Eternal Deception

by Jane Steen

  “That was before she got hurt, silly. Momma, say something.” Sarah sounded on the verge of tears, and I forced “I’m—all—right” out between gasps as I tried to get the air back into my lungs.

  I looked at my child in the lamplight. Her face was smeared with dirt, the tracks of earlier tears cutting pink streaks through the grime. Her hair had completely escaped her braids and waved around her face in a tangle of copper curls. Her shirt was torn, showing one pale shoulder, but her overalls were, if filthy, at least intact.

  Teddy ambled up to me, grimacing as he saw my face. “That’s gotta sting. Anyone got any whiskey?” He coughed as he saw his father’s expression. “Hank reckons it’s good for cleaning a wound, Pa. Never tried it myself.”

  My breathing had finally returned to normal. “You scared the life out of me,” I told Sarah. “You’re much too young to run off by yourself, no matter why you did it.” I kissed her soundly on one dirty cheek, shifting my position as I did so; I appeared to be sitting on a fist-sized piece of rock. “But are you going to tell me why?”

  Sarah’s mouth straightened into a line, and her expression grew thunderous.

  “You’re a bad woman,” she muttered. “Thea told me. She said her Mamma worked in a place where bad women went to have their babies, and that I was born there. She said that they call the babies bastards, and that’s a real bad word, and that I’m going to be a bastard all my life because of you.”

  She ended the sentence with a wail, shoving against me with all her might. “I don’t want to be a bastard, Momma! Thea said you don’t even pretend to have had a husband, and that you never had one, and that ladies who have children and never had a husband are bad, bad, and—and—“ She was sobbing now, the tears cascading down her cheeks in a welter of grime.

  I looked up hopelessly at Teddy, who hovered over me, rubbing at a welt on his arm that clearly showed the imprint of small teeth. “She only stopped screaming at me when I promised to run away with her,” he said, anxiety creasing his bony face. “I tried to tell her you’re a repentant sinner, and I tried to tell her about Jesus and the woman they wanted to stone—but she’s too little to listen.”

  “That’s the trouble,” I said, my eyes on Pastor Lombardi. “She’s too little to understand, even if I knew how to explain it to her. Even if I knew how to explain it to myself.”

  My voice broke and trembled on the last words, and an unbidden tear ran down my own cheek. “I’m sorry, Sarah, I really am.” I hugged her to me, feeling her tears soak into my bodice as her small body shook, breathing in the scents of dirt and salt and the indefinable essence of a small child after a long day.

  The pastor shook his head slowly. “Thea should not have told her this. The telling of it properly belonged to you, Nell, at a time when you judged her old enough to hear it.” He blew air out through his nostrils, his eyes on Sarah. “I can’t even begin to know how to punish Thea for this. Heaven knows we have little enough that can be taken away from her. I’ve never used a strap or a switch on her, but I’m tempted to begin.”

  “She’s a little old for that now, isn’t she, Pa?” There was a cynical edge to Teddy’s voice I’d never heard before. “It’ll just make her mad at you; she’ll never admit she’s in the wrong.”

  “True enough.” I saw the pastor clap a hand on Teddy’s shoulder, raising a small puff of dust that looked like smoke in the lamplight. “My son, at least, has behaved like a man today,” he said to me, smiling.

  I too smiled at Teddy, wincing at the sting on the bridge of my nose. “You have. Thank you for keeping her safe.”

  “I’d have been a sight smarter if I’d hobbled Blaze ‘stead of tying him,” Teddy said.

  “Why did he run off?” Judah asked.

  “A wolf came by; don’t think it was looking for a meal ‘cause it looked at us and just walked on real quiet, but Blaze went wild.”

  “It was a big wolf, Momma.” Sarah had recovered herself and looked excited, her eyes glowing green in the lamplight.

  “And supposing it had been looking for a meal?” I shook her very gently. “And you’d been on your own with nothing to defend yourself?”

  As if in answer to my question, there was a sudden cacophony of wails and yelps like a pack of demons fighting, sounding as if it were just a few yards from us. We all jumped, and Sarah flung her arms around my neck. Out of the lamplight, I could hear the horse snorting and bucking, and Judah’s muttered imprecations as he clung to the bridle.

  “Coyotes.” Teddy, at least, sounded calm. “A lot farther away than it sounds; noises really carry at night around here.”

  “Far away or not, we’d still be best advised to make a start for home before we lose this horse,” Judah said through gritted teeth. “I’m hesitant to put the ladies up on this brute though.” I heard a smack of leather; I thought he might have struck the horse with its reins but could not be sure.

  “We’ll both hold the bridle,” Teddy suggested, a small frown on his face.

  This proving agreeable to all parties, Sarah and I were hoisted unceremoniously into the saddle, and our long trek back to the seminary commenced.

  From my vantage point, I could see two bright pools of light. The pastor went ahead of us, using his lantern to check for pitfalls that might trip the horse. Judah had the other lantern, the light from which illuminated his profile as he walked along, his other hand tight on the bridle, his feet making no sound. Above us, the stars were a carpet of jewels in the clear sky, showing the dark horizon as a distinct line, which seemed to dip and sway as the horse moved.

  Once I had nothing to do but hold Sarah—who almost immediately fell asleep—I realized just how exhausted I was. My hips, elbows, and shoulders ached from my fall. The bridge of my nose and my forehead stung horribly, and I welcomed the flow of cool night air over my face. I began to experience the feeling of unreality that precedes dropping off to sleep, and several times had to pinch myself to stop from falling into a doze.

  I had the impression that a wolf was running alongside us, staying out of the lamplight but always circling, always looking for a way in. The huge, gray shape was whisper-quiet, so silent that no one else saw it, not even the horse; yet it constantly slipped into my field of vision, looking at me, always at me. Or was it looking at Sarah? Where the lamplight caught its eyes, they glowed as red as rubies, as orange as fire; I saw the whisk of its tail, held low, and heard its hot breath as it circled.

  It had a name, the wolf. It was Shame. It would always be circling around us, around Sarah and me, waiting for a chance to strike. It was the secret that few people knew but that everyone seemed to suspect when they saw us. It was the secret that, if known, would bar us from all good society and make our names a hissing and a scandal. It was circling . . .

  “Nell!” A hand pushed me back into the saddle, and I came awake with a great jolt of alarm. Where was the wolf? I looked around wildly, but no gray shape whispered past this time.

  “You fell asleep.” Judah’s voice was tinged with amusement. “Should we tie you to the saddle?”

  I shook my head, confused. Sarah was a warm weight on my chest, her breath hot on my neck, and I shifted in the saddle to try to make myself more alert.

  I realized we could see the seminary, pinpoints of light in the distance, and relief washed over me. I could stay awake for that long.

  The next thought brought me wide awake, heart pounding. Had Martin arrived?

  30

  Encounter

  We entered through the door that led to the kitchen. Sarah woke up when I handed her to the pastor so I could get off the horse, an undignified procedure since I’d been obliged to ride astride, my ruined skirts bunched up around my limbs. I’d been so exhausted I’d forgotten to be afraid, and on dismounting, I felt a momentary stab of pride—I had ridden a horse across the prairie!—before the consequences of that ride began to make themselves felt in my, well, in the bones I used for sitting.

  “Nell!” Tess dart
ed out of the kitchen, her eyes alight with joy. “And Sary! You’re safe, just like Mrs. Lombardi said you would be. And guess what, Nell? Martin’s here, and his wife, and a maid who’s all freckles and who’s sleeping in a boxroom on the floor because she says she won’t share a room with a darkie servant. And Martin is very grand, and Mrs. Rutherford is very beautiful, and she wore a dress to dinner with a bustle this big,” Tess opened her arms wide, “and sparkly jewels all over her. And Dr. Calderwood keeps kissing her hand.”

  “That’s nice,” I said, deciding that I absolutely, categorically did not want to see Martin and the very beautiful Mrs. Rutherford that evening.

  The faint aromas of a good dinner still wafted around the corridor, making my stomach growl loudly and competing with the odors of horse attached to my person and Sarah’s. I just wanted to get out of my dress, which by now was about fit for the ragman, wash the dirt out of the scrapes on my face and arms, and use the chamber pot.

  Sarah was yawning repeatedly, and I was sure she would be asleep again before long. Better use the intervening time to wash her a little.

  “Tess, let’s go up to our room and put Sarah to bed,” I suggested. “I need a wash and some food.” I hitched Sarah up a little in my arms and headed toward the staircase, being very careful not to tread on my torn hem and wishing that the builders of the Eternal Life Seminary had thought to put in a back stair.

  When you desperately wish to avoid someone, that is precisely the moment, I have observed, when you’re most likely to encounter them. So it was with a sense of inevitability that, having reached the chapel doors, which I had to pass to attain the staircase, I heard them open, and the Rutherfords stepped out, accompanied by Dr. and Mrs. Calderwood. If my heart had been able to sink farther than my boots, I believed it would have kept on going until it reached the earth’s core.

  The first thing I noticed was the perfectly blank look on Martin’s face, as if all emotion had been wiped from it. At first, I hoped he had not recognized me, and then the truth came flooding in. He’s horribly ashamed of you, I told myself, and trying to hide it.

  Then more details began to impinge on my consciousness. The elegant cut of Martin’s evening coat made him look far more broad-shouldered than I remembered him to be—or had he, in fact, gained muscle? His face was harder, somehow, in expression and feature than it had been three and a half years before. Its former smooth pallor was now a weatherworn tan that made his shock of white-blond hair stand out like a beacon against the shine of the oak doors.

  The woman beside him stood as if turned to stone, magnificent in pale turquoise silk, glossy raven curls cascading over her shoulders from her beautifully dressed hair. Her eyes were large, black, and thickly fringed by long lashes, their expression of astonishment gradually pervaded by amusement as she realized who I was.

  We seemed to freeze in place for an eternity, but in reality it must have been about two seconds. Then Martin spoke, his face relaxing.

  “I’m glad you’re safe, Nellie.”

  It was strange to hear his voice again after so long; but it was, I realized, the most familiar thing about him.

  He took two quick steps toward me, reaching out a long-fingered hand to touch Sarah’s hair. “And this little lady—do you know,” he addressed Sarah directly, “the last time I saw you, you were an infant? And now, I believe, you’re old enough to ride a horse—from what Mrs. Lombardi tells me. I like riding too.”

  His gaze flicked to my face, and I felt the heat rising in my cheeks. I hadn’t seen myself in a mirror, but I was sure I looked dreadful, scraped and torn with my hair in a wild tangle, my once-smart dress ripped and dirty.

  Sarah had been silent in my arms, but at the mention of riding, she spoke. “I’m four and three-quarters, and Momma is going to find a riding instructor for me soon. And make me a riding dress because ladies ride in a dress, but overalls are really very comfortable. I wish I were a boy.”

  “No, you don’t.” Tess held her arms out, and I gratefully lowered Sarah to stand beside her, feeling the strain in my aching shoulder muscles. “You love your dresses, don’t you, Sary? If you were a boy, you couldn’t wear them.” She held out a hand to Sarah and began to lead her upstairs. Sarah, evidently tired enough not to protest, followed her without a word, leaving me alone with the Rutherfords and the Calderwoods.

  “I’m forgetting my manners,” said Martin. “May I introduce my wife? Lucetta, I'm happy that you are finally able to meet Mrs. Lillington.”

  I held out a hand, hesitated as I saw the state of my glove, and pulled it off so I could offer a cleaner article.

  “How do you do? I’m terribly sorry about my appearance,” I said. My hand felt large as it grasped hers, which was small and compact but very strong under its lace covering. She was about the same height as me but more rounded in figure, her tiny waist emphasizing the swell of her bosom, on which sparkled an impressive diamond necklace.

  “My dear, think nothing of it,” she said. Her voice was beautiful, a rich contralto that carried with it a sense of easy confidence born of a life spent in society. “I’m delighted to meet Martin’s young friend, about whom I’ve heard so much.”

  “Mrs. Lillington is an ornament to our seminary,” intoned Dr. Calderwood ponderously, and then he broke into a fit of coughing as he realized just how incongruous his intended compliment sounded, given my appearance. His wife banged him on the back, all the time shooting looks at me from her beady eyes that indicated her wish to have me removed immediately from the face of the earth.

  “Mrs. Lillington has had a remarkably hard day.” The voice was Judah’s; he had appeared behind our little group and now moved to my side, placing a hand under my elbow. “She has suffered a high degree of alarm and distress, is injured, and has walked for miles.”

  He turned to Lucetta—somehow I found it hard to think of her as Mrs. Rutherford, that being the name I had connected most of my life with Martin’s mother—and flashed his charming smile. “May I beg your indulgence, Mrs. Rutherford, to take Mrs. Lillington upstairs? She’ll be quite recovered by tomorrow.” He made a movement in Martin’s direction that had the hint of a bow. “And I apologize for intruding without an introduction; my concern for Mrs. Lillington must be my excuse. My name is Poulton.”

  “Mr. Poulton is our head of faculty and our Old Testament instructor,” Mrs. Calderwood broke in, her saccharine tones indicating that Judah was still very much in her favor. Judah’s appearance had suffered little from our hours on the prairie; aside from a little creasing in his clothes, he looked as if he’d just come from an evening stroll. I could see Lucetta was regarding him with an expression that indicated her approval of his handsome face and lithe figure.

  “I look forward to making your acquaintance properly at a more propitious moment.” Judah’s hand slid up my arm and tightened its grip a little. “Nell, won’t you let me escort you to your door?” His voice was caressing. “You’re quite done in, and I’m afraid you may faint.”

  I glanced at Martin, who was watching us, his expression unreadable, and then smiled at Judah, feeling a stinging sensation as the abraded skin on my nose moved. “I’ve only fainted once in my life,” I said with the ghost of my usual energy. “But I would like to go to my room now.”

  I nodded apologetically at the small group in front of me and turned in the direction of the staircase, weary in every limb. Judah offered his arm, and I slipped my hand beneath it, feeling the eyes of the visitors on me as we walked upstairs, conscious that the most familiar presence in my life was one and the same as the tall, hard-faced man who didn’t seem to know what to say to me.

  31

  Friends

  I awoke the next morning feeling as if the Lombardis’ horse had rolled on me, paying particular attention to my backside and shoulders. The scraped skin on my nose and forehead didn’t look as bad as I had feared, thanks to the iodine Tess had fetched from Mrs. Drummond the previous evening. The yellowish-brown patches that would
not wash off completely weren’t the most flattering of facial adornments, but they were better than the inflamed, angry-looking red of the night before.

  I dressed in my workaday costume of skirt and shirtwaist, being sure to select the newest and cleanest articles. I cast a longing glance at the clothes press, in which I had several much more attractive dresses, and sighed. One look at the ruined maroon confection that lay bundled in a corner, its velvet panels scuffed and filthy, convinced me I would be tempting fate to try to impress my visitors this morning. I pinned the brooch Martin had given me to my collar, straightened my shoulders, and held my head high.

  Sarah, whom Tess had bundled, exhausted, into bed with little more than a quick swipe with the washcloth, was now enjoying a bath in the small room near the kitchen where the tubs were kept. Tess had promised to help her put on the pretty green dress she had not had a chance to wear yesterday. They had both been giddy with excitement as they headed downstairs.

  Thinking of their happiness put a smile on my face, and by the time I reached the second floor, my mood was buoyant, and I was almost able to ignore the aches in my shoulders and hips. Breakfast would not be for another twenty minutes, as we’d all risen early. I could spend ten minutes in the library perusing the periodicals table for new arrivals before heading off to find the Lombardis.

  I clattered down the last few steps and yanked open the door, humming a tune as I did so but wincing a little at the tug on my sore shoulder. I had plenty of reasons to be cheerful, I reflected. Sarah was safe, and although I was still at a loss as to how to deal with her sudden knowledge of her illegitimate status, at least this morning she had smiled and chattered as usual. I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.

  “Nell?” a voice called from somewhere in the row of small study rooms that ran along the wall of the library. “Is that you?” There was a movement from within, and then Martin’s head appeared around the door of the second room, followed by the rest of him. The study rooms had no windows, and the corridor was consequently rather dark, but I could see Martin’s hair and the flash of his teeth as he grinned.