In addition, she is still recovering from the loss of her husband.
In summation, she is a woman who has been through too much and has almost given up hope.
As Robert stared at his last sentence, his handwriting barely legible with poor penmanship and hopelessly cramped, he found himself smiling.
Because he’d been able to add one single word that changed everything.
That “almost” meant the difference between a chance of optimism and the knowledge that there was very little anyone was going to be able to do for Miranda Markham.
Last night, she’d realized she had much to live for.
When he’d thrown caution to the wind and enfolded her in his arms, she’d clung to him. That moment, that experience of holding her close, smelling her sweet scent, of knowing that she trusted him when she trusted so few . . . well, it had changed him.
Over the last two weeks, Robert’s goals had changed. He’d come to Galveston to honor his friend, to fulfill a promise he’d made to a dying man whom he greatly admired. Then he’d gotten to know Miranda. Little by little, he’d begun to understand Phillip’s fascination with his wife. Then, practically out of the blue, he’d felt a tenderness toward her that had nothing to do with dark promises and everything to do with the woman he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off.
He’d become smitten. No, entranced. She was a wonder. No, wonderful. He now wanted to make her happy. Not because he could ease her problems but because he, Robert Truax, was a man she had come to admire too.
He wasn’t necessarily proud of his feelings. Part of him felt like he was betraying a close friend’s trust. However, the greater part of him, the part that had survived life on the streets and a long war, was far more pragmatic. Life was meant for surviving. And sometimes, if a person was blessed, he might experience love too.
Blinking, he pushed last night’s memories from his mind and refocused on his report to Captain Monroe.
Because of the wealth of her problems, and because I did not at first tell Miranda my connection to Phillip and have for the time being lost some of her trust, I feel I must stay here even longer. The sheriff here is Jess Kern. Though I do not remember him, he tells me that he, too, was imprisoned at Johnson’s Island the same time we were. He has fostered a tenuous friendship with Miranda. I believe he sincerely wants to uncover the author of the threatening letters, and I have taken him into our confidence. Not about everything, of course, but about our mission to help Miranda. I trust him.
Taking all the above into account, I am humbly asking for assistance, Captain. I fear if I continue to navigate her problems single-handedly in light of all you and I know, there is a chance of failure.
We both know that is not an option. Please advise at your earliest opportunity.
Yours respectfully,
Robert
After marking and sealing the letter, Robert addressed it neatly, blotted the ink, and walked downstairs.
To his surprise, he didn’t come across Miranda, any of her servants, or even another guest. In fact, it was unusually quiet for eleven in the morning.
He wondered why. He knew enough about the workings of the house to have a pretty good idea of what everyone usually did at this time of day. Actually, this late-morning hour was one of the busiest. Winnie and Belle cleaned rooms and Emerson was either cleaning fireplaces, washing windows, or tending to the winter garden outside.
Miranda herself spent her time working in her parlor, answering correspondence or greeting new guests. Not that he had seen more than one other guest the entire time he had been there.
But there was no sign of anyone anywhere.
His curiosity was slowly being replaced by worry and a vague sense of trepidation. Stuffing the letter in his vest pocket, Robert headed toward the kitchen. Perhaps Cook had prepared some jam tarts or some other delicacy and they were sampling the items. Miranda had told him that happened from time to time.
Just outside the kitchen, he heard voices. He breathed a sigh of relief and congratulated himself on not jumping to conclusions and making things seem worse than they were.
Opening the door, he grinned. “Cook, what treat have you made today? And please tell me you saved me a sample,” he called out.
Then he froze.
Miranda and her four servants were standing together and staring at a pair of thin women dressed in unrelieved black. One was older and looked to be in frail health. She was sitting on one of the hard kitchen chairs, grasping the armrests as if she was using them to keep herself upright.
The other woman had dark hair and hazel eyes. High cheekbones. She looked like the feminine version of Phillip Markham.
But that was where the similarities ended. Whereas Phillip always had a smile on his face and a rather easygoing patience about him, this woman was birdlike and sharp and agitated.
She was also staring at him in the way he’d always looked at two of their Yankee guards. Those men had been sloth-like and unkempt. Unfit and undisciplined. They were men who would have done poorly in Monroe’s unit, and presumably weren’t even fit for fighting in the Union army since they’d been able-bodied and designated to serving on an island in the middle of the Great Lakes.
Because he was as different from those men as night and day, Robert raised his chin and boldly stared right back at the woman. Phillip had never told him he had living relatives, and why had Miranda not mentioned these two?
“Who are you?” the younger one asked rudely.
Before he could answer, Miranda walked to his side. “This is Robert Truax, Viola,” she said in a tremor-filled voice. “He served with Phillip.”
Viola scanned him with disdain. “What is he doing here?”
“He is staying as a guest,” Miranda said quickly. “I believe he has some business to tend to here in Galveston.”
She was attempting to shield him, Robert realized with a bit of shock. Miranda was trying to shield him from these two spiteful women.
He would have been amused if he hadn’t been so sincerely touched. He was six foot one, was well muscled, and had been blessed with a bright mind. He’d grown up unafraid to use his fists to get what he wanted.
In addition, he had been an officer in the Confederate militia. He was used to commanding scores of men. He was used to being the person doing the shielding and guarding.
On top of that, he’d made himself into a gentleman. He prided himself on his ability to shelter the weaker sex.
He accepted that and had enjoyed the feeling of worth that had given him.
He did not enjoy the sight of Miranda fretting about him.
“Yet another man ruining your reputation, I see,” the old lady muttered.
When Miranda shook her head and visibly prepared herself to respond, Robert had had enough. “To whom am I speaking?” he asked curtly, in the same tone he’d used to snap at insolent corporals during training exercises.
When the lady did not answer, only inhaled sharply, Miranda once again rushed to the rescue. “Forgive my poor manners. Robert, may I present Viola and Ruth Markham, Phillip’s sister and mother. Ladies, as I said, this is Robert Truax. He was one of Phillip’s fellow officers in the C.S.A. and one of his best friends. He was also captured and imprisoned at Johnson’s Island.”
The elder Mrs. Markham sniffed. “But you lived.”
It seemed her audacity knew no bounds. Lifting his chin, he stared at her directly. “Indeed, I did.”
Noticing that Miranda was wringing her hands, he looked at the servants. All four of them were wearing pinched, uncertain expressions.
That made no sense. He knew enough about the management of a household to realize that a mistress’s ill-behaved guest had little effect on the state of the servants. Even as close as their bond was with Miranda, there was no reason, as far as he could see, for why they were standing in the kitchen and looking so awkward and nervous.
“Why is everyone in the kitchen?”
“It is no concern of
yours, boy,” Viola said.
Before Miranda could run interference again, he spoke. “No one has dared to call me that since I was old enough to make sure they regretted it, Miss Markham. I have no intention to begin accepting it now.”
Viola flinched, but otherwise had no response.
“Viola and Mrs. Markham arrived an hour ago, sir. They came to share with me that their lawyer has discovered a way to take the house away from me.” After visibly gathering her composure, she added, “After this announcement they insisted on a tour of the home.”
“A tour? If this was your son’s, I am sure you know it well.”
“Mrs. Markham wanted to meet the staff. Her new staff.”
“We were interviewing them to see if they have any qualities that would necessitate them staying,” Viola said with a note of satisfaction in her voice.
“Is that right?” he drawled.
Miranda’s eyes flashed. “I put a stop to it.” Her voice turned to ice. “As a matter of fact, I was just attempting to tell them that this was not settled when you came in.”
“No, it does not seem settled at all,” he agreed as he noticed that both Viola and her mother looked terribly uncomfortable. And Miranda? Well, Miranda looked madder than a wet hen.
Robert was so proud of her. This was the first time, at least in his presence, when she had believed in herself enough to stand up to the naysayers. It proved that she truly had had a transformation the evening before. But again, why hadn’t she told him about these two presenting yet another threat to her well-being?
He hated that he couldn’t smile at her and tell her how proud of her he was. Instead, he did something that was probably even better, and that was to succinctly inform these two biddies that they were mistaken about the house becoming theirs. Miranda and her staff needed them off the property as soon as possible.
“Miranda was Phillip’s beloved wife,” he said.
“She was his wife,” Mrs. Markham said. “She was also his mistake.”
Miranda shook her head. “No, that is not true.”
When the old lady inhaled sharply, Robert hardened his voice. “You can say many things, ma’am, but you will never be able to deny your son’s complete and utter devotion to Miranda. He adored her. He carried her picture around on his person and gazed at it constantly. He wrote to her daily. And when he wasn’t doing those things, he was talking about her. She was his world.”
Mrs. Markham looked like she’d just swallowed a particularly sour pickle. “She might have been those things, but she has since become his liability.”
“Never that.” He made sure to interject enough force in his words to cut off any further discussion, at least there in the kitchen. “Now, I suggest we leave this room and allow Miranda’s staff to continue with their duties.”
“You are overstepping your bounds, sir,” Mrs. Markham said.
“I think not.”
Just as the lady was about to speak, Miranda cut in. “Everyone, it is time for this discussion to end. Robert, thank you for joining us, but I feel we all have better uses of our time than continuing this debate. Viola and Ruth, if you would like to stay here for the night, please let Winifred know. She will take you up to your rooms. Otherwise, I fear you have outstayed your welcome. It is time for you both to take your leave.”
Ruth got to her feet. When Robert attempted to offer her his hand, she batted it away.
“What about your staff?” Viola asked.
Turning to the four people who were still standing in a small row but now wearing far more relaxed expressions, Miranda said, “Do you need directions for your duties?”
“No, ma’am, we do not,” Winnie said with a glare at the two interlopers.
“Very well then,” Miranda replied. “Ladies, if you will follow me, please?”
Though Viola looked ready to argue, her mother walked toward the door. Robert stood to one side as Miranda led the ladies out of the kitchen, down the short gap between the kitchen and main house, and finally inside again.
When they heard the last door click shut, Robert turned to the servants. “How bad was it?”
“Not as bad as it could have been,” Belle said.
“Do they come here often?”
“They used to come once a month,” Emerson replied. “But it’s been almost six months since they stopped by. I suppose they were due to make an appearance.”
Winnie shook her head. “They’re up to something. They must feel that they have something with that lawyer.”
Belle shivered dramatically. “I am not going to be able to work for those biddies.”
“You won’t have to worry about them,” Cook said. “They’re gonna fire us right away. They’re not going to want anyone who was loyal to Mrs. Markham. Mrs. Miranda Markham, I mean.”
“I fear you are right,” Robert agreed. “However, try not to let their visit worry you too much. Something about their confidence didn’t sit well with me. I’ll look into it.”
“All I can say is that Mr. Phillip would be rolling over in his grave if he knew how his mother and sister were treating his wife. He treated her like gold, he did.”
“I wasn’t aware that you had worked here when Phillip lived here.”
“I’ve been here for years. Mr. Phillip hired me when he first inherited the mansion. Emerson too. I was here when he brought home his bride, and thank goodness his mother and sister had already moved out.”
“Besotted, he was,” Emerson said.
Winnie shook her head. “They were in love. He doted on her. And Miss Miranda? Well, she was a sweet little blushing thing. Remember, Audrey?”
Cook fanned her face. “Don’t want to shock you, Mr. Truax, but Mr. and Mrs. Markham only had eyes—and hands—for each other. Practically spent their first week of married life in their room.”
Robert laughed. “It’s going to take more than the amorous affections of a newly married couple to shock me, Winnie!” Sobering, he said, “Your description doesn’t sound much like the lady I’ve met.”
“She was hard hit by him going off to war. He came back three times, but each time he returned, he looked more weary and thin. And, I am afraid, more distant. She worried about him fiercely. Then when word came about his imprisonment and then death . . . well, she changed.”
“And his family didn’t support her?”
“No. The older Mrs. Markham had a different woman in mind for Phillip. When he ignored her wishes, she wasn’t happy. Then when he was on leave, he didn’t want to give them any time at all and they resented it,” Winnie said. “But they were still respectful to her.”
“But when the lawyer read the will, everything changed.”
“They became mean as snakes, they did,” Winnie said. “To our Mrs. Markham and to us.”
“I was afraid to be in the same room as them!” Belle said.
Robert didn’t even try to hide his smile. “I can imagine why.”
“Do you truly think you can help our mistress with them?” Winnie asked.
“Yes,” he said after a pause. He almost said he would try his best. Then he realized that such a promise was not only going to mean little, it wasn’t true. He’d come here to make Miranda Markham’s life better and he was going to do that. If he couldn’t handle these women and their lawyer by himself, he would contact as many of his fellow comrades as it took. They’d made each other a promise to see their lives through and he intended to do just that.
No one had ever claimed their journeys would be easy. On the contrary, no one had imagined it would be. Monroe had practically guaranteed that the road to recovering their lives after the war would be anything but simple or quick.
But after the things they’d been through, Robert felt he probably wouldn’t even trust something simple or quick. Experience had shown that trial and pain and patience and hard work were what guaranteed success.
That was what he understood and had faith in.
“Now, I had best see how Mrs. Ma
rkham is doing with her relatives. Winnie, if you would accompany me, please? If the women are staying, we’ll need you to see to that.”
“Yes, sir,” Winnie said as she bustled to his side. “Though, if I may be so bold, I have to tell ya that I don’t think they’ll be staying.”
“You sound certain,” he commented as he opened the back door to the kitchen and ushered the portly housekeeper through.
“I am.” With a look of distaste, she added, “They come here to make her miserable, they do. If she’s turned the tables on them, then their fun ain’t going to be the same. They’ll head back to their own home.”
Opening the door to the main house, something occurred to Robert. Before they entered the doorway, he said, “Winnie, it just occurred to me that I don’t know where they live. Are they on the island?”
She shook her head. “No, they live just on the other side of the bay. They’ll have to take the ferry across. But if they can’t take it today, they’ll stay somewhere else.”
“Such as?”
“One of the elder Mrs. Markham’s friends. I believe she has at least one or two who haven’t turned against her because of the rumors about her son.”
Now that they were in the back hallway in the main house, he lowered his voice. “Do you know these friends of hers? Do you know anything about them?”
“I know staff at a couple of their houses, but we don’t speak much to each other. Not anymore.”
“Did they not have use for you after the rumors began or did you choose not to associate with them?”
“We chose not to associate with them, of course.”
Robert shook his head. “I’m sorry. I was a soldier for years. I have no knowledge of what it is like to be a gossiping woman, or to have a staff to do that.”
“It’s like this, sir. Mr. Markham being thought of as a traitor is a terrible thing. But no one seems to know how such a rumor started. And Mrs. Markham’s disintegrating reputation is difficult to hear but not so hard to believe. But her actions weren’t what started the mean talk. And these threatening letters . . . well, they’re filled with information that shows the writer knew a lot. A whole lot.”
The Loyal Heart Page 16