by Iris Kelly
Beatrice nodded. She couldn’t fault him for his honesty. And it was never her intention to jeopardize his future.
“My gratitude is undiminished. You’re helping to change her life completely, and it couldn’t be done without you. Do you really think that some man might marry her one day? That he wouldn’t mind and that he would be able to love her?”
“I do. I have seen it. I think it quite possible that a man might consider the liability of her past and decide that he can make peace with it. She must tell him though. If she hid it from him, and he discovered after marriage that he had been lied to—no one could get past that sort of betrayal.”
Beatrice nodded unhappily. Avery continued, “Now, keep her calm. I’m headed to the train station right now, and I will send word back of the departure time.”
He left Beatrice in an anxious state. It was now quite clear how Avery would feel about her colossal deception.
*****
Beatrice spent the better part of the early evening with Harriet after a message arrived from Avery that the train would leave at nine-thirty in the morning.
“I want so much to thank you—both of you. I wish I had somethin’ I could give you. I guess that man is gonna take such good care of you after you get married, you won’t want for much of anythin’.”
“He is . . . if I could be happy with any man, it would be Mr. Martin. I’m not completely sure that I can make him happy.”
“I know! It ain’t much, but I can tell you what I know about keepin’ a marriage happy.”
Beatrice was a bit confused. Harriet had never been married.
“You learn a few important tricks, and he ain’t ever gonna have to visit the houses.”
“Harriet! I don’t want to know any tricks. I will learn about such things when the right time comes—after marriage—like other wives.”
“Other wives who have to watch their men go out all nights of the week and pay for someone who knows how to make them happy? Those wives?”
Beatrice didn’t have a good rebuttal. “All right. Maybe just one trick.”
Harriet was truly eager to be of whatever benefit she could to a couple who had done so much for her. She proceeded to impart what she considered to be the rock bottom essentials of making a man happy. Beatrice was by turns enthralled and appalled.
“Harriet. You have given me much too much to think about.”
“I think you’ll come to see it was a mighty useful wedding present.”
“And on that note, I’m going to leave you to get some rest. I’ll see you off at the train station. I know Mr. Martin is not expecting me, but I must say goodbye to you both.”
With that arranged, Beatrice made the long walk back to her hotel, happy to be covered by the cloak of dusk. She did not want to encounter Zachary Scott, who must be scouring the city by now, looking for Harriet.
*****
There was a loud flurry of activity on the train platform. Beatrice spotted Avery before he spotted her. He was anxiously pacing back and forth, peering through the crowd, looking for Harriet and Ajax.
“Mr. Martin.”
“Miss Kirby. You weren’t supposed to come here.”
“But you will be gone for so long. I had to say a proper goodbye.”
“I am sorry to be away for so long.”
“I’ll miss you.”
“Will you? Will you really?”
“Well, only if you promise to miss me.”
“A rational man like myself is loathe to admit how miserable your absence will leave me. But you’re welcome to imagine the worst.”
They found sweet comfort in their impending and mutual misery. Out of the corner of her eye, Beatrice spotted a small group approaching. It was Harriet and Ajax, yes. But there was also another very young woman, carrying a small travel bag.
“Don’t be mad,” Harriet said. “I had to get a message over to Tilly to join me. And she snuck out while he was asleep. She ain’t but sixteen. I couldn’t leave her there.”
There was no time to debate the matter. And in the end, none of them would have had the heart to suggest the desperate child stay. Avery quickly secured another train ticket, and a hastily conceived plan for Harriet and Tilly to travel as sisters was hatched.
“We don’t look much alike. Maybe we should be cousins,” Tilly suggested.
“Excellent thought. We shall work out the details en route. Now, we should really get on board,” Avery urged.
“Thank you, Beatrice, for everything you and Mr. Martin have done,” Harriet said.
“Yes, thank you both so much,” Tilly echoed.
“I can understand you are feeling relieved and grateful, and I don’t want anyone to take offense, but if you two ladies could confine your gratitude toward Mr. Martin to a simple handshake, I would be most obliged.”
“Miss Kirby!” Avery said.
Harriet laughed. “He deserves better than that, but now you’ll know how to take care of that properly yourself.”
“Find your seats. I’ll be after you in a moment,” Avery said.
Beatrice gave Harriet a hasty hug, and the two young fugitives scampered onto the train.
“What . . . did she mean?
“Harriet gave me some rather detailed advice on how to keep a husband happy.”
“That’s outrageous. She had no right to disturb your innocence in that manner.”
“That is disingenuous, Mr. Martin. I suspect that you cannot wait to disturb my innocence.”
Avery was at a loss for words, a not uncommon experience since Beatrice had entered his life.
“You should board now.”
He backed away from her. “I shall be back in two weeks. And when I return, I’m going to ask you to marry me.”
Beatrice tried unsuccessfully to restrain a broad grin. “Thank you for the warning, Mr. Martin.”
They parted in the delicious certainty that only love can bring. Ajax escorted her back to her hotel in companionable silence, seeing that she was too lost in thought to engage in mundane chitchat. But as he left her, he left no doubt that he intended to honor Mr. Martin’s request.
“I’d be much obliged if you could advise me on your daily schedule. Zachary Scott’s likely to put two and two together, and when he does, his temper is gonna be a real problem.”
“I will. Every day,” Beatrice promised. “Two o’clock lunch at the Cheyenne Club today. And dinner at the Carlyles’ at six.”
“You two’s real lucky, you know that?” Ajax said wistfully. “No one wants to marry a mangy lawman.”
“That’s absolutely untrue. I can think of half a dozen women who would love a mangy lawman.”
Ajax laughed. “You remind me of your cousin, Mrs. Carlyle. And a little bit of your aunt, Mrs. Cooper. You know, I wouldn’t even have this job if I hadn’t met her. So any kin to Mrs. Cooper is alright by me. I sure will keep an eye out for you.”
“Thank you, Deputy.”
“Ajax.”
Hmmm. Sweet young man. If Evelyn ever changed her mind about marriage, Ajax might suit her just fine.
*****
Ajax had his work cut out for him, keeping a watchful eye on Beatrice in the aftermath of her coming out at the Cheyenne Club Ball. There were a multitude of teas, dinners, wine tastings, and ladies’ association events crammed into her weekly calendar. Mrs. Preston took Beatrice under her wing and made sure that she was introduced to the most highly regarded families in town. And when she found out that Mr. Martin was temporarily called out of town on an urgent matter, Mrs. Preston was further determined to provide a guiding hand for Beatrice into the right society.
“Miss Kirby here accompanied me to the clerk’s office to register to vote. It was worth it just to see the look on my husband’s face when I came home and told him.”
“I hope the rest of you have done likewise,” Beatrice said to the fashionable gathering of ladies in Mrs. Preston’s parlor. “It’s one of the things that Wyoming Territory ought to be pr
oudest of—being the first to grant suffrage. It certainly was one of the most appealing factors when I considered moving out here.”
One older lady shrugged, “My husband says that it’s not of any great importance, not really.”
“Perhaps not, if one has held that right since the cradle. But if your husband had been denied it for the entirety of his life, he would be rioting in the streets for it. And you would cease to hear such nonsensical platitudes from him.”
“Miss Kirby, you say such outrageous things. I am sure you are more demure when you are with your Mr. Martin.”
“Do you know what I said to Mr. Martin when he counted me as another guaranteed vote of support? I said that he would have to win me over with his platform, and pray that his opponent did not have a more convincing story.”
The other ladies gasped at the audacity.
“He took it remarkably well. There will be endless demands on his time and his integrity. Why should I deny him the opportunity to sharpen his skills of persuasion? Politicians should take nothing for granted.”
“Nor should husbands. You are wise to assert your influence, particularly during courtship, when they are all so eager to please.”
This got murmurs of agreement all around.
“But having the vote makes you eligible for jury duty. There have already been ladies summoned. Can you imagine? I can’t think of anything more alarming.”
“Can you tell when someone is lying to you?’ Beatrice asked. “I think the entire ability to serve well rests on that one talent. Have women not heard enough lies to make that judgment at least as well as their husbands?”
This was heady talk for ladies who were used to bemoaning the return of oversized bustles in the latest spring fashions or commiserating over the difficulty of replacing kitchen staff whenever their employees were disloyal enough to choose marriage over service. But the possibility of having such a direct tie to a future First Lady brought them into an enticing realm of the political world—their husbands’ domain—made accessible by this forthright and personable young lady.
“I propose that next week we have tea at the Dorchester. It just so happens to be right next door to the city clerk’s office. And afterward, if anyone is so inclined and has yet to establish themselves as a citizen of this territory, I’d be happy to accompany you to the registration desk,” Beatrice said.
Her suggestion was greeted with a flutter of excitement. If only Avery could see her. If only the Bellamys could see her! She was being listened to. They were hanging on her every word, and people were being guided by her opinion. At moments like these, it didn’t feel as if she was engaged in any kind of deception. It felt as if she had truly become someone else. Someone she always should have been.
The ride home from Mrs. Preston’s castle of a mansion was provided courtesy of a carriage supplied by the Montrose. The prestige bestowed on her owing to her association with Mr. Martin was astonishing. Though Mr. Martin had a much greater legitimate claim to this elite treatment, it did strike Beatrice that she was being treated well because of who people thought she was, and Mr. Martin because of who they thought he was going to become. In any case, Boston was blessedly fading into distant memory.
CHAPTER TEN
Avery’s absence did provide the perfect opportunity to become acquainted with Lydia Cooper’s family. They lived on a ranch less than an hour’s ride north of town, and Beatrice was able to visit them no fewer than three times in that two-week period. Lydia had entered town just one year previously as a solitary, childless widow. Now, her home was bursting with children and noise and laughter, from eighteen month old Ruby to eighteen year old Kathleen. Five children. A full-blown family materializing out of nowhere.
Lydia’s husband, Giles Cooper, had such a naturally gruff appearance that you wouldn’t expect him to feel at home in the midst of all the juvenile chaos. Instead, he thrived in it, focusing his pointed energy first on this child, then on another, but all the while, never losing peripheral focus on the lot of them. Aside from the doting Lewis, Beatrice had never seen any man with such talent for being a father.
The children had been told that Beatrice was a distant cousin by marriage. They were delighted to be able to claim another relative. Lydia had never mentioned whether she had told her husband about Beatrice’s real story. But their closeness was apparent. It seemed unlikely that she would keep this from him. And surely enough, Beatrice did soon realize that Giles was fully aware of both her situation and the need for discretion.
After admiring the tasty dinner prepared jointly by the Coopers’ cook and Kathleen, Beatrice confessed that she was completely lacking in cooking ability. That admission raised Giles’s eyebrows.
“I think you must be kind of modest. You . . . you probably know how to cook pretty well, which would be a credit to you.”
“Not all ladies know how to cook, Giles. I certainly didn’t,” Lydia said.
“Well, that’s ’cause you had servants—maids and such.”
“Maids don’t cook,” Beatrice said pointedly. “There is a trained cook for the entire household. She cooks for the family of the house, and she also cooks for all the other servants.”
“I see. Sounds like nobody in Boston knows how to cook,” Giles said, incredulous. “Good thing Mr. Martin has had to fend for himself for so long. I believe he can turn out a decent meal, if need be.”
“You know Mr. Martin?”
“Sure do. He’s done quite a bit of the paperwork on our ranches for us. He’s stayed for dinner from time to time. You got yourself a real fine man there.”
It was a unique opportunity to speak with someone who knew Avery and who might be able to offer some insight on the whole topic of marital deceit. When Beatrice was able to briefly get Giles out of earshot from the children, she needed to make the most of it.
“I must ask you, Mr. Cooper, knowing Mr. Martin as you do and being aware of the circumstances that brought us together . . .”
“Ah, yes, my wife being one of those circumstances?”
“She was, and I hope you don’t think that she acted badly. And more importantly, do you think I am acting badly? Is it wrong to deceive him in this way? Well, I guess I know it must be wrong. The question is, how wrong? Is it just a little wrong, or would you categorize it as unforgivable?”
“Hmmph. You sound like a lawyer’s wife already. I’m a much simpler kind of man than Mr. Martin. I will say this: Mrs. Cooper came into my life as the result of a deliberate deception and meddling on the part of my daughter and Mrs. Carlyle. When the truth came out, I can’t even tell you how mad I was.”
“Very understandable. It’s hard not to notice, but you seem to have recovered from it.”
Giles laughed. “That daughter of mine and Mrs. Carlyle—it’s all I can do not to send them a big thank you present for bringing Lydia to me. I’d be a sorry, lonely sight today if they hadn’t.”
“So . . .?”
“We got our fingers crossed for you. I can’t say much more than that.”
Beatrice would take any little bit of comfort she could find. She was able to relax and enjoy the remainder of her visit, wondering if there could possibly be such a noisy, happy family in her own future.
*****
Beatrice’s return to the hotel was greeting by screeching sounds of anger emanating from the lobby. A middle-aged customer pointed accusingly at Grace.
“You stupid clumsy, fool. Look what you’ve done to my dress.”
“I’m so terribly sorry, Miss. I don’t know how that happened. I’ll take care of it, Miss. I will. As soon as you get that dress off, I’ll take it down to the laundry. I’ll wash it out myself. It’s only coffee. I’ll get the whole thing out. I know I can.”
Beatrice passed by close enough to see the problematic stain. It was perhaps two square inches in diameter. Hardly a tragedy. It wasn’t the first episode of overbearing, imperious behavior that Beatrice had witnessed at the hotel. These incidents reminded h
er so much of Florence Bellamy, her former employer, and how she reveled in these opportunities for tantrums and humiliations. How unfortunate that Grace should now have attracted this wrath. At that moment, Mr. Daniels, the manager came running out.
“Mrs. Harris, I was just told that there was some kind of accident out here?”
“This horrible maid bumped into me and spilled coffee all over the sleeve of my new dress. Look at it.”
“That was very clumsy of you, Grace,” Mr. Daniels said sternly. “Don’t worry, ma’am. I am sure we can get the stain out. And please accept our deepest apologies, and may I offer you and your husband a complimentary dinner tomorrow evening in our restaurant as the most heartfelt gesture of goodwill?”
“There’s only one gesture that I will take any satisfaction in, and that is if you fire this girl at once. This was unpardonable incompetence.”
Mr. Daniels was at a complete loss. It was a harsh punishment by anyone’s account, and yet the customer was demanding satisfaction and attracting quite a bit of attention from all the passersby. Beatrice stepped forward quickly.
“Mr. Daniels. I’m so sorry to interrupt. My apologies, Mrs. Harris. I have an urgent matter, a life or death matter that I must advise him of. It will only take a moment.”
She slipped her hand in the arm of the confused man and led him back to the front desk.
“Grace is a very good maid. I hope you don’t intend to fire her.”
“I know she is a good girl. But this is a very bad situation. I have to keep the customer happy.”
“When is she leaving the hotel?”
“The day after tomorrow.”
“And is she likely to return?”
“No. She is from New York. And she hated Cheyenne.”
“Could I have a piece of paper and a pen, Mr. Daniels? Quickly, please.”
Across the room, Mrs. Harris continued to berate poor Grace, who was starting to panic at the magnitude of trouble she had gotten herself into. Mrs. Harris’s tirade only paused as she saw Mr. Daniels striding back toward them.