When she opened her eyes, Evelyn found herself staring into the faces of Adele, Josephine, Bartholomew, a handful of players, a score of children and their mamas, a widely grinning Lucius, and a very penitent offensive kicker, who was rapidly apologizing in his native tongue.
“Are you all right, darling?” Adele Whitfield inquired, with the tonality of a concerned mother.
Evelyn’s head felt as though it had been clapped between two gongs, and it took a moment to find her breath.
“I believe so,” she choked.
At the sound of her voice, the children burst into cheers while Lucius reached down to take her hand.
“Let’s get up slowly, eh lass?” he said, a trace of laughter in his voice. “You took quite the knocker.”
Evelyn snorted.
“Don’t look so amused,” she replied, accepting his hand. She rose slowly until she was on her feet. Her head spun, and she was forced to lean on Lucius’ arm.
“You’re a magnet for trouble,” he chided.
“As I recall, you’re the one who inspired Josephine to push me onto the field.”
“Aye, this one’s my fault, I’m afraid. How can I make it up to you?”
“Will you assist me back to camp? I can’t seem to stand on my own.”
Lucius nodded and swept her up in his arms. She was alarmed by the gesture, for she had only meant to use him as a crutch.
She marveled at the ease with which he carried her.
“You all right?” he asked, sensing her sudden rigidity.
“Yes,” she replied, relaxing a little. “I don’t suppose I can tell you I bested you this time, can I?”
“No,” he laughed. “Not this time.”
They returned to camp with Adele, Bartie, and Josephine trailing close behind. Samuel Davies was there, reading in the shade of his tent. He looked up to see the coming troupe and immediately stood to receive them.
“What happened?” he asked. “You all right, Miz Brennan?”
“I’m fine, Mr. Davies,” Evelyn assured him. “Just took a knock to the head, that’s all.”
“Samuel,” Lucius said, “would you mind fetching a cool cloth for Miss Brennan?”
“Not at all, sir. Not at all.”
As Lucius lowered Evelyn onto a mat and the others made themselves comfortable nearby, Samuel wet a napkin and gave it to Lucius, who gingerly applied it to the rising bump on Evelyn’s forehead. She winced at the slightest pressure.
“Oh, come now,” Lucius teased. “It can’t be that bad.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes.
“I was merely reacting to the smell of your breath,” she told him.
He laughed.
“Mr. Davies,” Evelyn said.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“What is that book you have there? Would you care to entertain us with a reading?”
Samuel hesitated.
“’Fraid not, ma’am,” he replied. “I jest look at the pictures. Ain’t never read a lick in my life.”
Evelyn lifted her head and all eyes turned to him.
“You mean to say you cannot read?”
Samuel shook his head.
“Ain’t never learned, ma’am.”
“Forgive me, I did not know.”
“Ain’t no offense.”
Evelyn leaned back and closed her eyes against the brightness of the afternoon. She could not remember a time in her life when she could not read. She tried to imagine how small the world would feel under such a restriction.
Again, Samuel took up his book and opened it. Instead of looking at the images, he scanned the foreign assortment of letters.
“Sometimes I stare at all them funny lines and imagine what they are trying to say,” he explained. “I compare the pictures with my thoughts and somehow make ‘em compliment each other, like I’m putting together my own story. Helps me not feel so thick. Or like I’m stupid or something.”
“Should you like to read, Mr. Davies?” Evelyn asked.
“Of course, ma’am.”
“Lack of knowledge has nothing to do with stupidity,” Adele chimed in. “It has everything to do with being denied your power and right to learn.”
“Well put, Mrs. Whitfield!” Evelyn exclaimed. “That is the very truth. I do not know how long we shall be in this camp, but I should like to teach you, Mr. Davies. Our lessons shall begin immediately… As soon as this headache passes, of course.”
There were chuckles around the campsite as Samuel clutched his book to his chest.
“Oh,” he breathed with an effusive sigh, “I should be much obliged, ma’am.”
* * *
The rest of the day passed without event, and as evening fell, the air grew cool and Evelyn’s headache passed. Adele had offered to read aloud from Samuel’s book, so for many hours, all sat quietly and listened. Samuel and Josephine worked together to make a hearty stew of goat meat and potatoes, and when all was ready, the reading ceased, Evelyn sat up for the first time that afternoon, and the company enjoyed a silent meal together.
They had eaten well since their travels had come to a halt, and their bodies felt stronger for it. Lucius’ physical appearance had altered more than anyone’s, for the combination of sturdy food and no alcohol brought the ruddiness back to his cheeks and the brightness to his eyes. Rather than dragging, his feet moved with a new spring, and his knees and elbows no longer poked sharply through his clothes. He looked well, he felt well, and the others could not help but notice.
As he went for a second helping of stew, Evelyn clucked her tongue.
“Feeling better, are we?” she asked.
He finished slopping the food into his tin bowl and returned to his seat with a satisfied grunt.
“Whatever are you talking about, Miss Brennan?”
She raised her eyebrows and appraised him.
“You were but a wisp after your sickness,” she explained. “I was afraid the slightest breeze would carry you away. Now look at you.” She smirked and added, “you remind me of a boy I once knew.”
Lucius smiled in return.
“Aye, and I feel more like him every day,” he said. “How could I not be positively altered with Mr. Davies’ and Josephine’s cooking? Those two work magic over the fire.”
Everyone offered a heartfelt agreement, and Lucius nodded to Evelyn.
“What about you, lass?” he asked. “How is that head of yours?”
“Nearly better, thank you.”
“You took the blow well,” Adele spoke. “I feel dreadful. It was my fault you got hurt. I should never have let you take my place.”
“You are not the least bit at fault, Mrs. Whitfield!” Evelyn cried. “It was this conniving gentleman,” she tilted her head towards Lucius, “and his naughty accomplice, Josephine, who shoved me into the game.”
Josephine adamantly shook her head and pointed an accusatory finger at Lucius.
“What’s this?” Evelyn gasped. “She denies it?”
She proceeded to punish the maid by tickling her ribs, and Josephine doubled over in a fit of silent laughter.
“For the girl’s sake,” Lucius said, “I plead mea culpa. It was my ploy, Evelyn, to get you off your dainty backside.”
Evelyn’s hand flew to her chest as she exclaimed, “Mr. Flynn, I pull my weight as much if not more than you, so don’t you dare accuse me of indolence.”
“It is not indolence I speak of,” he argued. “I merely wish to see you have a wee bit of fun now and again.”
“I am perfectly capable of having fun.”
Lucius cocked his head.
“Are you?”
In reply, Evelyn set down her empty tin and got to her feet. She was always ready to prove Lucius wrong.
“Of course,” she declared. “I was just thinking that you should produce your violin, Mr. Flynn. Let us have a dance.”
Lucius gaped at her.
“Well?” she said. “Come along, then. We haven’t got all night.”
&nb
sp; Without a word, Lucius rose excitedly and disappeared into the tent, only to emerge seconds later, instrument in hand, while Samuel pulled the harmonica from his pocket.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked.
“I would be honored,” Lucius replied, settling down to tune his strings and tighten his bow. “Any requests, Miss Brennan?”
“You know all my favorites, Mr. Flynn.”
“Well then.” He smiled. “I know just the one.”
As Lucius lifted the violin to his chin and began to play, Evelyn took Josephine’s hand, Adele picked up her son, and the two funny pairs began to dance. Lucius watched as Evelyn capered about with the little maid, the two bursting into laughter each time they missed a step, and he could not help but feel happy.
Every few measures, Evelyn would sing some broken lyrics, but then the rest of the words would elude her and she would laugh in their place. Evelyn had always forgotten the words to this particular song. There was something about it that refused to stick, though she and Lucius used to practice it time and time again.
They had only performed it once, for an audience composed of their families, tutors, and friends. Evelyn had given a fine performance until she forgot the final verse. Lucius had tried to come to her rescue, silently forming the words with his lips, but Evelyn had closed her eyes, isolating herself with her faulty memory.
When her father had realized that his child was struggling, his deep, tenor voice filled the parlor, and he stood to join her. As he placed an arm about her shoulders, she opened her eyes and saw him nod kindly. The rest of the song returned to her, and she raised her voice to harmonize with him. It concluded as a fine performance, and the small audience requested an encore. Emmett remained with Evelyn throughout the entire song, and their voices blended together in a memorable duet.
Lucius watched Evelyn’s face for any sign of this recollection, but he read nothing but happiness, an emotion Evelyn had shown little of in the past three years. That was a long time for a lass to be miserable, and Lucius knew he had done little to assuage the pain.
Perhaps it would have been better if he had left her in New York after all. She could have led a simple, boring life, in a rich home with an easel and a library and a piano and all the fine things she loved. Would she have been happy then? Would his father have allowed it? It was not likely. Chances were, Banning would have depleted Evelyn’s inheritance within a fortnight, leaving her without a penny to make it on her own. There would be no big house, no servants, no semblance of independence. Evelyn would become a prisoner in Banning’s home. She would own nothing; not a penny, not a future, not love, nor prospects nor freedom. She would live the life of a dependent spinster, and just the thought made Lucius cringe. Evelyn Brennan deserved so much more, and Lucius would make sure she had it, even if it meant one day sending her back to Ireland without him. That was the arrangement to which they had agreed, and if that was what she still wanted in the end, he would honor it, no matter what it cost him.
The song approached the final verse, and Lucius listened to see if Evelyn would remember it.
When it came time for her to sing, she clamped her lips together. Lucius shook his head and smiled to himself, for Evelyn really was terrible at memorization.
Instead, he raised his voice and sang for her.
She shot him a knowing look, for in that moment, both of them were transported back to that timeless parlor in Brennan House, and she could hear her father’s voice in her head.
Just as they had back then, the words returned to her, and she began to sing as well. Only now she sang with Lucius, whose heart nearly burst with joy.
The song ended to applause, and the company looked about to see that a small crowd had gathered. A handful of them had brought instruments; another fiddle, a guitar, a pair of spoons, and an accordion.
“May we join you?” one of the musicians inquired.
The company heartily accepted, and a band was formed.
“My brother and I used to play that song,” the young fiddler said. “I was wondering if we might play it again? It makes me feel as though I’ve gone home.”
Lucius grinned and looked at Evelyn.
“Only if the lass will sing,” he conceded.
Evelyn shook her head.
“You know I can never remember the words,” she told him.
“Unless someone sings with you,” Lucius argued. “Sing with me, Evelyn.”
She hesitated.
“Please?” he pleaded.
Everyone waited for her response, and she finally agreed.
Jubilantly, Lucius set down his instrument while the others positioned themselves to play, and he went to stand beside Evelyn.
“Ready?” he asked her.
She looked around somewhat timidly, revealing a side of Evelyn Brennan that one rarely saw.
“Yes. I believe so.” She cast a glance at him. “But you will have to lead. I cannot sing unless you lead.”
Lucius smiled.
“Gladly.”
Once more, Evelyn and Lucius sang. As the band played and the other men danced with Adele, Josephine, and each other, Evelyn thought of the way her voice combined with Lucius’, and how very different it sounded from her father’s. When Emmett Brennan sang, the walls of the room reverberated and the very glass on the windows seemed to cloud with infinitesimal vibrations. It was deep; so deep and rich and full of the big, soft heart from which it came. Lucius’ voice was another instrument all together; pure and steady, sweet and clear.
At times, Evelyn found that she had stopped singing while listening to Lucius, and he would look at her with that ever-quizzical brow, startling her back into the song. Thus they reached the final verse, with Lucius singing as loud as he could, and Evelyn struggling to match his timbre. Together, they gave their audience a splendid number.
The song concluded with resounding applause, and the band did not wait for Lucius to rejoin them for the following tune. A request was shouted out, and the accordion player nodded in consent. The timing was counted off, and the next song began.
Lucius smiled at Evelyn.
“You’re in danger, you know,” he told her.
She tilted her head in curiosity.
“Am I, now?”
“Absolutely.” He nodded towards the nearby crowd of faces, which were all trained on Evelyn, eager for Lucius to hand her over. This was a dance, after all, and females were scarce. Lucius would be a gentleman and share now, wouldn’t he? “Every last one of ‘em’s starving for a twirl or two.”
“Then I suppose I should indulge them,” Evelyn sighed. “Just this once.”
She took a step, but Lucius caught her hand.
“You would pass up the man next to you?” he asked. “Did you not notice? I am the first in line.”
Evelyn examined him for any trace of mockery, but she found none. His eyes were earnest, and he hoped that was the only emotion they would betray. Not his nervousness, nor the racing of his heart, nor the fear that she would reject him. He was taking a risk, he knew. Was he not a gambling man? Evelyn had avoided him since the encounter with Brock Donnigan, throwing herself into a thousand menial tasks in pursuit of self-improvement. For the first time, she had stopped fighting the arrangement they had made and resigned herself to see it out with diligence. He was impressed by her hard work, surely. She would make an excellent companion on the gold fields, no doubt. But he despised the divide that existed between them. He did not just want her compliance, or her servitude, or her doggedness. He wanted her happiness, something he had barely seen a trace of before this night. If only Evelyn could be persuaded to see the light of all the good things they had once shared together, perhaps she would let go of the dark things. Surely, surely this present warmth had thawed her frozen heart. If only a little, if only enough to dance.
When she did not give him an answer, he felt the ominous approach of panic. Any other woman, any other woman would have given her consent by now. But, of course, this w
as Evelyn Brennan, who made nothing easy, nothing predictable.
“Evelyn,” Lucius said, “I want you to dance with me.”
She looked longingly towards the other men, for other men were simple. They wanted her near enough to sniff her hair, to be caressed by the folds of her dress, to feel the warmth of her body. All the satisfaction they required was a moment. Just a moment. But Lucius? He had begun to look at her differently. This look was entirely new, entirely foreign, and mingled with confusion, bewilderment, and awe. As if every moment, he was surprised by her, intrigued by her. As though he wanted to get closer, to learn something new. But there was hesitation as well, the kind that walked hand-in-hand with curiosity over some dangerous thing. Evelyn knew she was a danger to the hearts of other men. But dangerous to Lucius?
She could not deny his efforts to close the rift that yawned between them. And here he was only asking for one dance in return.
Hadn’t he earned that much?
“All right, Mr. Flynn,” she finally conceded. “I will dance with you.”
A yes! He had gotten a yes!
As her fingers tightened around his, Lucius fought a smile that threatened to take over the breadth of his face. He led his partner with one step, then two, with one hand guiding her lovely, narrow waist, and the other caught up in the warmth of her delicate grasp.
He had wanted this. Oh, yes. He had wanted to dance with this woman since the night of the cholera outbreak, when that other beast of a man had stumbled all over the stateroom with her in his arms. Even then, Lucius knew Brock was not deserving of Evelyn. Lucius might be little more deserving in comparison, but at least he could dance.
For a moment, he was grateful to every dame he had ever courted, if only for bequeathing him with this one skill. This was one good thing he could offer Evelyn without reaching far into the better, less tainted parts of his soul.
As the band played and Lucius led the dance, Evelyn was riveted. Here Lucius Flynn possessed yet another hidden skill. She could stumble and trip and somehow still look good beside him.
Liberty Hill (Western Tide Series) Page 28