her tone, only concern that long established rules of conduct might be broken.
    â€œVery well, but I’ll have coffee with cream and sugar instead of my usual tea.” Amanda walked up the stone steps to the courtyard but then paused in the doorway. “Do you need anything from the grocery today, Salome? I noticed the honey pot was low, and I haven’t had parsnips in ever so long.”
    The cook stopped stirring