Refining Fire

by Tracie Peterson

  “No, don’t bother. We needn’t let Mr. Welby think he’s so important as to merit an abundance of flowers. After all, I am wearing this massive bustle. That should hold his attention. Not that I want it to. Land sakes, I do not understand this fashion at all.” She tried to crane her head around to reevaluate the beast. “Does it look all right?”

  “It looks perfectly fine. Now stop fretting. You look quite beautiful, freckles and all.”

  “Oh, I’d nearly forgotten about the freckles. Aunt Miriam wanted me to powder them out as best I could, but honestly, the man knows I have freckles. Although I will say he’s been good enough not to mention that fault of mine.” Militine handed her a fan, and Abrianna shook her head. “I would only lose it. I’ll do well not to lose the bustle.”

  This sent Militine into a peal of laughter that did Abrianna’s heart good. Her friend had been far too serious of late, despite Thane’s courtship and obvious adoration.

  Making her way to the stairs, Abrianna licked her lips and tried to calm her nerves. She had no idea what to expect from the evening. This was truly her first escorted affair with a man as far as courtship was concerned. There were far more rules to this type of outing than simply working at the food house to feed the poor. She was bound to forget everything she’d been taught, especially if Mr. Welby irritated her by saying something controversial.

  She paused at the top of the stairs and only then noticed that Priam Welby and her aunts were awaiting her at the bottom. The man had the audacity to look her over as if she were a prized pig, and truly that was what she felt like. He grinned, no doubt satisfied with his accomplishment. Why was it that men could be so smug when they got their own way? Even Wade was guilty of that flaw.

  You’re getting something out of this, too.

  Abrianna tried to push that thought aside as she descended the stairs. Of course this was benefiting her, otherwise she would never have submitted to courting anyone. Welby stepped forward to take hold of her hand as she reached the final step.

  “My dear Miss Cunningham, you are ravishing.”

  “Mr. Welby, that seems a rather vulgar statement,” Aunt Miriam said. “Perhaps you could simply say she looks lovely.”

  “But that would be far too simple. Look at her. She’s is more beautiful than any other woman in the world.”

  Abrianna sighed. “If we are to start the evening with lies and exaggeration, I know this courtship is doomed. You will not induce me to fall in love by using such comments. The fact that I am a woman with red hair and freckles has been a burden I’ve had to bear all of my life, but you needn’t suggest them an asset.”

  “But my dear Miss Cunningham—if I may call you dear?” he said, looking to the older ladies. Aunt Miriam nodded but looked dubious. “I happen to like red hair and freckles. You must surely allow for my perception of beauty. Can you not concede that one man enjoys the pastel colors and fashion of a Monet painting, while another abhors it and would favor the darker tones of a Rembrandt? Isn’t it possible that not everyone sees beauty the same way?”

  Her aunts moved to the door en masse in preparation of seeing the couple off. Abrianna sighed. She had to accept his logic or otherwise listen to him further try to persuade. “Very well. I yield. Your compliment was sincere.”

  He smiled and lifted her gloved hand to his lips. “Thank you.” He bent over her hand but didn’t kiss it. Instead, he glanced up and whispered, “I hope you will yield on many occasions.”

  She felt her face go scarlet but knew better than to rebuke him, for her aunts would then demand to know what he’d so inappropriately said.

  He straightened and smiled, as if understanding her dilemma. “My carriage awaits.”

  Abrianna took a fine silk shawl offered her by Aunt Selma. The day had been warm, almost hot, and she doubted seriously she would have such a need, but it was always wise to have one just in case. Mr. Welby in turn took the piece and draped it over his arm.

  “If you are chilled, you have but to tell me.”

  Abrianna nodded, knowing there was no need to remind him that she’d been seeing to that need for many a year. Surely this was just more of the game to be played. Goodness, but when she thought about all the bread she could be helping Militine to make for the poor, this outing seemed such a waste. Of course, she had made the deal, and there was nothing to be done but accept her fate.

  Please, God, don’t let me get stuck anywhere with this bustle, and please let the evening pass quickly. Amen.

  Mr. Welby retrieved his top hat and gloves. He made a dashing figure, Abrianna had to admit that much. She watched his gentle care as he helped Aunt Poisie into the carriage. She could find no fault there, either. He then turned to her.

  “Milady.” He made a quick bow and then handed Abrianna up, as well.

  She struggled a bit to sit just right so the bustle would properly collapse. How much easier to be her aunt’s age. No one forced such contraptions on the elderly. The old women could even wear their corsets loose and eat whatever they wanted. She sighed.

  Mr. Welby climbed in and took the seat opposite her and Aunt Poisie. It was difficult to see him now that they were enclosed, but Abrianna imagined him sitting there quite content, rather like the cat who managed to steal the cream. He tapped the ceiling twice, and the driver put the carriage into motion.

  They were very quickly delivered to the theatre, where Abrianna noted dozens of elegant patrons lingering in the lobby. While it was a nice diversion to attend the theatre, it was even more important for one to be seen enjoying such a social event. The newspapers would report on the more esteemed guests, while lesser knowns hoped to be commented on merely by association. It was all a lot of stuff and nonsense.

  Mr. Welby doffed his top hat and gloves, handing them to an awaiting attendant. Next he offered her aunt one arm and bid her take the other. Abrianna had no desire to be paraded around, but Mr. Welby seemed to find associate after associate who was enthralled to make her acquaintance.

  “My, but you are quite the lucky man, Welby. I do believe you have the two loveliest women in all of God’s creation to accompany you. You should be ashamed of keeping them to yourself.”

  “Ah, but that is my good fortune and your loss,” Mr. Welby told the man with a laugh. “Are you here alone?”

  “Goodness, no. I was dragged here by my wife and daughter-in-law. My son had the good sense to be previously engaged with a business meeting. One that I’m sure involves cards.” The men chuckled.

  Mr. Welby turned to Abrianna and Aunt Poisie. “Let me present Miss Poisie Holmes and Miss Abrianna Cunningham.” The ladies gave a brief curtsy. “This is Arthur Delecort.”

  “Of the New York Delecorts,” the man added. “I am most happy to make your acquaintance, ladies.”

  What Abrianna could only describe as a herd of other friends and associates came to pay their respects before ushers called for everyone to take their seats. Abrianna found herself seated between Welby and her aunt without delay. She had to allow that Mr. Welby smelled quite nice.

  “I do hope you are enjoying the evening as much as I,” he whispered against her ear.

  Abrianna wanted again to rebuke him, but to do so would cause a scene, and the play was already starting. Instead, she shot him a glare. He smiled. No doubt he knew exactly what he was doing. Apparently this was how he thought he would woo her into love. How silly.

  The play was one with which she was well familiar. The Merchant of Venice. The cast performed it admirably, and Abrianna honestly found herself sorry when the play concluded. Welby had behaved himself throughout the evening and only once, when he stretched his leg and accidentally, or not so accidentally, pressed too close, did Abrianna find fault with him.

  However, there wasn’t time to worry over that matter, either. Mr. Welby reclaimed his hat and gloves, and just as quickly as they were brought to the theatre, they were whisked away to a late supper.

  “I thought we might try a new place called Danover
’s,” Mr. Welby said. “It promises the most elegant dining.”

  “I did hear about that restaurant,” Aunt Poisie answered.

  “Yes, it’s been open just a short time. I’ve heard the food is exceptional, due to a renowned French chef who prides himself on being the best in all of America.”

  “I find that boasting often leads one to disappointment,” Aunt Poisie replied. “Boasting is hardly necessary if one truly is the best, for word will surely travel about, based on the experiences of those involved.”

  “That makes good sense, Miss Poisie. You are both a handsome and knowledgeable woman.”

  “Why thank you, Mr. Welby.” She giggled and patted Abrianna’s arm. “Isn’t he charming?”

  Goodness, but now he was sweet-talking Aunt Poisie. What next? Abrianna forced a smile. “He is.”

  Encouraged by Mr. Welby’s praise, Aunt Poisie continued the conversation by telling him that she had sampled excellent French cuisine once while in Philadelphia. “I thought it strange to have a French restaurant in the City of Liberty, but it was quite perfect.”

  Abrianna relaxed a bit. Aunt Poisie continued to take charge of the conversation, giving Abrianna time to think. She was anxious for Kolbein and Mr. Welby to draw up the contracts. Kolbein said he wanted to handle the matter carefully, which Abrianna interpreted as meaning it wouldn’t happen overnight. Still, she didn’t want to have to bear these outings with Mr. Welby if there wasn’t something to be done in return for the poor.

  They reached the restaurant nearly ten minutes later. Welby alighted the carriage quickly and then assisted Aunt Poisie with such grace and gentility that the woman actually gave him a brief curtsy. It would seem Welby had won her over. Just then, however, Aunt Poisie spied a display in the lighted restaurant window and moved to better inspect it.

  Welby reached up for Abrianna, and she allowed him to take her gloved hand. “You are an abominable rascal, I must say.”

  He looked at her in shock. “Me? What have I done?”

  She rolled her eyes and said nothing. If her aunt didn’t mind his attention, why should she?

  The golden glow of burning lights outside the building beckoned them, while the ornate appeal of the building and lovely arched windows suggested an evening of lavish indulgence. Aunt Poisie hurried back to join them.

  “There is a wondrous display of desserts in that window. I must say it will be difficult to choose.”

  “Then why bother?” Mr. Welby replied. “I shall order them all, and you may sample to your heart’s content.”

  Aunt Poisie again giggled like a schoolgirl. “You are much too kind, Mr. Welby.”

  Abrianna couldn’t help but wonder how much money he would spend on this evening. All just to impress them. Surely the money could be better spent on the poor. He was a man of means and as such no doubt had more than enough money to do both, but still Abrianna felt it wasteful. That feeling continued as they were escorted into the restaurant and seated at a beautifully arranged table.

  The lovely damask tablecloths were immediately approved by Aunt Poisie, as were the swan-shaped napkins and elegant silverware. All twenty pieces per person. Abrianna counted eight knives, eight forks, three spoons, including a delicate and tiny salt spoon, as well as a butter pick. And that was just what was set before them. No doubt there would be other pieces to come. Goodness, but it would be a tiresome task to wash all of that silver.

  In addition to this were a bevy of fine gold-rimmed white china plates, four crystal goblets of varying sizes, and a beautiful flower arrangement set in a crystal bowl atop a beveled mirror. The latter reflected the light from the beautiful crystal chandeliers.

  The service was impeccable. They were given a small finger bowl of warm water to refresh their hands. The steward then handed them a fresh napkin on which to dry them. He removed this and returned with a single card menu of a prearranged supper.

  “This will do nicely,” Mr. Welby declared, and the man went quickly to work to see them served. Welby offered her a smile. “I do hope you are enjoying the evening. I am trying very hard to impress you.”

  “I can see that. There truly is no need, however. This is far from my normal fare, and if you knew me very well, you would know that I am more content with a quiet evening than one full of fanfare.”

  He smiled. “I would like to imagine quiet evenings with you.” He looked to Aunt Poisie. “I hope that was not too bold a statement to make.”

  She seemed to consider it for a moment and then shook her head. “I think it acceptable. Although, the hour of the evening would be important.”

  Abrianna wanted to giggle at the look on Mr. Welby’s face. He seemed perplexed at the comment but said nothing.

  The first course, a fine foie gras on toasted bread, was served instead of oysters, given it was not the right month for such things. This, Aunt Poisie announced with great authority. Never a fan of foie gras, Abrianna gave the pretense of tasting it but then set it aside. If Mr. Welby noticed, he said nothing, having downed his with seeming pleasure.

  Next they were served a creamed onion soup, then came a consommé. The meal quickly continued with additional courses and more conversation.

  Mr. Welby was good to include Aunt Poisie, but Abrianna could see that the older woman was growing tired and spoke less and less, leaving the discussion to the young while she focused on her meal.

  “I hope you realize how happy you’ve made me. Especially in light of our contract not yet being finalized. It shows that you have faith in me.”

  “I suppose it does, although I really have no reason to. Still, it seemed to be unavoidable. I wanted to say no to the invitation, given that the ball is just next Friday, but I was afraid you might think me unwilling to keep my word. However, if you knew me, you would know I’m a woman of my word.”

  He smiled. “And a good many words. Although that doesn’t trouble me in the least. I am glad you are a woman of information and opinion. I think society has disregarded the intelligence of the fairer sex for far too long. You, Miss Cunningham, and your aunt, have proven to me that women can be most enlightening.”

  She tried not to take encouragement at his declaration, but he did seem sincere. “I’m afraid my aunts have long thought my willingness to speak out most inappropriate. But honestly, I see no reason to remain silent with my thoughts. Especially if the thought pertains to an ongoing discussion. Why shouldn’t a woman be able to speak her mind?”

  “Indeed. Any man who tells you otherwise is, in my opinion, a fool.”

  “I wish Pastor Walker could hear you say that.” She hadn’t meant to bring the man up in conversation. In fact, she had hoped to forget about him altogether. It was bad enough that the elders and deacons still had done nothing to remove him from the church, but given he had until the end of August for his trial period, she supposed there was little to be done.

  “Why do you worry yourself with what he thinks?”

  Abrianna shrugged. “I suppose I shouldn’t. Wade tells me that constantly. But it bothers me that anyone should judge me so inaccurately. Had I been faulted for speaking too much or running on the street or even singing off-key, I would have accepted such criticism graciously. God knows I do not sing well, and if you need a wife that does so, you should end this courtship here and now.” She gave him no chance to answer but continued. “But the man faults me for answering the call of God. He tells me I have no place in ministries of any kind. I cannot abide that judgment.”

  “Well, he is simply wrong,” Mr. Welby said with a warm smile. He lifted his wine goblet. “I suggest we drink to an evening free from such burdensome thoughts. Instead, let us reflect on brighter and more promising things, such as our courtship.”

  “I do not drink liquors of any kind, but I will toast such a thing with water, if I might.”

  “But of course,” he said. “I want you to be comfortable. I want you to be yourself.”

  The very thought that Mr. Welby would say such a thing gav
e Abrianna hope that perhaps they could make a go of the courtship. He was wealthy and willing to help in her endeavors and ministries, and his kindness and gentility proved him to be a gentleman. Perhaps the things Wade had heard about him were wrongly said. After all, people did lie about others, and it was easy enough to make incorrect judgments. Hadn’t Pastor Walker misjudged her?

  18

  Sunday afternoon Militine and Thane walked hand in hand around the grounds of the Madison Bridal School. Their new closeness offered Militine a comfort she’d never known. Since their mutual disclosures of the past, she’d had no more nightmares. She wasn’t foolish or even hopeful enough to believe they wouldn’t come on occasion, but for now it was enough. More than that, she knew Thane was a completely different man from the men she’d been exposed to at the trading post. He cared about her well-being and wanted to protect her from the ugliness of the world.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” he said in a hushed voice.

  She smiled and squeezed his hand. “I’m still in disbelief. I keep expecting to wake up and find this is just a dream.”

  “It’s no dream. This is our new life—together. Or very nearly. How long do you suppose we must court before Mrs. Madison will approve our marriage?”

  She looked at him for a moment and shook her head. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

  “Haven’t I made clear my intentions?”

  “It might be nice to be asked. It seems most all of my life no one cared about what I wanted. No one ever asked.”

  “Then let me be the first.” He knelt in the grass and took hold of both of her hands. “Militine Scott, will you marry me and be my love forever?”

  She burst into tears with unexpected emotion. She had never thought it possible that she could have such happiness in her future. “Yes. I will marry you . . . and be your love forever.”