Gossamer

by Rebecca Hagan Lee

  “Why, I never!” Lois Marlin got to her feet, red-faced and sputtering.

  “And you never will, Mrs. Marlin. You never will.” Elizabeth grabbed hold of the handle of Diamond’s carriage, pulled it behind her as she left the brick walkway, and stalked over to the sandbox to rescue a squirming Emerald from Joseph Junior, who had her in a bear hug and was plastering her face with wet sloppy kisses. “If I were you”—Elizabeth turned to give Lois Marlin one last parting shot—“I’d work on broadening my view with an eye toward the future. Joseph Junior doesn’t seem to mind sharing the sandbox with Celestials. In fact, he seems to rather enjoy it.” Elizabeth lifted Emerald out of the sandbox, hefted her onto her hip, then grabbed hold of the handle of Diamond’s pram and pulled it behind her. “Good afternoon.”

  Twenty-one

  “CELESTIAL HEATHEN! THE nerve of that woman to call a precious little gem like Diamond a Celestial heathen!” Elizabeth was still fuming as she watched carefully while Mrs. G. showed her how to bathe the baby in the sink in the kitchen alcove of the nursery while Delia fed Emerald and supervised Ruby and Garnet at supper.

  Mrs. G. shrugged as she cupped her hand and gently scooped warm water over Diamond’s little body, “Now you know what you’re up against.” She had lived a long time. She was wise enough to listen to Elizabeth’s ranting, yet clever enough to keep her counsel until she knew where Elizabeth’s loyalties lay. She glanced slyly over at Elizabeth and added, “Now you know what you and Mr. Craig are up against.”

  “He built this town,” Elizabeth continued furiously. “He built this beautiful little town, and yet the people who live here shun and insult his children and repeat horrible mean-spirited rumors about him.”

  “That’s about the size of it,” Mrs. G. agreed.

  “I don’t believe the things Lois Marlin said about Jame—I mean Mr. Craig—are true. I don’t believe he killed his wife, and I don’t believe he keeps a stable of mistresses in Chinatown.”

  Mrs. Glenross raised an eyebrow at that. “So, that’s how the townspeople account for the Treasures? How do you account for them?”

  “I don’t,” Elizabeth said. “I accept them for what they are—James Cameron Craig’s daughters.” Elizabeth leaned against a kitchen cupboard and paused. “It doesn’t matter who their mothers are or if they have mothers. He loves those girls, Mrs. Glenross. I’ve only been here a day and I already know that if I live to be a hundred, I shall never see a man who loves his children more than James does.”

  Mrs. G. lifted Diamond out of her bathwater, carefully wrapped her in the large towel Elizabeth had waiting, and handed her to Elizabeth. “You’ve learned a lot in one day, Miss Sadler,” she said with a knowing grin. “More than most people learn in a lifetime.”

  Elizabeth carried Diamond into the bedroom and placed her on the bureau that doubled as a changing table, finished drying her, then picked up the tin of powder and sprinkled her with talc before pinning on a fresh diaper.

  Mrs. G. followed Elizabeth into the bedroom and stood in the doorway watching as she quickly pulled an infant sacque over Diamond’s head. “Now you know how the townspeople feel about James Craig—especially the women,” Mrs. G. said. “Although the local businessmen appreciate his talent for making money, their wives refuse to accept him or forgive him for having been married to a Chinese or for keeping and raising the Treasures as his own. And the women in town will never willingly accept the Treasures into Coryville society.”

  Elizabeth wrinkled her brow in thought, then straightened her lips in determination. “Then, we’ll just have to change their minds.”

  “How do you intend to do that?” Mrs. G asked.

  “We invite them to tea,” Elizabeth replied, suddenly remembering her grandmother’s solution to recalcitrant society women. “We host a couple of splendid spare-no-expense invitation-only teas. We start with a very exclusive guest list, then expand. Before we know it, every woman in town will want to come.”

  “We?” Mrs. Glenross demanded.

  “Yes, we,” Elizabeth answered firmly. “After all, this was partly your idea.”

  Mrs. G. smiled, a bit sheepishly at having been so transparent. “I guess it was, at that.”

  Elizabeth wasn’t fooled by Helen Glenross’s casual offer to help bathe Diamond. She knew the housekeeper had come up to the nursery to oversee her progress with the Treasures on James’s instructions, and Elizabeth had taken full advantage of Mrs. G.’s willing ear to relate her conversation in the park with Lois Marlin. Mrs. G. knew more about James and the Treasures than she was letting on, and Elizabeth meant to enlist the housekeeper as an able ally in her fight to prove how wrong the people of Coryville were in their assumptions about James and the Treasures.

  Elizabeth suspected Mrs. G. missed having little Diamond all to herself and was willing to supervise the nursery and its new governess, not only because James expected her to, but because Mrs. G. had overheard her conversation with James in the hallway the night before and was worried about Elizabeth’s handling of the Treasures. But she also knew that unless she did something wrong, Mrs. G. would respect her dominion over the children and the upstairs nursery wing because James had hired her as governess and put her in charge, just as Elizabeth respected Mrs. G.’s dominion over Delia and Annie and the rest of the upstairs and everything downstairs because Mrs. G. was the housekeeper.

  Elizabeth gave the housekeeper a quick decisive nod. “That’s settled. Now, would you like to feed Diamond her bottle or shall I?”

  A wide, joyful grin transformed Helen Glenross’s plain features into something akin to beauty. “Let me go downstairs and get the bottle I’ve got warming for her,” she said to Elizabeth. “I’ll be back in a flash to feed and rock our precious little angel.”

  JAMES ARRIVED HOME from the office around half-past five. Eager to see his daughters and to find out how Elizabeth had fared on her first day on the job, James made his way upstairs to the nursery after briefly stopping in his study to drop off his leather satchel. He was late.

  He entered the nursery after the Treasures had had their supper and during the scheduled bathtime. James recognized the sound of voices and of water splashing coming from the water closet as he walked into the playroom. He didn’t see Elizabeth, nor did he see Garnet or Ruby. A freshly bathed Emerald stood patiently, near the warming stove in the playroom, as Delia knelt on the floor in front of her and made a game out of drying Emerald off with a fluffy terry-cloth towel. James decided Elizabeth must be busy bathing the older two girls.

  “Good evening, Mr. Craig,” Delia greeted him as she looked up from the game of peekaboo.

  “Good evening, Delia.”

  Emerald shoved the towel away from her face, grinned broadly, and reached out for her daddy.

  James bent and lifted her into his arms. “How’s my little sweet pea?”

  “Da,” Emerald gurgled happily. “Da.”

  “That’s right,” James said, hugging her naked little body close to his. “Your daddy’s home.”

  Emerald hugged him one last time, then squirmed, struggling to get down and return to Delia and the peekaboo game. Realizing Emerald had tolerated all the loving she could stand for the moment, James reluctantly set her down on the floor. He glanced over at Delia. “Where’s Miss Sadler?”

  “Washing Ruby and Garnet,” Delia replied, confirming James’s earlier supposition and one of his biggest fears.

  “By herself?” he asked, somewhat alarmed by Delia’s casual disregard of what was likely to turn into chaos. Ruby could be notoriously stubborn during the best of times, and bathtime was not one of her best times. She hated the very mention of the word bath, despised the bathtub, and did her absolute best to avoid the water and the whole process. He had, forgotten to warn Elizabeth, and had no idea how she would manage.

  “I warned her about Miss Ruby,” Delia replied.

  “And?” James was on pins and needles.

  “She said she’d manage.” Delia reac
hed beneath the edge of her skirt and produced a white cotton nightgown, then grabbed hold of Emmy as she made a dash for the freedom of continued nudity and quickly dropped the garment over her head. Delia got to her feet, lifted Emerald from the floor in mid-yelp, and carried her into the bedroom to diaper her.

  James marveled at the fourteen-year-old housemaid’s adeptness. “How long has Miss Sadler been in there with them?”

  “A while,” she answered.

  Unable to contain his curiosity, he called to Delia, “I think I’ll go see how Miss Sadler is faring with Ruby.”

  “She managed just fine with Miss Emerald.”

  “Ruby’s an altogether different kettle of fish,” he replied. “I think it might be a good idea if I go see how she’s doing for myself.”

  “Suit yourself,” Delia called from the bedroom.

  Fully intent on doing just that, James left the main room of the nursery and walked through the kitchen alcove to the bathroom. He paused before knocking on the bathroom door, listening to the exchange of conversation from within the room.

  “I can’t reach you over there, Ruby,” Elizabeth said in a cajoling tone. “Please come over here and sit by Garnet.”

  He didn’t hear Ruby respond to Elizabeth’s request, and James imagined his eldest daughter standing at the far end of the large bathtub defiantly shaking her head.

  “All right, Ruby, you leave me no choice.”

  James recognized the note of resignation in Elizabeth’s voice, heard the whisper of rustling fabric, and the sound of water sloshing against the deep claw-footed cast-iron bathtub, and experienced a brief moment of perverse satisfaction. He knew it was wrong to feel a sense of fulfillment in knowing his latest governess had failed, but he couldn’t help the swell of love and pride he felt at being the only person Ruby found worthy of her complete faith and trust. Having grown accustomed to Ruby’s adamant refusal to allow anyone but him to bathe her, James expected the bathroom door to open any moment and yield a victorious Ruby and the latest in a long line of defeated governesses. What he didn’t expect, when he knocked once on the door before opening it, was Elizabeth Sadler’s solution to the problem.

  “Please slide over a little, Garnet, and make room so I can reach your sister.” James overheard and comprehended the meaning of Elizabeth’s instructions in the same moment he stepped over the threshold into the heavy, moisture-laden air of the small steamy bathroom and discovered Elizabeth kneeling in the center of the tub.

  Instantly aware of the intimate nature of the situation, James took a hasty step backward, bumped into the open door, and accidentally pushed it shut.

  Elizabeth was too busy trying to hold on to Ruby long enough to finish bathing her and to corral the bar of French-milled lavender soap that had slipped from her grasp to turn at the sound of the door slamming. Expecting Delia, she said, “Garnet’s ready to get out if you’re finished with Emerald.” She paused, then chuckled. “And you were right about Ruby. She positively hates a bath. We’ve had quite a battle of wills. And while I know this method is a bit unorthodox, it seemed the best and most efficient way of accomplishing our task, didn’t it, Ruby?”

  Ruby didn’t bother to answer. Her attention was focused on the shadowy figure trying his best to escape from the bathroom without notice. “Daddy!” she squealed with delight.

  Elizabeth turned and half-rose from the warm soapy water as James stepped into view. Her lips parted, but all she could manage to say was “Oh.”

  “Oh, yes.” He gave Elizabeth a rather sheepish smile. “And although your solution to Ruby’s problem is rather unorthodox, it appears to be working.”

  Before Elizabeth had time to formulate a reply, Ruby lunged for the side of the bathtub and her father, drenching Garnet with bathwater in the process. “Daddy!”

  “Ruby!” Elizabeth reached out to catch her as Ruby dashed for the side of the tub.

  Garnet began to cry as Ruby sloshed more water on her, and Elizabeth, who, up till now, had managed to keep her batiste camisole fairly dry, quickly pulled Garnet against her, then gently moved back a little bit so she could brush Garnet’s wet hair off her forehead to keep the droplets of soapy water from running onto the little girl’s face.

  James caught Ruby against his thigh as she scrambled to get out of the bathtub and hoisted her into his arms. Holding Ruby securely against his chest, James looked down at Elizabeth.

  She looked up at him.

  Their gazes met and locked while the humid atmosphere around them seemed to grow thicker and heavier.

  Transfixed by the sight of the water droplets shimmering on Elizabeth’s flushed face and the soaked and transparent undergarments tenaciously clinging to her stunning cleavage, James sucked in a breath and shifted his weight from one leg to the other to accommodate the sudden swelling in his groin. He stared at the water around her and the rapidly dissipating lavender-scented bubbles. He hadn’t counted on this incredible assault on his senses. He hadn’t counted on the warm water, the humid air, the scent of lavender permeating the room, or his gut reaction to it. He simply hadn’t counted on finding Elizabeth in the bathtub, hadn’t counted on the powerful surge of desire that shot through him. He knew he should do the gentlemanly thing and leave. Simply back out the door the same way he’d come in, but once again, gentlemanly behavior was beyond him. He wanted too much. He wanted to look at her, to drink in the sight of a beautiful woman once again. He wanted. James bit back a groan. He wanted. After three long years of loneliness and pain and guilt and denial, he wanted Elizabeth so badly he could feel her, could taste her. Even though he knew he shouldn’t—couldn’t—touch her. Not while she was under his protection. Not while she was in his employ. Not while she lived beneath his roof.

  Recognizing the sudden intense interest in his gaze and realizing she was the focus of it, Elizabeth decided discretion was the better part of valor and stood up to make a hasty exit from the bathroom to the relative safety of her bedroom.

  “Stop!” The word erupted from James’s lips and reverberated through the small room.

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened in surprise. And Garnet began to cry.

  “Sit down,” James managed in a softer tone of voice, holding out his hand as if to ward her off. “Wait right there.” He leaned over and gave the water taps a vicious twist, then picked up a bottle of lavender-scented bubble bath from the bathroom shelf and shoved it into Elizabeth’s hands. “Here. Add some more bubbles.”

  Elizabeth clutched the bottle of bubble bath to her chest in self-defense, turned the water off, and quickly sank back down into the soapy water. She reached up, with her other arm, for the face towel hanging on the bar above the tub and snatched it down to wipe Garnet’s face. “See what you’ve done!” she snapped, chafing under his tone of voice. “I was managing quite nicely until you walked in. And I could have continued on quite nicely without your interference.”

  “I—I …” James was momentarily taken aback by the flash of fury in Elizabeth’s blue-green eyes. Didn’t she realize he’d reacted on instinct to prevent her from further exposing herself to his view? Didn’t she realize the bathwater made her undergarments transparent? He shook his head. Of course she didn’t. The explanation for his bizarre behavior hadn’t yet occurred to her. She was too angry or too innocent to understand the effect her near-nudity had on him. James automatically lowered his gaze to the floor in a noble effort to keep it, and his wayward thoughts, from reveling in the entrancing sight of his daughters’ lovely governess flushed with anger, semi-nude, and soaked. As he worked to curb his uncomfortably vivid and suddenly overactive imagination, James discovered, to his dismay, a rather untidy pile of feminine garments strewn across the marble tile. At the bottom of the pile was the striped morning gown he’d seen Elizabeth wearing in the park. And on the top of the pile of clothing was a veritable sea of white cambric petticoats and under-petticoats, a chemise, an embroidered corset cover, and a small horsehair bustle. But it was the pair of almost-sheer
navy blue silk stockings lying draped across Elizabeth’s leather half-boots that played havoc with his control. James squeezed his eyes shut and clamped his teeth together in a determined effort to will away the image of Elizabeth’s long slim legs, encased in navy blue silk, and locked around his waist, but the erotic image continued to tease his senses.

  “Daddy’s quash me!”

  James hadn’t realized he was holding Ruby too tightly until she began to wiggle in an effort to relieve the pressure of his embrace. A sheepish expression crossed his face as he immediately loosened his grasp to allow Ruby more freedom of movement. “Oh, Button, Daddy’s so sorry.”

  “Humph,” Ruby snorted, still disgruntled about her bath and because her father wasn’t paying attention to her.

  James glanced down at his daughter and, recognizing the pouting expression on her face, shifted her to one arm, then tilted her chin up to look at him with the tip of his index finger. “Daddy didn’t realize he was squashing you, Ruby-button. He’s very sorry.” He let go of her chin and planted a tender kiss against Ruby’s forehead.

  “He should be sorry for barging in uninvited,” Elizabeth retorted, embarrassed and the tiniest bit envious of Ruby as she watched the way James tenderly cuddled his daughter close and kissed her forehead. “He owes us all an apology.”

  James gave a nod in Elizabeth’s direction as he walked over to the closet and reached inside for a couple of thick terry-cloth towels. He wrapped one towel around Ruby, then set the child on her feet beside the bathtub. “I did knock,” he pointed out ungraciously, focusing his gaze on Elizabeth. “Although I don’t suppose you heard me. In any case, I owe you an apology for barging in on your toilette without awaiting permission to enter. All I can offer in my defense is the fact that I was worried because I forgot to warn you about Ruby’s unfortunate bathtime phobia and the fact that I was expecting to find you bathing two toddlers, not bathing with them.”