American Dreams

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Authors: Janet Dailey
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    "Are you all right, Miss Hall?" A brown eyebrow arched in sharp question.
    Suffused with heat, Eliza hastily pulled away. "Yes. I... I regret I failed to see you." She groped for the words, fighting this sense of embarrassment that was totally without cause.
    "Father." Temple called to him from the parlor. Eliza turned guiltily, her cheeks hotter than before. For an instant, she could only stare at the black brilliance of Temple's eyes and the softly swollen look of her lips. She looked so ... satisfied, so alive. Something twisted inside Eliza. Involuntarily, she pressed a hand against her stomach, trying to rid herself of the awful ache. "I thought I heard someone." Temple smiled, easily and naturally, then turned to include The Blade when he stepped into view. "The Blade is here."
    Seeing them together, so boldly unconcerned, as if they had done nothing wrong, Eliza had to escape. When she saw Will Gordon's gaze narrow on his daughter, she felt she was somehow to blame for Temple's lapse. She hastily murmured an excuse and hurried to the staircase.
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    Shortly after the noon meal was over, The Blade rode off in the company of his Negro servant, Deu. Will watched them leave.  
    "Are you coming in?"
    Roused by Temple's question, Will turned and followed her into the house. "Young Stuart has made a habit of stopping here lately."
    "I know." She smiled, looking quite pleased with the knowledge. "But I don't think you should call him young Stuart. He is a man, Father."
    That, Will did not doubt at all. He paused momentarily, watching as Temple swept into the dining room to help her mother lock the china and silver in the glass cabinets. Hearing Victoria's dry, hacking cough, Will tried to remember when she had been young and healthy, when their love had been new and strong. So much pain, grief, and guilt had come between them with the death of their babies, yet rather than bring them together, the tragedies had made Victoria turn from him.
    He started down the hall. Eliza stood at the bottom of the staircase, one hand resting on the carved newel post. He nodded to her as he walked by.
    "Mr. Gordon."
    He stopped and looked backward over his shoulder. "Yes?"
    "I should like to speak to you ... privately." She had that stiff, no-nonsense look on her face that she usually wore around him.
    His frown deepened as he considered her request and the possible reasons for it. "Shall we step into the library?"
    Eliza preceded him into the room, her back ramrod-straight and her chin jutting at a determined angle. He wondered if she was unhappy here. Did she wish to leave? Or had she encountered difficulties with one of her pupils? Kipp. Will sighed, certain his son was the cause of the requested meeting.
    "What did you want to talk to me about, Miss Hall?" He walked over to his desk.
    Eliza glanced at the portrait above the fireplace, then at him. Squaring her shoulders, she drew herself up to her full height. "Phoebe and Shadrach ... the children of your house servant Cassie... this morning, I found them outside the school window."
    "Is that all?" Will frowned. "Do not concern yourself about it, Miss Hall. I will see that it doesn't happen again."
    "No. You misunderstand," she said impatiently. "Both of them seem quite eager to learn. Shadrach has taught himself to write the letters of the alphabet. That is a remarkable accomplishment, one that should be rewarded, not punished."
    "What are you suggesting?"
    She raised her chin a fraction of an inch higher, the light of battle gleaming in her eyes. "I want to teach them."
    "What? Why?" He was stunned into sharpness. "They are blacks. What good would it do—"
    "I should think it would accomplish a great deal of good," she retorted. "They have shown an inclination to learn. Why not encourage it? Surely an education would increase their value. With a farm and a house this size, accounts must be kept. If these children can be trained to do such work, it would mean less for you

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