Clay stiffened, but Reynolds bowed as if he’d been given a royal errand. As soon as he’d left the salon, Allegra rose and held up her arms to her daughter.
“Come down, Gillian,” she said. “We need to make sure you’re ready if we’re going ashore.”
Gillian obligingly tumbled into her mother’s grip, and Allegra bent to put her down on the floor. Motioning to Maddie, who hurried closer, she whispered instructions. With a grin to Clay that somehow told him trouble was coming again, Maddie led Gillian off to their stateroom.
“You, sir,” Allegra declared the moment they were out of hearing, “are going back on your promise.”
Clay spread his hands. “What, because I stated my opinion? I don’t have to agree with everything you do, Allegra. Part of blazing your own path is being willing to stand up to those who oppose you.”
“I’m not afraid to stand my ground,” she replied. “But when you state your opinion over mine in front of Gillian, you put her in the middle. I will not have it.”
Clay shook his head. “You may be able to order your thoughts to suit yourself, Allegra, but you cannot order the world to fall in line. However, I think you’re smart to get another report about the matter besides Mercer’s. We both know he’s likely to say anything so long as it keeps his hens in their coop.”
She deflated. “There we can agree. Oh, but the man is maddening! If the city is infested with cholera and smallpox, of course Gillian can’t visit. I would never expose her to such dangers.”
Only the danger of moving to the opposite side of the country, it seemed. Yet he knew he could not point that out, not when the fire was only just beginning to fade from her eyes. “I’ll come with you if you like.”
The fire sprang to life once more. “Did I ask for a nursemaid?”
Clay shook his head. “Did I offer to be one? It’s a strange place, Allegra, in a strange country. It makes sense for several of us to go together for protection.”
“Protection again.” She sighed more forcefully. “Oh, very well. I suppose you’re right. But do not dictate to me, Clay Howard, or you may well find yourself alone on that beach, and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.”
*
As soon as the words left her mouth, Allie regretted them. Clay had only been trying to be helpful, and she’d lashed out. She couldn’t say she was surprised by her reaction. It seemed at every turn someone stood between her and her goal, and all in the name of protecting her!
Before she could apologize, however, he inclined his head and strode out of the lower salon. She could understand his reaction. Running away had to be preferable to dealing with her flaring temper.
There was definitely a trick to this independence, and she hadn’t mastered it yet. Surely she could find a way to state her opinion and evaluate the thoughts of others without becoming a shrew!
Mr. Reynolds appeared in the doorway from the deck just then and headed toward her. He was a compact fellow, powerful chest, strong jaw, head set squarely on his shoulders. He moved with assurance, as well, as if completely certain he was in the right. Several of the women glanced his way as he passed as if interested. Allie knew if he hadn’t been coming to tell her news she’d asked him to retrieve, she probably wouldn’t have noticed him. Clay had ever been the only man to command her attention the moment he entered a room.
“Captain Windsor gives his blessing,” Mr. Reynolds assured Allie as he joined her. “He agrees that Mr. Mercer’s assessment of the situation might be biased a bit too high.”
“Too high, but not out of the question,” Allie surmised. “So there is cholera and smallpox.”
“There’s cholera and smallpox in every city of this size,” Reynolds replied with a smile that said he found her concerns amusing. “Rio boasts more than four hundred thousand souls. That’s nearly ten times the size of Boston.” His smile grew as he leaned closer. “Trust me, Mrs. Howard. I would never let anything happen to such a lovely lady.”
The spicy scent of his cologne singed her nose, and Allie stepped back from him. “Thank you for the information, Mr. Reynolds. I’ll let Maddie and Gillian know we’re going. Please tell Mr. Howard, and see if he can find Ms. Stanway.”
She started around him, and Reynolds moved to block her way. “Must we invite the others? Couldn’t I have you and your charming daughter all to myself for once?”
Allie met his gaze. His smile was warm, but his gray eyes seemed so cold. Was he truly attempting to flirt with her?
“Mr. Reynolds,” she said, trying to be kind, “I value your friendship to me and Gillian, but you must know that I will entertain no thoughts of courtship. I never intend to marry again.”
A shadow crossed behind his eyes, and he straightened. “Of course, Mrs. Howard. Forgive my presumption. I’ll tell Mr. Howard you’ll be ready shortly.” His walk was stiff as he moved away, and the sound of his walking stick hitting the floor was louder than usual.
Allie sighed as she went to fetch Gillian. She’d managed to depress two gentlemen in a quarter hour. That was not a promising beginning to the day.
She hated to hurt Mr. Reynolds, but she had no feelings for him and couldn’t see herself developing any. She could only take comfort in the fact that she was no longer the type of woman willing to keep him dangling with sweet promises she had no intention of keeping.
Thank You, Lord, that I have grown.
When she joined Clay and Mr. Reynolds at the longboat a short time later, she found a group waiting. Catherine and Maddie had been persuaded to come along, and Mr. Debro and another officer were going to row. The purser would be staying onshore to arrange for more fruit and vegetables for their table.
Allie held Gillian close as the boat skimmed over the water, the air warm as summer. The breeze still held the brine of the sea, but over it she fancied she caught the scent of oranges.
“Where shall we go first, Captain Howard?” Clay called from his place near the bow.
Gillian’s gaze followed a flock of parrots wheeling overhead. “May I see the birds, please?”
“Best make for the market, then,” Mr. Debro advised from his place amidships. “I hear the botanical gardens are nice, but they’re outside the city, so you’d need to hire a hack to visit them.”
Allie wasn’t sure what to expect as the sounds and scents of Rio wrapped themselves around her. The sun seemed so much brighter here, even on the narrow, crooked streets along buildings of creamy stone. She had to squint to see Clay at the head of their cavalcade as he pushed through crowds of dark-skinned men who called questions in a language she could not understand. Mr. Reynolds walked at the back of the procession, with Allie, Gillian, Maddie and Catherine in the middle. That didn’t stop people from pointing at them. They seemed to find Maddie’s red hair particularly intriguing.
Allie and the others passed stone churches with sweeping spires and then the long, low line of the imperial palace with its many windows like eyes gazing back. Dust from the street drifted upward, making it seem as if the very air was sparkling. Gillian walked beside her, clinging to her hand and staring about in wonder.
They found the market easily enough by following the trail of those with baskets, some balanced amazingly on their heads. The stalls hugged the buildings on either side, with barely enough room to walk two abreast between them. Golden bracelets as wide as the white cuff of her blue gown gleamed in the light; chickens clucked from makeshift pens; the scent of onion and garlic spiced the air.
“Come up here, Captain Howard,” Clay called, and Allie led Gillian to him. The stall he stood beside was made of a series of reed cages. In each perched one or more parrots with feathers of emerald, scarlet and sapphire. Allie bent to put her face on a level with her daughter’s.
“What do you think?” she said over the raucous cries echoing around them.
Gillian stared at the birds, their beaks stained red or yellow, hooked and long, their feathers iridescent in the sunlight. One of the sellers offered her a pale nut and nodded
toward the nearest bird. Gillian held the shell out on her open palm, and the parrot reached out to pluck the nut from her hand. Her eyes widened as he cracked the shell and ate the meat.
“He has very nice manners,” she told the seller. “Thank you for letting me play with him.”
Allie looked up and met Clay’s gaze. The smile on his face warmed her more than the sunlight. It was as if he knew how much such moments meant to her and Gillian. She felt tears coming and blinked them back.
They managed to make their way through the market with little loss to their funds. Clay purchased a straw hat and linen shirt at a bargain. Catherine had succumbed to a fan painted with exotic birds and Maddie was cradling a gourd carved to look like a monkey’s face. Allie kept tight hold on Gillian’s hand as they ventured out onto a square where a stone fountain sprayed water into a massive basin in which dozens of women were doing laundry.
“Fancy that,” Maddie said with a shake of her head. “And I had to lug water up two flights of stairs back home.”
Mr. Reynolds had been quiet the whole trip. Now he tipped his hat to Gillian. “What do you say, Ms. Howard? Would you like a closer look at how they wash clothes in Brazil?” He held out his hand.
Gillian pressed herself close to Allie’s skirts. “No.” Her voice came out muffled. “Go away.”
“Gillian!” Allie put her hand on her daughter’s head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Reynolds. She knows better than to behave so rudely.”
Gillian glanced out from Allie’s skirts, face pale and anguished. “Am I to be punished, Mother?”
Allie’s heart twisted. Of those in their little group, only she and Gillian knew how harsh punishment had once been. She bent to cuddle her daughter close. “No, Gillian, but I think you owe Mr. Reynolds an apology.”
Gillian kept her gaze on Allie’s. “I don’t like him.”
Mr. Reynolds must have heard the exchange, for when Allie glanced up, she saw that his face had darkened.
Clay knelt beside her and Gillian and tipped back his straw hat. “She’s just unsure of a new situation,” he murmured to Allie. He took Gillian’s hand. “Let’s set our sails for the botanical gardens, Captain Howard. You ought to find those to your liking. I bet they’re as big as your grandmother’s garden in Boston.”
Gillian peered at Allie as if for permission. Allie nodded, rising, and Gillian deigned to go with Clay in search of a hack. Mr. Reynolds tipped his hat and excused himself.
Allie shook her head, watching her daughter walk with ladylike tread beside Clay, who had obviously shortened his stride to allow her to keep up. “I don’t know what got into her.”
“She certainly seems to have taken Mr. Reynolds in dislike,” Catherine agreed. She opened her new fan and fluttered it before her face as children began dancing in the spume from the fountain.
“He’s not such a bad sort,” Maddie mused, watching as he disappeared among the crowds. “He seems to mean well, so he does.”
“I fear she can tell he has feelings for you,” Catherine said, snapping her fan decisively shut. “She doesn’t relish the idea of sharing you.”
Allie frowned. “But she shares me with you two. She shares me with Matt Kelley. She shares me with Clay.”
“A very wise young lady, to be sure,” Maddie said with a smile. “Perhaps you should be asking yourself why she feels more comfortable with Mr. Howard than Mr. Reynolds.”
“Indeed,” Catherine added. “And why you, my dear Allegra, do not.”
“I’m perfectly comfortable with Clay,” Allie protested. Her face felt hot, but she was certain the warmth was caused by the powerful equatorial sun.
“Oh, aye,” Maddie said with a look to Catherine. “So comfortable you bite the poor fellow’s head off when he so much as opens a door for you.” She poked a finger at Allie. “Admit it, my girl. You’re sweet on the man.”
“I most certainly am not!” Allie stared at her two friends. They were both nodding, but she knew they were not agreeing with her. “I’m not!”
“So you say,” Catherine replied, moving toward where Clay was waving to them, having procured two of the small wooden carts that were used for transportation in the city. “But if I were you, Allegra, I would ask myself why you feel the need to protest the matter so stridently.”
Chapter Thirteen
Catherine’s question remained much on Allie’s mind as the Continental weighed anchor and steamed south. What was it about Mr. Reynolds that made Gillian so distrustful? Had her daughter’s animosity colored her own view of the man?
She watched him more closely after they set off to sea again and their routine returned to normal. He was always quick to tip his hat to a lady, provided she was pretty, young and modest. If she had some physical flaw such as frizzy hair or an unfortunate nose, was older or spoke her own mind, he was equally quick to give her a set down or ignore her completely.
“I begin to think Gillian is right,” she confessed to Catherine as they promenaded around the ship. “He has a mean spirit.”
“It seems to me,” Catherine replied, studiously avoiding glancing in the fellow’s direction, “that our choice to leave home disgusts him. Of course, I wonder sometimes if your friend Mr. Howard doesn’t feel the same way.”
Allie glanced to where Clay had Gillian up on his shoulders by the railing, her daughter’s rainbow-colored skirts bright against the navy of his jacket. From the intense look on her daughter’s face, Allie knew they were playing Gillian’s favorite game—hunting for mermaids in the blue ocean waves.
“You’re wrong,” she said to Catherine. “He thinks Seattle isn’t safe for a civilized lady, but he doesn’t belittle us for trying to better our lot.”
“Perhaps it’s time the Seattle School started up again,” Catherine mused.
Allie agreed. With Rio behind them, it was easier to turn their sights once more on their destination. She decided to approach Clay that very evening to discuss his next lesson.
“I suppose I should be glad your friends have so many questions, but what more can I tell them?” he asked, rubbing his chin with one hand where they sat in the upper salon listening to one of the ladies play a complicated sonata on the piano while the officers lounged around her and Gillian leaned against the instrument, obviously fascinated.
Allie couldn’t help noticing that the stubble had grown back where the molasses had pulled it off Clay’s chin. Now the hair lay like a golden haze across his jaw.
“Several have asked about occupations,” she reported, glancing down at the notes she’d taken when she’d asked the other women for input that afternoon. “We had been given to understand that teachers were desperately needed, but you seem to think otherwise. They’d like to know where you see opportunities in Seattle.”
Clay grinned at her. “Besides marrying a miner who’s struck it rich?”
Allie shook her head. “How many times must I assure you, sir, that not every woman aboard ship intends to marry? And even if they do marry, they’d like to know how they can contribute to their new community. My friends are no more willing to serve as a decoration for their husband’s parlor than I am.”
Clay straightened in his chair. “Is that what you were in Boston? I’d have thought better of Frank.”
Frank had treated her like a porcelain doll, fragile, precious. He hadn’t shared his thoughts or his plans. She’d been the one most shocked when he’d declared he’d joined the army to fight in the war.
Except, perhaps, his mother. Mrs. Howard had glared across the table where Allie and Frank had been dining with her the evening Frank had made his announcement. But his mother’s glare had never touched her darling son. It had been fixed on Allie.
Mrs. Howard knew, as many of the best Boston ladies had agreed afterward, that it must have been some fault of Allie’s that had driven the normally docile Frank Howard to such a decision. After all, Frank had been wealthy enough that he could have paid some man to fight in his place if his conscience tweaked him.
Even thinking about her failed marriage hurt. How could she confess to Clay his brother’s shortcomings or her own? Frank may have kept her out of his life, but she refused to be so disloyal as to blacken his memory. And she would never say anything to turn Clay against his own mother the way his mother had tried to come between her and Gillian.
“It doesn’t matter,” she started, but Clay reached out to take her hand.
“Of course it matters.” His deep voice was laced with equal parts sympathy and indignation. “A husband and wife should complete each other, support each other. God gave Adam a helpmate, not an object to be put on a shelf or worshipped from afar.”
Her spirits seemed to lift with each word. How could he know exactly what was in her heart? “Oh, Clay, that’s it entirely!”
Pink crept into his cheeks, and he dropped his gaze to their joined hands. “I like to think I’ve learned something in the years since we last saw each other.”
She wanted to think she had, too. At first, she’d found Frank’s diffident manner charming, but it had soon become a barrier that kept them apart. When she’d come to see it as merely another way to control her, she’d begun to realize how many men shared his view of women.
It was no different aboard the Continental. At times, she saw the same attitude from Mr. Reynolds and even the charming reporter, Mr. Conant. Certainly Mr. Mercer subscribed to it. How could she know whether Clay meant those beautiful words and would apply them to his own life? She hadn’t met a man yet who could.
“I’ve learned a lot, as well,” she assured him, pulling her hand from his. “And I’m sure your lesson tomorrow will teach us all something.”
*
The air remained warm as they headed south, so Allie asked Clay’s students to meet again on the hurricane deck. She half expected another foray from Mr. Mercer, though she was more than ready to argue with him on the matter if needed. But their benefactor must have had others to harass, for class started with no sign of him.
“Think of Seattle as a set of rings,” Clay advised them as they perched on chairs or chests around the edges of the deck, the breeze snapping the canvas over their heads. Several of the women had donned more summery gowns of floaty white organza with lace collars and shawls. Allie thought Clay must be thankful for the linen shirt he’d purchased in Rio and the lighter brown sack coat he wore on top.
Love Inspired Historical November 2014 Page 38