Loveswept

by Murray, Tamela Hancock

  Cecily knew Hattie was right. Yet she wasn’t worried. Averil would get the dirt out with the old cleaner. And no one would ever know he had been here. Except her. She sighed. Averil would leave, and he would have no good reason to come back. That meant she would be stuck with tiresome old Delmar. So what if Delmar stood more than six feet tall? He was the only man she knew who stood taller than herself, but that was all that could recommend him. Hardly the basis for true love. Cecily grimaced.

  The screen door flung open, interrupting her thoughts. Cecily’s brother, Roger, hurried in from giving the dog a bath. “Got to get another bucket of water for Elmo,” he explained.

  “Don’t step in that—”

  Too late. Roger’s bare foot, drenched in soapy water, had already sunk into the heap of dirt. Roger let out a yelp of disgust and placed his other wet foot on another part of the filthy area. Unable to recover, Roger stepped on several places on the rug, creating a path of brown footprints.

  Not knowing what else to do, Cecily yelled, “Roger! You’re ruining the rug! Get out! Get out! I’ll bring you the water.”

  Nodding, Roger turned and headed out the doorway. As the door opened, Elmo took the opportunity to burst into the house. Oblivious to any mess, the dog bounded over the rug, carrying what had become mud along with him. The result was a path of paw prints beside the footprints that Roger had left.

  Apparently curious as to the cause of the commotion, Augusta and Professor Tobias entered. “What’s happening?” Augusta’s gaze fell to the rug. She let out a horrified gasp. “Mother’s rug! It’s ruined!”

  “I–I’m sure we can get it straight.”

  Augusta shook her head, her eyes wide as her hands flew to her hips. “What do you mean, we? I had nothing to do with this. I was taking my music lesson.” As though she suddenly remembered the instructor was standing beside her, Augusta turned her face upward and fluttered her long eyelashes at the bespectacled blond professor of music.

  He seemed not to notice the interest of his young student. “Miss Cecily, I insist that you return to the parlor for the remainder of your lesson.”

  “I will, just not now. Not until we get the rug cleaned.”

  At that moment, Hattie entered the foyer. “I sent that dog out the kitchen—” As soon as she saw the rug, she slapped a hand to her cheek. “What happened here?”

  “It’s all right, Hattie. Mr. Kingsley will get it cleaned up.”

  “What’s he waitin’ for? The Lord’s second comin’?” She shook her head and muttered, “Why, I have half a mind to—”

  “Please, Hattie. Don’t worry. He’ll clean it up. I promise,” said Cecily.

  “I don’t see how.” She shook her head in wonder. “All right, but I’m tellin’ your momma I had nothin’ to do with this. Nothin’. And I mean nothin’!”

  Cecily was relieved when Averil, who in her mind had taken on the role of Knight in Shining Armor, entered with Mother’s hand-pump carpet sweeper. “Everyone, please leave,” she commanded confidently. “Mr. Kingsley and I will clean the rug now.”

  They obeyed with varying degrees of reluctance. “All right, Mr. Kingsley,” Cecily told him, “you pump, and I’ll run the nozzle.”

  The salesman stood frozen in place.

  “Would you rather I pump and you run the nozzle?” she ventured, wondering why he hesitated.

  Averil had paled so that his eyes seemed darker than ever. “It doesn’t matter. This dirt isn’t coming up.”

  Cecily’s heart felt as though it leapt into her throat. “What do you mean, the dirt isn’t coming up?”

  “The pneumatic carpet renovator is meant for dry dirt. Not anything wet.” His brown-eyed gaze met hers. “I thought I heard a big hullabaloo out here. What happened?”

  Cecily explained, hoping against hope that as she spoke, Averil would think of a way to rid the rug of dirt. Instead of the hoped-for solution, Averil just shook his head and kept staring at the mess. “I don’t know what to do, Miss Eaton. I have no idea how to get this rug clean. Perhaps we could let it dry and try sweeping it up then.”

  “We don’t have time. Mother is due back from her ladies’ temperance meeting any minute. We’ve got to get it clean now.”

  “Yes, I certainly am due back from my meeting,” Mother’s voice intervened as the front door snapped to a close behind her. “What is this about getting something clean?”

  Cecily turned to face her. “It’s. . .it’s the rug.”

  She watched her mother’s gaze travel to the large, wet spot. Her mouth dropped open, and she gasped.

  “Mother, I’m sorry—”

  Though her mother didn’t speak, rage was evident in her expression. “Cecily, what is the meaning of this?” Her hand swept toward Averil. “And who is this man?”

  Cecily opened her mouth to answer. Before she could speak, her world turned to total darkness.

  Two

  Cecily awakened to the pungent odor of smelling salts. Augusta was kneeling by her side. Cecily could see the ceiling of the foyer. When she discovered her breathing was easier than normal, she realized her corset had been loosened.

  “I thought I was the only one in this family allowed to swoon,” Augusta whispered.

  Cecily sent her sister a weak smile. Augusta was in the habit of tightening her corset beyond human endurance whenever Professor Tobias was due for a lesson. Often she would forget to loosen it to its normal size after the lesson, resulting in the occasional fainting spell. Cecily was about to ask her sister what had happened when the memory of the disastrous morning began to fill her mind. She recalled all too well.

  “How are you feeling?” Augusta asked.

  “A bit puny.” All the same, Cecily tried to sit up. The sudden motion made her dizzy.

  “Take it easy.” Augusta placed a hand underneath Cecily’s head. Cecily laid back into it, letting her sister ease her back into a supine position.

  “Is she going to be all right?” the salesman asked.

  “Mr. Kingsley?” Cecily looked in the direction of the pleasant baritone.

  He knelt beside her. “I’m so sorry to have caused you such trouble. I assure you, the Capital Duster Company will make proper restitution.”

  “You are right about that.” Mother’s arms were folded across her ample chest. She gave the salesman a narrow-eyed stare. “No one comes into my house to demonstrate an inferior product, ruins my rug, and then leaves without making things right.”

  Regardless of how Mother felt about the salesman’s promise, Cecily was charmed. How silly of her to feel that way over someone she didn’t even know. What was the matter with her? “Of course he’ll make it right, Mother,” Cecily said in his defense. “I just know he will.”

  Mr. Kingsley looked down upon her, his face filled with gratitude. Such a sweet reward! Just his unspoken thanks were enough to make her think she might swoon once more. She managed a smile in return, but her happiness was short-lived.

  “I don’t know what you’ve said to my daughter to cause her to take leave of her senses,” Mother said, “but I demand that you leave this instant.”

  “Poor Mr. Kingsley.” Cecily sat upright. This time, she fought the lessened dizziness and remained vertical.

  “There, there. I thank you for your concern,” he said. “Not to worry. What might I do, Madame, to make proper restitution with you?”

  “My husband handles all our business affairs.”

  “Very well. I shall be back this evening, then, to settle matters with him. Would that arrangement be favorable to you?” he asked.

  “Certainly.” Mother’s voice was chilly.

  Cecily’s shoulders slumped. She didn’t envy Averil a confrontation with her father.

  “I bid you all a good day.” Averil tipped his hat to the ladies.

  “Good day, Mr. Kingsley,” Cecily said cheerily. She tried to rise to her feet, but felt too dizzy to complete the task.

  “Sit back for awhile yet,” Augusta advised.r />
  “Yes,” Mother agreed. “You need time to recover.”

  “Let me try again.”

  “Are you certain?” Augusta asked. When Cecily nodded, her sister took her by the crook of the arm and guided her to her feet. “What do you care whether he comes back or not? He’s just a door-to-door salesman.” Her tone indicated her disapproval.

  “But it’s all my fault. I insisted that he demonstrate the pneumatic carpet renovator even though Mother wasn’t here to buy one, and it led to such a terrible mess.”

  “None of that is your fault,” Augusta answered. “After all, who would have thought the carpet cleaner wouldn’t work? And the dog tracking mud all over didn’t help matters.”

  “I know, but I must shoulder my part of the blame. Even if it means I have to do extra chores for a month.” Cecily’s voice betrayed her lack of enthusiasm. She wasn’t eager to face her mother after she had contributed to the carpet’s ruination.

  “Augusta, bring her into the kitchen for some tea,” Mother called.

  “Tell her I don’t want any tea,” she whispered to Augusta.

  “Don’t be silly. You have to face her sometime. Might as well get it over with.”

  ❧

  Averil sat on the edge of the bed in his shabby boardinghouse room. Ever since he had left the Eaton house, all he could think of was Cecily. He prayed she had recovered from her swoon. He and his renovator that didn’t work had been to blame for her sudden spell, not to mention the ruination of an heirloom. Certainly Cecily was angry with him. How could he have been such a failure?

  Sighing, Averil observed his lodgings. He wasn’t accustomed to such meager surroundings, but the little room was all he could afford on his savings. His father had insisted on paying him on commission, just as he paid the other door-to-door salesmen who labored to sell the carpet cleaners he manufactured.

  “I want you to know what it’s like to start at the bottom, Son,” he had said before forcing Averil to launch his career in the family business. “You’ll begin by working with the cleaning staff for six months. Next, you’ll go selling our product door-to-door, just as all the other salesmen do.”

  Averil Kingsley Sr. promised his son he was doing him a favor by giving him the Richmond, Virginia, sales territory to start. Averil wasn’t so sure. New York City was a larger area with more wealthy households. However, his father was adamant that he start a new campaign in the southern states. Since Richmond was the first city of the South, they couldn’t think of a better place to begin marketing in the region.

  “When Father finds out what happened today, he’ll put me to work in the factory, emptying rubbish,” Averil lamented. “How can I tell him the Capital Duster failed at the second house I visited?”

  As always when he was discouraged, Averil reached for his well-worn Bible. One of his favorite passages was in the twenty-fourth chapter of Luke, the incident where Jesus visited His disciples after His resurrection:

  “And as they thus spake, Jesus Himself stood in the midst of them, and saith unto them, Peace be unto you. But they were terrified and affrighted, and supposed that they had seen a spirit. And He said unto them, Why are ye troubled? and why do thoughts arise in your hearts? Behold My hands and My feet, that it is I myself: handle Me, and see; for a spirit hath not flesh and bones, as ye see Me have. And when He had thus spoken, He shewed them His hands and His feet.”

  As Averil continued reading, a feeling of peace enveloped him. No matter how upset Father might be, and even if Averil showed himself to be the worst salesman in the world, it didn’t matter. As long as he walked with the Lord, God’s plan for his life would unfold.

  At that moment, Averil felt led to get down on his knees and appeal to God for help. “Lord, maybe Thy plan is not the same as my earthly father’s plan. Maybe Thou didst not want me to be a salesman. If that is so, Thou didst not waste time showing me.” Averil paused. “Lord, please guide me and strengthen me, no matter how much I seem to fail. In the holy name of Thy Son, Jesus Christ. Amen.”

  Averil rose to his feet and consulted his pocket watch. Six o’clock was nearing. If he left now, he would have just enough time to reach the Eaton house and settle his business with Mr. Eaton before he would have to return to the boardinghouse for dinner. He had already sent a wire to Father, but not enough time had passed to receive a response. Nevertheless, Averil knew he shouldn’t delay in settling matters with the Eatons. He needed to pay for the replacement of their rug. He only hoped the cost wouldn’t deplete all of his savings before the commission from the MacGregor sale arrived.

  After wiping suddenly sweaty palms on his handkerchief, Averil exited his sparse room and shut the creaky door behind him. He bounded down the narrow stairs, determined not to waste a moment getting to the Eaton house.

  He had opened the front door to leave when he heard Miss Hallowell calling from the bowels of the kitchen, “Who’s that?”

  “It’s just me, Mr. Kingsley,” he shouted back.

  “Will you be joinin’ us for dinner, Mr. Kingsley?” Miss Hallo-well called.

  Averil cringed. The landlady’s voice sounded like a cackle in comparison to Cecily’s. “That’s my intention, Miss Hallowell,” he answered.

  “I warn you, I won’t hold dinner should you be late,” she shouted.

  “I shall be mindful of that fact.”

  Stepping off the stoop, Averil remembered Cecily again. His thoughts hadn’t ventured far from her beautiful face since he had been forced to depart from her house. He imagined himself looking at her first thing in the morning across the breakfast table for the rest of his life. Light brown hair might still be unconfined from its chignon, falling to her shoulders. Or perhaps Cecily was the type of person who relished the daybreak, rising early to prepare herself for the morning. Either way, he knew she would appear beautiful.

  He imagined that Cecily’s kind features would mirror her sweet voice, inquiring about the news in the day’s paper. Though she would ask to show an interest in the things that were of importance to him, Cecily herself would be more enamored with the fashion and society pages.

  He envisioned that once he had exited the house for another day of work and Cecily had begun her day of household duties, she would treat everyone she came into contact with—from the grocer to the lowliest maid—with as much respect and compassion as she had treated him that day. Averil had the distinct impression that Cecily regarded everyone from the least to the most important with the same attitude of genuine caring and concern. In her presence, he felt as though she could see him as more than a temporary nuisance, a pest to be rid of as soon as possible so she could get on with the important matters of her existence. He felt that she looked at him as a person worthy of dignity even though, as far as she knew, he was an ordinary salesman, unworthy of her notice.

  Barely noticing the outdoors or passing buggies himself, Averil dreamed of Cecily as he walked toward her home. Not only was she the epitome of a sweet disposition, but also Cecily looked the picture of health and beauty. His imagination returned to the image of her loveliness. Her lustrous, light brown mane was set in a perfect chignon, leaving a cloud of hair to frame her heart-shaped face. Delicate brows set off to perfection her light brown eyes flecked with gold. A pointed nose interrupted smooth skin and pink lips that reminded him of the roses his mother grew in her garden.

  Cecily was tall and regal. Too tall, in fact. How could he expect such a lovely, statuesque woman to look twice at someone of his diminutive stature? He had fantasized that she was looking at him with interest, her eyes lingering on his face longer than necessary. Perhaps that’s all his musings were—fantasy.

  He let out a resigned sigh. No matter. She perceived him to be a traveling salesman—no catch for someone in her social position. But no one could keep him from dreaming. At this moment, his idle thoughts were all that kept one foot moving in front of the other as he went to face the unknown Mr. Eaton.

  Passing Mrs. MacGregor’s house, Aver
il noticed that she was watering hanging plants on her verandah. “Good evening, Mrs. MacGregor.” He smiled pleasantly and tipped his hat.

  To his surprise, she stopped her task. “Wait just a moment, Mr. Kingsley.”

  Obeying, he froze on the sidewalk. What could she possibly want? Perhaps she had a question about her recent purchase. A feeling of confidence settled through him. Averil Kingsley Jr. was prepared to answer any question about the Capital Duster.

  “Mr. Kingsley,” she said as she approached, “I have something to say to you.”

  “Yes, Madame?”

  “I want my deposit back.”

  Averil tried not to let his anguish show, but his faltering voice betrayed him. “You. . .you what?”

  “I want my deposit back.” She placed her hands on her hips and jutted out her chin. “I heard what happened at the Eaton house after you visited me.”

  “Oh.” His gaze fell to the ground. “I was afraid of that.”

  “I suppose you were. Richmond may be a big city, but around here, we look out for one another, Mr. Kingsley. When a stranger descends upon us and sells defective products, word gets around. And now, I want my money back.”

  “But, Mrs. MacGregor, you have not even taken delivery on your carpet renovator. I’ll be glad to give you your deposit back after thirty days if you’re not satisfied. It even says so in your contract.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, that contract is not worth the paper it’s written on. I no longer have any desire to try your product for thirty days, or even one day, for that matter. I simply want my deposit back.” She extended her hand as though she expected him to produce the funds on the spot.

  “I would really like to be able to accommodate you, Mrs. MacGregor, but the truth of the matter is, I cannot. I have already wired your deposit to my company. The money is no longer in my possession.”

  “No longer in your possession?” The older woman huffed. Standing at her full height, she looked down her nose at Averil. “Then I want you to contact your company first thing tomorrow morning and demand they send the money back! The entire seven dollars and fifty cents!”