He brushed past her, and she followed him to the small room next door. A weatherworn man wearing a frayed shirt and tooshort trousers sat on the wooden table. “Mr. Hewitt, this is Miss Broadmoor. She’s assisting me today.”
Mr. Hewitt bobbed his head and grinned. His smile revealed a row of broken, tobacco-stained teeth. He pointed to his leg. “The doc’s gonna take a look at my leg and change the bandage, ain’t ya, Doc?”
“That’s exactly right.” Dr. Carstead motioned Amanda forward. “Mr. Hewitt injured his leg and didn’t seek immediate medical treatment. The wound is now badly infected. I’m not so certain you should help.”
“If you’re not going to permit me to help, I’ll never learn a thing. I insist.”
With a shrug the doctor proceeded to unwrap Mr. Hewitt’s bandages. Amanda took a backward step as greenish yellow pus oozed from the open wound. The smell of rotting flesh assaulted her. Grabbing the corner of her apron, Amanda hastened to cover her nose, but the thin piece of fabric provided little protection against the overpowering stench that permeated the room. The breakfast she’d devoured before leaving home roiled in her stomach, churning to be released. A gag rippled in her throat, and she forced herself to swallow, lest she embarrass herself.
Mr. Hewitt glanced at her and offered a pitying look. “Stinks, don’t it?”
Another wave of the putrid stench assailed her as the doctor removed one final bandage, and she could no longer hold down the contents of her stomach. She grabbed an enameled bowl from the nearby table and retched until her stomach ached from the pain. She swiped the perspiration that dotted her upper lip and forehead and returned to the table.
“I apologize, Mr. Hewitt.” She unrolled the fresh bandage and cut a length. “Will this do?” she asked the doctor.
He nodded and offered a half smile. “It will. Welcome to the glamorous life of medicine, Miss Broadmoor.”
14
Saturday, March 19, 1898
It was unusual for there to be two parties in the month of March, even for members of the Broadmoor family. March was the gloomy month that hung between Rochester’s biting winters and the budding flowers of springtime. Save for the St. Patrick’s Day parade and Fanny’s birthday, little occurred in the month.
Near the end of February, Fanny had requested a small dinner party with only family present to celebrate her March first birthday. Surprising all of them, Aunt Victoria had complied. It wasn’t until the Saturday following Fanny’s birthday that her aunt surprised Fanny with the huge birthday celebration she had hoped to avoid. With Michael still in the Yukon, Fanny hadn’t desired a large party, especially one in her honor. She had been completely taken aback when she’d returned home to find the house overflowing with well-meaning guests prepared to celebrate her eighteenth birthday. For once, Sophie had understood Fanny’s dismay. Wesley’s inability to attend the birthday party had rendered the evening a failure for her, as well.
This evening’s gala would be different. Not for Fanny, of course, since Michael still had not returned. However, Wesley had promised he would be in attendance at this evening’s charity event. That alone meant the party would be a success, for her at least.
Both her father and Paul had been hard at work planning the event they hoped would raise enough money to begin work on an addition to the residential portion of the Home for the Friendless. That was Sophie’s limited understanding of their plans. Except for choosing a new dress and obtaining confirmation of Wesley’s presence at the ball, she’d done her best to avoid any discussion of the ball.
During the past months, Paul had attempted to gain her participation in the planning, but Sophie had redirected him to Aunt Victoria. The older woman was far more knowledgeable in such matters. Besides, Sophie had no desire to spend time with Paul. His conversations focused upon being light and salt in a hurting world, while she much preferred less intimidating topics—ones that didn’t cause feelings of guilt each time she desired a new gown or tried on an expensive pair of slippers.
She decided Paul likely donated most of his income to the Home for the Friendless or some other needy cause, for winter was drawing to a close, and he had yet to replace his tattered overcoat. He’d likely wear it to the ball this evening and would be oblivious to the stares he would receive from the finely dressed members of Rochester society. His lack of wealth and social standing seemed unimportant to him.
Shortly after his arrival in Rochester, Sophie had quizzed him regarding his somewhat shabby appearance. He’d shrugged and said that, in the end, only one opinion mattered. Sophie had known what he meant, but she hadn’t remarked. Any comment would have opened the door for sermonizing, and she received her fill of preaching on Sunday mornings, thank you very much.
She scurried downstairs, carrying a bag in each hand, and collided with her father as he rounded the corner. His focus settled on the suitcases. “Running away?” A faint smile crossed his lips.
“No, not yet, anyway. I’m going over to join Fanny and Amanda. The three of us will leave for the party from Uncle Jonas’s house. One of the maids was to pick up my gown from the dressmaker today, so it should be waiting for me.”
Sophie hoped Veda had followed her instructions. No one was to see the gown ahead of time—not even her two cousins.
“And Wesley? I thought he was to act as your escort this evening.”
She read concern in his eyes. He cared little if she had an escort to the ball, but he would be greatly disappointed if Wesley didn’t attend. She knew her father expected a large pledge of money from Wesley as well as donations from several of his New York City associates who frequently contributed to charitable organizations.
“I’ll meet him at the grand ballroom. He’ll arrive late this afternoon and is staying at the Powers Hotel. This makes it much simpler.”
She’d recited the words Wesley had written in his latest letter as though they’d pleased her when she had first read them. But his decision hadn’t pleased her, not in the least. She’d pitched the letter onto the floor and pouted for several days while mulling why he would prefer to meet her at the hotel rather than pick her up at home and escort her to the event. Eventually she had decided the reason was exactly what he’d said—a matter of simplicity.
Now that she’d accepted the idea, it seemed quite perfect. She would enjoy preparing for the ball with her cousins. The excitement and anticipation would increase as they donned their gowns and Veda or Minnie fashioned their hair. She would enter the ballroom and have the pleasure of watching Wesley as he captured his first glimpse of her. Yes, this evening would be great fun indeed.
After grazing her father’s cheek with a kiss, she hurried toward the door. “I’ll see you this evening. Remember—you’re the host. You’ll be expected to arrive early,” she called over her shoulder.
“I know. Your Aunt Victoria has already warned me against being late.”
Sophie opened the door and took a backward step. Paul stood with his hand balled in a tight fist. He obviously had been prepared to knock on the door as she’d flung it wide. “Paul. I didn’t realize you were out here.”
“Thankfully I didn’t hit you. Just think what the Rochester dowagers would say if you appeared at the party with bruises on your face.”
“Even worse, think what they would say once they found out it was a man of the cloth who had bruised me. You’d never be permitted to step behind a pulpit again.”
He shrugged. “That part wouldn’t particularly bother me, for I’m already doing the work God’s called me to. But I’d never want anyone to think I’d strike a woman.” He stepped to one side and permitted her adequate space to pass by.
She could see the question in his eyes when he spied the suitcases she carried, but he didn’t ask. He probably figured she’d tell him it was none of his affair. Instead, he’d likely ask her father, who would be more than happy to share her plans with him. So be it. Right now, she didn’t care. Tonight she would be dancing in Wesley’s arms.
Preparing for the party was taking far longer than they’d anticipated. Amanda had been indecisive about her gown. She’d decided upon the pink with lace trim, but when she learned that Fanny was wearing a deep pink gown, she instructed Minnie to press her midnight blue.
“Who is it you’re planning to impress? Dr. Carstead?” Sophie inquired while Amanda donned the dark blue gown.
“I see Dr. Carstead every day, and if I were trying to impress him, it would be in the examination room, not at a ball. Did I tell you that he permitted me to assist his setting a bone on Tuesday?”
Sophie shivered. “That sounds like great fun.” She turned toward Fanny and crinkled her nose.
“I can see the two of you,” Amanda said. “You may not be interested in anything other than marriage, but my work has proved that I shall have a career in medicine. Even Blake is surprised at how much I’ve been able to assist him. In fact—”
“Blake?” Sophie winked at Fanny.
“Dr. Carstead,” Amanda restated.
Her response was far too haughty. This needed further investigation. Sophie scooted to the edge of the bed. “Since when did Dr. Carstead become Bl-a-a-ke?” She intentionally exaggerated his first name, eager to see if Amanda would rise to the bait.
With a quick twist Amanda turned away from the mirror, lost her balance, and had it not been for Minnie’s quick reflexes, would have landed on the floor. “For your information, Dr. Carstead said there was no need for formality. We address each other by our first names. It puts the patients at ease.”
Sophie giggled. “And I’m certain that’s your primary concern.”
“Sophie Broadmoor, you just don’t know when to stop, do you?” Amanda scowled at her cousin.
This was turning into great fun. Perhaps Amanda’s goals weren’t as lofty as she claimed. “I think when Michael returns, the three of us should plan a combined wedding: Fanny and Michael, you and Blake, and Wesley and me.” She dropped back on the bed and giggled, her petticoat circling around her legs. She’d succeeded in annoying Amanda. “What do you think, Fanny? Wouldn’t that be perfect?”
“Just having Michael return and marry me would be perfect. I care little about a fancy wedding.”
Amanda waved a hairpin in Sophie’s direction. “Exactly what makes you think Wesley is going to marry you? I don’t see a ring on your finger. Fanny’s the only one who’s received a proposal, so I don’t think you should be discussing wedding arrangements.”
There was little doubt she’d pushed Amanda too far. Her older cousin wasn’t normally mean spirited, but her words struck a chord. She was right. Wesley hadn’t proposed. Although Sophie had been certain she’d receive a ring on Christmas and then on New Year’s Eve, there’d been no proposal. When she’d celebrated her birthday in February, she’d held out hope he would arrive with a ring. Instead, he’d sent flowers and an apology, stating business matters prevented him from making the journey to Rochester. She’d been devastated when she received his explanation, yet his letters since then continued to speak of his deep feelings for her. Although she’d said nothing to her cousins, she hoped he would propose tonight. After convincing her father she must have a new gown for an event he was sponsoring, she’d taken great care not to permit anyone a glimpse.
“And when are you going to dress? Fanny and I are nearly ready to depart, and you’re still running about in your corset and petticoat.”
With Amanda watching her in the dressing mirror, Sophie grinned and stuck out her tongue. “I’m ready except for my gown. I didn’t want it to wrinkle.” Sophie motioned to Veda, and the two of them stepped into the adjoining bedroom.
Without a word the maid removed the white sheeting and helped Sophie into the dress. Sophie took several turns in front of the mirror, enjoying the dress from every angle. She was certain she’d heard Veda click her tongue and tsk while she’d fastened the dress. Now the maid stood at a distance, her frown speaking volumes, but Sophie cared little what Veda thought. It was Wesley she hoped to please.
She turned the doorknob and entered the adjacent room. Amanda gasped, Fanny turned, and Minnie clapped her palm to her mouth.
“What are you thinking?” Amanda was the first to gain her voice.
Sophie smiled and twirled. “Isn’t this the most gorgeous fabric you’ve ever laid eyes upon? It arrived from France, and the dressmaker assured me she wouldn’t sell another piece to anyone until after the ball.”
“It isn’t the fabric that has taken my breath away,” Amanda replied. “It’s the cut of the bodice. You’ll embarrass yourself, Sophie. Do take it off.”
She’d known her cousins wouldn’t approve, nor would her father. On the other hand, many of the women in attendance would recognize that she had simply chosen the latest fashion: a gown with a revealing décolletage.
“It is the latest fashion and not inappropriate in the least. Besides, I want to make certain Wesley doesn’t forget me when he returns to New York City.”
“Even if he would forget you, I don’t see how he could forget that dress,” Fanny said. “I do suppose what you wear is your choice. In any event, there isn’t time to change. We’re already running dreadfully late.”
Amanda handed her a shawl and shook her head. “You’d better take this with you.”
“Fanny was correct. We’re late,” Amanda commented when they entered the hotel. “The guests have already been announced, and it sounds as though the dancing is about to begin.”
The musicians were tuning their instruments in preparation for the first dance of the evening. Sophie signaled the man standing guard at the doorway, and he stepped to her side.
“We’d like to be announced, please.”
He shook his head. “It is time for the first dance of the evening. We announced the final guest five minutes ago.”
“We are members of the Broadmoor family. My father is Quincy Broadmoor, the gentleman hosting this event.”
He rubbed his jaw and glanced toward the entrance to the ballroom. “Well, in that case . . .” With a wave of his hand, he motioned them forward and then signaled to the orchestra leader before turning back to Sophie. “Your name?”
“Please announce my cousins. I prefer to enter last.” She took a sideways step and ushered Amanda and Fanny forward. After hearing her cousins announced, Wesley would be watching for her entrance.
Standing to the side, Sophie scanned the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but to no avail. Amanda had entered the ballroom, and Fanny was now being announced, yet Sophie hadn’t yet spotted Wesley. The hotel employee motioned Sophie forward. She straightened her shoulders and tilted her head to one side in what she hoped was a perfect pose. The man announced her name in a loud, crisp tone, and she entered the room still uncertain where she would find Wesley.
Sophie didn’t fail to notice the reproachful looks of several women as she passed by and the appreciative glances of their husbands. Her aunt approached and paled at the sight of her dress. She pressed a lace handkerchief into Sophie’s hand. “Tuck this into your bodice, young lady,” Victoria insisted, waiting until Sophie complied. “You don’t want to embarrass your father on such an important evening.”
Sophie did as her aunt bid. She could remove the handkerchief later. Right now, she wanted to locate Wesley. While members of the orchestra once again took up their instruments, she continued through the crowd. She circled the entire room. Guests had already taken to the dance floor. Had Wesley not arrived? Her heart plummeted at the idea. Surely he would have sent word.
Someone had invited Daniel Irwin. He had already spotted Fanny, and from all appearances, he was attempting to gain her agreement to dance with him. The young man didn’t know when to cease his pursuit. Even after Fanny had made it clear she never wanted to see him again, he continued to send flowers and tried to advance his cause. Dr. Carstead and Amanda were engaged in discussion with Paul. She could go and ask Paul if Wesley had arrived but quickly retracted the thought when she
noticed her father. He would be able to tell her.
At the sound of a familiar laugh, she glanced over her shoulder. Wesley! She smiled as she worked her way toward him. When she saw a beautiful, unfamiliar woman clutching his arm, Sophie’s smile faded. She removed the handkerchief from her bodice as she drew near. “Good evening, Wesley.” Sophie stepped around him and grasped his free arm. The woman didn’t fail to note the possessive gesture and released her hold. Leaning heavily on Wesley, Sophie nodded to the woman. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Sophie Broadmoor.”
The woman surveyed Sophie’s dress. “Genevieve Morefield. I see you’ve been studying the latest fashion designs.” She tapped Wesley’s arm with her fan. “If you’ll excuse me, Wesley, I should mingle. Nice to meet you, Miss Broadmoor.”
Wesley patted her hand and leaned close to her ear. “You are stunning. That gown suits you to perfection.”
“Who is that woman?” Sophie bit her bottom lip as she awaited his reply.
“You’re jealous, aren’t you?” He circled her waist with one arm and pulled her close to his side. “You need not worry about Genevieve. She’s a family friend, nothing more. We’ve known each other for years. However, I do find your behavior most endearing. It complements how much I have missed you.”
Her smile returned and she basked in his praise, yet why hadn’t he seen her enter the room? “Did you not hear my name announced when I arrived?”
“No. I thought all of the guests had been announced earlier, so I returned upstairs to my room to retrieve a note for your father from a New York benefactor. You must have entered during that time.”
After all her effort to strike the perfect pose, he’d missed her grand entrance. Wesley took her hand and escorted her onto the dance floor, holding her close as they circled the room. She savored each moment and longed for the music to never end.
After the orchestra completed its first set, Sophie’s father stepped to the front of the room. “If you’ll all find your chairs, I’d like to speak to you about the real reason we’ve come here this evening.”
An Unexpected Love Page 18