Rowena's Hellion

by Velda Brotherton

  Nellie finished Rowena’s dress, a jade green paneled silk skirt, with a stylish apron drape in the front and gathered at the back, dropping softly into a short train, with no bustle, and a matching bodice with straps low on the shoulder and scooped to reveal her breasts, supported by a corset so as to all but show her nipples. Rowena’s plea to keep the dress simple and the back high to hide the scars was adhered to, and she refused to wear the hoops, preferring a softer, flowing look, more in the style of an informal tea dress.

  “I don’t wish to appear like a piece of upholstered furniture,” she told Nellie, and the girl agreed, having herself been raised as a commoner in Glasgow, where women eschewed the use of corsets, hoops, multiple petticoats, and slips.

  “We’ve pared it down to simple because women here have to be more useful than sitting around sipping tea and looking beautiful.” Nellie flushed and glanced at Rowena, standing patiently while she fitted the dress. “Begging your pardon, mum.”

  Rowena waved a hand. “It is very true. Here in America, at least on the western frontier, women are much more useful than prized for appearance only as in Victorian society. If you wish to know the truth, I think Mr. Grant’s notion of bringing the highbrow Victorian ways to this rugged place are foolish. Tyra has the right idea, going about in trousers so she can ride and work beside her man.”

  Lizza giggled. “Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to wear trousers, but I would not be caught dead laced up in one of those corsets. How could we go about our busy day when we could not breathe?”

  “Laced up in one of those corsets, you might well be caught dead, my dear,” Nellie joked and adjusted the waistline with pins, backed off and nodded. “One more look, and I can finish it by tomorrow.”

  Rowena moved to study herself in the full length mirror that hung on the wall in the sewing room. Turned this way and that to get the full effect.

  “It’s perfect. Does anyone know where Blair is?”

  Nellie glanced at Lizza, who shrugged.

  “Could you please go find him? I want him to see it. I will, after all, be serving as Lady Prescott, hostess of Fairhaven, and I want him to be proud of me.”

  Lizza left the room on the run, and in a few minutes she returned, Blair stumping along behind her. He hauled up short in the doorway, eyes popping.

  “Do you like it?” Rowena said, when he continued to stare in silence.

  “I don’t know about it, but you are absolutely stunning. The green and your hair. What is it Grady says? Wow! You will definitely do me proud.” Black eyes glowing, he approached her, leaned forward so as not to place the crutches on the flowing skirt, and kissed her on each cheek. “My hostess,” he whispered. “Perfection.”

  “Thank you.” She cupped his face briefly.

  For a long moment he didn’t move, but continued to gaze into her blue eyes, turned aqua by the green in the dress. He couldn’t stop staring, searching for the spirit that made her who she was. Soft and sweet and forgiving. Tough and stubborn and loyal. He turned away, cleared his throat noisily, and stumped out of the room.

  “That man is besotted, if you don’t mind my saying so,” Annie said.

  “I don’t mind in the least.” Rowena touched her skin where he had kissed her and smiled.

  ****

  The morning of the party Blair awoke grumpy

  “Have a bad night?” Rowena snuggled close and gave him a kiss.

  “No, not really. It’s this damned leg. I’m tired of wearing trousers with one leg split up the side, and most especially for the party. And I’m sick of hobbling around on crutches.”

  Trailing one hand under his night shirt, she kissed him again, longer, sweeter, and he forgot all about everything but her body and how she could make him feel so good he could ignore the broken leg, at least temporarily.

  Later, after pulling on black trousers with the right leg split to the knee and a woolen sweater to ward off the chill, he leaned on his crutches at the window and watched big fat flakes fill the air.

  Ridiculous idea, having a party in the middle of winter in Kansas, and now it looked as if the weather would win. Deep down he was relieved, yet loathe to admit it. He did want to leave his reclusive life, but dammit, it was not easy.

  He turned and gazed for a moment at Rowena, who sat at the table, head down, pencil in hand, fingers twisting a long lock of pale hair. He said nothing about the snow. She was so excited, had worked so hard for this party. Plus all she went through keeping him sane. So he kept his mouth shut, glared through the glass, and grumbled in silence, hoping that would chase away the snow. Abruptly, the sunlight broke through the clouds, and the flakes melted upon touching down. “I’ll be damned.”

  Jolted from her concentration, she glanced at him. “What was that, dear?”

  “Nothing, sweet one. Looks like we’re going to have beautiful weather for the party.”

  She tipped her head back, then sent him a lovely smile. He melted like the snow beyond the windowpane. Everything would be all right. For her. He must see to that.

  Thanks to the women in his household, the castle had taken on a fairy wonderland appearance, each room festooned with garlands and wreaths, ribbons and bows, and two large, gaily decorated trees.

  Hilda had helped him realize that anything even remotely out of his control bothered him. Like this damned broken leg, or crowds of people in his home, and most especially the ghosts that drifted from room to room at Fairhaven. No matter how much he walked the halls, nothing would make the leg heal more quickly. It was supposed to strengthen his muscles, and he believed in that.

  Hilda had suggested that he do some training such as he had undergone with les Zuoaves. He could not march, but could he not strengthen his upper body in the way they had taught him? Excited at that prospect, he and Grady and Simmons had set up one of the smaller rooms on the main floor where he could work out. Grady agreed to spot him in case he got in trouble, and a couple of hours each day the two of them disappeared. Rowena was excited about his having something to keep him occupied that would make him happy and healthy. Following the incident at the jail, he had lost weight, his cheeks growing gaunt, his clothing hanging loose.

  Later on the morning of the Christmas party, over breakfast with Rowena in the privacy of his study, he brought up the subject of the unwieldy crutches. “Perhaps I could get by without them, for just one evening.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t. Doctor Proctor said you could damage your leg beyond repair if you walked on it before he got it fitted with a brace. Do I have to tie you to your chair?” She gazed fondly at him across the table. “We’re supposed to take a final tour to make sure everything is in order. Come on, go with me, and maybe then you won’t be so grumpy.”

  “If you’d like, but I’m not grumpy.” He pointed his fork at a slice of toast covered with gravy, a fried egg in the center, a slab of ham on the side. “What is this?”

  “A quick Western breakfast. There’s too much to be done in the kitchen today to make you a proper English breakfast.”

  He lifted the egg slightly and peered under it.

  She laughed. “What are you looking for?”

  “Not sure, but it must be hiding something. Do these people really eat this?”

  “Oh, yes. Now eat. It’s good.” She forked up a piece of toast dripping with gravy and runny yolk.

  He went to work cutting the concoction with his knife and fork until all ingredients were thoroughly mixed. “There, that’s more like it.” He scraped some onto the back of his fork and poked it in his mouth, making a face.

  Laughing, Rowena did the same with hers. After taking a bite, she said, “You are right, that is more like it.”

  The steaming tea sent off a tempting fragrance, and he chased the food down with a long swig, set down the cup, and gazed at her. “You are a most delightful companion. No, wait, that sounded too stiff. You are a perfect wife, companion, and nurse, but I hope to release you from that last duty soon. I love you more than li
fe itself. You understand me and my quirks, for which I am most grateful. Now, what do you think of that?”

  From the look on her face the praise struck her speechless. She continued to sit there staring at him, tears on her cheeks.

  “Well, don’t cry, you know I don’t know what to do when you cry.”

  She sniffed and wiped her face with the tips of her fingers. Smiled through the tears. “I’m not quite sure what to say. All that at once is almost more than I can handle. Long before we married, you were the best friend I had, and you still are. I was so afraid you would never love me. And then you did. When I need it most, you give me something I never had.”

  Throat closing, he covered her hand, lying on the table. “And what might that be?”

  “Someone I can trust, who is always at my side when I need you. But most of all, my darling, you give me love.”

  Men weren’t supposed to cry, but tears moistened his eyes and he cleared his throat. “I believe I can say the same about you.” He drew a long breath. “Okay, my love. Enough of this feminine folderol. What time is that party again?”

  “Guests will arrive around six, we’ll eat at eight. Forty-two people sent RSVPs accepting their invitation, which means I have to squeeze two chairs in somewhere.” She frowned and pulled the chart from the table drawer.

  “Well, I can see you’re really excited about my heartfelt declaration, so let’s get on with this party.”

  “Right now, I could get you in that bed and keep you there all day, but like you said, we have to get on with this party.”

  He didn’t say anything, and she glanced up to make sure he was all right. “What is it? Blair?” She started to get up, and he smiled.

  “Oh, I was considering your offer. Sounds pretty good to me. Come on.” He held out a hand.

  “Later, dear. Later.”

  “Well, in that case, let me see the chart. Perhaps I can help you seat these two misfits somewhere. There are surely two people coming who would do best when separated. Then let’s take that tour.”

  He bent his head to look at her chart. She threaded her fingers through his hair, freshly trimmed for the party. “Do you know how much I love you?”

  “Uh-huh, I really do.” He turned his head and kissed her palm. How could he not?

  While they toured the rooms, Rowena could not help but be concerned. Not about the party but about his reaction to being in such a large crowd. That was something he didn’t handle well. Originally he’d said he would make a short appearance, then leave the party to her. Lately, though he’d been talking more like he planned to remain all evening. After only two sessions with Hilda Smythe, he appeared more calm and was having fewer nightmares. She prayed everything would go well, for his sake, but the fear remained that something untoward could happen at any time.

  The great dining room easily accommodated four tables and enough chairs for everyone. Simmons had hired five additional serving maids and three women to help Nellie, Annie, and Lizza in the kitchen with final preparations, plus that many more men to help Grady manage the carriages and buggies that would arrive throughout the evening.

  “Are you sure everyone is well versed in what they should do?” he asked, taking one last look at the huge tree at one end of the grand ballroom. The walls were hung with fresh greenery and huge bows Nellie had sewn from red, gold, and green fabric.

  “Absolutely. Simmons is in charge of the help, and who could be better than he is?”

  They strolled slowly toward the formal dining room so she could take a last look at the place cards and centerpieces. “Who will play the music for dancing? I did not think any musicians came over from England.”

  “Oh, they didn’t, but Lizza knows some men who play violins, and they have agreed to practice some dance music together. I believe they call themselves fiddlers, but she said they are very good.”

  “You haven’t heard them?”

  “Relax, darling.” She stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. “She said they can play everything from waltzes to the two-step. We are in the west now. We will adapt.”

  He gave her a questioning look. “If you say so. You are the hostess.”

  “Keep telling yourself that.”

  After they had a quick tea, he and Grady went off for his two-hour workout, to be followed by a bath, after which Simmons would see he was properly dressed.

  By four o’clock, all preparations were completed, and Rowena hurried upstairs to her room, where Annie waited to help her bathe and dress in the jade garment.

  Slipping into her stockings and unmentionables, Rowena asked, “Did you finish Blair’s trousers?” and held her arms up so Annie could drop a slip over her head.

  “Yes, mum. I put a pleat in the right leg so it would fit easily over the splint. I think he will be pleased. Simmons took his clothes to him a few minutes ago.”

  Once the corset was laced and the camisole fitted over it, Annie carefully added the two-piece dress.

  “It looks lovely,” Rowena said, patting her flat stomach and preening in front of the mirror. She turned enough to see her back, and, satisfied the neckline covered the scars, she smiled.

  “I’m so pleased we decided to leave off the hoops. I can’t imagine wearing them all evening, sweeping things off tables and chairs. It’s a wonder more than two or three women can squeeze into a room together.”

  “Well, mum, plenty of women will be wearing them tonight. You will be the most beautiful there, though. I’ll just bet you’ll set a new trend for these snooty Victorians. Welcome to the west, I say. Now sit, and I’ll fix your hair.”

  “Do we have to put it up?”

  “Well, I would guess we can do whatever you wish.”

  “Blair likes it down so well. Why don’t we pull it off my face on either side into a small knot high on the back, and let the back flow loose?” In the mirror her face flushed at the memory of him brushing her hair over her bare breasts and nuzzling through it to kiss her nipples. What a delicious sensation. They’d have to do that again.

  “That’s a grand idea.”

  “I saw it in a magazine Marguerite has at the shop. Seems to be a new style back in England. By the way, I have not seen much of her. How is she coping?”

  “Oh, she has become the boss of the whole shebang, keeping us all in line. Rushing hither and yon, pointing and shouting.” They both laughed while she pulled Rowena’s hair back in the way she had suggested.

  The hairdo finished, Annie stooped and slid gold slippers onto Rowena’s feet. “There now.” She ran her hands over the skirt, adjusted the drape across the front, made sure it was caught high at the waist in the back and flowed straight down to the floor. “Lovely. Absolutely lovely.”

  Nellie, Annie, and Lizza were to wear matching pale blue tea dresses and frilly caps over hair caught into tight buns, befitting serving help.

  Rowena stepped out into the hallway and leaned over the banister for a moment to take in the glittering beauty below. The chandelier with its crystal candle sconces glittered in reflective lights. A boy with a long taper went about the chore of lighting candles.

  When she turned at the top of the stairs and started down, Blair waited at the bottom. His breath caught in his throat. He had seen her in the dress when it was being fitted, but somehow now with all the gaiety of decorations, the lights from dozens of candles and lamps, she was devastating. Her golden hair fell around bare shoulders, one long curl enticingly bouncing near her breasts, which appeared ready to pour from the low neckline.

  At the last step, she held out her hand to him, and he took it with his left hand. He’d opted to use only the one crutch to support his right leg. A frown briefly creased her forehead. He smiled, gazed into her sparkling eyes, and kissed first one cheek, then the other, whispered, “Don’t be angry. I’ll be careful.”

  “You’d better be,” she whispered back, then surprised him by kissing him full on the mouth in front of all the help, gathered in the foyer. He was most cert
ainly the luckiest man alive.

  By seven the party was in full swing. An occasional buggy or carriage drew up and poured forth more guests, but for the most part everyone had arrived.

  Wine, mulled cider, and whiskey flowed freely, and Blair, a glass of cider in his hand, had found a quiet niche where he could observe without being jostled about. Rowena glided from one couple to another, chatting a few moments, then moving on. Couples drifted into the ballroom to dance to the violin music, which was proving quite popular. It reminded Blair of his promise to dance with Rowena, and he made a vow to keep that promise as soon as possible.

  George Grant arrived fashionably late, spotted Blair, and joined him with two glasses of whiskey. Blair accepted graciously, then set the glass down on the table between them. He had not had a drink since stumbling under the dray in the middle of the street in Victoria. If Grant noticed he didn’t drink, he said nothing.

  “Fine party, old man,” Grant said. He was dressed fashionably in black silk trousers, shiny black shoes, and a colorful brocade vest over a stiff white shirt, buttoned high on his thick neck. His lustrous white hair and handsome beard and moustache were neatly trimmed. After every sip of whiskey, he ran his forefinger along his top lip. “Good to see everyone having such a grand time. A fine idea you had. By the way, how is the leg coming along? I was sorry to hear about your accident, and was happy I could be of help with that unfortunate incident in Hays.”

  Unfortunate incident, my ass. Blair grinned. “I thank you for what you did. It helped clear everything up quickly.”

  “I say, did you hear about Sheriff Calumet?”

  “I hope someone shot the son of a bitch.”

  Grant shot him a glance. “I would be careful who you let hear you say that, son. Someone did indeed shoot the son of a bitch. No one knows who. He rode into town, a bandana over his nose, went into his office, and shot him right between the eyes, then rode away. No one seems to know who the culprit was, but a lot of people had good reason to do so.”