Scarlett Meadows, April 1899
Amelia took to her seat at the head of the table as the men sat. Ellen poured the wine whilst Millie lit the candles held in tall silver candelabras.
Amelia smiled at the girls and thanked them as she gazed at both Mr Morgan and Mr Smith, who looked somewhat apprehensive staring at the silverware.
'Mr Jameson, Mr Morgan and Mr Smith have been rather diligent today, and we seem to be getting closer to those responsible for the attack. Gentleman, if you could please inform Mr Jameson of your findings.'
Amelia nodded at them, as Mr Morgan dug into his pocket, pulling out a small gold bullet. He placed it on the centre of the table, opposite Mr Jameson, who picked it up, and inspected it closely.
The air grew thick, as Amelia stared on at her advisor as he turned over the casing.
'You don't come across many bullets like this,' he said, his voice solemn and low. 'I would have thought most gangs would be using Colts. Do you think it was stolen?' He asked, passing the bullet back across the table.
'Unlikely, Charles found more. Seems most of them were carryin' a Mauser or somethin' similar,' Mr Morgan said, as he rested his elbow on the table.
'How can you be sure?' Mr Jameson said, his eyes narrow as suspicious.
Even though Amelia cared for the man dearly, his cynicism always weighed on her. He was a good man, and Amelia was hardly one to rely on optimism, but Mr Jameson always carried a distinct amount of distrust.
'We found some of the horse tracks,' Mr Smith chimed in, 'there was at least six horses, and where we found the bullets would mean it was impossible to come from the same gun.'
Mr Jameson gave a low hum as the door opened, followed by Bertha pulling in a trolley with several cloches.
Flicking open her serviette, Amelia placed the fabric over her lap whilst the food was served onto each of their plates.
The smell of duck and cabbage hit her stomach instantly, although it turned at the thought of attempting to eat. She hoped that the wine would at least aid in soothing her gut.
'Whoever's behind it, are organised. Professionals. You did a fine job of standing up to them.' Mr Morgan said, glancing at Amelia with a small smile.
She returned a smirk in kind, dropping her gaze to her food rather bemused with the sudden eye contact.
'Where does this leave us?' Amelia asked as she slowly cut into the duck, its pink meat oozing underneath the skin.
'It's likely they'll come back,' Arthur said, shoving a fork full of food into his mouth. 'Although,' he paused, swallowing, 'I don't think this is about those horses.'
She could see Charles turn and look at him, as they all did. Suddenly, Amelia felt rather light-headed as her heart quickened in her chest.
'What do you mean?' She asked, trying to not falter as she took a large gulp of wine.
'Way I see it,' Arthur said, setting down his fork and roughly wiping his mouth, 'you got folk comin' in, fancy weapons, enough men and somehow don't get what they seemed to come for.'
'I'm afraid I don't understand, Mr Morgan,' Amelia said, although in truth she did, she was by no means dense but wanted to hear the words leave his lips.
'You got a bad problem here, ma'am. I suggest you get as many of your people trained on a gun. I don't know if it was to get somethin' but my money's on givin' you a good scare.'
Amelia looked at Mr Jameson who gave a small nod, knowing she thought the exact same.
Leviticus Cornwall, she thought to herself, I will put that man in jail myself I have to.
'Unfortunately, Mr Morgan,' Amelia said slowly, 'I seem to have made more than a few enemies in business. These tactics won't deter me from my cause.'
'Your cause?' Mr Morgan said with a chuckle, raising an eyebrow at her. 'And what cause is that, exactly?'
She almost laughed. Amelia couldn't tell whether he was genuinely inquisitive or if he was being sarcastic. If it was a case of curiosity, he made a poor attempt.
'My cause, Mr Morgan, is to ensure that my workers are treated a damn sight better than most. They are provided with fair wages and hours, pensions, access to doctors and schooling for their children. I do not ask my employers to break their backs only to live in hovels and watch their children die of curable illnesses.'
She didn't intend to sound so curt but Amelia had never enjoyed having her morals pulled into question.
Mr Morgan however just stared at her, his eyes practically burning into her soul. She wanted to look away, away from the crystalline shine of his blue eyes, how hard he set his jaw. Yet she couldn't. His gaze held a fire, one which seared itself straight through her skin and sent shivers down every nerve ending.
She could feel him, feel him looking right through her, inside her. It was uncomfortable and yet strangely comforting all at once. He was such an attractive man, both in his own way and by most conventional standards, and Amelia felt as though her face was glowing red hot.
I should stop this, Amelia thought as she took another large gulp of wine.
'I'm sure they're very grateful, ma'am,' Mr Morgan said, returning to the food.
Silence hung in the air as they all continued with their food, chewing and drinking.
'Mr Jameson,' Amelia said, breaking the silence, 'please can you get the men trained on firearms, first thing please. The chores can wait until you're satisfied. Thomas can assist you.'
'Yes ma'am,' Mr Jameson said with a nod.
'You handy with a gun?' Mr Morgan asked, looking at Mr Jameson.
'Fought for the Union during the war,' he said, his voice taut.
Amelia was aware of what happened when he returned home from fighting for his country, but hadn't heard it in full. She had tried asking about it, but always found that he just changed the subject.
'The Union?' Mr Smith questioned, 'even this far south?'
'Even here,' Mr Jameson said, eyeing Mr Smith with less caution than his colleague. 'There were many slaves that joined up, some even fought against their owners side by side.'
'So you've seen how those people lived then?' Charles said, leaning forward in his chair.
'It wasn't pretty, but I wouldn't say I saw it all either.' Mr Jameson replied. 'Why I chose to work here. Miss Edwards is known for her support of all people. Seemed fitting.'
They all smiled at the compliment before taking another mouthful of food. Amelia was thankful for the distraction of the conversation as her mind wandered to thoughts of Arthur's words earlier. How they echoed through her head like a song she couldn't escape. The men around the table watched and listened as they finished eating, their plates clean, save for Amelia's.
'Thank you for the food, ma'am, but we should be going.' Mr Morgan said, as all four stood.
'Of course.' Amelia said, and Mr Jameson, walked to the door, opening it for her and their guests. 'When do you suppose you will be able to return?'
They made their way to the main entrance, as Arthur turned to look over his shoulder.
'Probably by the end of the week.' He said in a gravelly tone.
As Mr Yates opened the doors for her guests, she held out her hand to Mr Smith.
'A pleasure, Mr Smith,' she said as he took her hand cautiously, offering her a firm nod. 'And I shall see you soon, Mr Morgan,' Amelia hesitated for a second before offering Mr Morgan a handshake.
Her stomach flipped, it felt like time was standing still as their hands clasped. She had no idea why her heart was beating so quickly, yet her palms were sweaty, although not with nervousness, rather, excitement.
She could feel the calloused bumps on his palm, the strength of his large hand that swamped hers. Her eyes flickered down to his strong fingers which rested on her own pale flesh.
Amelia let go of his hand abruptly as she cleared her throat loudly. The heat from where their hands met seared into her skin, her entire body suddenly flushed with waves of heat.
He placed his hat on his head, his eyes turned away from her.
'We'll be back then,' Mr Morgan said quietly, walking through the doorway without a word as both he and Mr Smith returned to their horses.
After they had left, their silhouettes turning to mere specks on the horizon, Mr Jameson turned to her as her eyes remained firm on the canopied path.
'Ma'am?' Mr Jameson said, pulling her from her trance.
'Yes, Mr Jameson?' she replied, looking up at him.
'Forgive my boldness but... that Mr Morgan,' he said, shifting on the balls of his feet.
'What is it?' she asked softly.
He shook his head, although clearing something unpleasant from his mind.
'I don't think too highly of him, ma'am. Not one bit.'
She gave an appreciative smile, nodding slowly before putting her hand on his arm.
'If Uncle says that we can trust him, then we can trust him.' She said reassuringly.
He said nothing but excuse himself instead, leaving her alone with her thoughts for another moment or two as Amelia turned to the stairs hoping the whiskey would clear her mind once more.