She picked up a napkin, then looked him in the eye. “I read the other day from The Miscellaneous Works of the Rev. Matthew Henry about his father, Philip Henry. He told of his father’s loving generosity and kindness. Reverend Henry said that his father was known to speak this bit of wisdom: ‘He is no fool who parts with that which he cannot keep, when he is sure to be recompensed with that which he cannot lose.’ Wade, even if I lose my life in serving God, I will be at peace and hope you will be, as well.
“I know that I’m often foolish in my choices. I act more quickly than others and often don’t think through my actions. But my heart is fixed on doing what I believe God wants me to do. If that costs me everything, then it is a price I am willing to pay to obey Him.”
He looked at her as if finally understanding her heart. “You amaze me sometimes. I’m sorry if I’ve acted as a stumbling block.”
She smiled. “You are a good man who cares about your friends. I cannot fault you for that.”
The first Saturday of February the ladies of the Madison Bridal School held their monthly reception. After a successful but tiring week of feeding the poor, Militine dreaded having to dress up and pretend to be interested in hosting would-be suitors.
“Honestly, Abrianna, I appreciate your help, but I detest having to play dress-up for a party I’d rather not attend.” She looked at the gown Abrianna had forced her into. “I feel like a cow in lace.”
Abrianna laughed and tied the sash. “How would you know what a cow in lace feels?”
“Well, if a cow were forced to don an elegant gown, she would no doubt feel just as out of place. She would also no doubt resent being forced to perform like a trained . . . trained . . .”
“Cow?” Abrianna asked, moving to inspect her work. “You look perfect, so stop fretting. Honestly, Militine, you are quite lovely. And while I know you do not seek a husband any more than I do, you might as well enjoy Lenore’s cast-off gowns. Goodness knows, I can’t wear them all. Now come along, or we’ll be late, and that will only bring Aunt Miriam’s rebuke.”
The monthly receptions were always a trial for Militine. The men would come and pay a fee to Mrs. Madison and then spend the afternoon listening to recitations, songs, and piano music, all while eyeing the ladies with a point of getting to know them better. It was all very respectable and well chaperoned, but Militine didn’t want anyone to know her better.
Several young ladies performed prior to Militine, but it didn’t relieve her stress any better when Mrs. Gibson announced her.
“And now Miss Militine Scott will recite ‘The Lamplighter’ by Robert Louis Stevenson.”
Militine fought down the bile that threatened to rise. At least she didn’t have to worry about that silly play Abrianna had wanted to perform. She had finally given up on the entire idea, with her new focus on the soup kitchen.
She smoothed the lavender skirt of the gown and then drew her hands together. Often, like today, the poem she quoted left her feeling strangely displaced. She had no idea why, but it seemed very sad to her. She couldn’t help but wonder who the people were of whom the poet spoke. She wondered if the child from whose view the story came was sickly, because of the reference to one day being stronger. All in all, she felt herself strangely connected to that child.
“‘The Lamplighter,’” she said, as if to remind them all of what had just been announced. Her heart pounded furiously as she began.
“My tea is nearly ready and the sun has left the sky.
It’s time to take the window to see Leerie going by;
For every night at teatime and before you take your seat,
With lantern and with ladder he comes posting up the street.
“Now Tom would be a driver and Maria go to sea,
And my papa’s a banker and as rich as he can be;
But I, when I am stronger and can choose what I’m to do,
O Leerie, I’ll go round at night and light the lamps with you!
“For we are very lucky, with a lamp before the door,
And Leerie stops to light it as he lights so many more;
And oh! before you hurry by with ladder and with light;
O Leerie, see a little child and nod to him to-night!”
The audience applauded, and Militine made a little curtsy before hurrying to the back of the room. She breathed in slowly to steady her nerves and closed her eyes as Clara, one of the new girls, was announced. Militine made a quick glance around the room then slipped into the hallway, nearly running over Thane.
“Whoa,” he whispered, reaching out to steady her.
She shrank back from his hold. She hated herself for cowering, but years of abuse had made it reflexive. “Sorry. I was determined to get to the kitchen.” Before she could leave, however, Miss Poisie stopped her.
“Sister says we are in need of more refreshments. Would you ask Liang to bring the trays?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Militine swallowed hard. Beyond Miss Poisie’s fragile frame, Thane continued to watch her. His expression warned her that most likely questions would follow, but she ignored her fears and hurried to the kitchen.
“Liang?” Militine glanced around the kitchen.
“I here, in the pantry. Mr. Wade, he help me get the flour.” She popped out with a smile. “You need something?”
“Mrs. Madison wants more refreshments brought to the hall.”
Wade stepped out from the pantry, his arms wrapped around a fifty-pound bag of flour. He carried it to a large crock and deposited it inside. “Seems like someone always has something for me to do,” he said as he straightened. “I missed your poem.”
“That’s quite all right. I wish I had.” Militine crossed the room to get a glass of water.
“It was a great poem,” Thane declared, startling her. “She didn’t forget a single word. At least I’m guessing she didn’t. I was a little confused. Who’s Leerie?”
She put down the glass. “I have no idea. Who are Tom and Maria? Goodness, when people write poetry they don’t concern themselves with explanations, and I give it no further thought.” It was a lie, but she hoped it might close the subject.
Wade laughed. “Leerie is the lamplighter. Abrianna told me all about that poem. I guess she helped you memorize it.”
“She did.” Militine wanted to forget about the recitation and the awaiting time of visitation with the men.
“Mr. Wade, you help me?” Liang asked, hoisting a big tray.
“Of course I will.” Wade strolled across the kitchen as if he had nothing else in the world to do. “I will, however, take a few of these lovely little cakes for my pay.”
Liang giggled. “I save you plenty.”
They disappeared from the room, leaving Militine to face Thane on her own. His expression sobered. “What happened back there?”
“What do you mean?” She knew very well what he meant. She had cowered away from him on more than one occasion. He no doubt thought her behavior warranted an explanation.
“You act like a whipped pup every time I reach out to you.” He came closer but stopped when he was still a good two feet away. “Did I do something wrong?”
Heaving a sigh, Militine tried to reason what she would say. She didn’t want to share the past with him. She feared speaking the words would somehow conjure it to life. “You did nothing wrong. I had . . . I had a very stern father. When I was clumsy . . . well . . . he wasn’t very tolerant.”
Thane nodded. “My pa used to beat me for spilling my milk. I think I understand.” He smiled. “But I’d like us to be friends.”
She saw something in his eyes that went through to her heart. Here was a fellow journeyman, someone who understood the pain that could be inflicted upon a child. The tenderness he offered her was almost her undoing. None of the men in her life had ever been kind. “I need to get back, I suppose. It sounds as though Clara has finished her piece. She was the last to perform.”
“Just think about what I said,” Thane replied.
&
nbsp; That night the horrors of the past came to life for Militine. Her dream started out simple enough. There was a peaceful stream by which she lingered. The air held the scent of mountain ash, and the sky was a brilliant blue. For a wonderful moment in time she felt safe and happy. But as was always the case, the scene changed and the skies grew dark with heavy storm clouds. She rushed to find shelter before the rain came, running until the ache in her legs and the stitch in her side nearly caused her to cry out. But that pain was minimal compared to what awaited.
She found no solace as the trading post came into sight. She knew there was no safety, no refuge to be found in that place. As quiet as a mouse, Militine worked the latch and tried to enter unseen.
It was not to be.
The belt came down on her back over and over. Her father’s enraged bellowing filled her ears even as thunder rumbled outside.
“You ran off again, and you knew I expected you to be here. You’re no better at obeying than your mother was.” White hot pain ripped her back as he continued his attack.
“No!” she shouted over and over. “No! No! No!”
She felt someone take hold of her arms. Then shaking. The voice of her father faded as another took its place.
“Militine. Militine, wake up.”
She opened her eyes to find her roommate, Virginia, patting her face. “Wake up. You’ve had another nightmare.”
A knock sounded on the door, and Abrianna peeked inside. “Are you all right, Militine? I heard your screams.”
Militine sat up. The nightmare was too fresh to find any comfort in the present. “I’m sorry. I suppose I’ve awakened the entire house.”
Abrianna crossed the room. Sitting beside her on the bed, she picked up Militine’s hand and squeezed it. “It doesn’t matter. We all have our bad dreams from time to time. I’m sure the others will go back to sleep. Besides, I’m not sure anyone heard you besides us. My room is right next door, and the bath is on the other side of your room, so I’m sure it acted as a barrier.”
“I appreciate your saying so, but we both know I’ve disturbed the others before.” She closed her eyes, wishing she could escape the memories. Why couldn’t a person simply erase the past from their mind?
“I’ll stay with you as long as you’d like,” Abrianna said. “I can even read to you if it doesn’t bother Virginia.” She looked to the other young lady, who had already crawled back into bed.
“It won’t bother me. Maybe it will settle my nerves, as well.”
Abrianna smiled. “Then that is what I shall do.” She pulled a Bible from her robe pocket. “I thought this might help.”
At that point Militine didn’t care what was read or said. Anything that would help to bury her nightmare was worth enduring.
7
Priam Welby looked over the new shipment of imports and nodded in approval. “These will do nicely. I have a collector in Kansas City who will take them.”
One statue in particular captivated his attention. It was crafted during the Jin Dynasty nearly seven hundred years earlier. Made of heavily painted wood, the statue was titled Guanshiyin. Supposedly she was some sea goddess, but otherwise he knew very little about the piece. Nevertheless, he liked what he saw.
“I think I’ll keep this piece for my own collection.” He motioned to his man. “Take this to the Madison Building with the other cargo. Put this in my office.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Welby.” Carl Neely picked up the piece as he might a sack of potatoes.
“Be careful with that,” Priam chided. “It’s ancient and priceless.”
The man looked at the piece for a moment, then nodded. “You want me to check on the girls?” He gave Priam a leering smile. “There are a couple in there that speak a little broken English. Not much, but—”
“Never mind that. Leave the girls alone. You know full well I can’t get my price for them if you go damaging them.”
“Didn’t wanna damage them.” He turned to go. “Just wanted a little sport.”
“Well, find it elsewhere. Those girls are not to be touched.”
Welby knew Carl would do as he was told. It was the reason he’d hired the man in the first place. He was willing to work hard and do all manner of illegal tasks, and he could keep his mouth shut. The latter made him most valuable of all.
Looking at his inventory list, Priam felt confident he’d have little trouble selling the lot. Times were good and the rich were willing to pay for any number of foreign oddities. Despite the negative attitude—especially in the western states—toward the Chinese, their artifacts continued to be of great interest to museums and private collectors. That, coupled with the strong number of opium clients on his files and those seeking exotic young women, would soon leave Welby with a small fortune. Not too shoddy for a man who came from nothing.
He tucked the list into his coat pocket and pulled out a cigar. He was nearing his fortieth birthday, and the future was looking better and better. Of course there were those who still opposed him—those who recognized him for what he was. Mostly because they, too, were of that same cut of cloth. With enough money, however, Priam found that he could win almost anyone over to his side. He’d even managed to get the Madison Building away from that teched old lady, Miriam Madison.
She and her cronies were a bunch of loons, as far as he was concerned. Running a school for would-be brides seemed ridiculous in this day and age. Some marriages were still arranged for the benefit of business and family connections. Some were relationships made out of loneliness, but none, as far as he was concerned, needed the help of three ancient women.
Still, it had benefited him to make their acquaintance. The Madison Building was located in perfect proximity to the docks and his warehouse. It provided him with an office from which he could do his business and a wonderful basement hold where he could keep his human cargo. And all it had cost him was a mansion in Lower Queen Anne that he had won in a high stake game of cards. Of course, in order to spare the councilman he’d won it off of from public shame, Priam had announced that it was being purchased. But the lie served him as well as it served the owner. The councilman would save face and keep his gambling problem quiet, and Welby would have yet another asset with which he could barter.
The only thing he hadn’t gotten out of the arrangement had been Abrianna Cunningham.
She hadn’t been something he’d really wanted in the beginning. She was feisty and obnoxiously honest about her feelings. But over the course of dealing with the old ladies and considering how he might finagle the building away from them, the idea of marrying their ward had presented itself as a possibility. At first it was just a lark. He had no real interest in marriage. But upon getting to know Abrianna Cunningham better, Priam found her to be a most curious challenge.
She didn’t like him, and that was something Priam wasn’t used to—at least not with the fairer sex. Women had found him appealing ever since he’d been young, at least prior to his father’s disinheriting him for unacceptable behavior. Had it not been for his mother, Priam would have left Philadelphia with nothing. Thankfully, she had slipped him several expensive pieces of jewelry, telling him these would allow him to start fresh. She’d died only a year later, a sorrow that followed Priam even now.
During his youth, his mother had seen that he was introduced to all of her wealthy friends. Especially those with daughters. Priam had been quite the catch. Son of a wealthy and highly respected Philadelphia investor, Priam was being groomed to one day take over the family fortune and businesses. But his life didn’t work out that way. When his father discovered his penchant for cheating people at cards and on college exams, the comforts were quickly and without ceremony stripped away. Disgraced by his son’s actions, Vernon Welby cut his son off without a second thought, and despite his mother’s pleadings, Priam was put from the house with no thought of forgiveness.
“Vindictive old man. One day you’ll pay for everything, and I’ll see you ruined.”
Welby sm
iled. That was what made all of his successes that much sweeter. One day he would be in a position of such power and wealth that he would crush his father’s empire and leave him in ruins, just as he’d done to Priam nearly twenty years earlier.
“You just wait, Father. The gears are already turning, and little by little I’m tearing down your kingdom. By the time you even realize what has happened, you’ll have nothing.”
“I’m so encouraged by the help we’re getting from local merchants,” Abrianna said as she continued to study the ledger before her. They were seated at one of the tables where they would soon be serving lunch. “The grocers have donated some food, as did three bakeries. Several of the mercantiles and grocers donated sacks of flour, sugar, and salt, and one even gave us a bolt of cloth from which we can make additional tablecloths. And others have promised support to come.”
“Sounds like Seattle approves of your helping the poor and needy.” Wade handed her a receipt. “This is for the chickens you had me get.”
She took the paper. “Good. I like to keep everything in the ledger so I can show Lenore and Kolbein. Speaking of them, they plan to stop by today and see how we’ve set up everything. I told them to join us before lunch and perhaps stay to see how we operate.
“I’m sure there are other places that handle things differently. I’m not one to be saying our way is perfect, but I think it’s gone rather well. We’ve had enough food each day without anything left, so there’s no waste. Each day last week we fed a few more than the day before, but I’m sure the numbers will remain right around the fifty or so we’ve had.” She frowned. “But if we get a great many more, this place will not house them all. That is a big concern, and I’m not at all certain how we would handle it.”
“We could have them eat in shifts. One group at eleven and another at noon. You’re here by ten in the morning cooking and usually have at least part of the food ready.”
Refining Fire Page 7