by Jane Peart
"You? Well, about the stagecoach being robbed. It must have been dreadful."
Quickly Addie gathered her scrambled thoughts. Of course, Freda didn't have any idea about the returned jewelry.
"Yes, it was pretty frightening," she answered. "Excuse how I look; somehow I fell asleep and ..." she picked up her brush and ran it through her hair several times.
"Are you all right, Addie?"
Addie finished twisting her hair up into a knot and secured it with tortoise shell pins. Then she turned around and gave a bitter little laugh. "Except that I'm under suspicion."
Freda's brows drew together. "Under suspicion? What do you mean? For what?"
"Maybe you haven't heard yet. But you will soon enough. I know small towns have active gossip mills. Especially something this juicy." She paused, turned around from the mirror, and faced Freda. "My employer has accused me of being an accomplice to the stagecoach robbers."
"You, an accomplice?" Freda gasped. "How could she? Why?"
"Because, you see, my jewelry taken during the robbery has been returned."
"What? How was it returned?"
"Mysteriously. I'm not sure just how or when. It's left quite a cloud over my reputation." Addie shrugged. "But I think as much as anything else, Mrs. Amberly is furious because her jewelry was much more valuable than anything of mine. Mine was mostly of sentimental value, things belonging to my mother."
"And that leads to the assumption that the robbers knew that?"
Addie nodded, then sighed, "How else can it be explained?"
"Oh, Addie, that's terrible and ridiculous. That woman! I disliked her on sight." Freda shuddered. "There was something about her—I sensed right away—you know how it is with some people? You get a feeling—and I certainly got it that night we were introduced."
"Well, it doesn't matter, I suppose. Since I know the truth." Addie hesitated. She wondered if she should confide in Freda? Tell her about the note, about Brook?
But before she could decide, Freda said, "Listen, Addie, I know you must be under a great deal of stress, but I came because—there's someone else who wants to see you, and he did not want to come by himself—afraid he might cause gossip."
"What do you mean? Who?"
"Rex. Rex Lyon," she answered quietly.
At the name Addie's chest tightened as if she could not draw a deep breath. She was still holding her hairbrush, but now she put it down, rearranged the toilette articles on the top of the bureau, lining them up in a row, trying to steady herself.
"He asked me to see if it was all right. He was afraid Louis Montand might object..."
Puzzled, Addie turned toward Freda and asked, "But why should Louis object?"
Freda only gave her a strange look and hurried on, "That doesn't matter now, but will you see him? He seems to think you might not—but I must tell you, Addie, I've rarely seen a man so worried. Particularly Rex, who never seems to get upset."
Addie hesitated. She thought of their last awkward encounter at the bank before she had left on the ill-fated trip to Lakeport. She remembered the stilted conversation and his strange comment. It had been weeks since he had tried to see or contact her. Why did he come now and want to see her?
Freda put her hand on Addie's arm. "Do see him, Addie. He's waiting on the other side of the arboretum. Won't you go out there? Hear what he has to say?"
Addie turned away from Freda's searching gaze, afraid her own hurt, her longing, and her feelings for Rex might show in her face. Didn't Freda know Rex had made no move to see her since the day of the picnic with the Bairds? Should she tell Freda how she felt, why she didn't want to see Rex?
She walked over to the window, pushed aside the curtain, and looked out in the direction of the arboretum. As she stood there she saw the sheriff and his deputy ride up to the front of the hotel, dismount, and stride into the building. A minute later Louis come out of the main building, out on the verandah, then hurry down the steps and come marching toward the cottage.
Addie turned around and said to Freda, "I'm sorry, Freda, but it's too late. The sheriff just came, and Louis is coming this way. Something important must have happened."
When Addie opened the door, Louis was there. "The sheriff has an announcement to make, and he wants us all to assemble in the main building," he said.
"Shall I come with you, Addie?" Freda asked anxiously.
Addie stretched out her hand to her, but Louis shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Wegner, but this meeting is only for Silver Springs guests, I'm afraid. I'm sure you'll learn about it eventually." His face was grim.
Addie threw her friend a bewildered glance, but Louis's hand was firmly under her elbow and he was leading her out of the cottage.
"What is it, Louis?" Addie asked as they started across the grounds.
"You'll hear soon enough. Come along, Addie."
The room was crowded, buzzing with the sound of voices, probably all swapping rumors, exchanging conjectures as to what they had been called together for. Addie saw Mrs. Amberly wedged in between Harriet and Elouise Brunell. Mrs. Amberly glared at Addie as she came in on Louis's arm.
The sheriff stepped to the front, clasped his hands behind his back, and cleared his throat. "First of all, I may as well tell you we've had some reports that a man fitting Gentleman Jim's description was seen around here the last day or so. Some folks thought they recognized him. During the night he left a horse at the livery stable that's been identified as being like the one he was riding at the time of the stage robbery." The sheriff smiled ironically. "He took a fresh horse and left a bundle of paper bills to pay for it, something Gentleman Jim would be likely to do."
The hum of voices reacting to this statement rose dramatically. A flurry of questions peppered the air. "Any trace of the other outlaws?" "The members of his gang?" "Any trace of the payroll money?" "Have any of the stolen goods been found?"
The sheriff held up both hands. "Just a minute folks! Just a durn minute. I'll get to that. Gimme time."
The mumbling died down and the sheriff stood there, his head down as though either waiting for the room to quiet or uncertain as to whether he should disclose anything further. Finally he raised his head and looked directly into the crowd. "Now, this next will probably shock you folks, but you have a right to know...."
Again he paused. Everyone sat forward on the edge of their seats, eager to be shocked. The sheriff glanced over at Louis, and Louis's hand tightened on Addie's. "Since Mr. Montand already knows this, the way news travels in this town, you'll hear it one way or another, so it might as well come from me. We think we can identify who Gentleman Jim really is."
There were immediate cries of surprise, exclamations of curiosity, demands to know. The sheriff had to hold up his hands for silence again until the uproar faded.
"Based on some conclusive evidence, we believe Gentleman Jim is the owner of Silver Springs—Brook Stanton."
At this Mrs. Amberly let out an indignant gasp and staggered up onto her feet, "What did I tell you?" she looked at the Brunell sisters for confirmation. Then pointing her finger at Addie, she sputtered, "Didn't I say she knew the outlaw, the man that so brutally robbed all of us! All of us but her! Why was her jewelry returned and none of the rest of ours? She must have known about it all the time. Didn't I say there was something mighty suspicious about her being so insistent on having her Thursdays every week? Probably went off with him. Told him we'd be on that stage! She knows how valuable my jewelry is!" Mrs. Amberly shook her fist at Addie. "Why you, you—thief—"
"Now, just a minute, Ma'am," the sheriff's voice lashed across the room like a whip cutting short the sputtering words. "Don't go accusing anyone. We've seen before how Gentleman Jim operates—he don't need no accomplice."
The Brunell sisters were tugging at Mrs. Amberly, embarrassed, trying to get her to sit down.
"Now, just keep calm, everybody," the sheriff went on. "I understand how you all must feel about this. But I guarantee you this time Ge
ntleman Jim won't get away. We've been keepin' track of him, and every time we've got closer to nabbing him. We know he can't be far from here. He didn't know it, but the horse he took has a weak leg. Tends to go lame when he's ridden too hard. We'll bring him in, for sure, and we'll get as many of your belongings back as possible. His mistake was taking the payroll cash box from a United States deputy. We've got a warrant for his arrest, and I mean to serve it to him—personal."
People began to talk among themselves. The noise level in the room soared steadily as everyone mingled, merging into small groups, discussing the startling new facts, and swapping opinions.
In the confusion, Louis took Addie's arm and managed to maneuver their way through the lobby, out the front door. Even her relief in not having to keep Brook's identity secret any longer did not take away the sting of Mrs. Amberly's accusations. Mrs. Amberly had publicly humiliated her, and Addie was shaking with fury.
On the verandah she pulled away from Louis and turned to him. "Did you hear what she said this time?"
"Oh, Addie, the woman was hysterical. Anyone could see that. No one paid any attention to her."
His nonchalance infuriated Addie even more. She looked at Louis, every hair in place, unruffled, detached, regarding her with a kind of indulgence. All at once something struck her. An appalling idea. Something she saw in Louis's eyes. Doubt? Did he possibly think some of what Mrs. Amberly said was true? Struggling to keep her voice even, she confronted him. "Surely you don't believe what she's saying about me?"
"It doesn't matter, my dear Adelaide. I told you she was out of control," he said placatingly. "Of course, it was obvious to everyone at the hotel that Brook was infatuated with you, but that isn't the point. The rumors will die down, it will all soon be forgotten. I'm sure she won't stay here long now that she knows about Brook. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if she'll leave to go back east as soon as possible."
"And spread all sorts of lies about me? You can be sure she'll inform her nephew who will tell my cousin and destroy my good name and reputation so that my relatives will have to bear the shame!" Addie started to pace the room, then stopped, whirled around, "Don't you care that she publicly vilified me?"
Louis made a dismissing gesture with his hand. "Napa Valley is a small, remote place, the people hopelessly provincial. Who could possibly give a fig about what happens here?"
Addie looked at him aghast. Had he no deep feelings, no passion? The woman he had asked to be his wife had been accused in front of dozens of people of being an accomplice in a stagecoach robbery, of aiding and abetting a criminal, and he brushed it off with as little concern as if he were flicking away an annoying insect.
"Louis! You don't understand at all, do you? That I've been accused of being an accomplice to a stagecoach robbery, that I'm a thief!—" and here Addie's voice became cold as steel. "Surely, you wouldn't want to marry a woman under that kind of suspicion—I know Estelle would not want me as a sister-in-law." Scornfully she added, "In the South, a gentleman would demand satisfaction!"
Louis raised his eyebrows. "You would have me challenge Mrs. Amberly to a duel?" He gave a short sardonic laugh. "My dear, Addie—Mrs. Amberly is hardly a worthy adversary—she's nothing, a nobody, a vulgar nouveau riche woman. Her ridiculous ranting scarcely would call for such a violent response."
Addie continued to stare. Her heart thundering, hands clenched, every nerve in her body seemed to vibrate. Although she felt physically shaky, her brain was sharp. In the last few weeks she had struggled with uncertainty, but now everything was clear. Louis was not the kind of man she could ever respect, much less love —no, nor trust, nor depend on. She might have been speaking another language for he had not seemed to comprehend a word she said nor understand an emotion she had expressed. It had all left him unmoved. It was suddenly as clear as glass. There was no place in her heart for him and no place in his life for her.
She turned away from him. The thought that she had ever considered, no matter how briefly, accepting Louis's proposal sickened her. A man she could neither trust nor respect? She felt disgusted. She had to get away, be by herself. She started down the verandah steps.
"You, Miss Pride! You! Wait, just you wait, young lady. I'm not done with you!" Mrs. Amberly shouted from behind her.
Addie turned to see the woman burst out the hotel door, her body propelled faster than Addie had ever seen her move, waving both arms threateningly. Her beady little eyes, narrowed even further in her fleshy cheeks, made her look for all the world like one of those grotesque faces carved on wooden Swiss tobacco holders people brought home from Europe as souvenirs. Her mouth gaped open, little beads of saliva sprayed out as she spat out her words.
"Have you no shame? Carrying on with that man—that outlaw—right under my very nose—while I was footing the bill for the roof over your head, every bite of food you put in your mouth! And to think I paid you to steal from me!"
Addie's hand gripped the porch railing, her whole body rigid.
Teetering on the top step, Mrs. Amberly's mouth twisted viciously. "You think you fooled everyone with your soft Southern ways, your hoitytoity superior air, your honey-coated manners. Well, not me, you didn't! Not for a minute, young lady. I seen through you right from the first." In her anger Mrs. Amberly had lost any pretense of gentility.
Addie glanced at Louis to see if now he would defend her against this venomous attack. But he had backed away from the sight of Mrs. Amberly's huge, hulking figure, almost as if he were afraid of her.
All the while Mrs. Amberly's voice rose higher and higher into a screech, Addie recalled the countless times under Mrs. Amberly's verbal abuse she had contained her true feelings, held herself in check, because she knew if she ever let go there would be no turning back. Always the thought of Aunt Susan and Uncle Myles had restrained her. Now Mrs. Amberly had gone too far. All the incidents of injustice, the petty slurs, her meanness and sarcasm marched through Addie's mind turning her once half-pitying contempt for the woman into loathing.
Addie walked back up the steps and stood directly in front of her accuser. "You are a liar, Mrs. Amberly, not only about what you are saying about me, accusing me of, but you lie about almost everything. I've been with you day in and day out these last months, and I've seen your lying ways. From cheating at cards, oh, yes, you've even bragged about it—to never tipping the maids here for all the extra services they give you. Talk about stealing, what about all the money you've won from your so-called friends? You lie all the time, Mrs. Amberly, about your travels, the people you know—all lies. Well, I don't have to take it anymore. I don't have to listen to your lies. I certainly don't have to listen to your lies about me!"
"Addie," Louis gasped and grabbed her arm, but she shook it off.
"Don't touch me." She ran down the steps, picked up her skirt, and ran across the yard and over toward the cottage.
Addie closed her bedroom door and stood there a full minute trying to get control of herself. Her lungs felt as if they might burst, and each breath dragged from deep inside was painful. Across the room she caught sight of her reflection in the bureau mirror and was shocked by her pallor, the wild look in her eyes. She flung herself on the bed, feeling weak and sick. Surely she had just been through the two worst hours of her life.
She did not know how long it was before she heard the front door of the cottage open, then voices, Mrs. Amberly's and one of the hotel maid's, the shuffling sound of Mrs. Amberly's feet along the hallway. Addie sat up, bracing herself. Then the banging on her door came, bam, bam, bam.
"You listen here, Miss Pride. Don't think you're gettin' away with anything. You're dismissed. Do you hear that? Pack your things. I want you out of here. I don't want to see you again. Never, you understand? Not after the way you talked to me, the way you've behaved!"
Impulsively, Addie walked over to the door and yanked it open. In startled surprise, Mrs. Amberly stumbled backwards, her arm still raised, hand doubled as if to continue knocking.
"You can save your breath, Mrs. Amberly, I was going to quit anyway. I couldn't stand working for someone like you any longer." With that Addie closed the door in Mrs. Amberly's shocked face.
But a moment later her rasping voice came again so loud she must have been pressing her mouth against the keyhole.
"You—you! Listen! Don't think I'm paying you a penny of this month's salary—not a red cent! And don't think you'll get any references from me, either! Did you hear that— Miss Pride!"
Addie covered her ears to shut out the sound of that spiteful voice, the ugliness of whatever else she was saying. Finally it stopped. Then she heard the muffled footsteps as Mrs. Amberly went down the hall and slammed her bedroom door.
Addie drew a long breath. Ridiculously she felt like laughing, but instead she cried. She realized she must be on the edge of hysteria. Curiously enough, her strongest emotion was relief. It was as though someone had thrown open the prison gates and she was free! Free of that old harpy, her demands, her miserly ways.
Yet even as that thought took hold, Addie knew she had burned all her bridges behind her. She had told off Mrs. Amberly and rejected Louis. All in the space of a few impulsive moments she had thrown away her job, her chance at a wealthy marriage. Now, she had nothing. Quickly she corrected that—she still had her pride. But even that was in tatters! After Mrs. Amberly's public castigation, what was it worth? People thought whatever they wanted to think.
Even though she'd had her moment of self-justification, of pride, in doing so she had thrown away everything else. What did she do now? The uncertainty of her life at the moment seemed unbearable. Reality began to set in; she had no job, no place to stay, nowhere to go! Most of all, she would no longer be able to send the small monthly amount to help Aunt Susan and Uncle Myles. In one reckless gesture of independence she had beggared herself as well. She was sure Mrs. Amberly would carry out her threat—she would not pay her another "red cent"—certainly there would be no severance pay, no return train ticket. Addie was stranded, penniless, except for the tiny bit of money she had been able to squirrel away.