Promise of the Valley

by Jane Peart

  A little flustered by this unexpected compliment, Addie murmured, "How kind of you to say so. Thank you."

  "Not at all, Miss Pride. I feel we will all be in your debt before this winter is over. Just don't let anything stifle your natural cheerfulness and good humor—" There was a hint of humor in this.

  "I'll try not to," she replied, realizing Brook Stanton read Mrs. Amberly like the proverbial book.

  "Good! Now, have a good night's sleep. This clear air is the best insurance one could possibly have for complete restoration of body and spirit, I guarantee it," he told her, then laughed. "Spoken like a true innkeeper, right? Good night to you, Miss Pride. Sweet dreams."

  With that he gave her a little salute and went off into the night humming under his breath. Addie looked after him thinking Brook Stanton was far more than an innkeeper. He was a man of considerable talents, many of them probably hidden.

  Chapter 5

  It was after midnight and at Addie's desk the wick of the oil lamp sputtered, the light flickered as her pen moved across the pages.

  November 24th, 1870

  Only two weeks have gone by and I still face months of putting up with this insufferable woman. And this evening was the worst yet. Usually I just manage to sit out the hours she spends at the card tables until she's ready to be helped back over to the cottage. Tonight, however, one of the "regulars" pleaded a headache and retired, and I was ordered to fill in for her. I find the game not only stupid—to say nothing of the shallow chit-chat carried on between plays—but discussion afterward of every play is so boring. By the end of the evening my head ached. I felt like screaming.

  Addie was gripping her pen so hard that the point dug into the paper, causing the ink to splatter across the page. She flung down her pen in frustration, rubbing her aching forehead.

  November 27th

  Mrs. Amberly pretends she has forgotten her promise to reimburse me for travel expenses. The small fund of cash I brought with me from the sale of some of Mama's jewelry has dwindled alarmingly. Finally I had to mention it, and a more humiliating scene has never been my experience to bear. Mrs. A. acted as though she could not recall such an offer. I was forced to produce her letter in which she had made such a statement. Confronted with the evidence she turned beet red, and with obvious reluctance wrote out a cheque, giving it to me like tossing a bone to a dog! I dread to think I may have to go through this sort of thing each month for my salary!

  But being able to send Aunt Susan and Uncle Myles a nice sum every month will make up for any cross I must bear in this hideous situation. But very honestly, I feel—trapped! That's how I feel. Perhaps this is the way slaves in the old South felt.

  Dec. 2nd

  Today I went to the Post Office to mail the money order to Aunt Susan. As I was doing that, I saw the man I first noticed the day of my arrival at the depot. I was standing at the corner getting ready to cross the street when he came down the street mounted on a fine, gleaming chestnut horse. As he passed he lifted the brim of his hat and nodded—as if he knew me! The strangest part is that I felt the same extraordinary sensation I'd had before. That we had met somewhere before, been parted a long time, and were only just now seeing each other again.

  It is so ridiculous, I do not know why I even record it.

  Involuntarily, Addie shivered. She closed her journal. It had been a long, wearying day, and tomorrow there would be another one to face.

  As she got undressed for bed her feeling of depression deepened. How could she endure this year of employment to a woman she had come to dislike heartily. Mrs. Amberly's abrasive personality was bad enough, but her arrogance was worse. Her treatment of the resort employees, the maid assigned to their cottage, the bathhouse attendants, the waiter in the dining room, the desk clerk in the lobby, made Addie wince inwardly. Addie felt embarrassed to be associated with Mrs. Amberly, as though she were, as they say, "tarred with the same stick!"

  To counteract Mrs. Amberly's actions, Addie went out of her way to pleasantly address the various employees by name, though she had little opportunity away from the scrutiny of her employer.

  Addie lay awake praying for patience. She knew she had to make the best of the bad bargain she had made. She had signed a contract. Her word must be her bond. After all, she was a Pride, wasn't she? The Pride name stood for something. It stood for integrity, truth, and above all honor. She must honor her word that she would stay out the year. Whatever it took—and Addie had the feeling she would be tested far beyond anything life had ever before demanded of her.

  Addie determined to try harder to put up with the situation. It was a mere matter of will, she told herself. She would try to be cheerful. If she could not overlook the things that bothered her most about her employer, she would simply grit her teeth and bear it. What else could she do?

  Dec. 8th

  The weather is still mild with the exception of intermittent days of rain. But the sun seems to manage to come out for a portion of every day at least. My escape from the drudgery of my job and the stress of being around someone like Mrs. A. for hours at a time is to take long walks. While Mrs. A. is at the bathhouse taking her heated mineral water treatments, I leave the resort and walk to town. Calistoga is a small town, very new. The houses look freshly painted and the gardens are a wonder, full of all sorts of flowers, some blooming profusely, even this late. The trees are beautiful, all sorts of ones that I cannot name, but think I shall get a book and try to learn what they are, so many different kinds. It does refresh me to do this. Still I cannot help feeling lonely. As I walk along these pretty streets, I keep thinking, people live in these nice houses, people it would be nice to know, perhaps be friends with, but I know no one except the maids and no one knows me. It has been a long time since I've even heard anyone call me by my Christian name. It is certainly a change from Avondale where I knew everyone and everyone knew me and my family.

  The guests at Silver Springs were mostly middle-aged, many of them in poor health, who had come there seeking some recourse in the beneficial mineral water, the heated pools, and the mild climate. There were no young people with whom Addie could make friends, even if her ambiguous position as a "paid companion" made that possible.

  Oddly enough, it was Brook Stanton with whom Addie found rapport. Busy as he always was as manager of the resort and many other entrepreneurial projects that occupied him, Brook always seemed to have time to stop and chat with Addie whenever he saw her.

  Brook was entirely different from the Southern men she had known all her life, who took affluence, position, and privilege for granted as their right. For all his casual affability, Addie suspected that underneath Brook's charming manners was a driving ambition, perhaps even a ruthlessness to succeed. This he skillfully kept hidden under an engaging personality.

  He had great style in everything: his attire, his management of Silver Springs. His insistence on perfection was evident everywhere. The tasteful furnishings in the lobby and lounges, the exquisite table settings in the dining hall, the crisp white linens, the gleaming china, the sparkling glassware, the spotless cottages, and the excellent service all compared favorably with any prestigious eastern resort.

  Addie enjoyed her contacts with Brook, who provided her with intelligent, witty conversation—a welcome relief from the usual shallow chatter of Mrs. Amberly and her cohorts. The problem was that she soon became aware that her employer resented Brook's attention to her and reacted to any special notice by him with increased orneriness and petulant demands. Addie soon discovered what a petty, childish woman Mrs. Amberly could be.

  At least on Sundays Addie had some respite. The first time Addie suggested church attendance, Mrs. Amberly appeared flustered. It amused Addie to see the inner struggle taking place as her employer debated if she could get away with refusing Addie time off for worship service. Since even the hotel employees were allowed to attend church on Sunday mornings, there was really nothing Mrs. Amberly could say.

  Addie wondered if i
t were not that Mrs. Amberly felt some guilt about not going to church herself. After grudgingly assenting to Addie's going, she rambled on at some length about the impossibility, in her rheumatic condition, of sitting in the hard pews during the long sermon. Addie listened, trying charitably to give the woman the benefit of the doubt, but it occurred to Addie that Mrs. Amberly seemed to have no trouble sitting for hours on end playing cards most evenings. Nevertheless, with the tug of wills finally over, Addie had won the freedom of a few free hours on Sunday mornings.

  Sunday morning began like any other morning. Addie rose, dressed, knocked on Mrs. Amberly's bedroom door to see if she was ready to walk over to the dining hall for breakfast.

  When her employer appeared, she was puffy-eyed, her cheeks creased from sleeping on massed pillows, her mouth in its perpetual downward pull. Addie greeted her. "Good morning, Mrs. Amberly."

  "Humph," was all Mrs. Amberly could muster in response as she took hold of Addie's arm.

  "I hope you slept well," Addie murmured the comment she made every morning as if they were lines she'd learned in a play.

  "Tossed and turned all night," complained Mrs. Amberly, as she always did not knowing that sometimes her loud snoring could even be heard through the walls and down the hallway to Addie's astonished ears. When they stepped out onto the little porch and saw the light mist rising from the ground, Mrs. Amberly exclaimed crossly, "I thought the sun was always supposed to be shining in California!"

  "I'm sure it will burn off before noon," Addie replied, having noticed this seemed to be the weather pattern of valley days.

  Ignoring that optimistic prediction, Mrs. Amberly droned on, "I should have gone to Florida or Italy. It wasn't my idea to come here. Now I suspect my nephew must have had some investment here and that's why he persuaded me that this would be a good place to spend the winter. It's just like him. He's a sly one, a great talker, he is. Money is what he's interested in most—my money most likely—and here I sit shivering in sunny California while he—I think he went to Bermuda—but how should I know? He never contacts me unless he's got some scheme for me to invest in—but he don't fool me. No, indeed. Somebody'd have to get up pretty early in the day to pull the wool over my eyes—my, but my neck's stiff, and my legs—I dunno whether this whole thing is doing me a bit of good—"

  Addie groaned inwardly. Was there no end to this petty whining and complaining? This spoiling of every new day?

  Settled at their table in the dining hall, Mrs. Amberly surveyed the breakfast menu with a jaundiced eye while the waiter greeted them and poured them coffee. Mrs. Amberly had been advised to eat lightly before her treatments which were scheduled for ten o'clock. But, regardless of that sage suggestion, after a great show of resignation she would go ahead and order sausage and eggs or griddle cakes.

  "Stanton should get a new chef. This food is getting monotonous," Mrs. Amberly said as she shoved the menu back at the patient waiter. "His cook is one of them Chinese, you know. What on earth could a China man know about what Americans like to eat, I'd like to know!" She sniffed disdainfully.

  To avoid commenting, Addie took a long sip of the steaming coffee. She was often at a loss for how to reply to her employer's innumerable complaints. If she said nothing, Mrs. Amberly stared at her belligerently until she said something.

  Luckily, this morning Addie was saved by Brook. He was just entering the dining hall and saw them. As he approached their table, Mrs. Amberly immediately stirred in her chair like a pigeon fluffing her feathers and put a smile on her face.

  "Good morning, ladies," he said cheerfully. "You two will be the first to hear my news! I've got a surprise that is going to set this town on its ear and give you a chance to enjoy a performance that brought the crowned heads of Europe to their feet in wild applause!"

  "What on earth is it, Mr. Stanton?" Mrs. Amberly asked.

  "It's a secret. And until I have all the details I will just have to leave you ladies guessing—but I promise you you're going to be thrilled."

  With that he went on his way. Mrs. Amberly's false smile faded and her face slumped into its usual petulance.

  "Humph, that man's all bluff!" she said grumpily. "I don't believe a word he said."

  To save herself from commenting, Addie took a bite of scrambled eggs. She had no doubt that Brook would carry out his promise to set this town on its ear. Whatever his surprise, Addie was anticipating it.

  After breakfast Addie left Mrs. Amberly in the lounge to chat with one of her bridge partners and went to get ready for church.

  Addie decided there was no longer any reason to wear the "protective" mourning attire she had worn so effectively on the long journey west, and instead put on a walking suit Aunt Susan had made for her from a lovely length of soft wool, purchased in England before the war. It had been put away during the war years when any kind of extravagant show was considered unsuitable or unpatriotic. A skillful seamstress, her aunt had fashioned a stylish outfit for her. The Prussian blue color was vastly becoming, the fitted jacket trimmed with soutache, her bonnet refurbished with new ribbons and a bunch of wax cherries. As a last touch she buttoned up her best pair of gray kid boots with French heels that she had bought on impulse in San Francisco the day before boarding the steamer.

  Leaving the cottage, she went down the path around the arboretum, aware of several admiring glances from gentlemen guests out strolling, even though they had their wives on their arm. Flattered, Addie lowered her eyes as was proper, smiling demurely, as she passed them. She had almost reached the gates when she heard footsteps hurrying along the gravel path behind her and a voice calling her name.

  "Miss Pride, good morning!"

  Surprised, she turned to see it was Mr. Louis Montand, the guest Brook Stanton had introduced her to on the day of her arrival. She had not seen him except from a distance since then.

  He caught up with her and asked, "Where, may I ask, are you off to on this bright morning?"

  "To church," she replied.

  "Isn't it rather a warm day to walk? You look so utterly charming I would hate to see you get overheated."

  "Thank you, it's lovely and cool, besides I have this—" She unfurled her silk parasol and prepared to move on.

  "Would you mind if I walked along with you? It is a lovely day at that."

  Addie hesitated only a second. After all they had been properly introduced, and he was a guest at the hotel.

  "If you like," she murmured.

  "I've just returned from San Francisco," he told her. "I must say it's nice to be back in this bucolic setting. How are you enjoying being in Calistoga by now?"

  Truth or a polite lie? What if she told Mr. Montand how really miserable she had been? But of course that was impossible. Instead, she said, "There is much to enjoy here, the mild weather is delightful, unusual, at least to me, for this time of year, and the scenery is awe-inspiring."

  "I believe you are a diplomatic person, Miss Pride," Montand replied, amusement in his voice. "You are not bored, then? Not with the provincialism, the stultifying lack of stimulation at the hotel, the vacuity of most of our fellow guests?"

  Addie looked at him surprised by the underlying sarcasm in his comment. "Well, Mr. Stanton has promised us some special sort of entertainment soon," she began, then stopped, remembering Brook had said it was a secret.

  "Ah, yes, well, we shall see. Ever since my sister and I came here, he has been saying there would be more social life at the hotel, assured me he is making all sorts of arrangements so his guests will not get bored. I trust you are not bored, Miss Pride?"

  Addie was saved from answering as the white-steepled church came into sight. "I must cross the street here, Mr. Montand," she said, gesturing to it with her gloved hand.

  "Ah, that's where you attend? I am not a regular churchgoer, Miss Pride, or I might be tempted to accompany you," he chuckled softly. "But I hope you will not hold that against me. I would like very much to become better acquainted. Perhaps you could have lun
cheon with me after church services? I would be happy to meet you in an hour or so? I would be waiting right here when you came out."

  "Thank you very much for the invitation, Mr. Montand, but I am really not free to make social engagements. Perhaps, you did not understand that I am employed by Mrs. Amberly as her companion, and as such I must be available to her except for when she has her treatments and Thursdays and now—on Sunday mornings to attend services."

  "Ah, I see," Montand looked thoughtful as he regarded Addie. "That must become a rather tedious occupation—dancing attendance on a woman so—" he hesitated as if searching for the right word, "—crippled with arthritis, is it? She did tell me one time just what her ailment was and why she was here—but I'm afraid it slipped my mind." His mouth twisted in a mocking smile.

  Addie pretended not to notice. She would not for one unguarded moment reveal her own feelings about Mrs. Amberly or risk having Montand realize she agreed with his accurate if uncharitable assessment of her employer.

  His sarcastic remarks struck Addie as ironic because she knew, even though Mrs. Amberly had met them only briefly, she admired the Montands inordinately. She had often mentioned both Louis and his sister, Estelle, telling Addie several times that they were the only people at Silver Springs worth cultivation—"They're real class!" Addie had soon learned that Mrs. Amberly had a rating system to designate who at the hotel was worth her time or effort. At Montand's obvious disdain for her employer, Addie felt almost pity. From his words it was clear that neither brother nor sister had any desire to socialize with her.

  "Well, perhaps another time," Louis said. "I'm so happy I saw you and we had this chance for a little chat. I do hope you will consider dining with me some evening when my sister returns from the city? I would like you two to meet."

  The church bell began to clang and Addie said, "I must go or I'll be late for the service."