A Sensible Arrangement

by Tracie Peterson

  Marty thought about it for a moment. “We can both take her.”

  Mrs. Landry shook her head. “Mrs. Wythe, that wouldn’t be acceptable. Mr. Wythe needs you to be . . . well . . . respectable . . . to your position. There are certain rules to your station in life, and I won’t have Mr. Wythe shamed because I was remiss in explaining them.”

  The housekeeper shifted uncomfortably, and Marty couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. She barely knew the woman but already liked her no-nonsense style. “Very well, Mrs. Landry. I shall keep to my place. I cannot say I approve of this world of rules, but since I agreed to take it on when I married Mr. Wythe, I suppose I should keep my word.” Marty sipped the tea and gave a sigh. “I don’t know that I’ll ever get used to having servants or rules.”

  Chapter 7

  “I didn’t know Mr. Chesterfield,” Jake said at breakfast the next morning.

  Marty found this surprising. “Apparently you were the replacement for his job after he was murdered.”

  “I do recall someone saying the former bank manager had died, but little else.” He took a drink of his coffee before continuing. “And your maid is his daughter?”

  “Yes, and I like her very much. She was injured in the robbery that claimed her father’s life. She has a scar that runs the length of her face. When you meet her, try not to be . . . surprised.”

  Jake smiled. “No worries. I’ve probably seen worse. And by the way, Mr. and Mrs. Morgan have invited us to their Valentine’s ball next month and would like us to arrive by six in order to receive the guests with them.”

  Marty looked at her husband for a moment. “Is this to be a regular occurrence?”

  He seemed confused. “Valentine’s parties?”

  “No, being summoned by the Morgans,” she replied and took a bite of her toast.

  Jake shrugged but gave her a grin. “It does seem to be the pattern. You’ll get used to it. Mr. Morgan has a way of seeing to it that folks do what he wants. I’m really not sure why he’s taken such a likin’ to me, but I have to say he’s generous to a fault where it’s concerned us. Just look at all he’s done on our account, and always with the requirement that I not give him credit for his generosity. He’s a humble man.”

  “I can see that you’re right about that,” Marty said. “I suppose I’m still stunned by my new life here.” With Mrs. Landry, Kate, and Alice busy transforming the front sitting room into a fitting area for the expected dressmaker, Marty leaned forward in hopes of not being overheard.

  “I know that he believes us to be a love match, but . . . well . . . do the servants know about our . . . situation?”

  “You mean do they know our sensible arrangement? This marriage of convenience?”

  “Yes.”

  He shook his head. “No. I think Mrs. Landry might suspect, but I haven’t told her outright.” He put down his fork. “See, when they promoted me to bank manager and started in on my need for a wife, I lied and told them I had a fiancée in Texas.”

  “And that’s why you placed the advertisement.”

  “Exactly.” This time he leaned in to speak in a hushed tone. “You have no idea what Morgan and his cronies had planned for me. There were entire parties full of eligible young ladies for me to court.”

  “Sounds like torture,” Marty said, smiling.

  Jake grinned and relaxed in his chair. “I thought so. Anyhow, I made this big fuss about how I was promised and I couldn’t be unfaithful. I told them we planned to marry in another year, but that didn’t sit well with them. They started in on insisting I move the wedding date up. They said it worried the board to have a single man in a position of such great responsibility—even a widowed man.”

  “I suppose there is some merit to that. Married men do present themselves as more stable and respectable in their activities.”

  “Some married men do,” Jake countered. “But certainly not all. There’s scandal aplenty in this town, and marriage doesn’t seem a sturdy boundary marker for many.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. Just the same, I wanted to know what you’d told folks. I don’t want to cause problems by not getting the story straight.”

  “I appreciate that. I don’t want to outright lie if I don’t have to—I’ve already done that in telling them we were engaged. But if you can abide it, I’d appreciate it if we’d say as little as possible.”

  “It’s been my experience, however,” Marty said, pushing her eggs around on the plate, “that sometimes details help to keep stories from unraveling. I suggest we agree to certain things, such as when we first met and how. Women are always asking after that kind of thing.”

  Jake nodded. “Well, we both lived in Texas . . . Dallas area, to be exact. That helps a great deal. We needn’t lie about our youth.”

  Marty considered the story for a moment. “We could say that we grew up not far from each other, implying but not outright stating that we knew each other. I am a bit older than you, but we needn’t make too much of that.”

  “True.” He seemed to like her thoughts on the matter. “And we could say that time separated us and we married other people, but we always held fond thoughts of each other.” He grinned. “There wasn’t a pretty gal in Texas I didn’t hold fond thoughts of.”

  “Exactly.” Marty was confident it could work. “We’ll say that we corresponded, mentioning we had both lost our mates and after that we got in touch with each other. That’s all quite true.”

  “Seems simple enough.”

  “Simple details are the best,” she assured him. Just then Marty heard a knock at the front door. “I suppose that’s for me.” She dabbed the napkin to her lips. “I want to thank you for your generosity, Jake. I had no idea I’d be treated to so many fine things. It really isn’t necessary.”

  “Unfortunately, it is,” Jake declared. “Mr. Morgan has plans for me—at least that’s what he’s always telling me. I just go along with things for now.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Well, my plans and his don’t exactly line up. What I want in the long run—”

  “I am sorry to interrupt,” Mrs. Landry declared, entering the room, “but Mrs. Davies has arrived, and she is anxious that we should begin your appointment, Mrs. Wythe.”

  Marty looked to Jake. What did he mean his plans didn’t line up with Mr. Morgan’s? “I suppose we can resume this conversation tonight at supper.”

  Jake smiled and got to his feet. He came around the table to help Marty up. “I shouldn’t be too late.” He surprised her by giving her cheek a light peck.

  Her face grew hot at the kiss, and Marty ducked her head like a shy bride. Mrs. Landry only chuckled. “Come along now.”

  Marty followed the housekeeper through the house and into a sitting room that now looked nothing like it had on Marty’s first inspection. Most of the furniture had been moved aside, and several tables were positioned in their place. The women who’d accompanied Mrs. Davies were busy spreading out fabrics, trims, and a large portfolio of dress designs.

  “Mrs. Wythe, this is Mrs. Davies,” Mrs. Landry introduced. “Mrs. Davies, this is the lady of the house, Mrs. Wythe. She will require a complete social wardrobe, as well as personal items. Mr. Wythe has instructed that one gown in particular is needed for the Morgans’ annual Valentine’s ball. The gown should be appropriate to the event, of course, and the cost should reveal quality, as this will be Mrs. Wythe’s first formal appearance.”

  The dark-eyed woman nodded and clapped her hands. “Girls, come quickly and meet our client, Mrs. Wythe.”

  Marty scarcely had time to acknowledge the bevy of women before they were undressing her down to her shift and corset. Mrs. Davies herself took the measurements. She chattered on with her team, making suggestions as she completed her tasks.

  “You are so lovely and have a most enviable figure, Mrs. Wythe. Your petite frame will be a delight to clothe.”

  “Thank you,” Marty said, uncertain what else she could say.
She’d never thought of her figure being anything special. She was petite, just as her sister, Hannah, but she never considered herself anywhere near as pretty. Where Hannah’s features were delicate—like a fine china doll, Marty thought of herself as more earthy and plain.

  “Now that we have your measurements,” Mrs. Davies continued, “I will show you my book of designs. I have created a great many gowns in my day, so you will be pleased to note that these sketches are quite up-to-date and will reveal the latest in fashion.”

  She didn’t give Marty a chance to reply before pulling her toward the table. “Lynette, bring Mrs. Wythe her dressing gown lest she catch her death of cold.”

  Marty slipped into the robe, grateful for the extra warmth. The fire had been lit to warm the room, but the temperature outside had dropped considerably since Marty’s arrival. She hugged the robe to her neck and took a seat as she waited for Mrs. Davies to lay out her drawings.

  “This gown in a silk taffeta would be quite appropriate for the Valentine ball.” She placed the drawing on the table in front of Marty. “Note the fur trimming the hem and the sleeves. Ermine will give added warmth, as well as a look of opulence. Accompany it with a velvet cloak, and you’ll put all the other women to shame.”

  Marty studied the gown for a moment. She’d never known anything so elegant. Life in Texas had never been this grand—at least not for her and Thomas. She’d generally avoided events that required formal garments.

  “It’s beautiful,” she finally said, seeing that Mrs. Davies was anticipating a comment.

  “The low neckline is perfect for showing off your lovely shoulders.”

  “I wouldn’t want the neckline to be too low,” Marty replied. “I’m not comfortable with that.”

  Mrs. Davies nodded. “But of course. We can trim the bodice with ermine, as well. I believe the gown is well suited for a dusty rose color. It will work perfectly with your complexion and hair.” Only then did Marty notice that a young woman stood directly to Mrs. Davies’s left, writing down most every word the woman said. “We will set out to create this gown immediately. I will return for a preliminary fitting this time next week.

  “Now, here is another gown that I think will be perfect for you,” Mrs. Davies said, turning several pages. “Note the full sleeves and high neckline. The bodice is sewn with permanent pleating.”

  Marty nodded and Mrs. Davies hurried to turn the page. “And here is a gown very similar to one created by the designer Charles Worth. Of course you have heard of him.” Marty had no time to reply as the woman continued. “You will note the cascading bustle. This gown is done in two pieces, and I believe it would show off your tiny waist to perfection.”

  “All right.” Marty then found herself studying numerous other sketches and designs. Mrs. Davies kept her so busy and focused on the order of the new wardrobe that Marty lost track of time.

  “I believe a dozen shirtwaists in varying styles will suffice for now,” Mrs. Davies stated to her assistant. “And a half dozen woolen skirts. Three heavy and three of lighter weight. We can arrange for other skirts in the months to come.” She touched her finger to the table. “Oh, we will also need to create undergarments. Please note that,” she told her assistant.

  Marty tried to protest the number of pieces, but Mrs. Davies waved her off.

  “I believe you’ll find these color swatches to your liking, Mrs. Wythe.” She picked up a board that revealed a vast number of colors. “These will be serviceable skirts that should work well for your informal times. Might I suggest the burgundy, brown, gray, black, and of course the dark navy. I would have two in the black and brown, as they will go well with many of the jackets we will make for you and would be appropriate for walking out.”

  “All right,” Marty simply replied, not feeling capable of demanding her own way. It was a strange position for her to be in, for she’d often stood up to Hannah and Will, and even Thomas to a certain degree. Folks around the ranch knew she wasn’t one to argue with, so they generally gave in to her desires—but here, that wasn’t even a consideration.

  The appointment continued with orders for nightgowns, robes, cloaks, and coats. By the time the clock chimed noon, Mrs. Davies and her merry employees were once again packing their wares and hurrying to return to their sewing house.

  “I will see you in one week for the first fitting,” Mrs. Davies declared at the threshold, and Mrs. Landry closed the door behind her while Marty sank into the nearest chair.

  “Goodness, but that was an ordeal. I can’t imagine going through that again.”

  “It won’t be quite as bad next time.” Mrs. Landry offered Marty a gentle smile. “Come now. Luncheon is ready, and you must eat before the milliner and cobbler arrive.”

  Marty had hoped that the departure of Mrs. Davies would signal her freedom for the rest of the day, but it wasn’t to be. “I suppose I must choose hats and shoes next?”

  “And gloves, stockings, and any other needed accessories. Mr. Wythe said we were to spare no expense.”

  “Yes, but I’m sure he didn’t mean for me to have so much. A dozen shirtwaists! Who needs a dozen? Goodness, but where will I even put a dozen?”

  Mrs. Landry gave a tolerant nod. “That is our duty, Mrs. Wythe, and we will arrange for everything to have a proper place. Now come along. Cook has your meal prepared. We mustn’t let it grow cold.”

  The rest of the day passed much as the first part. People were in and out of the house, measuring, marking, fussing over Marty until she wanted to scream. Finally by four in the afternoon, she was allowed to retire to her room for a rest. She fell into the bed without even caring that she was fully clothed.

  “What have I gotten myself into?”

  “Ma’am?” It was Alice. She stood by the door to the dressing room and bath. “Did you call for me?”

  Marty sat up. “No, I didn’t call. I suppose, however, if I’m to have a proper rest, I should undress.”

  Alice smiled and came to help Marty with her buttons. “You will have such a lovely wardrobe when Mrs. Davies finishes. I doubt any other woman in Denver will look half so fine.”

  “I can’t understand all the fuss. I’m not a grand lady, and while I’ve lived in a house with help, I certainly never needed servants to take charge of everything.”

  “So you are unhappy?” Alice asked and immediately apologized. “Sorry, ma’am. Mrs. Landry said a lady’s maid was not to ask personal questions.”

  Marty laughed. “Please, you needn’t worry about my taking offense. Frankly, I’d like very much for us to be friends.”

  “But that isn’t proper. Mrs. Landry made it very clear that while I am to assist you and be a companion to you if needed, I’m supposed to mostly stay in the shadows and anticipate your needs.”

  “I’m sure Mrs. Landry did state that. I’m sure it’s written up in the rules somewhere, but that isn’t how I prefer it. Frankly, trying to keep up with all the rules is giving me a headache.” Marty allowed Alice to help her from the modest gown she’d worn that day. Thinking about this dress compared to the other things that had been ordered, Marty felt rather shoddy.

  Slipping beneath the covers to ward off the chill of the room, Marty gave a sigh. “I’ve never been one for napping, but it seems this life is quite tiring.”

  “It’s the mountains, too, ma’am. If you don’t mind my saying so.”

  Marty closed her eyes. “Yes, Jake mentioned that. I should think now that I’ve been in Colorado for a few days, I should be adjusting. However, I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever adjust.”

  Jake sat across the beautifully set dining table in moody silence. Marty hadn’t yet seen this side of him. He was obviously troubled about something, and she didn’t know if it would be deemed appropriate to ask or whether she should remain silent. It seemed only natural that she would question him about his day. . . . Didn’t all wives do that? She and Thomas always had.

  After being served the soup, Marty picked up her spoon and
dared a question. “You seem tired. Did you have a difficult day?”

  “It’s not important.” Jake attacked a piece of bread. “There are problems that I have to resolve, and you don’t need to worry about it.”

  “I wasn’t worried,” she countered. “I simply noticed that you looked tired. I presumed the day had given you some problems. I’m happy to listen if you’d like to talk.”

  He looked at her for a moment, his brow knit together as his frown deepened. “No. There’s no reason to involve you.”

  “But I want to be involved.”

  Jake slammed his hand down, causing all of the dishes to rattle. “I said no!”

  Marty straightened in defense. She wasn’t used to being treated in a harsh manner. Up until now, this man she’d so quickly married had seemed quite lighthearted and easygoing.

  With a sigh, Jake put down the bread and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Marty. I had no right to act that way. You’re just showing concern for me and I shouldn’t have snapped at you. Sometimes I open my mouth just wide enough to stick my boot in.”

  She could see he was truly sorry. The expression on his face and his tone of voice made it clear that his reaction had been a surprise even to Jake. “I shouldn’t have pried. My Thomas and I used to talk out our problems over supper. I learned that from my sister and her husband. I suppose it’s an old habit.”

  “My folks did much the same,” Jake admitted. “Supper was about the only time they saw each other for any length of time. Breakfast always seemed rushed so that we could get to work, and lunch was often elsewhere on the range.”

  Marty nodded. “And while everyone was tired from a day of arduous tasks and difficult trials, supper gave us a time to sit back and review the good and bad of the choices we’d made.”

  Jake smiled for the first time that evening. “Supper was always my favorite time.” He picked up his soup spoon. “I can remember my mother having the table set in beautiful china with a fine tablecloth. Father would admonish her, saying that such things should be used for special occasions. But Mother said every time we came together as a family was a special occasion.”