It wasn’t going to be possible for her to go home until next spring. The snow would soon cover the passes, making it impossible to cross. She reminded herself she was a strong woman. She could stand a few more months of loneliness for her father’s sake.
And Harrison’s. “You once told me that you liked living in Montana, that you could be happy and content there. Were you . . . exaggerating with me?”
She was really asking him if he’d lied to her or told her the truth. He tried not to get angry. He didn’t have anyone to blame but himself for his wife’s uncertainty.
“Listen carefully to me. What happened is behind us. I know it was wrong of me to demand you trust me, but I’m going to once again promise you I will never, ever lie to you again. Do you believe me?”
“I believe you.”
He relaxed his grip on her and began to slowly stroke her back. “Give yourself more time with your relatives and try not to think about making another change now. You’ve only just come home.”
He was trying to be reasonable and logical. How could she make him understand? Home was with her brothers. She felt isolated amongst her English relatives and was constantly battling her own guilt because she wasn’t living up to everyone’s expectations. They all wanted the best for her, and every time a wave of homesickness struck her, she tried to remember that fact.
Harrison was exhausted, but he still found enough strength to make love to his wife. She fell asleep with his body pressed up against hers.
She was loved and cherished. And scared.
April 28, 1873
Dear Mama,
I have to spend the rest of the afternoon in my bedroom as punishment because I punched Peter Jenkins in the stomach. Do you remember I told you he’s always trying to pester me. Well, he dared to kiss me today. I was so disgusted, I spit and wiped my mouth. I know I wasn’t being ladylike, but spitting is better than throwing up, isn’t it?
I heard my brothers talking about sending me to boarding school. Will you please write to all of them right away and tell them to let me stay home? I don’t need to be refined. Honestly I don’t. I’m turning out to be a lovely young lady. You told me so, remember?
I love you,
Mary Rose
P.S. I’m getting bosoms. They’re a bother, Mama, and I don’t think I like being a girl much today.
20
George MacPherson reminded Mary Rose of a ferret. He was a tall, lean man with a long, pointy nose and skinny eyes. She felt a little guilty thinking he looked so much like the homely animal, because MacPherson was extremely kind and solicitous to her. He seemed to be genuinely thrilled to make her acquaintance, and she could have sworn there were tears in his eyes when he spotted her standing in the entrance of the drawing room.
Douglas would have called MacPherson dapper, but he would have made the comment in a mocking tone of voice.
Her father’s personal assistant was dressed to the nines in a brown suit, with a gold pocket watch chain looped just so, and brown shoes that were so shiny from spit and polish, she thought that if she looked down, she would have seen her face reflected in the leather. He carried a folder full of papers in one hand and had a black umbrella hooked over his other arm.
Elliott introduced her, then suggested she sit with him and MacPherson while they looked over the monthly vouchers.
“Your father is a very generous man, Lady Victoria. These vouchers release funds from his accounts to support charitable organizations in England. We make the disbursements once a month.”
Mary Rose nodded to let the man know she understood, then decided to engage him in conversation about the past.
“Mister MacPherson, you said it was nice to make my acquaintance, but we have met before, haven’t we? I was just a baby at the time.”
“Please call me George,” he insisted. He sat down on the sofa facing her, straightened his jacket until there weren’t any visible wrinkles, and then said, “Yes, we certainly did meet before. You were a beautiful infant.”
“I was bald.”
MacPherson smiled. “Yes, you were bald.”
“Father, will it upset you to talk about what happened the night I was taken? I’m very curious about it.”
“What did you want to know?” Elliott asked. He was already beginning to frown.
She turned back to MacPherson. “I was told the nursemaid took me from the nursery.”
MacPherson nodded. “Your parents had gone to the opening of the new factory. They weren’t expected to return until the following day. We still don’t know how Lydia pulled it off. The house was filled with staff. We believe she took you down the back stairs and out the back door.”
“Lydia was the name of the nursemaid?”
“Yes,” her father answered. “George was eventually put in charge of the investigation. Your mother had taken ill, and I wanted to get her back to England and her own personal physician. She trusted him, you see.”
“The authorities gave up the search after six months of intense looking, but your father had already hired his own team of investigators. I simply coordinated their duties.”
“How long did the investigators work for you, Father?”
“Until four or five years ago. I finally put it all in God’s hands and tried to accept the fact that you were lost to me. Harrison wouldn’t let me give up though. He began to take over. He followed every lead that came our way.”
He reached over and clasped her hand in his. “It’s a miracle he found you.”
“I understand from your father that you were found in an alley by some street thugs, Lady Victoria,” MacPherson said.
She was grossly offended by his choice of words. “They weren’t thugs. They were four good-hearted boys who had been tossed out on their own and were doing the best they could to survive. They weren’t thugs,” she added again in a much harder voice.
“Yes,” her father agreed. He patted her hand and then let go of her. “We don’t need to talk about those men now, do we? We have you back home. That’s all that matters.”
Mary Rose didn’t want to let the subject go. She turned back to MacPherson and asked, “Did the nursemaid plan it?”
George looked at his employer before he answered. He could tell Lord Elliott was becoming distressed. He obviously wanted to put the ordeal behind him.
“Sir, do you mind if I answer her?” he asked.
“No, I don’t mind. She’s curious. It’s only natural.”
“At first, we thought there must have been one or two others involved, but as time went on, we became convinced she acted alone. I wish I could tell you more, Lady Victoria, but after all these years, we still don’t have any more information. I believe it’s going to remain a mystery. If Lydia had lived, perhaps she could have been persuaded to tell us.”
“The woman’s references were impeccable,” her father interjected. The frown on his face intensified while he thought about the treachery.
“We now know she’d gotten rid of you, mi’lady. She must have had cold feet at the last minute. She didn’t have any money to support herself without a job. The authorities found her in a tenement building. She’d been strangled. It’s believed she came home and interrupted a robbery.”
Elliott abruptly stood up. “That’s enough talk about the past. George, I’ll sign these vouchers tomorrow.”
Mary Rose could see how distressed her father had become.
“Will you have time to go riding today, Father?” she asked, thinking to turn his attention.
He believed it was a splendid idea. Mary Rose excused herself and went up to her bedroom to change into her riding habit. She found Harrison hunched over the desk, poring over old papers again.
“I met MacPherson,” she told him after she’d shut the door behind her. “Are you certain he’s the one behind the kidnapping? He seems to be too refined and timid to ever do anything so bold.”
He rubbed his neck to ease the stiffness, rolled his shoulders, and then stoo
d up. “Hell, I don’t know anymore. Douglas told me the man he saw was dressed in evening attire, and MacPherson was supposed to have gone to the theater with friends.”
“Everyone dresses for the evening.”
“Not staff.”
She sighed. “You’re looking for the discrepancy in one of the charitable donations, aren’t you? Have you had any luck yet?”
“There are almost a dozen organizations I’ve never heard of,” he answered. “I’ll check them out to make certain they exist.”
“And if they are all credible?”
“I’ll start looking somewhere else.”
“Why is it so important for you to find out?”
“Are you serious?”
“You seem to be obsessed with this, Harrison. It happened years ago, and if the authorities weren’t able to make a connection between MacPherson and the nursemaid, why do you think you can?”
“None of them talked to Douglas,” he answered. “Your brother’s description of the man he saw sounds like MacPherson, doesn’t it?”
“He could have been describing a thousand men. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? You’re exhausted. You can’t keep up this pace much longer. Every spare minute you have you spend poring over old documents. Why is it so important to you?”
He didn’t know how to make her understand. “I have to finish it,” he snapped.
She tried not to be offended by his irritation. Exhaustion was the reason for his behavior.
“Do you have to leave tomorrow?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Where are you going now?” she asked when he reached for his jacket.
“To the office, sweetheart. Quit worrying about me.”
“I wanted to talk to you about our future. Will you have time tonight?”
“I’ll make time,” he promised. “Now, quit worrying about me.”
He had become as abrupt and agitated as her father had been when she’d asked questions about that night so many years ago.
He kissed her good-bye and then left the room. His own personal demons followed him. He felt he had a debt to pay, and if he had become obsessed, it was only because he owed it to his savior to finish what the jackals had started. Harrison couldn’t rest until he knew for certain that MacPherson wasn’t the mastermind behind the crime. He had to at least try to solve the mystery because of the kindness Elliott had shown his father.
The debt consumed him.
The following afternoon Mary Rose happened to be crossing the entryway when the mail was being delivered. She was so eager to find out if any of the letters were from her brothers, she all but snatched them out of the butler’s hands.
She spotted Adam’s handwriting right away, of course, and let out a cry of joy. Then she ran back upstairs to read his letter in privacy. She knew she was going to weep and didn’t want anyone to see her.
Adam wondered why she hadn’t written. He told her he realized she must be busy, but it wasn’t like her to be unthoughtful, and she surely must know her brothers worried about her. Couldn’t she spare a few minutes to pen them a note?
She was horrified by the anguish her brothers must be going through. She was disheartened too. Why hadn’t her brothers received her letters?
Had they been intercepted before they left the house? No, of course they hadn’t been. Her relatives wouldn’t deliberately be cruel, and it would be a grave insult for her to ask.
She wrote back right away, sealed her envelope, and then tucked it into the pocket of her coat. Ann Marie came into the bedroom then.
“Where are you going, mi’lady? Have you forgotten your lessons?”
Mary Rose smiled. “Missing one afternoon learning how to run a household won’t upset my aunt, will it? Will you send Eleanor to me?”
“She’s helping to organize your aunt’s invitations. Do you wish me to interrupt her?”
“No,” Mary Rose replied. She was already going to suffer Aunt Lillian’s ire for missing her lessons. Taking her pride and joy away would only send her into a lather. Eleanor was making herself indispensable to her relative. Mary Rose was glad the two women were so fond of each other, for while her aunt was busy giving Eleanor orders, she left Mary Rose alone.
“I feel like a nice, brisk walk. Would you like to come with me?”
The maid eagerly nodded and went to fetch her coat. Mary Rose had an ulterior motive for asking her to accompany her. She wanted to send a wire to her brothers letting them know she was all right, and she needed Ann Marie to help her find the telegraph office.
She also had another favor to ask. “You have Wednesday afternoons off, don’t you?”
“Yes, mi’lady,” Ann Marie answered. “And every other Saturday morning as well.”
“Would you be willing to post my letters for me when you’re away from the house? I would really appreciate your help, Ann Marie.”
The maid looked surprised by the request, but didn’t argue with her mistress. She agreed to do as she was asked and promised not to mention the favor to any of the family.
“Please don’t mention I’m sending a wire either,” she asked.
“Is there some reason you don’t trust the staff, mi’lady?”
“No, of course not. I just don’t want my letters . . . lost. My father becomes upset when I talk about my family back in Montana. Seeing my letters on the hall table would only distress him.”
“And upset your aunts as well,” Ann Marie added with a nod.
Mary Rose felt much better after she’d formulated her plans. Adam’s letter made her smile all the rest of the day.
Her days and nights fell into a pattern throughout the winter months. She was always sure she lingered in the foyer until the mail was delivered so she would be certain her letters weren’t accidentally misdirected, and twice a week she gave her letters to Ann Marie to post for her.
Her sleeping habits drastically changed. It wasn’t possible for her to dance half the night away and continue to get up from her bed at the crack of dawn.
There were other noticeable changes about her as well. She became extremely quiet and nervous, jumped at the drop of a hat, and never, ever made a comment without first weighing every word.
Her relatives couldn’t have been happier with her. They obviously didn’t notice the strain she was under. They believed she was making the transition to her new life as Lady Victoria completely.
She was the rave of London society. Her circle of acquaintances extended, and some days she received three invitations to parties being held on the same night. She was constantly coming or going or changing her clothes. Some days there wasn’t even time to think. She liked those days most of all because when she was occupied rushing about, she didn’t have time to worry about what was happening to her.
There were many lavish, wonderful things for her to enjoy, and she certainly appreciated the luxurious life she suddenly had. She began to soften in her attitude toward her Aunt Lillian as well. When the dour woman wasn’t in one of her bossy, you-mustn’t-ever-say-that-again moods, she was actually likable. She had a bizarre sense of humor too. She shared stories with her niece about the mischief she’d gotten into as a child, and some of the incidents she recounted made Mary Rose laugh.
She didn’t share any of her childhood memories with her aunt, however, for that would have been breaking the unspoken rule never to talk about her past life.
Her aunt loved her. All her relatives did, especially her father. She tried to remember that important fact when the hollowness inside her welled up, and she didn’t think she could stand it another minute.
Yes, they all loved her. And yet none of them knew her at all.
Harrison wasn’t making life easy for her. He was rarely home to comfort her or assure her that she was doing the right thing and that everything really would be all right. Lord, how she needed to talk things over with him. Her father had him popping from city to city like a flea from dog to dog. When he wasn’t home to
hold her in his arms during the nights, she held her locket in her hands. The link with her mama and her brothers comforted her as much as a security blanket comforts a baby.
It would have been easy for her to blame Harrison for her misery. It had been all his fault that her life had been turned upside down, hadn’t it? He’d come to Montana and found her, damn it.
But she’d also found him. She couldn’t imagine life without Harrison, and, oh, how she missed the man she’d fallen in love with. Her husband was under quite a strain too. She could see it in his eyes and in the way he looked at her. A good wife would have been more understanding, she told herself over and over again. Harrison had asked her to be patient, to give herself time to get to know her relatives, and he always gave her the same reason why. He needed to finish it. He wouldn’t explain further. There never seemed to be enough time.
She received a letter from her mama on Monday, and Travis’s note arrived the following day. Her brothers, he told her, were getting ready for the spring roundup because the snow had melted early this year and the passes were almost completely bare. He added the postscript that Corrie was doing all right, at least he thought she was. The basket of supplies he left in the clearing was always empty and waiting for him when he returned. The woman still wouldn’t let him get close to the cabin though, and he felt like an idiot having to read Mary Rose’s letters to Corrie in a shout.
While her brothers were getting ready for the annual roundup, her relatives were preparing to move to her father’s country house for the rest of spring and all of the summer months. Aunt Lillian and her prodigy, Eleanor, had also been invited to join them. Mary Rose didn’t have any idea if and when Harrison would be able to join her.
She became more and more frightened of what was happening to her. She kept remembering what Harrison had said to her when they spent the night in the cave near Corrie’s home. They’d been talking about honor and integrity at the time, and she recalled his exact words. If you begin to give away parts of yourself, eventually you’ll give it all. And once you’ve lost yourself, haven’t you lost everything?
For the Roses Page 54