The rich foods he’d eaten earlier in the evening roiled in his stomach. How had this gone so terribly wrong? If only he’d known Mellie was going to be here. There was so much he needed to explain, but not in front of Isabelle. “Please, Mellie, I can explain everything if . . .”
She leaned to the side, gathered her supplies, and quickly tucked them into her bag. “I’m leaving now. Tell your mother that I was taken ill, or that I was rude and walked out, or whatever sorry excuse comes to mind. I’m sure you’ll be able to think of something she’ll believe. You seem quite practiced in that area.” She pinned him with a hard stare. “Please move so that I may leave.”
Morgan wanted to hold fast to the arms of the chair and keep her there until she gave him enough time to explain. Instead, he rose to his feet. “I’m begging you, Mellie. Everything I’ve done has been for a good reason. There are others who can tell you that my intentions have always been honorable. Just as Isabelle dispelled the idea of a romance between us, there are others who can explain why I’ve been living a double life. None of it was meant for anything but good.”
She stood. “How can good come from lies? Trust is founded on truth, and it seems there’s been very little truth between us.”
“Will you at least give me an opportunity to explain?”
“I’m not sure you can erase all that has happened, but perhaps I’ll be willing to listen one day. But not now. Everything between us has been based upon lies.”
Mellie marched over and pulled open the door. Morgan followed behind her and watched as she disappeared down the hallway, uncertain as to how he was going to convince her of his love and that she could trust him. Isabelle approached and stood in the doorway beside him.
They both turned toward the ballroom when Morgan’s mother opened the door. Surprise shone in her eyes when she caught sight of them. “There you two are. I was just coming to see what was taking so long. I know I asked Miss Blanchard to cut a decorative arch around your profiles, but I never expected it to take so long.” She motioned for them to follow her. “Do come along. It’s almost time for the grand march.” She glanced at the envelope in her hand. “Do wait a moment. I need to give Miss Blanchard her pay.”
Morgan shook his head. “She isn’t in there, Mother.”
“Did she escape to the refreshment room? I can take it there.”
“She had to leave, Mrs. Stark,” Isabelle said, stepping forward. “She received some distressing news and simply couldn’t remain here any longer.”
“When? What kind of news? Did one of the guests say something to her? I don’t think anyone attending the party knows her. She certainly should have sent word to me if she needed to leave. Of course, you can’t expect proper manners from the lower class, can you?” She arched her brows at Isabelle. “Still, there’s no denying she is talented.”
Morgan withdrew the envelope from his mother’s hand. “I’ll see that Miss Blanchard receives her pay. I can deliver it tomorrow.”
He expected her to argue, but the musicians sounded the chords for the grand march, and his mother didn’t object or await answers to her earlier questions. “Come along. Your father and I need to lead the march.”
When Morgan didn’t move, Isabelle said, “I don’t believe we’re going to participate in the grand march, Mrs. Stark. Morgan and I need to talk—in private.”
Mrs. Stark’s lips curved in a coy smile. “Well, of course. It’s much more important that the two of you have some private time to talk.” She patted Isabelle’s shoulder. “I’ll explain your absence to your mother.” She dipped her head close to Isabelle’s ear, though she spoke loud enough for Morgan to hear. “I’m sure she’ll be as delighted as I am to hear that you and my son desire time alone.”
After giving Morgan an approving look, she quickly returned to the ballroom. Morgan nodded toward the side parlor, where Mellie had been cutting profiles only a short time ago, and the two of them stepped back inside. Closing the door behind him, Morgan turned to Isabelle. “I don’t know how I’m going to get her to listen to me. I can’t explain the truth of what’s happened unless she’s willing to listen.”
Isabelle sat down and gestured for him to sit in the empty chair beside her. “If Mellie cares for you as much as I think she does, she’s going to want to learn what caused you to mislead her.” Isabelle hesitated. “You have misled her, haven’t you?”
“Unfortunately, I have, but it was never intentional. Keeping my identity secret was necessary during my employment and—”
She held up her hand to stay him. “You don’t need to explain to me, Morgan. I’m not judging what you’ve done, but I do understand the need for trust, so I hope you can convince Mellie that whatever you’ve done was for good reason. After you’ve explained, you might point out that in addition to trust, there’s a need for forgiveness between those who love each other. We all make mistakes, but we can’t move forward unless we’re willing to truly forgive.” Concern reflected in her eyes. “If you believe it would help if I spoke with Mellie, I would be willing to do so. I would suggest you wait until tomorrow, however, or the next day before you go to her. Let her have a little time to digest what’s happened this evening.”
“I fear that if I give her too much time, she’s never going to let me near enough to tell her the truth. There are so many layers to all of this, some are connected and some aren’t, yet all of them have affected Mellie.” He leaned forward and covered his face with his palms. “What a mess I’ve made of things.”
For the rest of the evening, the two of them remained in the upstairs parlor, Morgan lamenting his failures with Mellie, and Isabelle worrying if her parents would accept the man she loved.
When a tap sounded at the door, Morgan glanced at Isabelle. “That will be my mother, hoping to find me on my knee proposing to you.”
She chuckled. “Thank you for making me laugh, Morgan. We needed something to lift our spirits for a moment.”
The door opened. Only his mother’s head appeared in the doorway. “May I come in?”
He had been teasing when he mentioned his mother might expect to see him proposing to Isabelle, but now he thought perhaps it hadn’t been a joke. She’d entered the room as if she expected to discover them locked in a passionate embrace.
“Yes, Mother, do come in. Has the party finally come to an end?”
She frowned at his question. “Yes, and you need to come and bid farewell to the guests.”
“Most of them don’t know me, and I don’t think they’ll notice if I’m not at the front door when they leave.” He massaged his forehead between his thumb and fingers. “I don’t feel up to it, Mother. I’ll remain in here until they’ve all departed. I need time to think.”
The clock in the parlor of the boardinghouse struck twelve as Mellie climbed the stairs to the attic bedroom. Being as quiet as possible, she changed into her nightdress. Most nights the icy conditions in the attic were more than she could bear, but the coach ride home had been so terrifying and cold, the attic seemed a balmy haven. There had been little doubt the coachman wasn’t prepared for her departure when she made her hasty exit out the rear door of the Stark mansion. He’d been huddled among the other drivers near one of the fancy coaches, all of them imbibing to keep themselves warm. At least that was the reason he’d given when she’d expressed concern about his condition. Too late, she realized her remark had angered him. There were no warming bricks for her feet, and he made no effort to close the window flaps before slamming the door. The carriage careened along the snow-and-ice-covered roadway, pitching like a ship in a storm.
All thoughts of Morgan and the evening’s revelations temporarily fled from her mind as the rough ride lobbed her from one side of the carriage to the other. Her shoulders, hips, and arms received a brutal pounding. When the carriage finally came to an abrupt halt in front of the boardinghouse, Mellie’s head snapped back and hit the seat. She waited a moment, but when the driver didn’t appear at the carriage door, she
was left to her own devices. They both understood he wouldn’t be reported for his horrid conduct. No one would care, for she wasn’t of any greater importance than the driver who’d mistreated her. And there was no reason to dwell upon the mistreatment. She needed to sleep. Morning would arrive far too soon.
She was certain she hadn’t yet slept when Cora jostled her arm and leaned close. “Time to get up, Mellie. If you don’t hurry, you’re going to miss breakfast and be late for church.”
Mellie forced open her eyes. All three of the other girls were dressed for church. She sat up, turned sideways in the bed, and slipped her feet into a pair of thick flannel slippers. “I don’t know how I managed to sleep while all three of you scurried around.”
Cora plopped down beside her. “What time did you get home? Was it great fun? Were the dresses beautiful? We want to hear all about it, but we knew you’d need your sleep.”
“The clock was striking midnight when I came upstairs to bed, although the party hadn’t yet ended when I left. Everything was lovely, and I was able to spend time with a group of children during the early portion of the evening. They were delightful. I believe my time with them was the best part of the entire night.”
“I want to hear about the gowns. I do hope you were able to see the ladies dressed in their finery.” Phebe lifted her bonnet from a peg and held it by its burgundy ribbons.
“Since I was cutting silhouettes of the guests, I was able to examine all of their dresses in detail. However, I don’t think we have time for such a lengthy conversation right now. I promise I’ll regale you with all the particulars after church.”
The three of them agreed and promised to snag a biscuit or two for Mellie if she didn’t make it down in time for breakfast. After they’d descended the stairs, Mellie poured water into the washbasin, splashed her face, and let out a gasp. The icy water doused any lingering thoughts she’d had of sleep. After a quick toilette, she slipped into her dress, thankful for the added warmth. Her appearance wasn’t as neat as what she usually attained on a Sunday morning, but she didn’t want to be late. Mrs. Richards had granted her the privilege of remaining out late last night, but her kindness had come with a warning: “Be late for church and I’ll withhold any such favor in the future.” Though Mellie doubted she’d again have a need to return after curfew, she didn’t want Mrs. Richards to regret her decision.
She descended the stairs and forced thoughts of the previous night from her mind. Her being late to breakfast might not please Mrs. Richards, yet it would allow less time for questions from the girls. And right now, the pain cut far too deep to be shared with anyone. After church she’d be able to discuss the gowns and the children, but it would take far longer before she could speak of the heartache and sorrow she’d endured at the Stark mansion.
Her feet had barely touched the final step when Mrs. Richards rounded the corner. “I see you finally made it out of bed. I was beginning to wonder.” She glanced toward the dining room. “I’m afraid you’ll have to go without breakfast this morning, and growling stomachs aren’t appreciated during the Sunday sermon.”
Mellie nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She didn’t know how anyone could control a stomach growl, but she didn’t argue with the keeper.
Moments later, the other girls hurried to retrieve their cloaks, hats, gloves, and muffs. Cora edged her way close to Mellie and slipped her two warm biscuits wrapped in a checkered napkin. She leaned close to Mellie’s ear. “Be sure you bring the napkin back. She counts them.”
“I will. Thank you.” She slipped them inside her muff, then hesitated before departing. “Where are you attending church this morning?”
“Methodist?” Cora glanced at Clara for confirmation.
“No, Presbyterian.” She shook her head and giggled. “I don’t think you’ll ever learn the schedule.”
Cora hooked arms with her sister. “Not as long as I have you around to keep me headed in the right direction.”
The three of them proceeded down the brick sidewalk behind the other girls. There was little chatter this morning. They all kept their heads bowed against the stinging cold wind and walked as rapidly as the snowy conditions would permit.
Mellie parted ways with Cora and Clara and headed off toward Franklin Street. Now alone, her thoughts returned to Morgan, and she was once again struck by the deep pain he’d inflicted. His lies and deceit were monumental. She couldn’t help but wonder when and how he had planned to confess to her. Or had he even given it any thought? Had he planned simply to disappear from her life as William Morgan and take his chances that she’d never discover his true identity? She silently scoffed at the idea, but after a few moments’ consideration decided it truly might have been his plan all along. As Morgan Stark, the affluent mill owner’s son, their paths were unlikely to cross. Perhaps he’d merely been toying with her affections until he resumed his life as Morgan Stark. The thought gnawed at her as she stepped inside the church.
Her gaze fastened upon the pew where Morgan usually sat at her side. She hadn’t expected to see him there. She told herself she hadn’t wanted to see him there. And yet his absence inexplicably compounded the loss that had hollowed within her like an empty space that couldn’t be filled.
Mellie joined the other congregants as they blended their voices in song to the resounding chords of the pipe organ. She knew the words by heart and sang without giving thought to the lyrics or to the prayers the parishioners recited once the singing had come to an end.
The preacher walked to the lectern and opened his Bible. “Today I would like to speak to you about two things. The first part of my sermon regards trust.”
Mellie snapped to attention. Why wasn’t Morgan here to listen to this? He needed to hear what the preacher had to say this morning.
“And the other is about forgiveness.”
She frowned, not certain she wanted to hear that part of the message.
“We grow up placing our trust in our parents, our siblings, and close friends. Hopefully, we place our primary trust in God, because He is the only one who can meet our expectations as the perfect caretaker of our trust.” He paused and let his gaze linger on the crowd for a moment. “Yet to go through life without trusting those we love would make us reclusive, withdrawn, and unlovable. Unless we extend ourselves to others, they can’t connect with us, and connection requires a level of trust. Just as we all need to love and be loved, we need to trust and be trusted.”
Mellie shifted in her seat. What he’d said thus far wasn’t exactly what she had expected to hear.
“The problem arises when someone breaks our trust. Perhaps a parent doesn’t keep a promise, a best friend repeats a confidence, or difficulty occurs in a marriage.” He cleared his throat. “As Christians, we need to be open to restoring trust in those who have wronged us. Now, don’t misunderstand me. After an offer of restoration, there must be more than an apology from the offender. There must be a change in the person’s life that will rebuild trust. Those stepping-stones must be agreed upon by the parties involved. And I can assure you that, just as Jesus forgave us as He hung on the cross, He wants us to extend forgiveness to those who have wronged us and work toward the reestablishment of relationship.” The pastor offered a fleeting smile. “Does it always work? Unfortunately, no. But you owe it to yourselves and to God to make the effort and reap the blessings of restoration.”
Mellie walked out of church uncertain if she could meet such an expectation. Perhaps she did owe it to God and to herself to see if her trust could be restored. But first she’d need to discover the whole truth. And only Morgan could give her the answers.
Chapter
twenty-six
MORGAN HAD TAKEN ISABELLE’S ADVICE. INSTEAD OF appearing at the Franklin Street church and sitting next to Mellie, he’d attended with his grandfather and parents. Concealing his identity had resulted in a great deal of heartache, and he’d accomplished very little. Still, he doubted he would have ever met Mellie if he ha
dn’t taken the job as a mechanic. In fact, if he hadn’t returned home with the idea of working in the mills in this way, he’d likely be living elsewhere. Granted, such a decision might have caused a bit of difficulty with his parents, but it was nothing they wouldn’t have eventually accepted. After all, he’d been living away from them for most of his life.
While he’d hoped to return to the boardinghouse after church, his mother insisted he return home for Sunday dinner. Her eyes flashed a warning that she’d not take no for an answer. “Your grandfather is expecting you to join us. He says he has something important to tell us all.”
“Perhaps he’s planning another trip abroad,” Morgan said.
His mother sighed. “I hope not. He’s getting too old for such trips. He needs to remain closer to home.”
Morgan chuckled. “His health is excellent, Mother. If he wants to travel, he should do so.”
“If he becomes ill while abroad, there would be no one to care for him. But then you young folks never think of these things.”
Morgan gave a little shrug. “I’m sure if he needed care, a physician would recommend someone who could care for him. And it’s not as though he couldn’t afford such an expense.”
“Perhaps, but it isn’t the same as having a loved one care for you.”
Morgan couldn’t envision his mother acting as a personal nurse to his grandfather—or anyone else for that matter. In truth, she’d likely hire someone to care for him, so it mattered little if he were in New Hampshire or England. However, he withheld his opinion. No need to argue the point further.
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