“And that you and your parents had traveled to Europe with plans to be there throughout your mourning period.” Cal slid his hand from my shoulder and stood, leaving me upon the settee. He strolled to the fireplace and rested an elbow against the mantle, as if he’d had the sudden idea that putting some distance between us was the best idea in the world. “But by then my father had passed away, and so much about my life had changed.”
“So you weren’t waiting for my return from Europe?” I asked, hoping to get so many more answers than the one to the question I’d voiced.
“I didn’t have much hope, living in South Boston as we were, and working for Rochester... essentially hiding in obscurity because…because of the case. I wasn’t quite in the position to court an heiress.”
“What do you mean?” I stood, joining him before the fireplace. “Here you are, doing just that. What changed your thinking?”
“Through some act of Providence, my one and only respectable cousin in the world, whom I’d never met, came to marry into the very same affluent family you had. And then there you were in the bookshop.”
Cal still had his elbow resting upon the mantle, but he allowed me to come close, to stand directly before him, close enough to touch. But he didn’t move. Only watched me, studied me as I stood so very close.
“I hadn’t heard you were back, for I truly hadn’t kept up with the Everstones all that much beyond Vance and Violet. And after not seeing you for so many formative years, it took me a moment to realize it was you. You were even more beautiful, and so flustered by me.” He glanced down, smiling sheepishly. “I certainly wasn’t expecting that.”
“You could tell, could you?” I laughed, a deep throaty sound I hardly recognized. When had been the last time I’d felt such joy that laughter literally spilled from me? I couldn’t remember.
“I hadn’t planned on pursuing you yet. But then I kept seeing you, without even trying. And then you arrived home to Faircourt the very day I’d given up trying to resist—mere minutes after I’d made my request to court you for a second time.”
“You did? Was that your true purpose for that visit? But you said my father offered you your old job that day.”
“The job was the reason I was there, initially, and by his invitation. But I found I simply couldn’t leave his presence before knowing his stance. Although he’d been encouraging enough, I needed to know, for certain, if he would still welcome my pursuit of you.”
“And what did he say exactly?”
“He said he’d long been praying for the day I would ask again.”
Laughter floated down the hall to us as we heard the gentlemen leave the dining room on their way to the music room. Which meant we didn’t have much time left to continue our private conversation.
“So what does all this mean? Is it still probable that I won’t see you for a number of weeks?”
“Beyond my efforts to be here, probably not for a few weeks. I try to keep a low profile, but you’re making it a bit more difficult than usual.” He leaned over me perfectly, so I stretched my arms over his shoulders, curling one around his neck, while the other roamed from his jacket to his white collar and on up to his neck. The feel of his jaw at my fingertips sent shivers through me, and my breath hitched in my chest.
“Being here tonight isn’t quite keeping my cover, but Vance let me sneak in using the servants’ entrance, which is why I was late.” He brought a hand to my jaw, mimicking me, and just as it seemed as if he were going to kiss me again, he merely kissed my nose and said, “We should probably join the others.”
I took my arms from around him, brought my hands to my sides, and stepped closer to the same glass cabinet I’d been studying earlier. I was therefore a good distance from Cal when Vance walked into the receiving room.
“I thought you’d be around here somewhere, together.” He quipped a smile at me as he crossed the room. But was he talking to me or Cal? Showing Cal an envelope, he said, “This was brought by messenger to the back door. I suppose it’s something urgent.”
He walked past me and handed Cal the message.
From behind me, I heard Cal open the envelope and huff out his breath.
And I knew just what the urgent message likely pertained to.
Ezra Hawthorne.
I still didn’t especially like it, but as he’d told me, it would be for only a few more weeks. And then he’d never need to be so closely involved with such dangerous people again.
He was only keeping up the act of befriending an estranged cousin, after all. And for only a short time now.
After pocketing the missive, Cal turned to me with the slightest smile, as if whatever had been written in the message had changed his attitude considerably. He offered me his arm, and I took it and walked out of the room with him, following Vance.
“I’ll escort you to the rest of the party, but I need to go.” His voice was different now, so serious.
“All right,” I said, quite surprised by the peace I found in letting him go, and to heaven only knew what kind of situation. “I’ll pray for you.”
“That means the world to me, thank you.” Cal took my hand and gave it a short squeeze before letting go. “This situation needs so many prayers.”
As I walked into the music room alone while Vance showed Cal to the back door, I began praying then and there. It wasn’t the first time I’d prayed for him and his obligation to see his cousin captured; however, now it all felt so much closer.
If something happened to Cal now, I didn’t know how my heart would take it.
14
The Charity Ball
“The emerging woman...will be strong-minded,
strong-hearted, strong-souled, and strong-bodied...
strength and beauty must go together.”
—Louisa May Alcott, An Old-Fashioned Girl
Saturday, August 19, 1893 • Cravenfeld
Commonwealth Avenue • Back Bay, Boston, Massachusetts
About a week later, my parents and I arrived early at Dr. and Mrs. Cravens’ mansion for the Charity Ball, as it was our task to direct the setup of the gallery in which the silent auction items would be showcased. There were so many great items we’d procured from the socialites of Boston’s high society, many of them long-time friends of my parents.
They consisted of fine paintings, furniture, rare bottles of wine, a set of Louis Vuitton luggage, a box of Cuban cigars, fine jewelry, Champion Bloodline horses, a year of flower deliveries, as well as many vacation stays at resorts like Bailey Hill and Everston, donated by Bram Everstone.
Before long, my part overseeing the setup of the valuable items to be silently bid upon was complete. The gallery looked fabulous, and I could already tell about how much each item would likely gain for the charity, after taking part in such things for so long.
I didn’t know why I’d ever thought Cal would come to something like the Charity Ball, back when I’d asked if he would be coming. I thought of our discussion about the ball, when he’d told me everything about why he did what he did for the police case. He hadn’t sounded very impressed by the fact that so many of the wealthiest families in Boston merely opened their pocketbook every so often in their noble quest to help the poor, needy, and hungry children of their city, when there was so much else that needed to be done.
But soon, those much-needed donations made through the silent auction would be added up, and no matter that it was a completely different way of helping than what Cal did, it was helping. Although what Cal did for the sake of helping young girls being preyed upon by lecherous men like Ezra Hawthorne was much more dangerous, and heroic, this was also something meaningful in its own right. After the benefit, we would be able to give the Children’s Aid Society thousands of dollars, money that would keep the many orphanages in town open and running and the children fed and clothed.
Until they graduated, at least.
But we would be changing that soon.
We would have our meeting with Dr. Wellesley, and
we would make a difference in the lives of those girls who needed our help so desperately.
As I wandered around the quickly filling ballroom, I found myself wishing Cal were there. I hadn’t seen him or heard from him since he’d left the dinner party at Everthorne much too early, and after all that kissing, beyond a secret note sent to me through Violet. He’d written me simply to tell me that the case was indeed in the process of being finished. I wasn’t certain what that meant, but it made me hopeful that Cal would be able to come around more now that he wouldn’t have to devote so much of his spare time to his cousin.
I still didn’t like thinking about the kinds of dangerous people he’d had to deal with because of his cousin’s wicked schemes or imagining what kind of situation it had been that Officer Underwood had needed to send for him so late in the evening. Whenever I found myself wondering too much, I turned it over to prayer. Because it was the only thing I could do.
Well, besides being at the Charity Ball, doing my part.
Which was so little.
With nothing left to do concerning the silent auction, I made my way to the entrance of the ballroom, where many of the invited elite had already congregated. Boston’s finest would be in attendance that night, and it would also be my first large social event since William’s death. Which meant that it had been over two years since I’d danced. I didn’t plan to do any dancing that evening since Cal wouldn’t be there. I hated the thought of dancing with any of the gentlemen I knew had their eye out for me since my mourning period had ended.
Declining a dance card, I instead took one of the pamphlets with the descriptions of the items being auctioned off, merely to have something to hold as I walked around.
Soon, Bram and Evangeline Everstone walked into the room, followed by both Sylvie and Miss Claudine Abernathy. I made my way to them, since they were the closest friends I had anymore.
Sylvie came up to me but then hurried me away from the rest of our group.
“Oh, I have the most delightful lesson for you tonight.”
“It’s all right, Sylvie. I don’t think I’m in need of any more lessons since the last—”
“Let me finish, s’il vous plaît. I do believe you may need this lesson most of all.”
“If you think so.”
“My last lesson is this: forgive the unexpected. And love him anyway.”
This seemed a very odd lesson, and I didn’t quite know how to respond. And before I could, the Charity Ball committee chairman stood on stage in front of the orchestra. Before he even said a word, Sylvie flitted off toward a group of young ladies more her age.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen,” the chairman’s voice thundered over the crowd. “I have the honor of announcing some of the first special gift donations to come in for the benefit of the Children’s Aid Society. The first of which is a hefty five thousand dollars, given by Mr. Chauncey Hawthorne III, in living honor of his mother, Mrs. Charlotte Hawthorne.”
The crowd gasped—and I could imagine why! When had this gentleman decided to return to Boston? And before the rumors surrounding his family had completely died down? Before the legalities of purchasing Hilldreth Manor were finalized?
But then another concern came to mind—the thought of my own name and donation being announced soon, for it seemed so very egocentric. Why did we announce who and how much? Was it not enough that we were there with the goal of giving as much as we felt was needed?
I’d never actually donated to the cause before, until now. I’d always been under the wing of my parents, and then far removed from everything while we were in Europe. Now that I was home, and I had my own fortune, and my own place in society as William Everstone’s wealthy widow, I’d be able to do my part. I could do more than just witness the fundraising event I’d grown up hearing all about, and eventually participating in, my entire life.
I would have preferred to have merely won one of the auctions, rather than make a special gift, but because we’d had a part overseeing the silent auction, my parents and I were not allowed to bid on any of the items.
Just as I excused myself from my parents’ crowd of friends—in order to ask that my donation not be made public—Miss Claudine Abernathy walked up to me, using her cane freely.
“Did you just hear that the elusive Mr. Chauncey Hawthorne III has dared come to our Charity Ball?” she stated, her white brows bunched forward and her lips pursed. “He couldn’t have been invited! Even for all his Great Uncle Perceval’s money and his family’s tidied-up reputation. He shouldn’t have come.”
“Perhaps he simply wanted to donate to a good cause,” I answered what I thought was a nonsensical, silly way to look at the gentleman’s willingness to face the crowds of, in my opinion, too-judgmental socialites, in order to give funds to the Children’s Society. “We can’t very well condemn him whilst he’s being so very… good.”
Personally, I thought all the prejudice against that particular Hawthorne family was a bit unfounded. Everything I’d heard about Mr. Chauncey Hawthorne II and what he’d done to his rightful heirs and widow upon his death broke my heart for the family, whoever they were.
My only real concern with Mr. Chauncey Hawthorne III now was that he had bought Hilldreth Manor, and that I, therefore, could not.
“Oh certainly, he has the money now, Nicholette. But the thought!”
“Who exactly is this Mr. Chauncey Hawthorne III fellow everyone’s been constantly speculating about anyway?” I asked, hoping Miss Abernathy might be willing to share as she usually did.
“Well, the first Chauncey Hawthorne, at least, was a respectable fellow. He was particularly responsible for bringing the railroad through Westborough and much of Massachusetts during the twenties. However, the family has not been in good standing for the last few years,” she stated. “Chauncey III was in Boston for some years before the scandal, as he’d graduated from Harvard, and had married.”
“Yes, I’d heard he lived somewhere in Back Bay at the time,” I contributed.
“No... now that I think about it, I believe they resided somewhere along Beacon Street.”
“Oh, really?” Quite suddenly, I thought back to how Cal had told me he’d lived on Beacon Street while he’d been married to Alice. But I shook the thought away. A great many gentlemen graduated from Harvard, got married, and moved to Beacon Hill and Back Bay. They were the fashionable neighborhoods to live in, after all.
Miss Abernathy wrapped her free hand about my arm and guided me through the crowd, whispering. “You’ve heard of the scandal concerning his father, of course. After that, the son took the family and virtually disappeared for years. The family as a whole was very affluent, at least, before the scandal.”
“Are they really so disgraceful? I’ve heard the rumors, but how could they be blamed for what the father did to cause such unfortunate events?”
“It is the way things are, dear. I cannot believe he’s here now, taking part in our society, completely disregarding what everyone knows about his shameful father.” Miss Abernathy led me near the refreshment tables, where she let go of me and took up a glass of champagne. “The family will be judged ruthlessly, shamed by having such a despicably wicked patriarch.” She took a sip.
“What about the great uncle’s will…has that done nothing for them? I’d heard that he—”
“Money isn’t everything, Nicholette, especially these days.”
“Do his efforts to rectify the family’s name mean nothing, then?”
“It means that those Hawthornes can quite easily afford Hilldreth Manor now, and that’s all it means.” She finished her glass of champagne and moved on down the table to pick up a dessert pastry. “Yes, yes, it was a noble quest, but I’m afraid it will take more than money to restore the dignity of the name Chauncey Hawthorne. It will take the acceptance from more than one of Boston’s most influential families.”
I directed my attention to the dessert options upon the table, a little afraid of what she would have to
say to my next comment. “You mean, our families?”
Miss Abernathy turned to me, stared at me until I was forced to look at her. “Nicholette, though I do realize it might seem like a thrilling prospect in an effort to bring about a little more excitement to your life, I will not have you befriending Chauncey Hawthorne III, or his sister—”
“Chauncey Hawthorne has a sister?” I asked, caught off guard. No one had exactly mentioned a sister before, only that there were legitimate children bearing their father’s shame.
“Yes, though her name is still escaping me. Though, after hearing his mother’s name mentioned with his donation, it’s started to jog my memory. But you see, don’t you, Nicholette, how they ran away, rather than stay and stand up for themselves? They must have been somewhat to blame for what happened, or why would they disappear?”
“Why criticize them for disappearing?” I asked.
I for one couldn’t, for I’d done the very same thing, after all.
After William’s murder, which it seemed everyone had known all about because of the newspapers, I had run away, too. Yes, it had been under the guise of my parents’ wanting to take me, but it had been done because I’d begged them, crying, desperate to never see anyone I’d known ever again. I’d just wanted to be done with everything.
“Oh, it was... oh, that’s right—Maybelle Hawthorne.”
Maybelle? Didn’t Miss Abernathy think it conspicuous that the name was so similar to Cal’s sister, Mabel Hawthorne? And hadn’t Cal referred to Mabel as “May” almost every time I’d heard him mention her?
Oh no.
But Cal couldn’t be Chauncey Hawthorne III. Wouldn’t too many of my acquaintances have known? Vance and Violet? Wouldn’t Mabel have accidentally said something? She usually said practically everything that came to her mind. But then I thought back to her mention of Cal’s valet and how she’d uttered something about making a mistake in saying anything about it.
I looked through the crowd to where my parents stood together, laughing, sharing their refreshments as their closest friends stood around. My mother obviously had never known a thing, for I recalled her naïveté in mentioning both gentlemen during the discussion I’d overheard at Everwood.
Enchanting Nicholette Page 14