Charity House Courtship (Love Inspired Historical)

by Renee Ryan

  When he’d realized she had a problem that first night of her return, he’d tried to talk to her about it. But he’d only received oaths and curses in response, so he’d begun throwing out the bottles as fast as she could buy them. He still wasn’t sure where she was getting the money to fund her habit. Not from him, not directly. She could be stealing from the restaurant, or unsuspecting customers or...any number of places. He made a note to find out where.

  Pearl awakened with a cough, her eyes peeling slowly open. In a shaky voice, she made a request for water.

  Marc moved out of the chair, cradled her head and eased a glass to her lips. He could no longer see the woman he’d married in this pale, rail-thin creature. She looked more apparition than person, her dull sallow skin carrying the permanent stench of her illness. Her once vibrant eyes had sunken into their sockets, small and unremarkable now.

  It hurt to look at her. He’d seen enough death in his life to recognize he was staring at its ruthless cousin now.

  As Pearl choked down a sip of water, Marc wondered how much longer she could do this to herself. A day, a week, maybe a year?

  “I need more laudanum,” she croaked. “There’s some in my red dress.”

  He’d not thought to search there. Where else was she hiding the elixir? “Pearl, I beg you to stop this madness.”

  She collapsed against the pillow. Pain swam in her eyes as her unfocused gaze hastened around the room. “Not now, Marc.”

  Despite her hostility and the pounding headache behind his eyes, Marc refused to let the matter drop. “Look at what you’re doing to yourself.”

  Her lip curled. “Holier-than-thou, that’s what you are.”

  He thought about how he was failing Pearl and how much he’d hurt Laney recently. “There’s nothing holy about me.”

  Pearl snorted. “Just give me the medicine. I’ll feel better after a little taste.”

  “A temporary cure, at best. Let me help you, Pearl.” He’d uttered those same words a lot lately, with the same fruitless results.

  “You want to help me? Give me money when I ask,” Pearl said, her voice thick with the coarseness of dehydration.

  “That won’t solve anything.” Money could only buy things. Nothing more. Certainly not Pearl’s health.

  Marc couldn’t pinpoint precisely when it had happened, but in the last few weeks, Marc had begun to feel trapped in his chosen lifestyle. He no longer experienced pleasure from the luxury he once found so comforting. He should sell his hotel and start over, but now wasn’t the time to think about such things.

  Now was the time to alleviate this pitiful woman’s pain as best he could. But he wouldn’t do so by feeding her the drug that was causing as much harm as it was helping.

  Pearl curled her legs up against her chest and rolled onto her side. She whimpered. The sound reminded Marc of a wounded animal caught in a trap. “Give me my medicine.”

  “I can’t. Not in good conscience.”

  “I don’t want to hear about your conscience.” She found enough strength to pick up one of the glasses off the bedside table and throw it at him. “Just give me my medicine.”

  “No.”

  She bared her teeth. “I get it. You want me dead so you can marry your latest project. I’m not stupid, husband. I see how you look at her. Well, I don’t think I’ll oblige you by dying tonight. In fact,” she sucked in her breath and tossed her head against the pillow, “I plan to live for a very long time.”

  Marc blew out a hiss, a very real sense of loss clutching at his heart. Such a waste.

  “I don’t want you to die, Pearl.” He meant it. As much as he loved Laney and wanted her in his life, he could never wish his wife dead in order for that to happen.

  Although he harbored much anger toward Pearl, he still wanted to see her return to the vivacious woman he’d met all those years ago in Cripple Creek. “I want you to get healthy again, to find joy in life like you once had. It’s not too late.”

  A haunted look passed in her gaze. He’d never seen her look so vulnerable, so scared—like a lost, lonely child.

  “I want that, too,” she admitted in a small voice.

  “Good.” He rose, decision made. “I’ll go fetch the doctor.”

  “I don’t want no stinkin’ doctor anywhere near this room.” Terror stole into her gaze. “He’ll butcher me, sure as I lay here.”

  “Not this doctor.”

  “No. Marc, please don’t do this to me.”

  Not sure where her fear was coming from, Marc decided to change her mind with the most obvious strategy. “Shane’s young and handsome.”

  She gave a snort of laughter. “You think I care about that right now?”

  Marc didn’t feel the need to answer that question, when they both knew the truth. “I’ll be back shortly.”

  He opened the armoire and searched the pockets of Pearl’s red dress. The new dress his money had purchased. Where was his anger?

  Strange how his perspective had changed in a matter of weeks. Money was just a means to an end, not the goal. But not too long ago he’d come close to losing his soul in the pursuit of gathering more and more wealth. He’d nearly turned money into his god.

  Forgive me, Lord.

  Marc wrapped his fingers around cold glass. Frowning, he tucked the bottle into his palm.

  “That’s mine,” Pearl screeched, apparently more aware of her surroundings than she’d let on.

  Marc turned to face her. “It’s mine now.”

  “Don’t you dare take that away from me.” She tried to push to a sitting position but the effort appeared to be too much for her and she fell back on the bed.

  Nearly relenting at the pathetic picture she made, Marc shored up his resolve and strode toward the foyer of his suite. “I’ll return with the doctor shortly.”

  With the sound of her cursing in his ears, he clicked the door shut behind him, praying he hadn’t left the fox in charge of the henhouse. He’d found three other bottles of laudanum earlier tonight, all in unusual hiding places. He hoped there weren’t any more. For Pearl’s sake.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Marc paced outside his room while the doctor examined Pearl in privacy. Every so often, he glanced at the shut door.

  Sorrow twisted in his gut. He’d made many mistakes in his life, a direct result of his own selfish need to acquire massive amounts of wealth. Now he had more money than he could ever spend. Yet he couldn’t buy back his wife’s health.

  The door to his suite swung open, slamming Marc back to the matter at hand.

  Dr. Shane Bartlett stepped into the hallway, his eyes world-weary and wise beyond his years, as if he’d seen more than his share of tragedy in his life. His dark, rumpled hair had a wild look, as though he’d run his fingers through it too many times. Whatever the doctor had to say, Marc knew it wouldn’t be good.

  “How is she?” he asked, not sure he wanted to hear the truth.

  Shane shook his head. The previously alert eyes of just an hour before now had a red rim of fatigue ringing them. “She’s uncomfortable, but resting at last.”

  “Give it to me straight.” Marc exhaled slowly. “Is she dying?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I can’t give you a definitive answer.” Shane speared his fingers through his hair. “It seems the more I learn about the human body, the less I know.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “For all the scientific breakthroughs of this century, there are still too many mysteries yet to be solved.” A line of deep concentration drew Shane’s brows together. “The body’s potential for self-healing is surprising at times.”

  “Are you saying Pearl’s going to be all right?”

  “For now.”

  Marc’s relief was staggering. But then he noted the caution in his friend’s manner. “What are you not telling me, Shane? Out with it.”

  “Your wife could live to grow a full head of gray hair. If you can convince her to sober up, and...” he brok
e off, his gaze darting around. “I don’t know quite how to say this, it’s a delicate situation.”

  At this point, nothing Shane could say would shock Marc. “You may be candid with me.”

  “She must stay away from the liquor, the laudanum and the...men.”

  The good doctor was clearly embarrassed by the situation, but Marc had long since given up pretending propriety mattered, at least not when it came to Pearl and her sinful life choices. “And if she doesn’t make the changes you suggest?”

  “Hard to tell. She could continue this lifestyle for an indefinite amount of time.”

  “Indefinitely?” Marc’s gut twisted into a tight knot. “How could anyone sustain that sort of lifestyle for any length of time?”

  “Look, Marc. I honestly can’t predict what will happen to your wife. I wish I could, but I don’t know her history and she wasn’t very forthright with me when I asked. The truth of the matter is, she could last a month, a year, maybe even ten.”

  “Ten years?”

  “It’s unusual, but not unheard of.”

  Marc repeated the doctor’s words aloud, more to anchor his spinning thoughts than for any other reason. “Ten years of drunkenness and addiction.”

  How would he bear to watch Pearl destroy herself for that long?

  “Of course,” Shane said, “all this guesswork is pointless if she ends up overdosing. You must do everything you can to get her sober and keep her away from the laudanum.”

  Marc shoved his hands in his pockets, trying not to feel as though the weight of the world had just landed on his shoulders. “I’ve tried.”

  “Then keep trying.”

  “What do you suggest I do, short of locking her in that room behind you?”

  “You could speak to the apothecary, make it clear he’s not to sell her any more laudanum.”

  “I’ve done that already. She finds someone else to buy the drug for her.”

  “Then don’t give her any money.”

  Marc’s gut coiled in helpless defeat. “She has ways of earning it herself.”

  “Right.” Shane sighed. “Could you have someone follow her, maybe step in before she goes too far?”

  “I’ve tried that, too.” In fact, Marc had tried everything the doctor suggested, with varying degrees of failure and not an ounce of success. “Pearl can be stealthy when she wants to be.”

  Alarmingly so.

  “There is one more thing you can do.”

  At this point Marc was willing to try anything. “I’m listening.”

  “Pray.”

  * * *

  In her position behind the front desk, Laney was thankful for the intricacies involved in addressing various requests from the hotel guests. Unfortunately, her concentration kept wandering upward, to the suite of rooms on the top floor. Moments after her shift had started Laney had watched Marc escorting Dr. Shane Bartlett to the elevators, their heads bent in conversation.

  Retrieving the young doctor could mean only one thing—Pearl was in real trouble this time.

  Laney had watched Pearl slowly destroying herself over the past week. The thought of the woman’s unhappiness sparked memories of the last days of Laney’s own mother’s life.

  Before Pearl, Laney had thought her mother had been happy in her chosen profession, or at least content. She’d assumed the whiskey and laudanum just another part of the lifestyle her mother had chosen for herself.

  But as Laney witnessed Pearl’s mindless self-destruction, she realized her mother had been enduring one day at a time, medicating away her shame in the most expedient manner possible.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Laney caught sight of Marc accompanying the doctor back through the lobby. Both looked beaten and Laney’s heart constricted.

  After speaking with the doctor on the outside sidewalk, Marc strode back inside the hotel. He stopped for a brief moment at the front desk. Although he didn’t owe Laney any explanation, he gave her a brief sketch of Pearl’s condition. He ended with a solemn vow. “I have to try to get her sober.”

  “Of course you do.” Offering her support, Laney covered his hand with her own, squeezed, then let go. Tears edged to the tips of her lashes. Blinking them away, she stared into the haunted eyes of the man she loved, and her heart ached even more. “I wish there was something I could do to help.”

  “You can come see me before you go home tonight.”

  “You don’t want to talk now?”

  “No,” he said, not quite meeting her eyes, looking as though his mind was still upstairs with his wife. “I need to be alone to think.”

  “I understand.”

  She worked the rest of the evening with half her mind linked to Marc’s problems, while the other half considered the situation at Charity House. The task of educating so many children at one time was turning out to be more complicated than she’d expected.

  She could ask Marc for his advice and maybe even request his assistance in coming up with a solution, but she knew she wouldn’t. Marc’s obligations were to his wife right now, not Laney or the children or Charity House. She would handle her problems on her own. Like always. And thereby avoid complicating Marc’s life any further.

  With that thought in mind, she made a decision. Tonight would be her last night in Marc’s employ.

  The thought depressed her. But it was the only way to ensure they both honored their individual commitments.

  Sighing, she handed over the registration book to Rose then went of search of Marc. She knocked on his office door. Seconds ticked by before she heard a muffled, “Enter.”

  Stepping only partly into the room, she looked at Marc’s bent head. “I need to speak with you.”

  His head rose from his paperwork, but he didn’t speak right away.

  Laney fiddled with the doorknob, then decided to say what was on her mind as quickly as possible. She shut the door and turned back to face him. “I’ve come to give my notice. Tonight will be my last night in your employ.”

  He looked affronted at first, blinked several times, then nodded slowly. “I suppose it’s for the best.”

  “I wish things had turned out differently between us, but you’re married and I can’t—”

  Before she could finish he came around his desk and caught her against his chest. “I’m going to miss you, Laney.”

  “I’ll miss you, too.” She pressed her cheek to his shoulder. “So very much.”

  With slow, seemingly reluctant movements, he set her away from him. Far enough for propriety sake but close enough she could still smell his clean, masculine scent.

  “Will you keep me updated on the children and the orphanage?” he asked. “Let me know if you need something from me, anything at all?”

  Braiding her fingers together at her waist, she carefully considered his offer, wondering what his involvement would look like and where they would draw the line. “How would that work, exactly?”

  “I’ll send Hank out to Charity House on a regular basis. He’ll report back to me, let me know if you need anything, see to carrying out any specific action. Laney, I might not be a part of your day-to-day life anymore, but I won’t walk away from you and the children completely.”

  “I—”

  He pressed his hand over her lips. “Say yes. Say you’ll let me do this for you and the children.”

  Touched, she worked the idea around in her head. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have Hank come out every so often and check up on us.”

  “You won’t regret agreeing to this.” He dropped his hand, but didn’t move immediately away from her.

  She stared into his eyes and a silent promise flowed between them, one that went beyond words. So caught up in the moment she didn’t hear the door swing open, until it banged against the wall.

  “Get away from my husband, you little tramp.”

  For a moment, Laney couldn’t make her mind grasp what was happening.

  Marc reached up as though he was going to touch her, but then h
e pulled his hand back. “Let me handle this.”

  Still unable to comprehend why the pain in her heart was suffocating her ability to speak, she nodded. But then a slurred, overloud oath hissed in her ear and a jab on her shoulder spun her around. “Leave him alone. He’s mine.”

  Laney’s head cleared. “Oh, Pearl, I know that. I was just telling him goodbye.”

  “You expect me to believe that?”

  “It’s the truth.”

  Before either Laney or Pearl could say anything else, Marc moved between them.

  “You’re drunk, Pearl.” He grasped her shoulder and turned her around to face him. “You need to follow the doctor’s orders and rest.”

  Pearl shrugged off Marc’s hand. “You can’t send me off like this.” The venom in her tone ripped a gasp out of Laney. “I won’t let you.”

  “I’m not sending you away. I’m sending you upstairs to rest.” He caught her under her arms. “You can hardly stand on your own.”

  Staggering in his grasp, Pearl shifted her blurry eyes to Laney. “You.” She stabbed a finger in the air between them. “I’ve done some checking. I know all about your mother and what she was.”

  Laney shuddered at the memories Pearl’s words conjured up in her mind. The endless fear, waiting and wondering when her mother would be through for the evening. The humiliation of keeping time, thirty minutes a customer.

  “You know what they say, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. You might act all innocent and pure, but you’re the same as me.”

  “I’m not.”

  Pearl dug deeper into the open wound. “Perhaps you don’t sell your body nightly, but you take money from men all the time.”

  Marc’s distraught voice meshed into her thoughts. “Don’t listen to her. She’s not in her right mind.”

  Laney’s heart broke a little more. “She’s correct, though. I do take money from men. I allowed you to pay off my loan. What does that make me if not the same as my mother?”

  “It makes you my friend.”

  Pearl snickered with distain. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”