“I only hope the subject was nothing untoward,” Mrs. Paulson said, darkly. Bridget looked down at the plate she was setting on the table hoping that the guilty flush on her cheek was not visible.
“Of course not, Mrs. Paulson,” Bridget said. She did not feel quite right about lying to her landlady. She supposed it was something like lying to her mother. And, what’s more, Mrs. Paulson never seemed to completely believe the lies she told.
Now, for example, she gave Bridget a skeptical look but said no more. Mrs. Paulson’s skeptical look remained on Bridget even as Annabeth entered the kitchen proudly, carrying the chicken breast Bridget had helped to cook.
Ivy entered the room shortly after that and sat down quietly as a mouse. Clearly, she was trying not to garner any attention. But, Bridget could not help but notice her eyes flitting to the window that looked out on the tavern more often than not.
Ivy’s eyes continued to glance that way even as dinner was served and eaten. She hardly ate the food on her plate and spoke in distracted monosyllables only when she was asked a question.
Clearly, the girl’s mind was elsewhere.
It was not until the sun began to set that it became clear, not only to Bridget but to everyone at the table, what the cause of Ivy’s distraction was.
Bridget was in the middle of an amusing anecdote from her days at the yarn factory back in Boston. The horrible Foreman, Mr. Bates, who was notoriously stingy and refused to buy new machines for the girls, even though they had complained more than once about their clothes getting stuck in the rusty old ones, got a taste of his own medicine when his own coat sleeve was caught in one.
“It took two of the large men to pull him out,” Bridget said. “And, when they did, his sleeve ripped clean from his arm. We had new machines the next week. And Mr. Bates had a new coat.”
Annabeth let out a bright tinkling laugh which was soon accompanied by a rather unpleasant, nasally cackle from the other side of the window. The sound was so loud and intrusive, even from the street outside that Annabeth and Mrs. Paulson both turned to see its source.
Bridget, however, caught Ivy’s face out of the corner of her eye. It turned pale and then ashen, as though the blood had drained from it completely. Ivy stared wide-eyed at the source of the laugh out the window and, now, Bridget thought she knew what was outside without having to look.
But, her curiosity got the better of her and, sure enough, she turned to the window just in time to see Elijah Bellows, his arm around a pleasantly plump girl with long blonde hair heading towards the bar, pulling the girl closer and closer to him as they walked.
Annabeth, Mrs. Paulson, and Bridget all turned from the window and back to their plates. But, Ivy’s eyes remained fixed on the sight. It was as though someone was holding her head, forcing her to watch.
It was a long moment before she blinked and looked down at her plate.
Bridget caught Annabeth’s eye across the table and they shared a sympathetic look. Clearly, Annabeth now knew the significance of what they had discussed in the kitchen. Even Mrs. Paulson now looked at Ivy as though she wanted to comfort the girl but, wasn’t quite sure how to do it.
Several moments passed in silence, during which the women tried to eat with little success. Finally, Ivy pushed her plate away.
“Mrs. Paulson, may I please be excused?” she asked looking down at the table, not daring to lift her gaze. “I’m feeling a bit drawn. I think I should take to bed early.”
“Of course, dear,” Mrs. Paulson said gently. “That seems to be for the best.”
Ivy gave nothing more than a small nod as she pushed her chair back from the table.
Bridget watched as her friend, gaze still pressed down to the floor, rushed out of the room, up the hall stairwell and out of sight.
Chapter Four- Ivy
Elijah would be at the tavern today.
That was all Ivy could think as she walked out to visit Rosie, a plate of chicken scraps in her hand.
He had come in the day after...the day after that night. He’d come in Friday after the last Thursday night when she had seen him stumble into this tavern, his arm wrapped around Emily Bunting’s waist. But, Ivy had made herself scarce when he did. She told Mr. Bracken she was not feeling well and had to excuse herself. She’d asked Bridget to show Elijah outside if he wanted to see Rosie.
Since then, he hadn’t been back.
Bridget had told Ivy that he seemed upset to have missed her.
“He even asked if you were feeling all right,” Bridget told Ivy in their room that Friday evening. “I told him you were fine. Just not in the mood for company.”
“And what did he say to that?” Ivy asked, unable to help herself. She tried to ignore Bridget’s knowing look though it was rather difficult.
“Not much of anything,” Bridget replied. “He just said ‘oh’. Looked kind of dejected to tell the truth. He said he’d be back on Wednesday with his brother and he hoped you would be in the mood to talk then.”
That was how she knew he would come that day. He had said he would. And, Elijah, no matter what else he was, tended to be a man of his word.
“I suppose you’ll be happy to see him,” she said absently to Rosie scratching the dog behind the ears.
Rosie, who had finished her chicken, looked up at Ivy. She licked her hand as though in reply and returned to the plate, struggling to lick it clean.
With a smile at the dog’s wagging tail, Ivy moved back into the tavern. She moved into the bar and began to wipe the counter down with a sense of dread filling her stomach. Usually, the thought of seeing Elijah, talking to him, filled her with a kind of warm glow that lasted the whole day.
But, now, when she thought of Elijah sitting at his table, laughing with his brother about the girls he’d chatted up, a dark void seemed to have eclipsed that warm glow. It made her feel drained and empty and extremely anxious at the same time.
Ever since she came into work that morning, she’d caught herself looking at the door, dreading the moment when he would walk through it.
As the morning wore on, she’d worked herself up into a kind of frenzy. Now, everytime the door opened she half expected her heart to stop in her chest.
She told herself how ridiculous this was. She told herself over and over again that she should not allow Elijah Bellows to affect her so.
After all, hadn’t she known from the start what sort of man he was? It was not at all unusual for him to escort a girl to the tavern on Thursday night. Truth be told, it was not unusual to see him escorting a girl anywhere.
Even if he saw Ivy nearly every day; even if he had told her things about his mother, even if he had smiled at her in a different way, a genuine way that made her heart skip a beat, it didn’t matter. He was still a rich, unattached young man. A rich, unattached young man who liked to go out with different girls.
Maybe it was all the talk about Emily Bunting in the town. Annabeth had repeated the gossip to Ivy often enough. She’d said that Emily Bunting had cast Brian O'Connell aside and had set her sights on Elijah instead. Annabeth even heard tell that Emily had set her mind to marrying Elijah.
And, while Ivy thought it unlikely that Elijah would attach himself to Emily Bunting permanently. She couldn’t deny that the suggestion made her slightly ill.
Ivy knew very well that she was much poorer than miss Bunting. Ivy had no family, after all. She made little money at the tavern and made her home in a boarding house.
Besides that, Elijah was tall and broad shouldered and very handsome. Every girl in town thought so and with good reason. Everyone in town also thought Emily Bunting to be a match for him in terms of looks.
She had a nice, plump figure, rosy cheeks, and large blue eyes covered by long lashes. The blonde curls that cascaded down her back often gave her an angelic appearance.
In contrast, Ivy’s dull, dark hair, small figure, pale skin and small eyes were far from angelic. Indeed, they made her look more than a little plain.
And, as Ivy told herself time and time again, that was just fine. If he wanted Emily Bunting, he could take her.
But, Ivy knew that meant she could not longer serve his table. She wouldn’t be able to laugh at his jokes, to smile when he flirted with her as she had in the past. She might not even be able to take him out to visit Rosie. Her heart would not be able to take it.
That was why she was more than glad when she saw Bridget pass her way just as Elijah and his brother were making their way into the tavern.
Quickly, Ivy stepped out from behind the bar and pulled her friend aside.
“Bridget,” Ivy said quickly. “You’ll serve the Bellows table today, won’t you?”
“I don’t know if I can,” Bridget said. “I’ve a hangnail that’s giving me some trouble. I’d planned to ask you to serve the Bellows while I tended to it.”
“Bridget, please!” Ivy said. She knew what her friend was doing. She’d known from the start that Bridget did not, truly get headaches or hang nails every time the Bellows entered the tavern. Ivy knew that Bridget was trying to push her into Elijah Bellows path. But, that certainly couldn’t continue now.
“Ivy, honestly,” Bridget said, dropping all pretense of a hurt finger. “I’m sure if you had the opportunity to speak to Elijah about what happened that night-”
“You know I wouldn’t dare do that,” Ivy said. “It would only confirm what I already know to be true. Besides, it would reveal far too much.”
She saw Bridget heave a sigh as both girls looked at the door where Elijah and his brother had entered and sat down at their usual table. Elijah threw a bright smile to Ivy who felt her stomach jerk horribly as though she had just fallen off a cliff.
“All right,” Bridget said. “I’ll take their order. But, I’m sure they’ll want drinks. I’m sure you can manage to serve those without too much trouble. And I’m not taking him out to see that dog again. That’s your affair, so you can tend to that too.”
Ivy had no time to object before Bridget moved past her and to the Bellows table. It didn’t matter really, Ivy knew, even if she’d tried to make a case for Bridget serving the Bellows drinks as well, Bridget would not have listened.
As Bridget took the Bellows orders, Ivy tried her best to keep herself busy. This was a difficult task as there were no other patrons in the tavern at the time.
She took a rag and wiped the bar down again. Even though she had already done so that morning.
Every so often, she caught a glimpse of Elijah’s table. Twice, she was sure she felt his gaze land on her, though she did not dare look up to meet it.
“The Bellows would like two pints of lager,” Bridget said. Ivy once again looked up to object but, before she could, Bridget moved deliberately behind the door to the kitchen and out of sight.
With a sigh and what felt like a heavy stone settling in her chest, Ivy measured out the drinks for the brothers and brought them carefully to their table.
“There’s my best girl,” Elijah said as soon as she arrived. It took all the strength Ivy had not to look up at him.
“I wondered why they had you hidden behind the bar,” Elijah continued as Ivy set the pint down in front of Mark. “Maybe that’s why the place is so empty today. You should tell Asa Bracken that the men come to see you. They won’t bother if they prettiest barmaid in town is stuck washing glasses.”
Ivy told herself not to look at him, not to speak.
“How is our girl doing?” he asked. “I haven’t had the chance to see her this week.”
Ivy stopped at the mention of little Rosie. His voice sounded so genuine that she couldn’t simply not answer. So, trying to steel herself, she looked up at him.
Immediately, when she met those blue eyes, that sickening swooping sensation returned to the pit of her stomach. Fighting it back, she did her best to look at him with a cool and neutral expression.
“Rosie is faring well,” she said shortly before looking back down at the table.
“I was hoping you could take me out to visit her before Mark and I leave,” she said.
“Honestly, Elijah,” Mark said irritably. “At this rate we won’t have time. We’ve been gone from the mill nearly an hour already. It won’t run itself, you know?”
“The mill can wait, Mark,” Elijah said before turning back to Ivy. “What do you say, Ivy?”
Against her better judgement, she looked up at him once again. He was not wearing the flirty smile this time. It was the concerned frown. The one that made her think, more than any of his other expressions that maybe, just maybe he might feel something real for her.
She almost softened before she remembered what she had seen that Thursday night. His hand around another girl. Emily Bunting’s horrible, shrill laugh. That thought caused her to steel herself.
“Bridget should be back with your food any moment,” she said. “Be sure to ask her for anything else you need.”
And, not trusting herself to say anymore, she rushed back to her place behind the bar. As she did, she was sure she heard Mark laugh at his brother.
“Nice to know not every girl in town falls for your charms,” Mark said.
Ivy expected to hear Elijah give his brother a wry come answer and laugh along with him. She was surprised when he didn’t. Soon, even Mark’s laughter became awkward in the silent tavern and it died away much more quickly than usual.
Ivy continued to glance over at Elijah throughout his meal. Every time he looked up towards the bar, towards her, she shifted her gaze downward and busied herself resorting glasses or wiping down a countertop that was now spotless.
She tried, best as she could to pay no attention to him. She tried to keep her thoughts as far away from the corner table by the window as possible.
Even so, she could not help but notice that the brothers seemed a good deal more subdued today than they ever had before. Once or twice, she heard Mark try to engage his brother in conversation to little avail.
When Bridget brought out the bill for the Bellows, Ivy glanced up to see Elijah take Bridget aside briefly and speak to her in a low tone. Even though Ivy could not make out the words, it was clear from the way both Elijah and Bridget glanced to the bar, that she was the subject of their conversation.
Ivy felt her face grow red at the very thought and pressed her eyes down to the bar once more. The very idea that she would now become a subject of town gossip was more than a bit terrifying.
She heard rather than saw Bridget stop by the bar on her way to the kitchen. Ivy tried her best not to look at the other girl. She was growing weary of Bridget’s knowing looks with regards to Elijah.
“The Bellows are leaving,” Bridget said, unnecessarily.
Ivy, her eyes still focused on the glass she was cleaning merely nodded.
“I was hoping you could clear their table,” Bridget said pointedly. “I’ve a good deal to get ready before the rest of the lunch crowd arrives.”
Ivy felt her heart drop heavily in her chest and she heaved a sigh. This lie was even less believable than the one Bridget had told about her painful hangnail.
She knew as well as Ivy did that “the lunch crowd” almost always consisted of Mrs. Paulson and, sometimes, old Mrs. Macreery from the milliner’s shop across the street.
Still, Ivy felt in no mood to argue with Bridget. Besides, she was certain that Elijah’s brother would hurry him out of the tavern and back to their work at the mill. Mark always became cross when Elijah tried to linger.
So, she moved, quickly as she could from behind the bar, carrying the rag in her hand. When she arrived at the table, she was not at all surprised to find Elijah lingering as though waiting for her.
He always lingered to give her a flirtatious farewell when he dined
at the tavern. But, today, Ivy would be certain to accept no such flattery.
She kept her eyes averted as she passed him and immediately began her work.
“Ivy,” he said, in the softest and most uncertain voice she had ever heard from him. Indeed, she was so surprised by it, she almost turned around to face him. In the end, she was able to steel herself and did not acknowledge him.
“Ivy, I was hoping to see Rosie before I left.”
“Elijah!” sure enough mark’s voice, neither soft nor uncertain called from the tavern’s doorway. “We need to get back to the mill.”
“Just a moment,” Elijah said. When he addressed his brother, his voice was a good deal stronger and much less patient
“Please,” he said. “I haven’t seen her or you all week.”
He sounded both so genuine and so lost at the same time that it took all the strength Ivy possessed not to turn and face him. It took even more strength not to allow her tears to pour freely as she told him exactly what she felt; exactly what it was like to watch him pour all his affections onto another girl.
Still, she knew that what she was feeling couldn’t, shouldn’t keep him from Rosie. She was as much his dog as she was Ivy’s after all. So, with a deep breath, she nodded and beckoned for him to follow her out the back door.
As they left, she heard Mark’s exasperated sigh.
“Elijah, we’ll be late!”
Elijah didn’t bother responding. Instead, he followed Elijah silently out to the back patio where Rosie was waiting.
As soon as the dog caught sight of Elijah, she bounded towards him, tail wagging and immediately jumped up and put her paws on his shoulders in a strange sort of hug.
He laughed while Rosie licked his face.
“I know, I know! I’ve missed you too!” he said still chuckling as he gently pushed the dog off him. Rosie still bounded around in circles between Ivy and Elijah as though she could not believe that her two favorite humans were in the same place at the same time.
“She’s eating well,” Ivy told him in what she hoped was a business like manner. “I’ve been feeding her once in the morning and again at midday.”
The Matchmaker of Fairfield: (Clean Historical Western Romance) Page 5