by Jane Steen
He stood to assist me to rise, slipping my arm under his. “We’d better return to the celebrations before our absence is too much remarked upon. I’d hoped to bring them good news, but—“ He smiled his beautiful smile. “Six months is not such a very long time. I know we’re meant to be together.”
27
Bedazzled
“So why, exactly, haven’t you told Mr. Rutherford about Mr. Poulton?”
Catherine Lombardi’s thin fingers plucked at a small tear on the bodice of her walking dress, trying to tuck a protruding piece of the lining back inside. I had almost finished its replacement; the entire Lombardi family had come on their long-awaited visit to the seminary a week ago. This had caused Mrs. Calderwood no little consternation since the length of their visit gave the pastor ample time to ask awkward questions about why the seminary was no longer taking in impoverished scholars—such as his own son.
And they were impoverished indeed. Catherine had lost a good fifteen pounds since I’d last seen her, and the children’s clothes showed evidence of much mending. It was clear that the extra income from the capital the pastor had lost in ’73 was sorely missed, and I’d wasted no time taking the measurements of Catherine and the children. I had ridden roughshod over Catherine’s protests by proclaiming I had nowhere near enough to do, and it was true that the extra hours my new task involved were a merciful distraction from Martin’s impending visit.
“I don’t want to discuss Judah with Martin until we've settled things between us.”
I straightened my hat and lengthened my stride; Catherine had become a good walker, despite the fact that my legs were longer. “And please don’t say anything to him, either. It’s none of Martin’s business if I have a suitor.”
“Why not? I’d think he’d have some good advice to offer, being an old married man himself.” Dimples still showed in Catherine’s cheeks when she smiled, even though she was so much thinner now.
“I really don’t want to hear Martin’s advice about my marriage prospects.” I kicked viciously at a clod of dirt, watching as it skidded off into the dry grass. “He’s bound to say something annoying. Besides, did he discuss his marriage with me? Not even a hint!”
Catherine laughed and returned her attention to her bodice. “Do you think the tear shows terribly? I’m almost ashamed to show my face at the mercantile.”
I grasped her arm, wrapping mine around it so that we were walking in lockstep. “By tomorrow you’ll be dressed like a lady of fashion. And it’s just occurred to me—I can supply you with an extra dress with almost no more work. I have a maroon delaine, this year’s cut, that I started in April, but my customer didn’t like the color. I’d pieced in the arms, but I can take them out again in a snap, refit the bodice to you, and shorten the skirt. It’ll suit your hair and skin admirably.”
“How on earth are you finding the time?” Catherine asked. “Your work—“
“Tess can do nearly everything we have on hand for the seminary, and I’m waiting for Mrs. Howlett’s merino to arrive, so I’m between commissions.” I squeezed Catherine’s arm to forestall her next words. “Let me do this for you, Catherine. The denominational office has provided the pastor with new clothes, and you must be smartly dressed to match.”
Catherine said nothing, and I stared at the road ahead of us, pretending I didn’t see her wipe away a tear. We were arriving at Springwood, which now extended across the creek in neat rows of small frame houses.
“Do you remember the soddies?” I asked her. “They won’t allow them now. The poorer settlers have moved to a place called Fork Crossing, and the young men of Springwood made a party of leveling the sod houses. The Temperance Society is still trying to find out whether there really was a barrel of beer involved.”
“I’ll buy the children some candy.” Catherine was counting the coins in her hand, not listening to my chatter.
“And I’ll buy the girls some soap—would they like that? Hayward’s has the nicest soaps. And Teddy—goodness, what on earth does one buy for a boy?”
Catherine laughed. “Food. Of any kind. But he’ll be quite happy to have britches that actually come down to his ankles and a decent jacket. He won’t stop talking about his new clothes.”
I laughed too, but a corner of my mind remained somber. It was all very well to remedy the children’s lack of new clothes, but there were some problems that had no remedy. Lucy, in particular—she was shockingly frail, with dark circles around her eyes and a bluish tinge to her lips. One dose of the ague that plagued many of the settlers would carry her off, I was sure.
“Good morning, Mrs. Addis.” I smiled at my client, who was walking in the opposite direction. “Are you looking forward to the fall?”
“I’m certainly looking forward to putting on my new wool dress.” Mrs. Addis shook Catherine’s hand in passing, then turned her shrewd round eyes on me. “But not nearly as much as you’re looking forward to the New Year, I’ll be bound.”
I stared after her as she vanished in the direction of the Wells Fargo office, my jaw hanging in astonishment.
“How on earth—well if she knows, then everyone will know.” A sensation of foreboding invaded me. “Who’s been talking?”
“About what?”
“I promised Judah I’d give him my answer on the first of January.”
“Ah.”
Catherine bent and made a great show of retying a bootlace. When she straightened up, her expression was determined. “And I don’t suppose you’ve told anyone—it wouldn’t be like you. Which means—“
“—that Judah has let it slip.”
“Insurance.” Catherine’s fine eyebrows rose nearly to her hairline. “He’s making it harder for you to say no. If you do, your position in this town could become quite awkward.”
She hesitated, then plowed on. “Is it so very possible you’ll say no?” She looked at me with curiosity. “You seem quite bedazzled by the man.”
“That’s just it. When I’m with Judah, I find it hard to think straight. When he’s not here, all the other questions crowd into my mind—Sarah, Tess, whether I should stay in Kansas at all. Whether I shouldn’t use my money to set myself up as a proper couturière in a city. Being Judah’s wife would permanently put an end to that dream. And, besides, there’s some secret—“
I lowered my voice and stepped off the sidewalk, putting up my parasol to shield us from the sun and from any stray listeners.
“Before Professor Wale died, he showed me a letter he’d obtained from some English attorney. A letter about Judah’s past, he said. I wouldn’t read it, but after the professor’s death, I thought I’d better. And when I went to where I knew he’d hidden it, there was nothing there. It was gone.”
Catherine frowned. “Does Mr. Poulton know of the letter?”
“He did—but Professor Wale said he simply laughed it off. The professor was so odd that I can’t help wondering if it was all nonsense anyway. He probably destroyed the letter himself in a fit of conscience.” I turned to face my friend. “Catherine—wouldn’t the denomination have made inquiries into Judah’s past?”
She nodded. “I’d have to ask Roderick for more specific details, but I believe they require all teachers to supply several references, which are carefully checked.”
“So Judah’s unlikely to be hiding something scandalous.”
She shrugged but grasped my arm, her large hazel eyes serious as she looked into mine. “You’re probably right, but—would you spend Christmas with us? And bring Mr. Poulton also? And Tess and Sarah, of course.”
“That might be possible, if there’s no snow.” We were almost at the mercantile, and I lowered my parasol. “But why?“
“Because I’m the closest thing you have to a mother, Nell.” I felt Catherine’s thin fingers curl around mine, much the way Mama’s had, and resisted the prickle of tears. Nobody could take my mother’s place in my heart—but this woman had welcomed me to the Poor Farm when I’d been alone, exiled fro
m my home to give birth to my illegitimate child. And she’d been present at Sarah’s birth, as a mother would be.
“I suppose I do need a mother’s advice in some things,” I said a little unsteadily.
“Then let me have Mr. Poulton under my eye—and Roderick’s—for two or three weeks before you give him your answer,” she said. “A man always reveals something more about himself when he’s taken out of his environment.”
I nodded, but Catherine was already brushing the dust from her sleeves and poking at the torn fabric of her dress, her eyes alight with anticipation. “I haven’t been inside a store for months,” she said with glee. “Don’t expect me to leave until I’ve inspected every article.”
“Sarah got more candy than I did.” Thea pouted, her shapely eyebrows drawing down in a frown.
“I don’t think so,” I said, my eyes on the sleeve I was setting. “Your mother was quite careful to be fair.”
“Thea, you’re way too old to be making a fuss about shares.” Teddy, who had stuffed his own share into the pocket of his britches and grabbed his hat, making for the outdoors, spoke with the world-weariness of the oldest sibling. “Land sakes, young lady, you’re thirteen now.”
And she looked older, I thought. Like all the Lombardi children, Thea was thin, but there was an unmistakable womanliness about her figure that drew looks from the students. As I glanced up, her face darkened, and she stuck her tongue out at her brother’s retreating back. My eyes met Tess’s, and I could see we were both thinking the same thing. That young lady was trouble.
“You may have two of my pieces,” Sarah said grandly. “I get plenty of treats. I just slip along to the kitchen, and I’m fixed, quick as molasses.” Her imitation of Netta’s speech made both Tess and me smile. It was accompanied by a careful flouncing of her pretty plaid dress as she sat daintily in her chair, setting her candy spoils on the table.
“You can have some of mine too,” said Lucy in a placatory tone, a wary eye on her sister, whose eyes had narrowed dangerously at Sarah’s speech. Being around Thea was a matter of constantly walking on eggshells. Her parents’ kindness was no salve to her natural irritability and sense of grievance.
“Thank you, Lucy, dear.” Thea’s tone turned sugary sweet, and I saw Tess direct a sharp glance at her. “Why don’t we go outside to enjoy our candy? The air in here is so—princessy.” She hooked Lucy’s arm under hers and towed her toward the door. Lucy’s face showed her feelings—ever the peacemaker, she rarely gainsaid her older sister, but it was plain she would have preferred to remain in the workroom with us. The wind, dust, and piercing sunlight of the prairie did not seem to be healthful to her as it was to most children. Rather, it seemed to sap all the energy she had left, leaving her pale and tired. I was desperately afraid she might have consumption.
“Why doesn’t Thea like me, Momma?” Sarah asked through a mouthful of candy.
“Don’t speak with your mouth full, darling. It’s not ladylike,” I said automatically before turning my mind to Sarah’s question. “I think she’s envious of you because you have so many nice dresses, you get treats, and you don’t have to work hard like she does. And you live near a town and have pennies to spend at the mercantile.”
Sarah considered that for a moment, chewing on her candy. “I don’t care for Thea anyhow,” she said once her mouth was empty. “She keeps calling me ‘princess’ or ‘little precious’ when there’s no grown-ups around, and those aren’t nice names when Thea says them. I like Teddy. Momma, can I have britches so’s I can ride Teddy’s horse? I don’t want to tear my petticoats. Teddy says I will if he puts me up on Blaze in skirts.”
I sighed. More work, but Sarah had a point.
“Well, I suppose I could make you some overalls, just for that.” I was keen Sarah should learn to ride—I never had and was now afraid to try. Teddy’s horse—not strictly Teddy’s anymore since he had to share the gelding with Catherine, the other horses having been sold—was far too large for a small girl, but I trusted Teddy to keep a tight hold of her.
“Ladies ride sidesaddle,” said Tess in a reproving tone.
“She can learn to ride like a lady when I can find her a suitable pony and instructor,” I replied, wondering if I could find such things in Springwood. I would need to start sacrificing some of my quieter afternoons to ensure Sarah got some schooling and the company of other children. There was something far too grown-up about the way she spoke sometimes, and Thea was right, she had an air about her of royalty, of absolute certainty that others would obey her. Just like Mama, who had the most marvelous knack with servants and tradespeople, rarely raising her voice but exacting absolute and immediate obedience.
I rummaged in the large cupboard where I kept my smaller bolts of cloth and pulled out a folded piece of brown denim, of the sort used for farmers’ overalls. “This should be enough.”
Sarah pushed back her chair and came to inspect the fabric, rubbing it between finger and thumb and folding it up a little, the way I did when I was considering whether the weave was suitable for the job I had in mind. “It’s quite heavy,” she said judicially.
“It won’t tear easily,” I said. “And you’re leaving sugary patches with your fingers—it’s a good thing this isn’t one of your dresses I’m making.”
Sarah immediately took her hands off the fabric and inspected her sticky fingertips. “Oh.”
I nodded in the direction of the washbasin that stood on a small table by the stove. “I’ll start on this later,” I said. “When I’m done with Mrs. Lombardi’s sleeves.”
“May I go find the others?” Sarah scrubbed her face and hands with the washcloth, dripping water down her dress.
I hesitated, wondering if Thea would still be angry at Sarah.
“Pleeeeeeease, Momma.” Sarah raised her eyes to me imploringly. Jack Venton’s eyes, jade green with black flecks in the irises. Every time the light caught them the way it did now, I felt his gaze on me, confident, a little mocking.
The memory of Jack made a queer feeling curl somewhere under my ribs, denying my vehement inner assertion that Sarah was mine, all mine and no one else’s. She was also, I had to concede, her own person, and that person wanted more freedom than her circumstances—that were not, after all, her fault—allowed.
I looked back at my work, gauging how much time we would lose if I or Tess had to accompany Sarah. “Very well.”
“I won’t get lost, Momma. I won’t go any farther than the trees, I promise.” Sarah was already halfway out the door, the pale green ribbon in her copper hair the last glimpse I got of her.
I turned resolutely back to my work. Tess, who had been steadily basting the long edges of the sleeves and body of a boy’s shirt the whole time, gave me a cheerful grin, blinking behind her round spectacles.
“Isn’t she a big girl? She can do all sorts of things by herself now.”
“That, Tess, is what worries me.”
28
Runaway
“You look beautiful, Momma.”
I smoothed down the front of the dress I had just put on and regarded myself in our small bedroom mirror, tucking an errant curl back into place. The day that Martin and his wife were due to arrive had finally dawned, and I was, as Mama would have said, making an effort.
My dress was an elegant shade somewhere between purple and maroon, trimmed with velvet of the same color. A pieced, stand-up collar framed the neck that Martin had once described as “swan-like.” The only ornament I needed was the brooch he had given me, its single pearl luminescent against the dark velvet.
“I’m going to find these sleeves a nuisance while I’m working.” I inspected the elaborate, low-cut cuffs with their swept-back decoration, pleased at how small and pale my hands looked emerging from the dark fabric. “Maybe Tess was right and I should change later—but then, supposing they’re early?” I twisted round to look at the train of my dress; it too was going to be an awful nuisance all day, but I had cut it so well, and it d
id look elegant.
I laughed inwardly at the fuss I was making over my appearance and turned my attention to Sarah.
“Now do remember to remind Teddy you’re to be back no later than three o’clock. Lucy has promised she’ll take care of washing and dressing you, and you must let her brush your hair out thoroughly. And no yelling about the tangles.”
I smoothed a hand over the tight braids I had begun high on Sarah’s head to keep her hair as free of burrs and prairie dust as possible. Her pale green dress lay on my bed along with a new pair of stockings and her best satin slippers, brushed free of dust.
“I wish Lucy could come with us.” Sarah hitched up one strap of her overalls, and I smiled at how pretty she still managed to look in clothing better suited to a boy.
“Lucy’s too ill, darling. She’s better off indoors, reading quietly in the library with her Mama. Thea and Teddy will look after you.”
“Thea calls me Princess Nobody and gets cross with me if I don’t do exactly as she says,” Sarah pouted.
“She won’t do it while Teddy’s around. And for shame, a big girl being mean to someone much smaller.”
I held out my hand to Sarah and felt her small, warm hand grasp my long fingers in total trust. I was a little nervous about allowing Sarah to go out on the prairie with Teddy and Thea, but the notion of having her underfoot all day when I—
I didn’t know why I was so fretful about Martin’s impending visit. I wanted to make a good impression, I supposed, to show him I had my new life well in hand and he needn’t worry about me. And I didn’t want to be introduced to Martin’s resplendent wife wearing the plain skirt and shirtwaist of a superior servant. I was determined to appear as the lady I was in fact, if not in position.
We proceeded slowly down the stairs, Sarah’s stout boots—boy’s boots, purchased from the mercantile—making a clomping noise that almost drowned out the elegant swish of my dress. As we reached the first floor and headed toward the kitchen, Teddy’s lanky form, made even taller by the Stetson clapped onto his head, loomed out of the dark corridor. He was carrying a saddlebag that bulged promisingly.