“Thank you.” Mr. Livingston let out a sigh. “Ah, that woman I married. She is dear to me, far more dear than any riches or jewels. I’m afraid she mistook my business concerns as an impending disaster. She tends to be a bit histrionic. But I assure you nothing like this will happen again. I plan to further assure your father and brother of the same thing.”
Chapter 10
Maggie’s feet ached for days after the ball, and so did her heart. She didn’t see James again after that evening, and she found herself looking for him when she and her mother visited Violet Blankenship at Fairwinds the following Monday morning.
“The men are in the city, all of them.” Violet waved her hands. “But no matter. We don’t need them to begin wedding planning and household planning. You will, of course, live on the third floor of our building. Mr. Blankenship is already having the apartments prepared so they will be ready for you and my Frank to move into next summer.”
If Maggie had thought the ball was a flurry of activity, the morning that followed turned into a blizzard.
She wore a ring on her finger, placed there unceremoniously by Frank in front of everyone, including James. Now she tried to push thoughts of anything other than a warm brotherly friendship with James from her head.
Her parents had indeed revealed their gift to her, the much-desired trip to Paris this coming fall, but she imagined at this point it would be spent with shopping trips and dress designs, not visiting museums and basking in the history of the place.
“Margaret, tea?” Mother asked again.
“Yes, Mother.” She smiled at Mrs. Blankenship. “I apologize. My mind seems to be going in all sorts of directions today.”
“Well, that is quite all right. I do declare, your debut was one of the best I’ve attended in the past two seasons.” Mrs. Blankenship lifted the porcelain teapot and poured a cup for Maggie. “There. Sugar?”
“Please.”
After Mother’s grab at the necklace, Maggie sent it to the bank with Father. She didn’t want the thing in her jewelry box, and neither did Father, probably for different reasons. Mother didn’t mention the incident again, and neither did Maggie or Father.
She wondered again about James. Before Father left for the city this morning, she nearly asked him if the engagement could be called off, but she didn’t. Such arrangements were common in their set, and she shouldn’t have been surprised that her parents had entered into one for her.
She inhaled deeply and looked across the expanse of Fairwinds lawn. If she could live somewhere like this all the time, being married to Frank would not be so bad. She prayed that God would help her with the loneliness she knew would come and that any ideas she had of James would die forever.
James sat at his desk at the New York Empire News trying to work on his next assignment. The robbery story was already on its way to print and would soon be part of news history. His present assignment was on the growing suffragette movement among the New York elite.
“You know how to talk to these people,” Burrows had told him upon his return to the office that morning. “I’ve heard you on the telephone. Your voice changes, your manner of speaking. You know how to get them to talk to you.”
He would be making the rounds among the upper crust of society again. He wasn’t sure how he would like it. Maybe this was a way of rebuilding the bridge with his father, a bridge he’d torn apart years ago. During his brief time in Newport last week, it seemed a few building blocks for a new bridge were set in place. Not that he would be returning to the family business anytime soon.
“Hey! Blankenship. Someone’s here to see you,” someone called out from their desk near the door.
James squinted across the room. Father? And Frank? What had he done to warrant this visit? They both looked serious as the grave. Well, Frank looked like that nearly all the time. He’d always been a serious one, which served him well in business.
Burrows, his boss, wore a look of surprise that James imagined matched his own.
His father and Frank wound their way through the rows of desks and stopped when they reached his. James stood, wishing he’d worn his nicer coat today. But it didn’t matter. They shook hands with him.
“We have a proposal for you,” Father said.
“A proposal?” Were they asking him to come back? He realized how he’d missed seeing his mother, but he had no inclination to leap back into that fishbowl of a life again.
“I, ah, I don’t want to marry Margaret Livingston,” his brother blurted out. “I can’t keep up this ruse. I was able to for that debut, but no more. A wife is too much to take care of. I don’t want to deal with the responsibility of having to think about a wife.”
“I see.” He wasn’t sure what that had to do with him.
“Yet we have an agreement with the Livingstons,” his father continued. “Their interests need protection, and a marriage would only strengthen our companies.”
James figured there had to be some other financial benefit for the family, but he didn’t ask about that. “So how am I involved with this?”
“We are prepared to offer another agreement to them, but this time naming you as the husband. In our agreement, there must be a Blankenship-Livingston wedding, but no particular son is named.”
The hubbub of the office surrounded them, his coworkers wrapped up in their own stories after giving them a few curious looks.
“May we talk somewhere privately?” James asked his boss.
“Use my office.” Burrows jabbed his thumb toward his windowed office with a door. “But make it quick. I have an appointment in twenty minutes.”
James led them into Burrows’s domain and closed the door behind them. “All right, now we may talk without so many listening ears. Father, what do you want me to do?” He almost added, “Come back to work for you?”
He wasn’t sure he could do that. But a writer’s life was hard, odd hours for meager wages. He wasn’t at the bottom of the pile, and he’d worked his way to where he was now—as indicated by the fact that Burrows finally called him Blankenship instead of Blandford, for one thing.
“We must have an engagement, followed by a marriage within one year,” his father explained. “Whether it is Frank or you matters not.”
“One year.” He thought it over. He didn’t want to be roped into something like this. But then, it was Maggie … and she deserved better than being the subject of an arranged marriage.
And there was Frank’s blasé attitude toward the nuptials to be considered. His brother probably gave Maggie instructions as if she were a secretary or stenographer. James tried not to roll his eyes at the idea.
“Well, what say you?”
James stared out across the newsroom. “I say I must speak to Margaret Livingston as soon as possible. Then we will let you know our decision—together.”
Maggie walked along the shore, or as close as she could get to the encroaching tide without getting the hem of her skirt wet. The day had worn her down. After the tea and endless wedding plans that had ensued, she’d faced another supper, this time with the Morrises. No mention had been made of Elizabeth’s fate until Maggie managed a whispered conversation with her friend in the foyer before the family departed.
No resolution for Elizabeth and Henry. Perhaps one day, Elizabeth had said. Her mother wanted to let the scandal die down—she was certain the Livingston family understood that position.
Tonight, Maggie wanted to just breathe in the fresh air and wonder what would transpire between now and the wedding in one year. Maybe she and Frank would develop a civil friendship, a mutual respect. Or so she could hope.
Maggie glanced back at the house. A figure approached—a man in a suit. James?
But he was back in the city at his job, their paths now uncrossed as they should be.
“Good evening,” he said as he reached her on the edge of the sand.
“Hello.” Her mind floundered for a reason why he might be here. “What … what are you doing here
?”
“I’m here to see you.”
“Me?”
He nodded, offering her a slow smile. “There’s been a new development with the agreement between our families. I asked that I be the one to tell you about it and see if you agree.”
“A development?”
“Well, it seems that my brother doesn’t want to be saddled with a wife. He doesn’t want to be bothered with the upkeep or something like that.”
She almost collapsed with relief. “So there’s to be no wedding?”
“Ah, well, there’s the rub. There must still be a wedding next year.”
“What?”
“Yes. But this is why I asked to be the one to speak with you, and we will tell the family of our decision. You must agree to it. I asked the family for that, as well.”
“You mean?”
She could marry James … instead?
“This is all so … fast.” Maggie swallowed hard. “James, I’m not sure what to think. What are your inclinations to having a wife?”
He cleared his throat. “I would find a different job, possibly with my father. Nothing high level. I shy away from that. I’m content and blessed doing what I do. But Father will find something more … agreeable to me, in time. I realized I need to ask his forgiveness for leaving like I did. It hurt him very much. I think this … this between us … will go a long way to doing that.”
“You look at me as a way to please your father?” She started to laugh.
“No, that’s not it.” He practically sputtered. “I mean, Margaret Livingston, I would like to court you. I’ve spoken to your father about it, and he is agreeable. Would you be agreeable to that? One step at a time.”
Being courted by James Blankenship? Was he really smiling at her? Her heart skipped a beat as he took her hand, raised it to his lips, then kissed it.
“Yes, yes. I am most agreeable to that.”
“Come with me?” He offered her his arm, which she gladly took. “Let us tell your parents and then mine.”
“Oh, James,” she said, leaning on his arm as they climbed the low dune, “I look forward to the next year, very much.”
“As do I.” He stopped long enough to give her a quick kiss.
Epilogue
One year later
New York City had seen more lavish weddings, to be sure, but that mattered not to Margaret Livingston Blankenship. The past year being courted by James had flown by as they walked together, talked together, and discussed the books they read.
No more robberies or anything else like that occurred, but Margaret wondered about the possibility of another caper in her future. James was wont to notice little things that would get their imaginations wondering. But for now, they had more important matters to tend to.
They had plans for a wedding trip to Paris, which, he promised, would have no dress fittings or shopping unless she really wanted it to. She did not.
For tonight, however, they were heading to Fairwinds to spend time at the cottage as husband and wife before heading out on their trip.
Gertrude had returned to their employ and would accompany Margaret to their new apartment at the Blankenships’ building in the city after returning from Europe.
“Happy, my wife?” James asked as he helped her from the carriage.
“Very happy, my husband. And thankful.”
“What lies ahead of us, I do not know. But I look forward to having you by my side as we go forward together.”
“As do I, my love.” She smiled up at him, her heart skipping a beat. Thank You, God, for this ending, and this new beginning.
He swept her into his arms and carried her into the house.
Lynette Sowell is an award-winning author with New England roots, but she makes her home in Central Texas with her husband and a herd of five cats. When she’s not writing, she edits medical reports and chases down stories for the local newspaper.
All That Glitters
by Kimberley Woodhouse
Dedication
To my big sister Mary Margaret.
Wife, mom, sister, daughter, friend. You’ve worn many hats and done it beautifully.
And you’ve always been there for me.
I’m so thankful God gave me you.
Thanks for putting up with your kid sister …
Which reminds me—I’m sorry for hiding under your bed while you were reading so that we could try to scare you.
Ray made me do it.
Chapter 1
Juneau, Alaska, 1895
I don’t know why yer makin’ such a fuss.” Johnny Jones tugged his jacket a little tighter and stood taller. “It ain’t that cold.” Maybe if he said it enough times, he could convince himself.
“Speak for yerself, Johnny. I don’t know why we had to take this job anyway. I’m gonna freeze to death up here, and besides that, I never killed no one.” Clive hopped from one foot to the other and smacked his gloved hands together.
“It’s good money. More than we’ve ever seen in our lives, and we won’t have to go digging around for it, so quit yer whinin’. Who’s gonna catch us up here anyways? Nobody knows us, and we won’t be staying.” He nodded toward the building. “Just shut up and watch. They should be comin’ out any minute.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, the door across the street opened. A lady in a blue dress with sleeves almost as wide as the door stepped out followed by two gray-haired men in their fancy suits. That was them.
The Abbots and their lawyer friend.
The trio walked down the street toward their hotel, talking and nodding.
Johnny waved to Clive. The time had come. A job worthy of his skills. “Follow me. If we play our cards right, we can get the job done and catch a boat back to someplace warm by the end of the week.”
“Warm sounds awful good. I’d just about kill for it.” Clive smiled enough to show his gray teeth.
“Good. No more foolin’ around. We have a father and daughter to get rid of.”
Mary Margaret Abbot listened to Father tell Uncle Dillard about the plans for the new mines. Gold had been struck and was plentiful—especially to those who had the funds to spend on good equipment. With the new Abbot investments here in Juneau, their mines would prosper for generations to come. A little thrill ran through her. While it wasn’t her first choice to be unmarried at her age, she did enjoy that it meant Father allowed her to see the business side of things. The world changed at a rapid pace, and she loved watching it happen.
Since Mother died when she was a child, Mary Margaret had grown up knowing that she would become the lady of the house and need to help direct her sisters. But as she’d grown, her interest in business grew along with her, and Father brought her on trips and to business meetings. Three years ago—on her twenty-fifth birthday—Father dubbed her his business partner. As the heiress to the Abbot fortune, she didn’t mind one bit, although some of the men she encountered didn’t quite know what to do with a woman involved in business discussions.
“Arnold, it’s a grand plan. And already a successful one.” Dillard tapped his cane on the boardwalk. “As your lawyer and adviser, you have my full support to pursue more ventures such as these. As your brother-in-law, I can congratulate you—the Abbot coffers will grow in abundance.”
“High praise indeed, and I don’t mind if I do pursue them. Thank you for that.” Father smiled. “I’m also thinking of investing in a few of the failing claims that are close to the same underground creek. That places them in proximity of what we hope to be the ‘mother lode’—that’s how the men put it? Without money and equipment, they wouldn’t be able to reach the central vein for years.”
“But you can change that. Ah yes, good plan.” Uncle made notes in the little leather notebook Mary Margaret had never seen him without. “And you’ll keep on the hired hands? The prospectors?”
“I think so. Give them a stake in the claim for their work. I provide the funds and the means, they provide the hard labor. What do
you think?”
“Another excellent idea. Build loyalty from the workers and put a good name behind it. You won’t just be another gold digger. It’ll be respectable and grow.” Their family lawyer rubbed his hands together. “Even in this chilly weather, the idea warms my insides.”
“I’m glad you approve, let’s put them into motion. I’d like it all taken care of before we leave end of the month.” Father turned to face her. “What are your thoughts, Mary Margaret?”
“I agree with Uncle Dillard that it is a grand plan, and I look forward to learning more about the gold mines.” His last words stayed with her. End of the month? They would return home, of course. But Mary Margaret found that she didn’t want to leave Alaska. After months on end in this great northern territory, she fancied staying on a bit longer. It was a beautiful place. And far from Colorado. At twenty-eight years old, she was the eldest of three daughters in the Abbot clan. And the only one who would inherit anything of the Abbot fortune since her sisters chose to marry money-obsessed men and throw away their dowries to worthless husbands. The thought of going home to Colorado and listening to her sisters’ constant whining and complaining was enough to tempt her to stay in a shack in Alaska forever. If Mother had lived to see her younger children grow into the women they’d become, she’d join Mary Margaret in solitude. Of that Mary Margaret was most certain.
“That’s my girl.” Arnold Abbot laid a hand on her shoulder. “You make me proud, daughter.” With a nod, he began walking toward the hotel again.
“Thank you, Father.” She pasted on a smile. Dare she voice her thoughts? “Must we really leave at the end of the month?” He would know the true motivation behind her question—they were so connected. She’d seen firsthand the toll her sisters’ poor choices took on Father.
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