Time After Time

by Elizabeth Boyce

  “No, next year, it’s Jasmine and Heather’s turn. I have no wish to go through this agony again. I’ll just pray I get through the remainder of July and August without too many social obligations. Then, I’ll rejoin Papa at the bank, and be content.”

  “Oh, Ginger. If you only knew what I now know about men, you’d think differently. Nothing can compare to making love to the man of your dreams. To feel him deep inside of you, and pounding his body up against yours.” She sighed dramatically once again. “I get damp just thinking about Cedric!” Elizabeth giggled softly and gave Ginger another wicked look.

  “I’m happy for you, Elizabeth, truly I am. But it’s not meant to be the life for me. My work at the bank, and with Amelia Bloomer, will suffice. Will you need my help in managing your getaway with Cedric tomorrow?”

  “As a matter of fact, I will. It’s why I came up here.”

  Laughing delightedly, as they had done since they were children, they began to plan Elizabeth’s escape into marriage and scandal. Ginger put her thoughts about Joseph away for the time being, and launched wholeheartedly into creating a magical memory for her friend.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Following a light supper in her room, Ginger helped Elizabeth plan the details of the elopement. Then, before retiring for the night, she decided to find her father. As she expected, he was in the yard, walking on the once finely manicured lawn, which was now in serious need of repair after all the horses’ hooves had chewed the ground. She joined him and locked her arm in his.

  “I do miss having a yard to tend,” he said, with a trace of longing in his voice.

  “Well, this one looks like it could use your touch,” Ginger said, ruefully. “I do so enjoy spending time at Grandmother’s home in the country, where you grew up. She has the most beautiful rose gardens. But I also love being in New York City, with its hustle and bustle. Did you and Mother get to look at houses this weekend? Perhaps if you find a home here in the Hamptons, you can have your own gardens to tend.”

  “We saw a few the day after we got here, but nothing we liked. We’ll come out again for a weekend before summer ends.” He patted his daughter’s hand. “But tell me how you are feeling. You look a lot better than when you first came in with Basil. Are you recovered?”

  As she gazed at her father, tears filled her eyes again. He moved his arm to her shoulder, and embraced her.

  “I know it was a frightful experience for you, and I was worried sick — as were we all — praying nothing was seriously wrong. Do you wish to talk about your experience? I’ve found talking about things often helps.”

  “Oh, Papa,” she choked out. “Although I feel badly for all of you who worried about me, it was the most wonderful experience of my life. Right up until Basil ruined everything.”

  “What are you talking about? Basil didn’t ruin everything. He found you.”

  “No, he didn’t. Joseph found me. He took me to a small hunter’s cabin in the woods, stripped off my wet clothing, and built a fire to warm me. I was unconscious, so I had no idea what was going on.”

  “Did Joseph compromise you?”

  Ginger shook her head, as her tears fell. “I only wish it were so, but no, Papa, he was a gentleman. What more would you expect? He’s the most wonderful man I’ve ever encountered.”

  “Spending time alone with Joseph while you were unconscious is the most wonderful experience of your lifetime? Forgive me, dear. I know you’ve led a fairly sheltered life, but I’m not following.”

  She laughed, a little. “Well, I did wake up eventually. Just before Basil kicked in the door, Joseph told me he loved me.”

  “And then, what happened?”

  Ginger sighed heavily, and brushed the tears from her face. “And then Basil appeared, accused Joseph of taking advantage of me — which, to my disappointment, he did not — and told me of Joseph’s Indian blood.”

  “Did Basil then send Joseph away?”

  “Yes, and I concurred, since I never want to do anything to compromise your position at the bank. I can’t believe everyone in the family but me knew Joseph is part Indian.” She stomped her foot in her frustration. “It doesn’t change my feelings for him, though.”

  “What exactly are you saying?”

  “I’m saying the only reason I did not tell Joseph I loved him as well was because we were interrupted during what should have been the most cherished moment of my life. But I do love him, Papa, and if you will let me, I want to go to St. Louis right away and find him.”

  It was George’s turn to sigh heavily. He took his willful daughter’s hand. “You know I love you, and, as your mother says, I have been most indulgent with you, allowing you to work with me at the bank. But this is one time when my word must be upheld. You cannot have Joseph. He was never meant to come here. You were never meant to meet him. Basil did a very immature and selfish thing by bringing him into our midst, and forcing us all season to perpetuate a lie about his heritage. But the lie stops now, as does any involvement with Joseph and his family.”

  Ginger’s tears started anew at her father’s pronouncement. “So what am I to do with my life, if I can’t be with Joseph?”

  “You are to find a nice young man here in New York and settle down with him, into a life of privilege, not one of hardship. I don’t think you realize how difficult life with Joseph would be. He lives on a ranch at the edge of the frontier. He catches and breaks horses for his living, dodging the Osage Indians who are after his scalp, because he is aiding the settlers who are invading the Indian lands. His mother probably delivered her babies without the assistance of a doctor, or even another woman in attendance. Her life is one of hardship, dressing and salting meat for winter, constantly worrying if there will be enough food stored away to get through a harsh Missouri winter. There are no butcher shops near their ranch — they themselves must trap and slaughter animals for food. And that’s just the practical side of things. You would face constant criticism and would be ostracized by a large portion of society for marrying an Indian. Have you considered any of this?”

  He studied his daughter to see if his words were making an impression. All he noticed was the same look of determination she got on her face when she spoke of women’s rights or her desire to join him and Halwyn at the Stock Exchange. In frustration, he finished his argument.

  “I know Joseph is a strong, capable man, and you think he could shield you from any harm. Surely, he wouldn’t let you starve. I can read your mind, Ginger, and I know, right now, you’re plotting ways to join him. But, I’m telling you, the Fitzpatricks will not tolerate an Indian in the family. It was bad enough we allowed Basil to bring Joseph into our midst for as long as he did, but we were more or less forced into creating the charade after the Cotillion. Please, don’t make things worse by thinking he’s the only man for you. You will break your mother’s heart, as well as mine.”

  “But he is, Papa. If I can’t have Joseph, I’ll have no one.”

  “I don’t wish a solitary life on you, Ginger. But on this point, I remain firm. He will never be welcome in our home again. And, if you should do something as foolish as run to his side, you will no longer be welcome in our home, either. Can’t you see how this would hurt our bank’s reputation, if it were to become common knowledge we are doing business with the Indians? Not to mention our standing in the community, if word ever got out we entertained one and passed him off as a Frenchman, only to make fools of New York’s best families? No, it’s best to leave Joseph to his own kind, and you to yours.”

  George gazed at his precious daughter. “I’ll tell you what I will do for you. If you stay in New York City and forget your foolish notions of running off to be with Joseph, I’ll make you an officer in the bank. You so admire Elizabeth Blackwell, whom you met last spring, because she’s the first female doctor in the United States. You will be able to advance wome
n’s rights in your own way by becoming the first female bank officer in the country. How would you like that?”

  Ginger sighed. “Three months ago, if you had made me that offer, I would have jumped up and down in joy, Papa. Now, I don’t know. I need to think about it.”

  “That’s all I ask, Ginger. I only want your happiness, you have to know that.”

  George took his daughter’s arm again, and they completed their stroll around the grounds in silence, wrapped up in their own thoughts.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  A few days later, all talk of Ginger’s miraculous return to their midst and Joseph’s sudden departure disappeared amidst the talk of Elizabeth and Cedric’s elopement. Charlotte consoled Elizabeth’s mother as best she could, while breathing a sigh of relief that her own subterfuge this season was now taking a back seat to Elizabeth’s scandalous behavior. Ginger had been extremely quiet upon their return from the country, but Charlotte thought they could claim her attitude was a result of her brush with death, and of the loss of her best friend to a shocking marriage, should anyone ask.

  Charlotte was worried about Ginger, though. She had thought her spirited daughter would change her life-long rebellious behavior when she finally entered society and settled into adult life, with a husband and children. But Ginger now had no interest in entertaining suitors, and she was going to let this season slip away before she could find a suitable mate. Ginger’s eyes had lost their luster, and she was merely going through the motions of daily life. She stayed in her room and read books. More than once, Charlotte had entered her daughter’s room to find her in tears. Charlotte’s heart ached for her child, and she tried to find a way to give Ginger back her love for life.

  “Why don’t you and Basil go for a ride in the park? The exercise will be good for you, and we just got your new riding outfit from the dressmaker.”

  “I have no wish to spend time with Basil, Mother.”

  “But he’s leaving soon to go back to St. Louis, and I will not abide the two of you still quarreling with each other when it comes time for him to leave. You need to make amends.”

  Ginger glanced at her mother briefly, then dropped her eyes. “We are not quarreling, Mother. It’s not quite so simple. Because of him, I have had my heart broken. How can I forgive something so momentous?”

  “You know your brother feels terrible for what he’s done.”

  “But it doesn’t change anything, does it? He put Papa’s bank in a perilous position, and he played all of society for a fool. And you and Papa went along with it! Because of him my life has been destroyed, and all he can do is laugh at how he got away with it. Basil has a lot of growing up to do, and until he does, I have nothing to say to him.”

  Charlotte sighed. “I know you and your brother will eventually reconcile. Maybe it is still too early. But I think a ride in the park will do you both good. You need to get out of this house and get some color back into your cheeks. And you do need to be seen in public again. Would you consent to a ride if I agree you don’t have to talk to him?”

  Ginger heaved a heavy sigh. “I know you won’t give me any peace until I do, so all right, Mother. I’ll change into my riding habit.”

  • • •

  Ginger rode a bit behind Basil on the gravel-covered walkway through the park, in order to avoid conversation. Basil seemed to accept her reticence, and rolled his shoulders as his horse trotted sprightly down the long path. Only a few other riders were out on this muggy afternoon. Most of society was cloistered in drawing rooms and parlors at this hour, huddling over their teacups as they discussed the latest tidbits of news and gossip.

  A lone horse and rider approached from the opposite direction, and hailed the pair as he came close to them. Quentin Gray doffed his hat after pulling his horse to a stop.

  “Miss Fitzpatrick, Basil. It’s so good to see you out and about again. I thought I was the only one riding today. The park looks deserted.”

  “Well, it has been awfully hot, even by July’s standards,” Basil replied.

  “Will you be heading back to the frontier soon?”

  “Yes, in a week or so, I’ll board the train and go back. I know I left the bank in good hands when I came here, but I do need to return to the business world. I have a few more things to take care of here, though.”

  “Such as the memorial service?”

  Basil frowned at Quentin. “What memorial service? For whom?”

  Quentin’s Adam’s apple bobbed before he continued. “Why Mademoiselle Rachel, of course. You haven’t heard?”

  “No, man, I have not.” Basil appeared as if he were about to throttle Quentin. “Tell me what has happened.”

  “Evidently, she caught pneumonia a week or so ago, and perished shortly after our return from the Hamptons. I thought you knew, because you and she were frequently in each other’s company.”

  “I haven’t been able to see her since I got back to town. I called on her once, and was turned away. Her maid told me she was too sick to see anyone. Oh God, poor Rachel.”

  “They are taking her body back to France for the burial, but the Opera House will hold a memorial service for her tomorrow evening. I’m certain all her suitors will be in attendance.” Quentin had a smirk on his face as he glanced slyly at Basil.

  “I’ll not have you speak ill of her, Quentin.”

  “I’m sorry, Basil, but I’m merely stating a truth all of New York knows. You were not her only suitor, despite what you’ve been led to believe. She was entertaining three or four men at the same time, and each thought he was her one true love, according to what I hear.” Quentin sighed. “She must have been some woman, to garner all that attention.”

  Basil’s voice was gravelly. “She was definitely one of a kind.”

  The three of them rode in silence for a few minutes. When Basil said no more, and Ginger remained quiet as well, Quentin cleared his throat.

  “I, uh, just remembered, I’ve been invited to tea at Jane Livingstone’s, so I’ll be off.” He tipped his hat to Ginger, and sped away, relieved to put the awkward situation behind him.

  Ginger watched Basil as he rode ahead of her. His body was bowed, like an old man’s, and he stared at the ground instead of the beautiful scenery. She ached for her brother, even though she was still angry with him.

  She decided to call a truce. “Basil?”

  Basil turned in his saddle, and glanced at her, sadly. “I truly did love her, you know. I don’t even care if she had other men. I have never met anyone quite like her before, nor will I ever again.” His eyes gleamed with unspent tears as his anguish took hold.

  “But surely you knew your relationship with her was fleeting? She would have gone on to the next town soon, or back to France to perform, and left you behind. Even if she hadn’t, is it not true she would never fit into society, especially the portion of society you belong to, just as Joseph would never fit?”

  “You’re throwing my own words back in my face? Can’t you see I’m in pain?”

  “Your pain is no greater than the pain I’ve been in these past weeks, not having my love by my side. Now you know how I feel. You see why I have had such a difficult time forgiving you.”

  Basil nodded. “Yes, now I understand. I have been a self-centered ass most of the summer. Will you come with me to the memorial tomorrow evening?”

  Ginger smiled gently at him, and held out her gloved hand. “I’d be honored.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  New York, August 1855

  Ginger sighed when she turned the page in her calendar over from July to August, and observed the notation she had made there months before. In the August 31st square she had written, “Leave for St. Louis!!!” Although she and Basil had reached a tentative truce before he returned to the frontier, she had no desire to see either him or St. Louis no
w. Her lonely life stretched out before her like railroad tracks. Blinking rapidly to quell the tears that suddenly sprang into her eyes, she put the calendar aside.

  At least, the season was whimpering to a close. It seemed, after people returned from the holidays in the Hamptons, they were reluctant to continue the revelry for yet another month. The climate played a large part in their hesitation, as New Yorkers suffered through an unbearable August heat wave. Folks were not so eager to layer on undergarments and heavy clothing to stroll in the park. They usually ended their exercise with sweat pouring down their faces and rushed home to get away from the relentless sun. There were only a few musicals to attend, and several theater performances in the evenings, after the day had cooled off somewhat.

  Ginger agreed to accompany Quentin to Buckley’s Opera House to see a burlesque of Don Juan. Burlesque had been introduced to New Yorkers the previous year by the Buckley troupe, but because it bordered on the outrageous Ginger had yet to see it. Her spirits lifted at the thought of doing something different. Charlotte and George were to accompany the young couple, as would Quentin’s parents.

  “I’m glad to see some color in your cheeks again.” Charlotte patted Ginger’s face and looked her over to make certain all parts of her elaborate dress were secure.

  The dress was a pale cream crepe, the exact color of Ginger’s skin. Around the off-the-shoulder neckline a band of black lace dripped over her arms. Three wider flounces of similar black lace graced the skirt. Five layers of petticoats, each a bit shorter than the other, finished off the bottom. Each petticoat was edged in a violet band of velvet, and a wide band of violet velvet was cinched around her small waist.

  “You are lovely, my dear. Quentin is a most lucky man.”

  “Quentin is a buffoon, Mother. You know as well as I do he is totally lacking in poise and refinement. But his father is a wonderful man, and I agreed to this evening so he and I can talk about the railroads.”