by Jen Turano
With her heart pounding like mad, she dropped the hammer to the board that made up the floor of her scaffold, turned, steadied herself on the railing that wobbled ever so slightly beneath her touch, then peered over the side, finding Miss Jane Snook peering right back up at her.
Even though she’d taken up the position of full-time instructor of music and art at Miss Snook’s School for the Education of the Feminine Mind a few months before, she rarely saw Miss Snook and certainly couldn’t say she knew the woman well.
The only thing she did know about Miss Snook was that the woman had started a school to improve the lives of unfortunate women forced to work as domestics or in the factories, using a boardinghouse Temperance assumed Miss Snook owned as her first location for the school. After Miss Henrietta and Miss Mabel decided to abandon their mansion on Broadway to take up residence in the home they preferred by Gramercy Park, they’d offered Miss Snook the use of their former home for her school, an offer she hadn’t hesitated to accept.
Because space was no longer an issue, Miss Snook spent her time, when she wasn’t teaching English classes at the school, scouring the city for potential students, which was why Temperance rarely encountered the woman.
“Miss Flowerdew,” Miss Snook called. “You need to get down from there right this very minute. It’s not safe for you to dangle so far from the ground. If that flimsy contraption you’re standing on gives out, well, I hardly believe it would encourage women to enroll in this school if rumors start swirling around that we make a habit of killing off our instructors.”
Unable to help herself, Temperance smiled because Miss Snook sounded exactly like the teacher she was, and she was even shaking a finger Temperance’s way. As usual, the woman was dressed in a serviceable gray day gown, her white-blond hair pulled in a severe chignon at the nape of her neck and black spectacles perched on the bridge of her nose.
“I’m perfectly safe,” Temperance called back as Miss Snook stopped shaking her finger and crossed her arms over her chest in a gesture that implied she wasn’t in agreement. “Miss Cutler helped me build the scaffold, and if I need remind you, she spent years at her father’s side, helping him with his carpentry work.”
“Be that as it may, I have no idea why you have a need to nail something into the ceiling. I shudder to think what Miss Henrietta will say after she learns you’ve been ruining the plaster in the ballroom.”
“I’m not ruining the plaster, merely putting in a few hooks that will allow me to drape lengths of orange and red silk across the ceiling, lending the ballroom a sunset appearance.”
“Why, pray tell, would you want to do that?”
“For Gertrude’s engagement ball, of course. And, just to alleviate your concern about Miss Henrietta, she knows what I’m up to and heartily approves since she wants Gertrude’s special night to be an occasion Gertrude and Harrison will never forget.”
“Which is a result I want as well, but I still have no understanding why you need to risk you neck in creating a sunset to obtain that goal.”
Temperance leaned over the railing, stilling when Miss Snook gasped. “When Gertrude first met Harrison, she was, curiously enough, dyed an interesting shade of orange, a color that reminded Harrison of a sunset. Orange has since become one of Harrison’s favorite colors, so Gertrude wanted orange to be a large part of her special evening.” Temperance gestured to the ceiling. “I was considering painting the ceiling, but my little adventure to Chicago took precious time out of my schedule, forcing me to come up with an alternative plan.”
Miss Snook tugged a handkerchief from her sleeve and blotted her forehead. She tucked the handkerchief away, smoothed a hand over her hair, then returned her attention to Temperance. “Given your artistic gifts, I’m certain your creation will be lovely, but I’m uncomfortable with you putting yourself in such danger.”
“I spent many an hour on scaffolding far less stable than this one when I was assisting a renowned painter in Paris with a ceiling scene he was painting in an old church. I’m fine, but perhaps it might be for the best if you were to remove yourself from the ballroom since I’m clearly making you uncomfortable.”
“I can’t leave you up there with no one to keep an eye on you.”
“Mr. Barclay will return directly. He’s only fetching the bolts of silk I need from Rutherford & Company, so there’s no need to fret.”
“I’d feel better if you got down from there until Mr. Barclay returns.”
Knowing she needed to move the scaffolding a few feet anyway to secure another hook to the ceiling, and knowing Miss Snook could be a somewhat bossy sort, Temperance nodded. “Very well, I’m coming down.” She reached for the gate Miss Cutler had included on the scaffolding that opened with the use of a hinge, her foot brushing against the hammer and sending it skittering across the scaffold floor. “Watch out,” she called right before the hammer disappeared from sight.
A loud bang sounded a second later, but thankfully, when she looked down, she found Miss Snook unharmed, having darted out of the way.
“Are you—”
The rest of her question got lost when Gilbert suddenly dashed into the room, brandishing a pistol of all things. He skidded to a halt right in front of Miss Snook who, instead of running away from a pistol-wielding gentleman she’d never met before, was pushing her spectacles farther up her nose and lifting her chin.
“Who in the world are you?” she demanded in her sternest voice yet. “And what are you doing brandishing a gun in the middle of my school?”
“I thought I heard a gunshot,” Gilbert returned.
“It was just a hammer,” Temperance called. “I lost it over the edge of the scaffold.”
Gilbert immediately looked up, took a single step toward the scaffold, then stopped. “Have you lost your mind? Get down from there.”
Temperance frowned. “You obviously have me confused with someone else, since you have to remember I don’t care to be ordered about.”
“Don’t make me come up there and get you.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’d like to see you try, because unless I’m confusing you with someone else, you’ve always had an aversion to heights, a condition I highly doubt has changed over the years.”
“You don’t believe I’m capable of climbing up there and fetching you down?”
She leaned over the railing. “The last time I saw you climb up higher than you were comfortable climbing, you tossed up your accounts all over the place.”
“That was a really tall tree, and I distinctly recall suffering from a stomach ailment before I made the climb.”
“You were not suffering from a stomach ailment.”
“I beg to differ with you on that, and—”
“Children,” Miss Snook interrupted, holding up her hand and cutting Gilbert off midsentence. “Do not make me separate the two of you into opposite corners, but know that I will resort to that if your nonsense continues.” She inclined her head toward Gilbert. “May I assume you’re the Mr. Gilbert Cavendish whom Miss Flowerdew has remarked upon a time or two?”
“Indeed I am, although I would hope Temperance would have remarked on me more than a time or two since word is soon to travel about the city we’re engaged.” Gilbert tucked his pistol away and stepped closer to Miss Snook. He reached out and took hold of her hand, but before he could put the expected kiss on it, Miss Snook yanked her hand away from him and pushed her spectacles back into place again.
“There’s no need for charm, Mr. Cavendish,” Miss Snook began. “I’m immune to it. As for you being engaged to Miss Flowerdew, from what I understand, that’s only a ruse, brought about by your attempt to thwart Miss Clementine Flowerdew’s desire to walk down the aisle with you.”
Gilbert sent Temperance a scowl. “Our plan will never work if you keep telling everyone it’s a ruse.”
“I never said a word to Miss Snook about our situation.”
Miss Snook waved that aside. “You didn’t need t
o, dear. You’re now living in a school filled to the brim with young women who were forced to become very adept at eavesdropping in order to anticipate the moods of their reprehensible employers at their previous positions. Surely you must know that nothing gets by them.”
“Of course I know that, although I must say I’m a little taken aback they’d run to you with everything they overhear or observe,” Temperance said.
“If you really think about that, Miss Flowerdew, you’ll not be taken aback at all. I have given these women new opportunities, and with that comes a certain level of gratitude.” She turned to Gilbert. “I’ll leave you to watch over Miss Flowerdew. Do try to get her to come down, won’t you? She was about to do just that before you burst into the room and annoyed her by turning demanding.”
Miss Snook headed for the door, but before she could exit, Harrison rushed into the room with his pistol drawn, practically knocking Miss Snook off her feet when he rushed right into her. Catching her before she could fall, he helped her find her balance.
“I do beg your pardon, Miss Snook,” Harrison said. “I truly did not mean to barrel into you. My only excuse is that I heard a gunshot and thought someone was under attack in the ballroom. Clearly, there’s no mad assailant running amok up here.”
“While there is certainly madness afoot, Mr. Sinclair, it’s not being perpetuated by an assailant, simply Miss Flowerdew and her unbeknownst to me stubborn nature.”
“I told you Temperance possessed a stubborn nature, Harrison, and now you’ve heard it from someone other than me,” Gilbert said as Miss Snook shoved her spectacles back into place rather forcefully before she sailed out of the ballroom without another word.
“I do believe Miss Snook is in what one might call an aggravated frame of mind,” Harrison said, tucking his pistol away before he looked up, settled his sights on Temperance, and smiled. “Hello, Temperance. What a delightful spot you seem to have found up there.”
“Don’t encourage her,” Gilbert said. “I’m trying to get her to come down, but she’s turned stubborn and is refusing.”
“What is she doing up there in the first place?” Harrison asked.
“It’s none of your business what I’m doing up here, Harrison, because Gertrude doesn’t want you to know about it, so stop asking questions,” Temperance called.
“She’s far more vocal than she used to be when I first made her acquaintance,” Harrison said to Gilbert, quite as if Temperance couldn’t hear him. “I must say I do find this new, talkative Temperance more interesting than the practically mute Temperance she used to be. You should take satisfaction in the idea she’s reclaimed her voice because you reentered her life.”
Temperance opened her mouth to argue that point, but snapped it shut again when she realized Harrison was right. She had found her voice after reuniting with Gilbert. And while she was still exasperated with the man, she couldn’t deny that it was because of him she’d reclaimed her sense of self as well as her life, which . . .
Temperance sucked in a sharp breath when a troubling thought struck from out of nowhere.
She’d been floundering for years, had lost her identity, and it wasn’t until she’d reunited with Gilbert that she’d found the incentive to regain the very essence of who she was. She’d begun hearing music again directly after spending an evening with him at a ball, and then not long after that, she’d found the inspiration to begin painting once more, something she’d not done since learning her parents had died. That she’d rediscovered her love for her most passionate pursuits directly after seeing Gilbert again could only mean one thing. . . .
He was a far more important part of her life than she’d realized.
“Does Temperance make it a habit of descending into what looks to be some type of trance?” Harrison asked, pulling Temperance back to the situation at hand.
Pushing aside thoughts that certainly needed further contemplation, but not while the object of those thoughts was peering up at her, Temperance summoned up a smile. “I’m not in a trance, Harrison, I just got distracted for a moment.”
“Distracted thinking about what you’re doing up on that scaffold?” Harrison called.
“I can’t tell you what I’m doing up here because it’s a surprise.”
“A surprise for whom?”
“Never you mind about that, darling.”
Turning her attention to the door, Temperance found Gertrude Cadwalader standing there in a lovely walking dress of burnt orange, her honey-golden hair swept up into a knot on top of her head. She was smiling at Harrison, which was no surprise, nor was it a surprise when Harrison strode to Gertrude’s side, giving her a kiss on the cheek before taking her hand and tucking it into the crook of his arm.
“You could give me a hint,” Harrison said.
Gertrude shook her head. “Not likely, and before you try to charm it out of me, answer me this—what are you doing here?”
“I’m afraid the explanation for that will need to wait until Temperance joins us on the ground,” Harrison said. “It’s a rather delicate matter, so we don’t want to have to explain with raised voices that might be overheard.”
“That’s certainly not the answer I was expecting,” Gertrude said before she lifted her head and nodded to Temperance. “Shall we repair to the library to hear the gentlemen out?”
“I’ll be right down.”
Harrison smiled. “I think this is where I take my leave since . . . well, you’re up rather high, wearing a skirt, and . . . no need to say more.”
Temperance watched as Harrison and Gertrude strolled from the room before she swung open the gate, pausing for a second as she considered Gilbert.
“You might want to close your eyes because watching me climb down from here is certain to make you queasy.”
“I can watch you climb down from there without becoming queasy,” Gilbert shot back. “But I will turn around since it would hardly be gentlemanly of me to watch you climb from such a height while wearing a skirt, which Harrison just pointed out.”
“I’m wearing a split skirt, one Permilia found for me when I told her I didn’t believe Miss Snook would approve of me roaming around the school in the trousers I normally wear when I’m in the middle of an artistic project.”
“Then I’ll not turn around, proving once and for all that I’m perfectly capable of watching you descend from such a great height without fainting dead away or casting up my accounts.”
“You’re simply not turning around because you want to keep an eye on me and make certain I don’t fall. But I don’t need you to keep an eye on me.”
“One would have thought you’d become less contrary with age, not more.”
“I spent three years not being contrary at all. I’m simply trying to make up for lost time.” Edging her way onto the rungs that were serving as a ladder, Temperance made short shrift of reaching the ground, bending over to untie the two lengths of ribbon she’d wrapped around each leg to keep the voluminous fabric of the split skirt out of her way. Shaking out that material, she straightened, finding Gilbert watching her closely.
“You don’t approve?” she asked.
“We may have been apart for years, Temperance, but I remember you well enough to know the only answer to that question is . . . Of course I approve. That’s a wonderful split skirt, and I do hope ladies will soon take to wearing them about town and perhaps even wearing them to balls.”
“You’re annoying.”
“Thank you.”
Unable to help but return the grin he was sending her, Temperance took his arm and walked across the ballroom.
“What surprise do you and Gertrude have in store for Harrison that requires you to risk that stubborn neck of yours?” Gilbert asked when they reached the door.
“I’m not risking my neck, nor is it stubborn, but because I know you’ll continue pestering me until I answer your question, I’m going to try to create a sunset illusion over the ceiling.”
Gilbert stopped
walking, turned, and considered the ceiling. “How would you go about that?”
“I’ll string thin strands of rope through hooks secured to the sides of the room, adding additional hooks to the middle of the ceiling so the silk I’ll then drape over the ropes will create a puffy, cloudlike feel. I’m hoping that by adding some colored glass to the chandeliers, it’ll look exactly like the sky looks when the sun is setting over the ocean.”
Gilbert turned to her. “How do you know how to do that?”
“I don’t know. I just saw it in my mind, and now I just have to hope it’ll work.”
“How do you see that in your mind?”
She smiled. “How do you see a column of figures and know the sum with barely any tallying on your part?”
“It’s simply something I’m able to do without thinking.”
“That’s how I see my art.”
Gilbert frowned. “Is it the same with your music? Can you see the notes in your head?”
“I hear the notes in my head, but I have no idea why I’m then able to play them on an instrument.” She prodded him back into motion again. “I like to believe God gives everyone a special gift, although I’ve only recently reclaimed my artistic abilities, which I must admit, is all thanks to being reunited with you—which had me remembering who I truly am.”
“Perhaps I do have my uses after all.”
She smiled. “I could possibly agree with that if I didn’t think doing so would turn you smug.”
As they traveled down the three flights of stairs to the library, the conversation turned easy, reminding Temperance exactly how comfortable she’d always been in Gilbert’s presence. They’d always been able to argue and annoy each other, and yet return to their easy friendship in a blink of an eye.
When they reached the hallway that led to the library, they made it all of two feet before what sounded like a scuffle erupted through the door that led to the kitchen, right before the sound of what truly did seem to be a gunshot rang out.