“Glad to hear it, sir.” He didn’t mention that he’d heard mixed reports of Captain Swenson.
Mr. Davidson extended his hand. “I’ll see you in the valley next week to check on our progress?”
“Yes, sir.” Daniel accepted his hand. “The work should be nearly complete by then.”
“Good.”
“Good evening, sir.” Daniel turned to leave and caught sight of Miss Brooks peering into the hallway. She’d been eavesdropping. He flicked his gaze upward. Miss Brooks was one of the most puzzling women he’d ever met.
The Davidson’s manservant opened the door.
Daniel pressed his lips in a mild grimace. Thank heaven he was not obliged to figure her out.
Chapter 5
Slipping into the parlor, Eliza sucked in a breath. She counted down from ten as the front door closed behind Mr. Clarke and Uncle Henry returned to the dining room. How could her uncle have said such awful things? Her upbringing had been…well, that didn’t matter. Uncle Henry ought not to speak so. And to a virtual stranger. She snorted. “Cecilia’s efforts,” indeed. Efforts to see her married and out of their house, more like. Not that Eliza wished to stay where she wasn’t wanted.
The Virginia was scheduled to sail in two weeks. Energy surged through her. This was it! The opportunity she’d been praying for.
She scurried to the kitchen and out the back door to find Frank, the Davidsons’ old manservant, a former slave. He accompanied her uncle on his business errands and spent hours at the wharfs helping check on shipments. Next to Eliza, no one knew more about Uncle Henry’s business contacts.
He was in the tack room rubbing oil into a harness and looked up as she entered. “Hello, Miz Brooks. Ain’t you s’posed to be dazzlin’ that young man what come to dinner?” His twinkling eyes teased her.
“Oh, never mind that. He’s gone anyway.” She made a face at him. “What do you know about the Virginia?”
“The ship?”
“And Captain Swenson.”
“Well, let’s see.” He continued rubbing the harness, but his eyes grew unfocused as he cocked his head to the side. “Captain Swenson, now, I know your Uncle thinks real highly of him. Been sailin’ on his ship least two times as I can remember.”
Eliza tapped her foot. “Yes, but where does it go? Does it set in at San Diego?”
He paused his rubbing and cocked his eye at her. “Why you be wantin’ to know, Miz Brooks?”
Gah! She shouldn’t have asked about San Diego. Frank may be an uneducated man, but he was no one’s fool. “Mr. Clarke, our guest this evening, is planning to board the Virginia in two weeks’ time. I thought perhaps if it set in at San Diego, I might trouble him to deliver a letter for me.”
“He a letter carrier?”
“Well, no, but I’ve about lost faith in the postal service. You know that.”
He nodded and resumed rubbing the leather. For several seconds he said nothing more. Had he forgotten her question? She didn’t dare ask it again.
He added oil to his cloth. “Seems to me it does stop at San Diego.”
She struggled to keep her expression calm as he glanced at her, then back down to his work.
“Awful small little place. Stank, too, is what your Uncle said once to a man he met at the wharf. Man was thinkin’ to buy some land down there. Talk of a railroad, I think.”
Would Frank ever stop talking? She needed to be alone. To think. To plan.
“But your uncle, he said not to. Said the man oughta stay right here and invest in this here growin’ city. Said his money’d be safer here.” Frank paused to add more oil to his cloth.
“Thank you, Frank. That’s all I needed.” Turning, she rushed toward the door. “I don’t want to keep you from your work. Good night!”
She scurried across the courtyard, then yanked open the door to the house and dashed through the kitchen. Ignoring Amelia’s startled cry, she scampered up the stairs and into her room.
Pa’s last letter came from San Diego. She read and reread it for any hint as to why he stopped writing, but it spoke only of his hope in finding employment with a Lieutenant Derby—the officer rumored to be in charge of a new dike being built on the local river.
She paced her room as plans formed in her mind. Uncle Henry would not approve. He would want her to wait, but she was through with being patient.
It was time to take matters into her own hands.
Ten days later, Eliza sat in the drawing room listening to the mantel clock tick as she poked her needle through the fabric in the frame before her. She pulled the thread through as the slosh of pouring water and the scuffing of feet moving about the dirt yard below drifted in through the open window. Amelia was busy preparing the water for laundry—a task that would keep her occupied out back for the rest of the day. Before Uncle Henry and Frank left early this morning, to check on a construction project across town, she overheard her uncle inform Cecilia that they would not be back until supper.
This was her chance.
If Cecilia ever retired for her afternoon nap.
She peeked at her aunt. The woman wasn’t watching her. Eliza checked the clock from the corner of her eye. Cecilia should have retired ten minutes ago. Restraining the urge to growl, Eliza jabbed her needle through the fabric and pulled it through to the back of her piece.
The heat of the afternoon sun warmed her neck. She shifted. Her foot jiggled and her hands grew damp with sweat. The needle slipped from her fingers. Releasing her growl, she fetched the needle from the floor.
Cecilia didn’t look up from her needlepoint, but shook her head. She didn’t approve of emotive vocalization.
Eliza sneered at the fabric as she jabbed it with her needle.
She silently counted to ten, then made a show of leaning forward to squint at the clock on the mantel. “Oh my.”
Cecilia paused in her stitching. “What is it?”
Eliza placed a hand at her back and stretched while pretending to yawn. “I am getting so tired and sore from sitting so long. I believe I’ll go rest a while.” She set her sewing aside and focused on the clock. “Why, don’t you usually take your rest at this time?”
Cecilia regarded the clock. “Well, yes, now that you mention it. I suppose my eyes are growing a bit tired.” Her aunt set her needlepoint down and rose from her chair.
Eliza resisted the urge to cheer.
“I suppose I should rest now.” Cecilia smoothed her skirts.
Eliza forced herself to stroll out of the room and up to her chamber, her aunt at her heels. She turned to give Cecilia a sleepy smile, then she stepped into her room and shut the door. Leaning against it, she listened until her aunt’s door closed with a click.
Her body tingled. She wanted to pace as she waited for her aunt’s unladylike snoring to begin, but her aunt would hear the creaking boards. Eliza threw herself on the bed instead. Thinking of her daring plan, she rubbed the embroidered hem of the pillowcase between her fingers. Her aunt would be horrified if she knew.
Eliza smothered a giggle with her pillow.
The image of her uncle’s brows pressed over his spectacles floated through her mind. She sobered. He wouldn’t approve either. He’d worry about her. She bit her lip. So many things might go wrong. But they wouldn’t. They couldn’t. She sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. She’d write Uncle Henry a letter. He’d be fine.
What would it be like to sail on a large ship at sea instead of the small boats that had carried her up and down the rivers of the gold fields? The image of Mr. Clarke seated across from her at supper flashed in her mind. How many people could a ship like the Virginia carry? She sniffed. It didn’t matter. A carpenter like Mr. Clarke would secure passage in the lower cabins, or perhaps even steerage. As a guest of the captain’s wife, she’d be expected to dine with them and likely wouldn’t see Mr. Clarke for the whole of her journey. Not that that mattered at all.
Soft rumbling from her aunt’s room caught her attention. It
paused. Then it came again, louder.
At last! Eliza slipped off the bed.
She crept to her chamber door and eased it open. Peering into the hall, she didn’t see Amelia. Cecilia’s snoring continued. She slipped out and tiptoed downstairs, careful to avoid the boards that creaked the loudest.
Amelia entered the hallway, and Eliza froze. The mound of soiled linens Amelia carried in her basket came to her forehead. Her face tilted to the opposite side of the heap, Amelia disappeared into the kitchen.
Eliza exhaled and hurried to the front door.
Turning the knob, she took one more scan of the empty hallway as she pulled open the door, and stepped out into the sunshine. She scurried up the hill to Montgomery Street, chin tucked and praying no one would notice her.
The Swenson house was one block away from the Davidson home. At this time of day, the men from this neighborhood were at the wharves or at their businesses, and the women were reading or resting like her aunt. She prayed Mrs. Swenson was not asleep.
Turning left at Montgomery, she continued along the alternating planks and stairs that formed the sidewalks of that street.
“Ahoy there!”
A man swayed on the opposite sidewalk.
The drunkard stumbled as his foot missed the edge of the planks and sank into the muddy street. Unfazed, he called out lurid suggestions even as he tugged his foot free of the mud. He lost his shoe in the process. She ignored the man and hastened her step. Please, Lord, keep him on his side of the street.
When the Swenson home came into view, Eliza nibbled her lower lip. She must gain admittance, secure Mrs. Swenson’s promise of help, and return to the Davidson home before Cecilia awoke.
The pickled man’s shouts grew louder.
She glanced back.
He had regained his shoe, crossed to her side of the street, and was gaining on her.
She lifted her skirts and broke into a jog. The man yelled for her to stop. She looked back. He was still pursuing her. She slammed into something hard. Male arms clamped around her. She fought to pull free, but her strength was no match for his.
“Easy, miss. I mean you no harm.”
It was Captain Swenson. She’d met him once before, and his long, glossy black ponytail, well-groomed beard, large build, and towering height made him a difficult man to forget.
His head pulled back. “Miss Brooks.” He searched the road behind her. “Is something wrong? Where is your manservant?”
She checked over her shoulder. The drunkard had reversed direction and was hurrying away. She stared up at the captain, who still held her. An uncomfortable feeling slid through her. “I believe it is safe to release me now.”
“Oh. Right.” He dropped his arms.
She stepped back to a proper distance. What was it he had asked? Oh. The manservant. She waved away his concern. “He’s with Mr. Davidson and thus unavailable to escort me.” She squared her shoulders. “But I have a matter of some urgency that I must discuss with your wife.”
Captain Swenson’s chin lowered. “Oh, my dear, I am so sorry to have to tell you after you’ve made such an effort in getting here, but Mrs. Swenson is unwell and has taken to her bed for the rest of the day.”
Oh no! Her shoulders slumped. What was she to do now?
“Is there anything I may do to be of assistance? Deliver your message, perhaps?”
Eliza hesitated. She’d counted on speaking to Mrs. Swenson. The captain’s heart might not sway in her favor, but what choice did she have? It had taken her ten days to find this opportunity to sneak away from the house, and according to the advertisement in the paper, the Virginia would be leaving the day after tomorrow. If Mrs. Swenson boarded that ship without her, Eliza would miss her chance of having a chaperone to escort her to the port of San Diego.
She considered the captain’s concerned expression. Perhaps he would help her.
Uncle Henry would be angry when he found out. He’d feel betrayed. Her gut twisted. What kind of niece repaid her uncle’s kind generosity with deception and disobedience?
She pictured the Virginia waiting at the wharf. She’d prayed for Pa multiple times a day, every day for months, and still there had been no word. The image of him lying ill in a bed somewhere, calling for her, flashed in her mind. She pressed her lips together. She was done waiting.
“Miss Brooks?”
“Is it true Mrs. Swenson plans to leave with the Virginia when it departs in two days?”
The captain’s bushy eyebrows rose again. “Who told you she was leaving?”
“Mrs. Davidson said your wife planned to return to your family. Is it true?”
“She is planning to return to her family, yes. It seems the...material comforts here do not suit her.” He rubbed his nose. “She misses the States with its paved streets and interminable social events.”
She missed life in the east? More people, more rules, more social events. No, thank you. Mrs. Swenson could keep her paved streets. Eliza would bathe in mud if it meant she could live as she pleased. “Do you anticipate that her current illness will affect her plans?”
“No, it is merely a severe headache. I’m sure she shall be well by tomorrow, but if you pardon me, Miss Brooks, I’m uncertain how this affects you in such a way as to prompt your coming here with such urgency.” He tilted his head and squinted at her. “Surely, a farewell visit might have waited until your manservant was able to escort you.”
Eliza took a deep breath and straightened to her fullest height. Still, her eyes came no higher than his shoulders. She lifted her chin. This was it. If she failed to convince the captain, all would be lost. “I have not come for a farewell visit, sir.” Best to stick as close to the truth as possible. “I’ve come to ask if I might join her in her journey. Partway that is.”
His head tilted.
“It’s my pa. He’s in San Diego”—she placed her fist on her chest—“and he needs me, but the Davidsons are unable to leave their business to escort me. It is my hope that your wife will agree to be my chaperone. Will you please ask her for me?”
“Your father has written, requesting your presence? Why does he not fetch you himself?”
“He is not well, which is the reason for my grave urgency.” It must be true or he would have written her these last months. She widened her eyes. “Please, sir, will you give your wife my message?”
The captain rubbed his beard, then smoothed the front of his frock coat. “I have no need to. I know already what my kind wife’s answer would be. Yes, of course, she will be happy to assist you.”
Eliza’s breath caught and she touched her throat. “Are you quite certain, sir?”
“Miss Brooks, you have met my wife, have you not?”
Eliza chuckled. He was correct. Mrs. Davidson had not overstated Mrs. Swenson’s kindness when describing her to Mr. Clarke.
“Then, it’s settled. Now, I’m off to tend to some business, but may I first escort you home?” The captain offered her his arm.
She mustn’t be seen returning to the house with him. She kept her smile in place as she backed away. “Thank you, Captain, but I wouldn’t wish to further delay you from your business. You’ve already been so gracious and kind. I cannot thank you enough. I shall see you in two days.”
She spun and hastened her steps. She did not slow until she reached the corner of Alta Street. When she peered over her shoulder, the captain was gone.
Eliza angled her book to better catch the afternoon sunshine streaming through the parlor window. She would miss her uncle’s book collection. She swung her legs over one side of Cecilia’s favorite chair and arched her back until her hair brushed the floor on the opposite side. My, but it was wonderful escaping her corset, even for an hour.
She checked the clock on the mantel. Cecilia should return from the Ladies’ Protection and Relief Society meeting soon. They were planning a ball to benefit the Society’s causes. Perhaps they’d run late. Those ninnies did love their decorations.
Five minutes later, Cecilia glided into the room. “It will be the absolute event of the season!” She walked straight to the chord on the wall and gave it a pull, summoning Amelia. “We shall need new gowns, of course.”
“What?” Eliza jumped to her feet. She couldn’t allow Cecilia to spend more of Uncle Henry’s money on a silly gown Eliza wouldn’t even be around to wear. “I’ve not worn my pink dress but once. I’m certain that will do.”
“Nonsense! Did you not hear me?” She spoke every word of her next sentence slowly, as if Eliza were a simpleton. “The event of the season.”
Amelia appeared in the doorway, huffing and puffing, her skin flushed.
“Eliza and I have urgent need to visit the store. Please tell Frank to ready the carriage and have him make haste.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Amelia trundled away.
Eliza threw up her hands. “Why such haste?”
“The store has received a new shipment this morning. I am determined we should arrive before the other ladies so that we might select the best possible fabrics for our new dresses.”
Davidson & Co. already overflowed with unsold merchandise, thanks to the recent economic downturn. Eliza had argued against ordering more fabric, but Uncle Henry continued to place orders to please his wife.
Eliza flopped into her usual chair. “You aim to arrive before Mrs. Prichard.”
“Do sit like a lady, Eliza.” Cecilia paced closer. “I see you’ve removed your corset again.”
Eliza straightened. Her lazy afternoon was over.
“And yes, certainly before Mrs. Prichard.” Cecilia patted her curls. “And why not? The uppity woman won’t have a stitch to complain about this time. Your dress will be perfect for this event.” She narrowed her eyes. “Absolutely perfect.”
Eliza flinched. She had made last-minute adjustments to the scratchy sleeves of her ball gown prior to the last ball—adjustments that gained the notice of blabber-mouthed Mrs. Prichard, who made it her duty to bring it to the attention of everyone in attendance. Mortified, Cecilia sent Eliza home. And gave Eliza a serious tongue-lashing the next morning.
Waltz in the Wilderness Page 5