When the Walls Fell

by Monique Martin

  In the end, the performance was far from exceptional and the young woman who he was supposed to meet never arrived. Gardiner had made some excuse, but it turned out that it wouldn’t have mattered. She wasn’t Elizabeth. She was some red-headed second cousin of someone he couldn’t remember.

  That night as he rode in his carriage back to his hotel, his thoughts were of two women, the one he had to find and one he wished he hadn’t.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Really!”

  Simon rubbed his temple and nursed his tea. Philpot was busy being affronted over something innocuous poor Livingston had said, while Gardiner gleefully watched the spectacle. It was the very definition of tiresome.

  He reminded himself that it was only his second day there, but that didn’t make this lot any more tolerable. He’d dutifully taken up his post in one of the reading chairs in Haven’s club room subtly and not so subtly making enquiries about any young ladies that were new to town.

  If the morning at the club didn’t bear fruit, he’d spread his net wider. He’d already paid several bellboys and elevator operators a kingly sum to be his eyes and ears at the hotel. People in service and small children were the best spies. Most people ignored them and spoke freely about even the most personal things in their company.

  A shoeshine boy worked like the devil in the far corner of the room. Maybe it was time to bring a few more into the fold. Paperboys, shoeshine boys and street urchins were beneath most people’s notice and could be invaluable additions to his network.

  He’d already visited several dressmakers’ shops. He knew Elizabeth would need clothes made. Time travelers, he’d learned, needed to travel light. Hopefully, one of the seamstresses would hear something about her. This afternoon, if he wasn’t any closer to finding her, he was going to walk Nob Hill. Of course, that still left Russian Hill and a few other elite neighborhoods. It was a long shot, but he’d be damned if he was going to leave any stone unturned. The earthquake was just under a week away and they had to be out of the city by then.

  Simon shifted in his seat, trying to shut out Gardiner’s inane babble. He picked up a newspaper from the side table, unfolded it and stared in dumb silence at the front page. It took him a second to recover and when he did he let out a joyful laugh so loud that Wentforth dropped his pipe.

  “Good lord man!” Gardiner squeaked. Simon waved him off and stared down at the grainy photograph emblazoned on the front page.

  When he’d opened the paper, he’d fully expected to see more about the devastation left by Mount Vesuvius’ eruption. The last thing he’d expected to find was a picture of Elizabeth. “Tomato girl,” he said with a chuckle.

  She was alive and well and, as he skimmed the story of her heroic rescue of Graham, in true Elizabeth form. How he’d missed her special brand of insanity. His heart beat faster at just the thought of being with her again. Knowing she was safe lifted the weight from his shoulders he’d carried with him since she’d stormed out. He would make amends; he would beg her forgiveness; he would make it all right again. Of course, he still had to find her first.

  The paper didn’t give many details. The story itself was short. There was a photograph of Graham and Elizabeth and an artist’s rendering of the “tomato incident”.

  His relative solitude was interrupted by a loud hello shouted across the room. The man waved to someone and virtually jogged toward Simon’s section of the room with self-assured idiocy. He reminded Simon of the dunderheaded athletes in his class who carried themselves with entitled nonchalance. Until he failed them, that is.

  “So good of you to meet me, Mr. Roth. My aunt was sorry she missed you the other day.”

  “Good to see you, Maxwell.”

  Simon tried to tune them out, only listening for bits of information that might be useful. He’d become rather adept at eavesdropping, able to cull out snatches of conversation to follow up any possible leads later. This particular conversation consisted of what amounted to a plea for money for a charity. Something to do with a Mrs. Eldridge and the Chinese Mission.

  “I’m sure something can be arranged,” Roth said.

  “Good. Aunt Lillian will be very pleased.” The man flopped down into one of the club chairs and sighed.

  “You seem to be in a very good mood, even for you,” Roth said.

  Maxwell stretched out his legs in front of him and slid down further into his chair. “I am. Have you seen the paper?”

  “No.”

  “Do you mind?” Maxwell asked. It took Simon a moment to realize he was talking to him. “The paper? May I?”

  Simon reluctantly handed it to him.

  Max smiled down at the front page. “I never thought I’d say this, but I think I might have found the one.” He handed Roth the paper.

  “Since lightning didn’t strike you dead on the very spot, I suppose you actually mean that this time.”

  “I think I just might. Isn’t she lovely?”

  “The Tomato Girl?”

  Simon jolted upright. With more effort than he’d like to admit, he forced a veneer of calm over his features. “Do you know her?”

  “Not as well as I’d like to,” Harrington said. He quirked his head to the side like a small dog. “Do I know you?”

  “Simon Cross.”

  Gardiner snatched the paper from Roth’s hands. “Sir Simon, Harrington. Harrington, Cross. Oh, she is delightful, isn’t she? And feisty too!”

  Simon reined in his impulse to shove the paper down Gardiner’s throat and instead looked at Harrington with what he hoped was a casual smile. “I don’t suppose you know where she is? We’re old friends and I’d love to say hello.”

  ***

  Simon forced himself to sit on the sofa. He couldn’t exactly prowl the room or worse yet, throw open every door in the place until he found her. Even if that was exactly what he wanted to do. Elizabeth was here, nearly within his reach, and he was forced to sit and wait with Harrington of all people.

  The very picture of nonchalant privilege, Harrington leaned back in his chair and stretched out his legs as he plucked off his driving gloves. “You know how women like to keep a man waiting,” he said, as if they shared some common bond.

  It was all Simon could do not to knock out some of his perfect teeth. The proprietary way he’d said Elizabeth’s name when he’d instructed the butler to announce his arrival still chafed. Not Miss West, which would have been proper, but Elizabeth, implying an intimacy Simon did not want to consider. And not a word of his waxing on about how she was the one for him had faded from Simon’s memory. All of that, however, would be dealt with swiftly and decisively, later. For now, the only thing Simon wanted was to see Elizabeth again.

  The doorknob turned and Simon sprung to his feet ready to go to her. But it wasn’t Elizabeth. An elderly woman entered and Harrington, all manners not completely deteriorated, managed to stand. “Good morning, Aunt Lillian,” he said as he kissed her cheek.

  Simon strained for a glimpse of Elizabeth behind her, but the hall was empty. Belatedly, he realized he was being introduced. Simon plastered on a courtly smile and gave a small deferential bow. “Mrs. Eldridge. I’m sorry for barging in like this.”

  Harrington leaned against the door jam. “Rank has its privileges.”

  “You’ll forgive my nephew, Sir Simon. What he lacks in tact he more than makes up for in impudence. Won’t you have a seat?”

  “Thank you. I—”

  The rest of the words were lost when Elizabeth, his Elizabeth, walked into the room. Simon’s heart, like a cannon shell trapped in the breech, nearly exploded in his chest.

  She playfully greeted Harrington and then, as she turned, she saw him. In the breadth of a few seconds her expression raced from disbelief to something he prayed was love. “Simon?”

  He ignored the shock and heard only the hope. His voice was a rasp, rising from deep within his soul. “Elizabeth.”

  In a way he’d missed her more than he could have imagined. Sh
e smiled. Then, as she remembered their audience, she bridled her emotions, but like her, they were far from tamed and it took an effort to control them.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked in a voice pressing far too hard on insouciance to be anything but the opposite.

  Simon kept his eyes fixed on her, drinking in every aspect. “It’s good to see you.”

  He could see her breath was short. Her chest rose and fell quickly and her cheeks were flushed.

  “I’ve just arrived from New York. Imagine my surprise when I saw you in the paper.”

  Her blush spread to her neck, but she recovered quickly. “Looks like it’s a day full of surprises.”

  “Isn’t it?” Harrington said as he glared at Simon for a moment, before turning to Elizabeth. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Be a good chap, won’t you?” Simon said before Elizabeth could respond. There was no way on heaven or earth she was leaving his side now. “I’m sure you could spare her for the day, so two old friends might get reacquainted.”

  Judging from Harrington’s reaction, Simon knew he had him trapped. Good manners were an underrated weapon.

  “That’s up to Elizabeth.”

  And damn her if she didn’t think about it. What in God’s name was there to think about?

  Finally, she broke the silence. “Do you mind, Max?”

  He was obviously crestfallen and Simon managed not to gloat. Too much.

  “I’ll make it up to you,” she said, winning a smile from Harrington and a silent curse from Simon.

  “Dinner tonight then? I’ve already made reservations, so you can’t say no.”

  Elizabeth hesitated, but only for a moment. “That would be lovely.”

  Harrington grinned stupidly. “I’ll fetch you around eight,” he said and then cast a crowing smirk at Simon. “Cross.”

  Simon nodded his head in acknowledgement content to let him enjoy his false victory, after today that would be all he’d have.

  Harrington left leaving Mrs. Eldridge standing awkwardly in what was obviously a private moment. The older woman looked at them with what Simon thought was envy, but whatever it was, it quickly fled. “I’m sure you two don’t need me for this,” she said and quietly closed the door behind her.

  For a long moment, neither Simon nor Elizabeth moved. He could barely believe she was standing there before him. Flickers of emotion played upon her face—relief or anger—he didn’t care which. He’d wanted only one thing for the last few days.

  When she finally spoke her voice quavered as much as he feared his own would. “What are you doing here?”

  All the speeches he’d rehearsed in the last few days didn’t mean a damn thing. Now that he’d finally found her, there was only one thing wanted and words had nothing to do with it. With three quick steps he closed the distance between them, pulled her into his arms and kissed her with all of his heart.

  Fierce desire and tender affection blended together in that kiss. The feel of her in his arms set all that was wrong to right again. The nights filled with longing and misery vanished. He pulled her body against his, not daring to let go.

  After a long moment he pulled back. “That,” he said, “is what I’m doing here.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Elizabeth stood frozen, trapped between wanting to fall into his arms and wanting to sock him right in the nose for everything he’d made her go through. He’d been a colossal ass, but he’d also fought through time and space to be by her side. Seeing him again and kissing him had addled her brains a little, but not completely.

  “Don’t think we’re not going to have a serious talk about you know what,” she said.

  He stared at her expectantly torn between fear and hope. It was a stark reminder. That very dichotomy was one of the reasons she loved him so much. He was a collision of opposites. The cool, so very British exterior that hid the most passionate man she’d ever known. He could recite Chaucer and quote Monty Python. He shut out the world and let her in.

  “But right now,” she continued, reaching up to caress his cheek. “I think you’d better kiss me again.”

  He gladly obliged. “God, I missed you,” he whispered in a voice rough and tender with emotion.

  She rested her head on his chest for a moment, content to let everything that was and everything that would be disappear. She’d been so intent on doing everything alone, she’d forgotten what a gift it was not to have to.

  Simon kissed the crown of her head and she felt as much as heard his sigh of relief. In the days since she’d arrived, she’d spent so much time angry about what had happened, she’d forgotten even to consider what he must have been going through. She eased back and one glance at his face told her the story of hardship, worry and desperation he’d endured. No matter how often she saw it in his eyes, or heard him whisper it to her in the dark, she was always awed by the sheer power of his love. The stoic, impenetrable Simon Cross laid bare and offered his heart to her again and again.

  The lump in her throat grew to guava-size and the glistening around the edges of Simon’s eyes told her they were both on shaky ground. And Mrs. Eldridge’s parlor was no place for an emotional scene. Gerald wouldn’t approve.

  Clearing her throat, she managed a smile. “What took you so long?”

  Simon laughed with that deep, rich resonate sound that found its way straight into her soul. He really needed to laugh more often.

  He matched her smile, but his eyes gave him away.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” she said. And then she noticed a small bruise on the edge of his jaw. “What happened?”

  She touched his cheek and he took her hand and kissed her palm. “It’s nothing.”

  The final burden seemingly lifted from his shoulders, he let out a deep breath and gently tucked a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. With as much tenderness as he’d had passion a few moments ago, his gaze caressed her face. His long fingers traced the edge of her jaw.

  Elizabeth closed her eyes and leaned into his hand.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Much better now.” She took his hand and led him to the sofa. She stared at him for a long moment before looking down. “I never thought you’d…”

  Simon tilted her chin up. “I will always come for you.”

  Her heart fluttered in her chest. Love’s arrhythmia. “What made you change your mind?”

  Simon frowned and his eyes darted from side to side like they did when he was searching for the right words. Giving her a wan smile, he shook his head. He walked to the window and stared out into the yard before turning back to her. “I should have listened. I’m still not ready to trust the Council, but I should have trusted you. But I…was angry and if I’m honest, I was afraid.”

  “I know it’s hard.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not sure you really know how difficult it is for me. I never thought I’d fall in love. I certainly never thought I’d fall in love with someone like you.”

  She smiled wryly. “Thanks a lot.”

  Simon ran a hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. “You’d think after nearly twenty years of teaching I’d learn how to say what I want to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything.” She crossed the room to stand next to him. He always looked so lost when he tried to make amends.

  “For five days, I’ve been thinking about what I was going to say when I found you. And now that I have, every word has fled me,” he said with a sad smile.

  She stepped toward him and cupped the side of his face. “Simon.”

  He closed his eyes for a moment and then sighed. “I can’t promise that I’ll always be the man you deserve, but I can promise that I’ll always try to be.”

  Elizabeth felt tears welling in her eyes.

  “When you came to me about the Council. I reacted badly. I’m sorry. I should have told you the day they came to me.” He took both of her hands in his. “I need you to know something, Elizabeth. I nee
d you to know that I will always support you. No matter how reckless and insane your ideas may be.”

  “And there’s my Simon,” Elizabeth said with a laugh.

  “And yours for the taking.”

  She kissed him again. “Consider yourself took.”

  ***

  San Francisco was the poster child for growing America. Brash, striving and never satisfied, it embodied the spirit of a nation feeling its oats. From President Teddy Roosevelt to the newest immigrant to land on its shores, America was in vigorous pursuit of greatness. Always bold, often blundering, and seldom tactful, America was reaching for the brass ring with both hands.

  Full of growing pains and beautiful mistakes, San Francisco was a teenage city ready to bust out. The population had grown from a mere 500 before the gold rush of 1849 to close to half a million by the turn of the century. What had been little more than pastures and mining towns was now a cosmopolitan city with thriving industry, modern technology and more money than you could shake a stick at. Empire building was its favorite pastime.

  At the city’s heart, Market Street was packed with every possible conveyance known to man. Horse drawn carts and carriages parried with a few boisterous automobiles and bulky cable cars. Pedestrians and cyclists wove in and out of the mess at will. If there were laws of the road, no one obeyed them.

  “Be careful,” Simon said as he tugged on Elizabeth’s elbow, pulling her back and keeping her from being run over by a low-slung drayage cart.

  Elizabeth sheepishly smiled her thanks. She’d been so caught up in the spectacle, she wasn’t paying close enough attention. It was only her second time travel experience, after all, she was allowed to gape a little.

  She knew Simon didn’t quite share her enthusiasm for the adventure of it all. What she saw as wondrous, he saw as potentially dangerous. And that was the rub, wasn’t it? That, in part at least, is what had split them apart.