by Caroline Lee
Copyright © 2016, Caroline Lee
[email protected]
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.
First edition: 2016
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Cover: EDHGraphics
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
Other works by Caroline Lee
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Beauty
An Everland Ever After Tale
Dedication:
For the Lauras
CHAPTER ONE
Wyoming Territory, 1876
“This is stupid, Mother. I don’t want to move!”
Arabella Mayor sighed, and resisted the urge to swat her son’s backside. “I know, my love, but needs must. And please be more respectful.”
There’d been a time, not so long ago, that her gentle censure would have resulted in a blush and mumbled apology. And not too long before that, it would’ve resulted in a fierce hug with a dirty little face pressed against her stomach. But apparently ten-year-old boys were too grown-up to respect their mothers.
Eddie rolled his eyes—did he think she couldn’t see him?—and lifted the box with a huff, stomping down the stairs. It was the last of the things that she’d packed that morning, and luckily it didn’t have to go far. Still, she should chase him down and demand an apology… and would’ve, if she hadn’t been so exhausted from the packing.
Instead, she slowly followed her son downstairs to the large storeroom behind the bookstore where Milton used to do his planting and his puttering. When she’d had to make the decision to rent out their large upstairs apartment, she knew that this room would make a serviceable home for them. Why, it even had an old potbelly stove for meals… although she was less excited by that prospect than she tried to show Eddie.
The bell over the bookstore door twinkled merrily, and Arabella hurried to make herself presentable for her customers. She ran a hand over the front of her pink gown, brushing off any crumbs from the luncheon she’d just shared with Eddie, and patted her bun to make sure that each hair was in place. It wouldn’t do to slack on appearances, after all.
When Arabella pushed open the door from the storeroom and entered the bookstore, Meredith Carpenter was idly perusing a book she held loosely. “Meredith, how good to see you!”
The other woman turned with a smile. She was only a few years older than Arabella, but already had faint lines at the corners of her eyes. “Today is Tuesday, isn’t it? Where else would I be?”
Arabella couldn’t help but return the smile. “Good point. Glad to see that Eddie delivered the note as I asked.”
Meredith’s laugh was a tinkle that matched the bell over the door. She carefully closed the book she held and put it back on the shelf of biographies. “Delivery Day is my favorite day of the week, you know. But yes, he let me know last Saturday. He’s a good boy.”
“He’s becoming a pain, that’s what he is.” Oh poot, had she muttered that aloud? She hadn’t meant to. Hoping the other woman hadn’t heard, Arabella crossed to the small table she used as a service counter. Years ago she’d arranged her shop to look more like a library than a place of business, and liked to think that the cozy atmosphere kept her customers coming back. Of course, it’s not like they had any place else to buy or borrow books in the growing town of Everland, Wyoming.
To her dismay, Meredith had heard her mumble, and didn’t seem inclined to pretend she hadn’t. “All children go through phases, Arabella. He’s probably just testing his limits, and seeing how far he can push you.”
With a sigh, Arabella pulled the paper-wrapped packages from under the table, made sure the twine was secure, and opened the blue ledger on the shelf to record the sale. Absently, she acknowledged the other woman’s advice. “You’re probably right. He’s been pushing more and more, though. I’m not sure I know what to do with him.”
“You’re really renting your apartment to the Cutters?”
Her pencil stilled, and Arabella stared at the lines of her neat handwriting. Row after row seemed to blur together, crawling across the page in a black-and-white record of her life. It would be silly to ask how Meredith found out; news traveled fast in Everland, and Rojita was so tickled to be moving out of the orphanage that she’d probably told everyone she met. Arabella forced herself to breathe, and continue writing out the name of the books Meredith had purchased. “Rojita and Hank need their own space—they’ve been married over a year. We’re moving into the back room. There’s plenty of space for us.” Her cheerful tone sounded forced, and she knew it.
“Well, I’m sure that’s it, then.” Meredith’s voice had gentled. “All children rebel at some point, my dear, and Eddie is probably out of sorts because of the move. That apartment was the only home he knew.”
Don’t you think I know that? Arabella kept her lips clamped together as she carefully wrote in the date and amount of the sale. Did Meredith think she’d made the decision to move out of their home on a whim? Did she think that Arabella was doing this because she wanted to?
But when Arabella turned, breathing carefully through her nose so that she didn’t let any of her sudden waspishness show in her expression, she didn’t see pity in Meredith’s expression. Just kind understanding, and the tension in Arabella’s shoulder’s eased.
“It hasn’t been easy for either of us,” was the only admission she was willing to make, but the other woman’s smile told Arabella that she understood. Over the years, Meredith Carpenter had made many attempts to be her friend, and Arabella appreciated the overtures. In fact, if she had to name her friends—and the good Lord knew that she didn’t consider many people her friends—Meredith would be on that list.
But the problem was that Arabella had rules. Rules that Milton had created, and that she’d come to live by in her time in Everland. Rules that governed her life, as she’d matured. One: Be beautiful. Keep up appearances at all times, regardless of personal feelings. Two: Be proper. Never do anything to draw negative attention. Three: Be discreet. Do not share shameful secrets.
Lately, Number Three was her issue: Milton’s dwindling estate and the bookshop’s meager income; Eddie’s difficultness and their necessary move… these were shameful secrets that could seriously hinder Number Three. Because when one was young and beautiful, one might be forgiven for inadvertently revealing embarrassing facts about one’s financial situation… but at Arabella’s age, and stage in life, she couldn’t afford to let Milton’s standard’s drop.
Meredith took the offered packages, but placed them back down on the tabletop. She surprised Arabella by taking both of her hands, and squeezing. The other woman had to drop her chin a bit to see into Arabella’s eyes, but her gaze was piercing and sincere. “If there’s anything that we can do, my dear, will you let us know?�
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Accepting help would mean admitting she needed help, and Arabella couldn’t do that. But her friend’s warm brown eyes were comforting and earnest, and Arabella didn’t want to hurt Meredith’s feelings by spurning her offer. So she just swallowed and forced a smile. “Of course, and thank you.”
Judging from the way Meredith’s brows drew in, her tone hadn’t been convincing enough, but the other woman just nodded and squeezed Arabella’s hands once more before letting go to pick up the books again.
The ladies were saved from further awkwardness when the bell over the door jingled merrily again, and both women turned a little faster than strictly necessary, grateful for the distraction. Two beautiful young women—girls, really—breezed into the shop, dragging in the smells of springtime and freshness behind them.
“Young lady, where have you been? Your father and I were starting to worry.” Meredith was smiling, but Arabella could see the concern in her eyes. She knew that the Carpenters insisted on one or both of them accompanying their daughter when she left the house. Zelle was the tall girl with golden hair, and an ethereal beauty that almost hurt to look at.
Giggling, she waved to them. “Hello mother, Mrs. Mayor. We’ve been to see the goings-on.” Zelle’s best friend Briar was her exact opposite in appearance—short and dark-haired—but nearly identical in personality and temperament. They glanced at one another and smiled secretively as they moved towards Arabella’s selection of fairy-tale books.
“The ‘goings-on’?” Meredith raised a brow.
“Oh, yes. At the end of the street.” Zelle was probably speaking of the new house being built. It was almost as grand as Roy DeVille’s home, and rumor said that it was being built for a retired musician. “Are those the new books on using eucalyptus?”
“Of course they’re the new books on eucalyptus, you silly girl! You know good and well that I had Mrs. Mayor order them; what else would they be? Now, what ‘goings-on’?”
Zelle shrugged, and exchanged another teasing glance with Briar, whose plump cheeks dimpled with her effort to contain her smile, and who had to turn her attention to the ceiling. “I really couldn’t say, Mother. After all, who knows what kind of books you and Papa need in your professions? Perhaps some kind of marital guide—“
“Zelle! You hush your mouth about that nonsense!” The two girls dissolved into giggles, their arms linked as if to hold each other up as they doubled over in the face of Meredith’s mock outrage.
Arabella had to turn away. She couldn’t watch her friend’s scolding, or the way the girls’ angelic faces seem to shine with the glow that only youth and beauty could bring. She patted her bun to make sure every strand was in place, and inhaled deeply.
Once, she’d been sixteen and full of youthful energy and boundless smiles. Once, her hair had been thick and luxurious. Once, her lips had shone and her eyes had twinkled and her skin had been as flawless as those two young beauties. Once, she’d been beautiful too.
But now… now she was past thirty. She wasn’t old, but she was no longer young. Her hair had lost its bounce, her skin had lost its shine. Her smile was still the same—she’d stood in front of the mirror and examined it often enough, Lord knows—but there were fair lines at the corners of her brown eyes when she grinned. Once, she’d been revered as a great beauty, but time and motherhood had taken their tolls on her body, and she was nowhere near as beautiful as those girls were. Now, she had to live her life by the rules in order to maintain some worth.
And when the last of her beauty fled, she’d be left with nothing. Nothing besides dear Eddie who wouldn’t listen to her anymore, a shop that didn’t make enough to live on, and memories.
The giggles behind her subsided into low murmurs, and she heard Meredith sigh in exasperation. “Why don’t you stop teasing me, young ladies, and tell us why you’re in here?”
Briar spoke up. “I was telling Zelle about Mrs. Mayor’s illustrated collections, Mrs. Carpenter.” She was already holding the thick red book, and both girls turned hopeful gazes on Zelle’s mother. Meredith sighed again, and then turned back to Arabella. Sounding not-quite resigned, she waved as if it didn’t matter. “Zelle will borrow it for the week, Arabella. Can you put it on my bill?”
Both girls smiled, and then squealed when Arabella nodded and reached for the ledger. “I didn’t realize that you two were fiction-readers.” She’d bonded with Zelle and her mother over their shared love of gardening, and knew that both of them often sent away for manuals on herbs, but didn’t remember either being much interested in story books.
“She’s not.” Zelle jabbed her friend in the ribs. “There’s a reason we’re getting the illustrated version—Briar just looks at the pictures!”
The dark-haired girl just snorted and rolled her eyes, managing to look put-upon and teasing at the same time. But when she turned back to Arabella, she was smiling. “Zelle thinks that there’s such a thing as a hideous Prince, but I’m going to prove—“ She lifted the book slightly “—that all Princes are handsome.”
Meredith rolled her eyes. “A person’s worth isn’t based on how they look, Briar.”
Milton would’ve disagreed with that statement, but Arabella kept her opinion to herself. She’d certainly felt more worthy—worthy of love, worthy of attention—when she’d been beautiful.
“That’s what I was trying to explain, Mother! Besides, Signore Bellini isn’t a Prince. He’s just rich and famous—”
Briar interrupted. “—Which is almost like being a prince!”
“Signore Bellini?” Arabella hadn’t intended to participate in the gossip—Be discreet!—but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “Is he the musician who commissioned the new house in town?”
“It’s finished! Mrs. White said that he moved in yesterday, although since he’d had it furnished already—“
“—To his strict specifications, don’t forget—“
“Oh yes! Since it was furnished, he and his manservant just walked off the train and into the house, easy as pie!” Both girls giggled behind their hands—probably at the thought of someone so wealthy he could employ a servant. Arabella was uncomfortable with their ease in discussing another’s status, but had to admit that the topic was intriguing. She forced herself to focus on the ledger in front of her.
Meredith didn’t seem to mind the gossip, though. “He’s already in residence, then? Well, I’d love to meet him. Perhaps I’ll suggest to Jack that we stop by to welcome him to Everland.”
“Oh, he won’t see you, Mother.” Zelle and Briar both leaned in, as if sharing a secret, and Arabella resisted the urge to shake her head at their sensationalism. “They say he’s a recluse. He only ever comes out at night, you see, because he’s so hideously ugly.”
Briar nodded. “And they say that he has a terrible temper, and makes demands that would offend any normal person.” Both girls shivered dramatically, and Arabella realized she was watching them, rather than her careful records. “And they say he only goes by ‘signore’ because his rightful title is ‘Comte’ and he’s hiding from someone who wants to kill him for his fortune. They say he’s quite rich.”
Meredith’s laugh tinkled, again. “Come now, girls. He’s just a musician, albeit a world-renowned one, looking for some privacy. His agent told Misters King and Cole to have the house built and furnished, and now he’s just trying to retire in peace. You make him sound like some kind of—of monster!”
“Well, Mother, they say that he is—“
“Who says these things?” Oh poot, had that been her voice? Arabella pursed her lips, but it was too late; the question that proved she was also a shameless gossip had already slipped free, and three sets of beautiful eyes turned on her.
Briar looked flustered, and it shouldn’t be possible to be beautiful and flustered at once, but she managed it. “They, Mrs. Mayor. You know… them.”
Arabella was in the process of raising one brow skeptically when Zelle defended her friend. “Mrs. White saw him pl
ay in New Orleans, she said, on his only American tour five years ago. She told Rose, who told us, all about it. She said that he’s been deformed, and is almost too grotesque to look at!” Arabella caught her breath at the girl’s description, torn between pity and disgust. Zelle nodded frantically, as if trying to assure her audience of the truth. “Mrs. White said that he always wears a red silk sash tied around his eyes, to cover his ugliness.”
“But doesn’t that—“
Zelle interrupted her mother triumphantly. “He’s blind, Mother, completely blind. From whatever disfigured him, Mrs. White says. He blindfolds himself so that—“
“Enough, girls.” Meredith took a deep breath, and slowly released it, keeping a stern eye on her daughter and Briar. “Signore Bellini is here because he wants to be left alone, and his appearance doesn’t matter to you or anyone else.”
“But, Mother—“
“Zelle, bid Mrs. Mayor good day.” Resigned, both girls sent Arabella little curtsies, and Meredith nodded once, as if to say that she’d take their bad manners in hand, and wiggled her fingers in Arabella’s direction. She’d be by the shop on Friday to pay her bill, and maybe Arabella could ask her about—
What was wrong with her? Arabella waited until her friend and the girls left, before shaking her head in bemusement. She shouldn’t ask Meredith about Signore Bellini. She shouldn’t even think about Signore Bellini. Obviously the poor man came to Everland to escape the whispers and the shame of having such a horrible appearance, and she should respect that. They should all respect that, and do their best to keep Rules number Two and Three. Gossiping about him—thinking about him—would surely contravene Rule number Two.
Be proper.
So then why, during the afternoon lull, did she find herself wondering more about the mysterious stranger who’d come to live in Everland? Why, instead of going over her plan to ask Mr. King to accept Eddie as an apprentice, was she sitting in the cozy nook of reading chairs by the fireplace, thinking about Signore Bellini and the sights he must have seen on his travels around the world?