“A very lucky woman, indeed, to have such a generous employer.” The woman wrapped the beige, kid leather gloves in red paper.
Jessica placed the package into her woven basket alongside the other carefully chosen gifts. She was delighted to have found the gloves she’d been searching for. She put on her own gloves and brought up the fur collar on her flared white wool cape, preparing to face the cold, wet December afternoon. As she stepped out the door, snowflakes danced into the shop.
“The winter is a strange one this year,” the clerk said from behind the counter. “They say we may even have a white Christmas.”
“Yes, imagine that.” When she stepped outside, the crisp air brought back memories of winters in Connecticut, and it made her heart swell with a childlike anticipation of the holiday season. She looked up and down the street at the festive sight. The lampposts held large swags of evergreens, eucalyptus and holly, accentuated by wide red ribbons. Even the trolley cars were decorated with ribbons and greenery. Store windows sparkled, each display more elaborate than the last. Jingle bells on the horses’ reins provided a musical accompaniment for the swirling, white flakes. The light-gray sky held the magic of expectation.
An older couple walked by, and they all marveled at the unusual weather. As they moved past her, she caught sight of a man across the street. He looked remarkably like Frederick, who would never find a reason to visit the shops in this part of town with its boutiques of hats and shoes and ladies’ undergarments. Squinting to get a better view of the man, she saw it was indeed her husband. Jerking, she stepped back into the shop’s doorway, the skirt of her deep- maroon dress catching the dusting of snow around its hem. Then, ever so carefully, she leaned forward and spied to see which shop he would enter. Was he searching for a gift for her? She had been so distant from him since the fall, but he had treated her more gently. Her aunt might be right—a child could soften him further. She touched her belly, and a warmth filled her chest.
The storefront he paced in front of was a lady’s undergarment shop. Her imagination filled in the gaps. Anticipating someone coming out and handing him a beautifully adorned package just for her, she held her breath. It would be an affectionate gesture. Instead, he turned to greet a tall, redheaded woman walking gracefully out of the store, laden with several boxes and bags. Jessica crept out of her hiding place. Was that the same woman from the Kentfields’ ball? Frederick immediately unburdened the elegant lady, and she, in turn, wrapped her arm around his and they kissed.
Stunned, she stepped back and hit the shop door. The Moores’ carriage passed by and pulled up beside the couple. Sam got out to help with the packages. Frederick and the lady entered the coach and were whisked away. Sam? The feeling of deep betrayal extended to the hired help. She felt as if she were watching a horrible dream.
The shop door opened with a whishing sound. “May I help you?”
Jessica turned to find the woman who had sold her the gloves looking at her curiously. In her stupor she answered, “No, thank you. I was just leaving.”
Walking aimlessly down the street, her labored breath was noticeable in the cold air. The wind pricked her wet eyes. She took out her handkerchief and patted them gently. Finally, she found the bench where the next omnibus would be coming. Sitting, she collected herself. She wouldn’t fall apart here. The outside world was no longer cheerful and wondrous, but cold and lonely. The bus arrived, and she entered it without acknowledging anyone, not even the gentleman who gave up his seat for her. On the way home, she wondered if her husband’s infidelity was the answer to her problem or just the beginning of a greater one.
~
“Welcome home, mum. Can you believe this bit of snow? I feel as if I’m back in England,” Hannah chirped. “How was your shopping? I can see you’ve done a fair bit of it. Shall I get Kevin to bring in the rest?”
“No, this is all there is. I’m tired, I think I’ll go upstairs and rest a while.”
Jessica reached her room, closed the door and collapsed onto her bed. So many questions invaded her mind, but all answers led to one conclusion—Frederick had taken a mistress. Her shock turned to anger. She reached for a pillow, then threw it from her bed with a shout. “I hate you!” Catching herself, her hand went to her belly. She had heard a woman’s anger could produce an unhealthy child.
Sitting back on her bed, she propped her head on one hand and turned her thoughts to resolution. Her husband had proven to be an adulterer. She could leave him now. Such a bold accusation would need to be substantiated. Then a horrible reality invaded her thoughts. He might take the child. By law, he had every right to do so. She briskly wiped tears from her cheeks. She wouldn’t let that happen. Shaking, she climbed from her bed and rushed to the door.
She found Hannah in the conservatory. Surely if Sam was in on the affair, Hannah and Kevin would be also. They would testify on her behalf. Hannah first claimed ignorance but then she hesitated, her face turning bright pink. She looked at her shoes.
“Hannah?” Jessica was stern.
“I’ve made a friend of a housekeeper whose sister cleans Mr. Moore’s office at the bank,” Hannah began. “She says his secretary, Miss Albright, complains on occasion that she’s tired of arranging all of Mr. Moore’s more delicate appointments, and that it causes her more work than she is being compensated for. She mentioned that a woman friend of Mr. Moore was the cause of her complaint. Oh, mum, I’m so sorry.”
Jessica paused to take in Hannah’s revelation. “I saw Sam helping them into the carriage. What more do you know, Hannah? I’ll need evidence.”
Hannah put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, mum, don’t do anything out of temper.”
“Never mind what I do. I need your help … and Kevin’s, too.”
“Yes, mum. We’ll do what we can. I mean to say, we are in Mr. Moore’s employ. What about our reputations and our jobs?”
Hannah’s comments stunned her. She crossed her arms. “I see where your loyalty is.”
“No, no, it’s not like that, mum. It’s just that if Kevin and me get sacked from this job, we have nothing.”
Lifting her skirt from the floor, she gave her feet plenty of freedom to storm away. “Tell Miss Benton I will have dinner in my room.” In the corner of her eye she caught Hannah’s curtsy.
“Save your curtsying for Mr. Moore.”
Chapter Fifty
It had been a hard day. Frederick still had a stack of work from the office to complete, though now he would be able to finish it with a drink by his side and a loosened collar. He sat down at his desk and began to organize his papers.
After a while, he noticed the outside light dimming, and he turned up the gas lamps on the wall behind him. He took out his watch. It was nearly supper, and he hadn’t seen his wife. He pulled on the rope that rang the bell for the housekeeper.
Soon there was a knock on the door. “Yes, come in.” He felt a presence standing in the threshold, but he didn’t look up from his desk.
“Where is my wife?”
“Mrs. Moore is dining in her room this evening.”
Frederick finally glanced up at the young English maid. “What for? Is she ill?” He wondered if the stomach ailments she’d had several weeks ago had returned.
“No, she isn’t ill, sir. I don’t want to speak out of turn, sir, but she’s quite upset.”
“Very well.” He returned to his work.
She curtsied and closed the door behind her.
Frederick leaned his elbows on the desk and clasped his hands under his chin. He wondered what she was upset about and if it had anything to do with him.
Jessica heard a light tapping on the door. She stood by the bay of windows staring out at the gardens below. “Come in.”
“My dear?” he asked softly. “Have you received bad news?”
She slowly turned around, her insides a ball of nerves. Be strong. “Yes, very bad news indeed.”
“I’m so sorry. What is it?”
Smoothing her
bodice on either side, she brought herself up to her entire five-foot-four height. “It seems my devoted husband is devoted to another woman.” Her chin lifted as she spoke.
Frederick scratched his forehead and smirked. “What are you talking about? Surely you’ve been misinformed, my love.”
“No, I have not.”
“Then who … who would have you believe such a thing?”
“You.”
Frederick placed his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels. “Me, my dear?”
“Yes, my dear, you.”
His arms fell by his side. She could see his anger swell. “Jessica, I’m tired. Please do not play games with me. Tell me what this is about.”
“I know you thought I was staying in today. I got into the Christmas spirit and decided to visit the shops–the boutiques, to be exact.” She heard a curse hiss through his tight lips. Tamping down her own anger, she became seethed with sarcasm. “I bought some very nice things for Hannah and Kevin. And oh, you should see the tea towels I purchased for Aunt June.”
“That’s quite enough.”
Jessica couldn’t find the brakes on her emotions. “And what did you and your lady purchase today? Anything for me?”
“No, I bought presents only for her.” The look of satisfaction on his face was the end of her.
Before she could stop, her hand whipped across his face, the sting running up her arm. His nostrils flared as he grabbed her. Their eyes met and he pushed her away. He retreated to the opposite end of the room.
“The redhead who needed help finding her way? The poor, innocent daughter of a client? How many more are there?”
Frederick touched the side of his face. The pink imprint of her fingers remained. “No one else, unless you count a night out now and then.”
Jessica rubbed her hand on her skirt and sat down in the carved-wood corner chair, its fluffy, rose-colored cushion providing little comfort.
“I knew you would be jealous if you found out I was helping her, so I kept it from you. Look around you, my dear. These are the extents to which I must stoop to provide us with such luxury.”
She felt sick to her stomach, and this time, it wasn’t the nausea of pregnancy. His story was weak at best. She stood and returned to peering out the windows. “I will go to my aunt’s house tomorrow and will send for my things shortly after.”
“Jessica, you don’t have to leave. I’ll go to my club until we sort this out.”
Worried for her unborn child, she tempered herself. Although she had many questions, she asked him only one. “Is she your true love?”
He raised both brows. “Let’s not get into the subject of ‘true love,’ my dear. We both know where your heart lies.”
“I don’t want to be married to you.”
“You are my wife, damn it. I will not have a divorce scar my reputation. What will people say? How could you even entertain such a thought? You have only yourself as a witness to my infidelity. You can prove nothing. This is not over.”
“Not over? How can you think I would stay with you after this?”
Frederick cocked his head. “I stayed with you.”
Her chest tightened as he approached, and she stepped into the bay, the window at her back.
Slipping a stray hair behind her ear he said, “My love, let’s talk about this rationally.”
His softness put her on guard. He could change in an instant. She slipped around him and left the room.
Chapter Fifty-one
The January sky darkened early. Jessica looked up at the flower-painted ceiling. Although the unknown looming over her like a heavy rain cloud made for an uneasy sleep, she felt safe and secure with her aunt and uncle. She tossed and turned in the large bed. She was terribly tired all the time and didn’t feel much like herself tonight.
It had been less than a month since she discovered Frederick’s infidelity. The telegram she sent to her aunt offered no clues to her request for an extended visit, but her aunt had welcomed her without question. “This is a good time for you to be here. I’ll be baking for the Ladies’ Guild Christmas event. You’ll be a great help to me.” June had also smoothed over her uncle’s confusion. “Sometimes a woman needs to be with her family. And that’s that.” Jessica was lifted from her gloom with all the Christmas festivities. Frederick wrote to her asking when she would be coming home. Her answer was short—never. She couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone about the pregnancy and thought it would be better to make her announcement after the holidays. She didn’t want to think any further ahead.
Tonight, her body longed for sleep, yet she found no rest. The tension in her back was increasing. She wore only her nightdress. Anything else felt too confining. She ran her hand over the firm bulge on her lower belly. The ache had moved to her abdomen. The growing discomfort was making her light-headed. She needed water or a biscuit. She was putting on her robe when a sharp pain embraced her belly like the thorns of a berry bush. The intense pressure in her lower body seized her. The bedroom tilted, and she dropped to the floor. She brought herself to sit up, then crawled to the side of the bed, panting with each rising fit of pain. They came in short, intense waves, each one sharper than the last. She managed to stagger to the bathroom shouting, “Auntie! Auntie!”
With her bleeding heart came the blood of her womb. Doctor Grant took the remains with him for examining, assuring Jessica that these things happened and she was not to be blamed. “It’s nature’s way.”
Jessica felt weak and disoriented. Crestfallen and confused, she lie in bed blaming herself for what happened. Her greed for freedom, her greed for Jacob. She had brought this on. Arguing with Frederick, the drama of that evening playing over and over in her head. She had put the baby in jeopardy and now it was gone. A battle raged inside her, each thought fighting the last. Her head tossed on the pillow. Desperately wanting to turn back time and have her baby in the protection of her body, she let the sobs come from within. Soon she became drowsy. The laudanum the doctor gave her was taking effect. No longer able to fight, she drifted into a deep, comforting twilight.
Chapter Fifty-two
March 1887
As the blossoms of spring emerged, Jessica’s life began to come forth. Lessened by the burdened of her grief, she was able to find a degree of peace in the workings of nature. Her aunt spoke of her own experiences, reminding Jessica what she already knew—June could not have children, and Jacob was the answer to their prayers. Her own experience left Jessica with a deep yearning to have a child, something she had never felt before. She would tell herself that someday the time would be right, but for now, she would make a life for herself. Her aunt and uncle agreed not to tell her parents about the baby, and she was relieved about that. As far as Thomas and Bethany were concerned, she was still with Frederick and everything was fine.
She continued her painting with renewed enthusiasm, using her memories of Lenny and her instructions as an inspiration. She promised herself that one day, she would paint like that again. For now, the softness of the watercolors eased her mind as she rendered the landscapes around her. Clermont City’s Bell Park was just off the main street of town, and it offered her peace and a place to create her art. The rolling, manicured lawn surrounded a gazebo with trellised roses. There was a path with a flowered arbor, and a stream under a wooden, walking bridge. The solace she found there gave way to healing, which then gave way to determination. Jessica kept hidden the independence that was budding inside her. Throughout the winter, the stirring energy fueled her spirit. She would take her talents beyond the boundaries she was forced to adhere to.
The room with the two beds served as her studio until she could find a place to call her own. At times, the lonely grief would overtake her. The silence, the vast and lonely silence, engulfed her. “Time heals all,” her aunt would say. She would embrace those words however out of reach they felt at the moment.
~
The light from the afternoon sun filtered into the bedroom �
�studio” tempting her to go outside. Stretching her arms above her head, she decided to quit for the day. A walk into town would give her a chance to step away from her latest painting then return with new eyes.
Wedged between two storefronts was the narrow clapboard building she had passed several times before. Today it drew her in. A stout man with a thick mustache and curly, light-brown hair stood behind a tall reception desk, his head just above its top. “May I help you?”
She approached him. “Are you the curator?”
“Yes, I’m Mr. Talbot, and you are interested in one of the paintings?”
Jessica found her courage. “No, I’m interested in selling my own paintings here.”
Mr. Talbot looked sideways, then back to her. “I’m afraid I’m not open to new artists at this time. Good day, madame.” His head disappeared behind the desk.
She was not about to let him off that easily. “Mr. Talbot, I work in watercolors and oils, and I feel my paintings would appeal to a female patron. Besides, I notice that many people come through Clermont City on their way to other places. Surely they would want a rendition of our fine town to take with them. I would love to show you my work. Please, consider me.”
Mr. Talbot rose, looking down his long nose at her. “Hmm … tourists? I like the idea of it, but I won’t make my gallery a cheap attraction.”
“Oh, certainly not, Mr. Talbot.”
“Very well. I will first have to take a look at your work, no promises.”
“Thank you, Mr. Talbot! I’ll bring them to you later today if that’s all right. Good day.” She rushed out of the gallery.
“Madame.” She heard him call after her. “I didn’t catch your name.”
Stopping in her tracks, she turned and said, “Miss Jessica Messing.”
Three days later, her paintings were in the Talbot Gallery–four small paintings and two larger ones, all watercolors. Mr. Talbot was not ready for her grittier oil paintings. Later that week she ventured to the next town of Lamont with her aunt. She’d heard of a general store that displayed works of art. Again, she gave her speech to the owner of the store. “If you can produce some paintings of Lamont in a good light, why I think I would be interested,” Mr. Jenkins, the shop, owner said. Jessica was thrilled at her new commission. Although Lamont had less tourist appeal, she was eager to take up the challenge of showing its best features.
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