Alice rolled her eyes. “You cannot be serious. Besides, Mother’s leaving would only confirm any rumors tha—”
“Heaven forbid.” He covered his mouth, widening his eyes.
“Hush, children.” Mother’s soft command silenced them. She turned to Richard. “As a man with your lineage, you can afford to be less concerned with such things. However, I have your sisters’ futures to consider—”
“As you’ve said for years.” Richard splayed his hands. “But they are settled now, even Caroline is engaged.”
“They are not yet married. Which reminds me—” she pinned narrowed eyes on Alice—“Have you completed your letter?”
Chapter 3
January 1854 (Present Day)
San Francisco, CA
As Daniel approached his employer’s four-story home that evening, he glanced up and his steps faltered in the middle of the street. Miss Brooks stood on the second-floor balcony, bathed in the golden rays of the setting sun. Her expression as she stared out to sea held such intense longing that a strange desire grew deep within him to fulfill whatever it was she yearned for.
Lord, I don’t know what it is she wants, but won’t you please grant her peace?
Pulling his gaze from Miss Brooks, he continued his approach to the house and knocked.
The Davidsons’ manservant opened the door and led him upstairs to the drawing room, where he announced Daniel’s arrival.
As Mr. and Mrs. Davidson greeted him, Miss Brooks entered from the balcony. The last rays of the sun followed her in, adding a soft glow to her rich brown curls.
Mr. Davidson smiled at Daniel, then at his niece. “Miss Brooks, allow me to make you acquainted with Mr. Clarke.” He gestured to the crown molding that had been Daniel’s bane for several days as he struggled to coerce the stubborn oak to yield the intricate leaves and flowers Mrs. Davidson requested. “Mr. Clarke is the talented carpenter responsible for the fine home in which you now stand, and he oversees my projects in Happy Valley.”
Mr. Davidson lifted his hand toward Miss Brooks. “Mr. Clarke, my niece, Miss Brooks, who has been staying with us these three years past.”
Miss Brooks gave a little curtsy. “I am glad to meet you, Mr. Clarke.”
Daniel bowed. “The pleasure is mine, Miss Brooks.” He tilted his head toward the balcony. “A beautiful sunset this evening, is it not?”
Dimples appeared in Miss Brooks’s cheeks. “It is indeed, and the balcony that you so finely constructed affords me a perfect view of it.”
“Are you not also responsible for our exquisite drawing room set, Mr. Clarke?” Mrs. Davidson indicated the two sofas, two armchairs, and four side chairs, all upholstered in a light-blue silk to match the drapery, and the ornately carved roundtable topped with white marble. It had taken him the better part of a year to create the set.
“I am, ma’am.”
“I thought as much.” Her lips curved upward. “This is Miss Brooks’s favorite set in all the house. She spends half her day here and is forever exclaiming about its beauty and comfort.”
A pink tinge appeared on Miss Brooks’s cheeks and her lower lip tucked in. Although flattered by Mrs. Davidson’s claims, he doubted their verity. “And you, Mrs. Davidson? How do you spend your day?”
Miss Brooks chose that moment to turn and retrieve a book from an end table.
Daniel spent the next several minutes conversing with the Davidsons while their niece all but buried her nose in the book. Though her aunt tried multiple times to draw Miss Brooks into their conversation, the beauty proved adept at succinct answers that allowed her to return to reading. His finger drummed his thigh. Her beauty disguised an ugly self-centeredness.
At last, the Davidsons’ manservant returned to announce that dinner was ready. Daniel offered his arm to Mrs. Davidson, but she stepped away.
“Oh, you don’t need to escort me, Mr. Clarke.” She minced across the room to take her husband’s arm. “I have my husband, you see. It is Miss Brooks who requires an escort.”
Daniel’s cheeks warmed as his hostess all but dragged her husband in the direction of the dining room.
Swallowing his embarrassment, Daniel offered his arm to Miss Brooks, who’d finally set aside her book.
Her blazing eyes caused him to withdraw.
“Miss Brooks?” He offered his arm again, but she did not take it. She did not even look at him. Was she offended he hadn’t offered to escort her first? Offering to escort Mrs. Davidson was the proper thing to do. Etiquette dictated that he should escort his hostess and that Henry should escort Miss Brooks. “What’s wr—”
She strode from the room.
Heat scorched Eliza’s face as she marched to the dining room. Were she a teakettle, she’d be whistling. For the first time in more than three years, Cecilia had broken propriety by insisting that Mr. Clarke escort Eliza. Left him no choice, in fact, but to offer Eliza his arm.
Cecilia must be getting desperate. Eliza squared her shoulders as she entered the dining room. Her aunt had underestimated her.
When Eliza entered alone, Cecilia’s mouth gaped, then snapped shut. Eliza smothered a laugh and waited beside her chair for Mr. Clarke, who had followed her. He performed his duty of assisting her to be seated before seating himself across from her.
Her aunt’s composure returned, blue eyes glinting.
Eliza lifted her chin, holding Cecilia’s gaze until Uncle Henry began to say grace.
At the close of grace, Frank entered the room with a plate of oysters in their half-shells. Had her instructions for their neat arrangement been followed? Eliza strained her neck for a better view. Their points were together at the center of the plate, where fresh lemon slices accented the dish. She relaxed. Perfect.
Henry accepted his oysters and then addressed Mr. Clarke.
Eliza peered at Cecilia’s newest candidate through her lashes. At least he was young. Mr. Anders was fifteen years her senior if not more, whereas Mr. Clarke appeared to be near her age. His hygiene was an improvement as well. Mr. Anders reeked of the oil he used to slick over his thinning blonde hair, and he allowed his whiskers to grow unchecked in the way that was popular among the miners. She shuddered.
Mr. Clarke’s curly, dark hair was thick and trimmed. His face was freshly shaven, and when he laughed at Henry’s quotation of the newspaper humorist, Squibob, dimples dented his cheeks.
Mr. Anders smiled only when being complimented. He never laughed.
In short, Mr. Clarke appeared different in every way from the older, well-established gentlemen Cecilia had invited to dine nearly every week for the past six months. Did Cecilia think this change would make Eliza more amenable to her machinations?
Eliza jerked her glass from the table, sloshing a drop of elderberry wine over the rim. She wanted to explain to Cecilia in no uncertain terms that if and when she married, it would be when she was ready and not because her aunt wanted her gone. However, antagonizing Cecilia was foolishness when Eliza did not know how long it might take to set her plans in motion. Until then, she was dependent upon her uncle’s generosity to keep and house her. The savings she needed to execute her plan would be greatly reduced were she to find herself with the expense of room and board in San Francisco.
Eliza bit her lip. Respectable lodging might not even be offered to her should her uncle choose to put her out without a reference.
Cecilia inspected her oysters before addressing their guest. “Have you spent any time mining, Mr. Clarke?”
“But of course, ma’am.” Daniel returned his glass to the table. “When I first arrived in ’49, I headed straight for the rivers with everyone else. Unlike most, however, I was soon blessed and thus decided to quit while I was ahead.”
“Did you indeed, sir?” Henry’s brows lifted. “I have not heard this tale before. Tell me, how did you find your fortune?”
Frank served the baked salmon as Mr. Clarke enthralled her uncle with what must be a more entertaining variation on the true fac
ts of his discovery. To hear his tale, one would think finding gold were as easy as bending to retrieve a dropped kerchief. She stabbed a piece of salmon. Years of her own backbreaking labor belied the rosy picture their guest painted of a miner’s life.
Frank served the roast beef followed by the salad as the conversation drifted to the writings of Charles Dickens.
“I declare, Pickwick Papers is by far the funniest book I’ve ever read.” Uncle Henry set down his fork. “And my favorite. Though, I’ve not yet had the opportunity to read his latest... Oh, what is its title?” Henry rubbed the side of his face, his eyes narrowed.
Eliza speared another mound of lettuce. “Bleak House.”
Henry beamed at Eliza. “Yes! Bleak House! That’s the one.”
“Pickwick Papers is amusing, I’ll grant you”—Mr. Clarke cocked his head—“but I find Oliver Twist to be more moving, and so I find I like it rather better.”
Mr. Clarke shifted toward her. “What about you, Miss Brooks? Are you a fan of Dickens?”
Her mouth fell open. None of their other guests had shown interest in her opinion. Was he truly interested or merely feeling guilty for leaving her out of the conversation?
Cecilia took advantage of Eliza’s hesitation. “Oh, indeed! Eliza is a great reader and is Mr. Dickens’s greatest fan.” Then without taking a breath, her aunt ventured into the topic Eliza dreaded. “Such a shared interest must be a rare find in such a beautiful young woman. Do you not agree, Mr. Clarke? Many women are prevented from such extensive reading by the necessary attentions to their appearance, but Eliza’s beauty is so natural, she has all the time in the world to pursue other passions.”
Mr. Clarke’s smile tightened as his gaze bounced from Cecilia to Eliza. He shifted in his seat.
Eliza opened her mouth to reassure him she had no interest in him, then hesitated. He was displeased by the prospect of being matched with her. Her mouth snapped shut. Did he think her unattractive? Why should she care? Her spine straightened as Cecilia continued.
“Henry has a copy of Hard Times. I am certain if you ask her, Eliza will grace us with a reading when we retire to the drawing room.”
Mr. Clarke cocked an eye at Eliza.
She ducked her head and fiddled with the fabric of her skirt, waiting for him to speak—to make clear his disinterest in her. Seconds ticked by in silence.
What was he thinking?
Daniel’s shoulders sagged. He’d been too slow in bringing the conversation round to the news of his departure and betrothal. Lord, help me. Mrs. Davidson could not have been more obvious. Why hadn’t he foreseen this possibility and made his announcement sooner? The moment he entered the drawing room, he should have declared his plans and been done with the matter. He could have avoided this entire debacle.
It was on the tip of his tongue to decline Mrs. Davidson’s suggestion, when his gaze connected with Eliza’s. An unmistakable flash of hurt flickered in her eyes before she lowered her head again, her cheeks rosy. His situation demanded a blatant rejection. Still…
No. He would not injure her further. He forced his lips upward. “It would be an honor.”
Miss Brooks’s head jerked up, her eyes bulging. Far from soothed, the woman was angry. Oh, what a mess. He must make himself clear before the situation grew worse.
Chapter 4
Daniel opened his mouth to speak.
“Wonderful!” Mrs. Davidson beamed at him. “And here is dessert. I do hope you like apple pie, Mr. Clarke. Our cook has used the last of our dried apples in preparing it.”
The Davidsons’ manservant placed a plate with a slice of warm pie before him. The fragrance of cinnamon and apples filled his nose, causing his mouth to water.
“As it happens, Mrs. Davidson, apple pie is one of my favorite desserts as it reminds me of my mother—”
“How truly amazing!”
Again, the woman forestalled him from raising the issue of his departure.
“Why, apple pie is Eliza’s favorite dessert as well.” Mrs. Davidson beamed at him. “The two of you have so much in common. We shall have to invite you to dine with us again soon.”
“Oh, what utter nonsense!” Miss Brooks jerked back her chair and stood.
Daniel sprang to his feet.
“Oh, do sit down, Mr. Clarke.” She waved at him. “You’ve done quite enough, I think, to encourage my aunt’s ridiculous scheming.”
“I beg your pardon?” He drew himself to his full height. He’d done nothing to deserve such treatment. How dare she speak to him in such a manner?
Mr. Davidson stood. “Eliza!”
She lifted her hands toward her uncle. “I’m sorry, Uncle Henry, but I am at my end with Cecilia’s humiliating attempts to marry me off. Am I so very horrid to live with?” Eliza jabbed her finger at Daniel. “And for you to encourage her!” She raised her arms before lowering her hands to rest on her hips. “Well, I’m sorry, Mr. Clarke, but I am not interested in marrying you simply because society has determined that I am of marriageable age and my guardian has no more wish of my presence.”
“Then we are agreed, Miss Brooks, for neither am I interested in marrying you.”
At his near shout, Eliza dropped her hands and stepped back, eyes wide.
That was too harsh. He lowered his voice, though he could not gentle it. “I am, in fact, already betrothed to Miss Alice Stevens of Roxbury, Massachus—”
“Truly, Cecilia!” Eliza glared at her aunt. “This is a new low, even for you. To invite a promised man—”
Mr. Davidson cleared his throat. “I invited, Mr. Clarke, Eliza.”
Eliza whirled toward her uncle. “What?”
Daniel swallowed a groan.
Eliza’s wide eyes blinked at him over flushed cheeks and lips pressed tight. Her shoulders slumped.
He ran a hand through his hair then straightened his shoulders. “Sir, it was my intention, after we completed our meal, to announce my planned departure for the Atlantic States on the steamship Virginia in less than two weeks’ time.”
Mr. Davidson scratched his chin. “I see—”
“The Virginia!” Mrs. Davidson’s over-bright smile implored him to allow her a change of subject. “Why Captain Swenson has charge of that ship. His wife is a dear friend, though I am sorry to say she plans to leave us soon to return to her family in New York. Have you had the pleasure of making her acquaintance during your time here?”
He’d distressed his hostess. How had he allowed his temper to take such control of him?
Miss Brooks slipped into her seat, drawing his attention. Her dark lashes hid downcast eyes.
Daniel took a deep breath. Lord, forgive my hasty temper. Help me to be as patient with others as You are with me. His peace renewed, he returned to his seat and Mr. Davidson followed suit.
Daniel sank his fork into the pie, cutting off a bite-sized piece. “I have not had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Swenson.”
“Oh, that is a shame, for she is the kindest lady you will ever meet and has been such a help with our Ladies’ Protection and Relief Society. I do not know how we shall get on without her.”
For the next half hour, Mrs. Davidson extolled the many virtues of the apparently saint-worthy Mrs. Swenson and chattered on about the various activities of the Ladies’ Protection and Relief Society. By the time the pie was gone, so was Daniel’s sense of peace—eaten away by the palpable tension still lingering in the room.
An ache grew in his head.
At last, Mrs. Davidson invited Miss Brooks to follow her to the drawing room for coffee and suggested that the gentlemen soon join them for continued conversation.
Daniel pushed back his chair. “My sincerest apologies, ma’am. My day’s work has left me more fatigued than I would like and I find I must excuse myself earlier than I had hoped.” He stood. “Mr. Davidson, it has been an honor to know you and to be in your employ. Please excuse my early departure. I have a long day’s work tomorrow.”
“Certainly, Mr. Clar
ke. I understand.” Mr. Davidson walked past Daniel. “Please allow me to escort you to the door.”
In the front hall, Mr. Davidson rubbed the back of his neck. “Please accept my apologies for my niece’s behavior this evening. She lost her mother at an early age and her father...” He spread his arms with a shrug. “Well, I’m afraid her upbringing was somewhat lacking. My Cecilia is trying to fill the gaps, but my young niece does not always appreciate her efforts.”
“Apology accepted, of course. After all, we cannot choose our relations, and family can be complicated.”
Mr. Davidson exhaled. “Yes. Exactly. I’m glad you understand.” He rubbed his cheek. “So you depart with the Virginia, then?”
“I do, sir.”
Mr. Davidson frowned. “You’ve been the only reliable carpenter I’ve worked with in this city. Too many men wandering off to the fields at a moment’s notice. Had the evening gone as planned, it was my intention to offer you a raise to stay on to help build a new shop on some property I’ve purchased near the waterfront. Are you certain I can’t talk you into staying another month at least? I could offer you as much as sixteen dollars.”
Daniel steeled himself against Mr. Davidson’s hopeful gaze and generous offer.
“My fiancée is anxiously awaiting my return, sir.” I hope. No, of course she was. There was any number of explanations for—
“Well, you sail in very fine hands, then.” Mr. Davidson adjusted his spectacles. “Captain Swenson has transported a great deal of my goods, and I’ve sailed with him on more than one occasion myself. There was one squall, I recall, when I was certain we would perish and I would never see my dear wife again, but Captain Swenson brought us all through safely. He’ll do the same for you, I’m sure.”
Waltz in the Wilderness Page 4