Elle, I hope our paths meet someday in the future. I miss you. I write to Ma, but I never give her a return address or any indication of where I am. Promise me you won’t give them my address—that you won’t stir the pot like you always do. I don’t ever want to go back to the valley.
Paul
Dear Paul,
I always knew you would make something of yourself, whether it was farming in the valley or something else. I hope you strike gold, but even more so, I hope you will steer clear of trouble. I have heard stories about Colorado—corruption and greed, violence and shady fellows who wander from town to town. Stick close to the Utah boy.
Winter has set in, and Virginia is cold—not like the valley’s bitterness that settles in your bones and falls in heaps from the sky, but cold nonetheless. It is just enough to remind me that summer is far away, and I am confined to carriage rides and the indoors. You know how that suits me. I have been desperate for good weather.
I worry I have lost Clara. What used to be distance and mental troubles has turned to something worse. It is as if she has forgotten me. A boy named Thomas Allred is courting her. He makes her smile, among other things, and I wonder if I even know her anymore.
Perhaps your travels will bring you east? You would adore Aunt Nora and Uncle Johnny. Uncle Johnny has a kind and lighthearted way, and he has become a dear friend and confidant to me. Nora, with all the familiarity of Mama but with a twist of spunk, has the most open heart. If ever you are in need, promise me you will write. I know they would be more than happy to help you out of a scrape.
Mama worries about you. She says little in her letters, but I read between the lines. She misses you. But, as you asked, I promise not to tell her about your whereabouts.
All my love,
Elizabeth
Chapter Sixteen
THOMAS ALLRED HAD OFFICIALLY ASKED TO court Clara. She had announced it at dinner the previous night. The news came as no surprise; the details of their backyard kiss burned in my memory each time I saw Thomas and Clara beside one another. It had only been a matter of time. Yet it stung. Would we sisters be forever distant? If I did not recover Clara’s confidence soon, would it ever happen?
Restlessness became me. I was losing Clara indefinitely. I might have already lost her. She sat across from me, sipping her soup.
The late winter sun had finally peeked through the dining windows. I glanced at my midday meal of leftover potato soup and rolls and cleared my throat.
She smiled. The year since our arrival had been good to her. She had grown even more beautiful, but it was a solemn, subtle, and sweet beauty—all things I had never equated with Clara before this year. She had once been lively, joyful, lighthearted. “Is Julia coming over today? It seems you are never without her,” she said.
“Not today,” I said. I pressed my lips together and summoned my courage. “Are you planning on marrying Thomas?”
Clara started. “What a thing to ask, Elizabeth.”
“It is just that we never speak anymore, not like we used to.” I inhaled.
Clara folded her arms across her chest. “I am sorry.”
I swallowed and shook my head. “Do you blame me for leaving home?”
“No.”
My throat grew itchy and hoarse. Emotion teetered at the edge of my lashes. I blinked a few times. “I will not deny it; it is my fault.”
Clara reached across the table. “Father sent us here to better our education. You must not believe it was to punish us.”
“Then what has happened? We used to tell each other everything. Back in the valley, I would climb into your bed, and we would talk late into the night. You would tell stories, and I would ask questions. But something has changed. Even now, I feel as if we are strangers. Why will you not talk to me the way you used to?” I held my breath. The words had flowed far faster than I could have anticipated.
Her brows curved downward. “It has nothing to do with you—that I can promise you.” She took a shaky breath and closed her eyes. “It is difficult to explain, but something has changed. It has been excruciating and isolating and utterly confusing.”
“What has?” I asked. My chest burned, and I dreaded what would follow if I did not restrain myself. “What has been so hard for you? Truly, I have no idea what you have endured, because you never speak of it.”
Tears slid down her cheeks and dropped to her collar. “The internal struggles, of course. I am sure you think me weak. I have tried to be happy. But there are days when putting one foot in front of the other is all I can do. It is only around Thomas that I feel at ease.”
I swallowed, wishing she had not added that last part about him. “Thomas—you mean that man you have known for only a year?” Jealousy clung to each word.
Clara pushed from the table, and the chair legs screeched against the floor. “That is not fair,” she said. “You do not even know him.” She hurried from the room.
I chided myself; I should have remained calm. But her departure was response enough, and at least it was honest. Clara might as well have been in the valley, hundreds of miles from me.
I retreated to my room and took to my writing table. It had been over a week since I had written Mama.
Dear Mama,
Nora assures me she writes to you regularly about the mundane and trifling matters of our education. I assume she has told you about Thomas Allred and his courtship with Clara. Tell me, Mama, what was it like when Daddy courted you? Did you talk about it with Nora, or, like Clara, did you keep it to yourself?
I miss her. At times I have forgotten Clara even accompanied me to Riverton, for it has truly felt as if I am on my own. How can Clara be so near but far, and you so far but near?
Please do not mistake my words as ingratitude. Aunt Nora and Uncle Johnny have been everything kind and good to me. Your letters continue to uplift and encourage. I only wish to understand, and you always seem to know what to say.
Love,
Elizabeth
Folding the paper, I took it to Uncle Johnny’s office, where the pile of post collected. I dropped it to the bin and turned to leave but stopped.
Clara sat in the chair by the window. Her knees were curled to her chest, and she had tucked her head over her legs. She was sobbing.
“Clara?”
She shot up. Her cheeks were tear-stained, her eyes puffed and pink.
“I am sorry.” I offered a weak smile.
Her demeanor softened, and the defensiveness of earlier seemed to slip away. She stood and took a step closer. “Oh, Elle.”
Instinctively, I held out my arms to her.
She ran to me, falling into my embrace.
I am not sure how long we stayed there—me holding her, hunched over her crumpling body. She kneeled on the floor and buried her face against the front of my dress. She wrapped her arms around my waist. I stroked her perfect blond hair and pulled the soggy ends from her wet cheeks. For the first time since the valley, Clara’s walls came crashing down, and I saw the sister from my childhood once more—open and vulnerable and back by my side. I didn’t care that she had changed from silly to serious, not truly. I had only missed her friendship and confidence, her company and support.
“Everything will be all right,” I told her, and I believed it might. For with her tears and unrestrained sobs came an intuitive conviction; Clara had missed me, and she needed me too.
Chapter Seventeen
WINTER DRAGGED INTO SPRING AND THEN summer, and at last the beautiful leaves of autumn began to fall. My first year and a half at the academy had come to an end. Perhaps it was the schoolwork, or the never-ending events, but time turned like the speed of wagon wheels—dizzyingly fast. October arrived, and Johnny asked me to attend a social event in place of Nora.
People passed on both sides of me, and I pulled the hem of my dress from the passing feet. The room was insufferably overcrowded and hot. “Please tell me this night will end,” I said. I found a seat near the edge of the room and fa
nned my neck. The dinner had been stiff and uncomfortable, the epitome of proper. Riverton’s upper class made my stomach twist. There were so many rules to follow. I did not want to disappoint my uncle.
Uncle Johnny squeezed my hand. “It is not like your aunt to come down with headaches. We have planned to attend this fundraiser for over three months. Thank you for coming in her absence. I could not abide to attend without a companion.”
I sighed and gave a sympathetic smile. “Then your work at the academy is not all enjoyment?”
His laughter was rich and deep, like the purses of those surrounding us. “I find occasions at the academy such as this to be the highlight. It is one of the few chances I have to associate with friends and parents. Come, please walk with me. I must attend to the guests.”
I nodded. It was the least I could do for him. The summer fundraiser would supply a new selection of books to the library and an additional instructor for my next two years at the academy.
“Who knows?” Uncle Johnny said, arching a brow. “You might enjoy yourself. After all, I have a surprise planned for my guests.”
My eyes lit. “And? What is it?”
His laughter returned. “Come with me. The staff is just rolling out the projector.” He took my hand and wrapped it around his arm. “A small speech, and then you will have the pleasure of a private showing of the new motion picture Alice in Wonderland.”
It took all restraint not to squeal or giggle. I had never seen a motion picture, but Uncle Johnny had told me about them. A moving picture. I still could not imagine it. They were common enough in bigger cities, but not in the valley or in Riverton.
The hall was draped in garlands and lit with candles. A banner that stretched across the stage read Dalton’s Academy for Women: Educating a New Generation. Chatter faded as Uncle Johnny took the lectern, and applause resounded.
“Fifteen years ago, my father promised me shares in the railroad.” Uncle Johnny clasped the stand in front of him. “ ‘If you want to be part of the future, son, you must build your own path. Railway is the future,’ he said to me. How right he was. The railroad has now taken over the States to become the preferred mode of travel. Even a year ago, my nieces came from thousands of miles by train. The train has revolutionized our world. None of us here would argue otherwise. And yet, six years into the business, all I had built were metal tracks. I wanted to build something greater, something even more revolutionary, and so I took the position of director for the academy.”
Applause interrupted his words, and Uncle Johnny paused to smile. I grinned back at him. He was so good with words, and I admired his ability almost as much as I admired his kindness.
“As we continue to move forward with the education of our children, and in this case, our young ladies, let me remind you—we are not only educating girls. We are educating mothers and wives, women who will spread their influence on generations to come.” Applause sounded once again, but Uncle Johnny continued. “The profits from your tickets will benefit the academy greatly, but I ask you to consider contributing even more as you exit this evening. Donation boxes are set up at both tables near the staircase. I thank you in advance for your charity and for your unwavering support. Now, before cake is served, allow me to announce a special viewing of the new motion picture Alice in Wonderland.”
Lights were dimmed, and only the candles along the walls remained lit as the projector turned on. Black-and-white images flashed upon the wall behind the stage as the reel was put into place.
Uncle Johnny returned to my side. “Come, there are chairs for us over here.”
“Your speech was wonderful,” I said, following him through the crowd.
It seemed he could not lead me a mere step without stopping to greet a guest. I donned my practiced smile and curtsy, but all I wanted was to watch the motion picture. My heart threatened to burst with anticipation.
“Yes, of course, Mr. Caldwell. You must meet my niece, Elizabeth Pratt.”
I curtsied once more, but I was still eyeing the chair five feet away. “How do you do?”
“Have we met?”
I started and met the quizzical gaze above me. His brown eyes bore into mine, and his silk-smooth smile caught me off guard. My neck burned excessively hot against my collar, and I struggled to maintain my composure. It was the man from the Evertons’ social the previous winter, the man who had so unnerved me. I clung tighter to Uncle Johnny and lifted my chin. “I do not recall meeting you before.”
“Elizabeth, Mr. William Caldwell is the son of an old friend,” my uncle said, ushering me to my seat. “Please, William, sit with us.”
Irritation pulsed through me. Would I be forced to endure another encounter? William Caldwell had to be around twenty years of age. I was only sixteen. I had no notion of how to speak to him, let alone return his secretive glances. My heart raced, threatening to overwhelm my nerves.
He settled beside me, and the picture began.
“Miss Pratt, I cannot forget a face, especially one as memorable as yours. Were you in attendance at the theater a month ago?” William asked, turning toward me. “Perhaps the fundraiser at the hospital?”
I shook my head. “You are mistaken, Mr. Caldwell. I am too young for the theater and only accompany my uncle this evening in the absence of my aunt.”
He smiled, recognition flashing across his dark eyes. “The Evertons’ social. That is it. Do you not remember seeing me there?”
“No,” I said, chiding myself. I had never been skilled at deception. I detested the fact that I remembered him from months past. We had not been introduced, but his glances were burned in my memory. “That is, I was in attendance, but I do not recall being introduced.”
He laughed. “Time permitted only a short greeting to the hosts and a few friends, but I remember seeing you.”
I wanted to silence him and tell him this was the first time I had seen a motion picture, but I knew it would only make me sound less cultured, less experienced, and more like the timid schoolgirl I felt. I wrung my hands together. “There were so many gentlemen. I apologize for not remembering your face.” My cheeks burned in betrayal.
“Ah,” he said, leaning closer to whisper. “Well, I must not repeat my previous mistake. How may I ensure you will not forget me once more, Elizabeth?”
I swallowed and lifted my chin higher. “You can start by not addressing me by my Christian name, and secondly, please refrain from whispering to me. I am only sixteen, Mr. Caldwell.”
He chuckled. “Then I am pleased to have thrown my hat in the ring so early.”
My eyes widened. I bit back my tongue and refused to give him a single glance in response. But then again, was his suggestion that outrageous or uncalled for? Clara would be engaged soon; Julia was already courting a man.
“Please forgive me. I meant no offense,” William said. He straightened in his chair but continued to watch me instead of the motion picture.
I remained fixed to the projected images. The actress playing Alice stood in front of many doors, attempting to find an escape. I sighed and clicked my tongue. I felt much the same—small and insignificant. Perhaps a new door was opening.
q PART 2 r
Chapter Eighteen
VIRGINIA, 1905
WILLIAM CALDWELL WAS COMING TO DINNER. Again.
Nora made sure I was aware.
“A new dress?” I asked, picking up a sleeve. It was one I had admired the week before, a dress of light silk draped in dark lace. It had a pale green sash at the middle, and the sleeves and hem were of the same green hue.
“I could not help myself,” Aunt Nora said, smiling so much that her wrinkles near her eyes grew. “And with William coming, he will have no choice but to profess his love.”
I grinned. “If only I were not so young and Mr. Caldwell so available. He will not wait for me, Nora.”
She sat on the bed, and the springs creaked beneath her legs. “Darling, he adores you. If ever I saw a man in love, it is William. N
early eighteen is plenty old.”
I had closeted my heart long ago, and I struggled to consult it now.
First Clara married, and I had only Julia. But after graduating and marrying a wealthy man from New York, Julia had abandoned me just the same. William was my friend in my time of need, and I sensed it could be more, for I had noticed on more than one occasion that William Caldwell was all a lady could wish for—tall and handsome, witty and rich.
Julia had said as much to me on her last visit. She had pinched my arm one day on one of our spring walks. “Elizabeth Pratt, so help me. If I have to watch that man walk away from you again without so much as a smile, I am liable to throttle you!” she had said.
“And when his father retires, I am sure Mr. Caldwell will give a position to William,” Nora said. She fidgeted with my necklace, straightening out each kink in the metal. “Just think, you and Clara forever near me.”
Her words pricked me, and a silhouette of the Tetons sprang across my mind. If I married William, I doubted I would leave Virginia. My valley would become nothing more than a memory. I pushed the thought away and nudged Nora with an elbow instead. “If I settled here, I could come for dinner and terrorize Cook. I am sure she would object.”
Aunt Nora nodded, and her eyes sparkled. “Every night, should you choose. But first, you must give some encouragement to poor William. You have given him little to hope on.”
I laughed. I was only seventeen years old, eighteen in a few more months. I slipped the dress over my head, and Nora cinched the back just as Mama used to do.
Oh, how I missed my mother.
William stood at the bottom of the stairs, meeting me as I descended. “Elizabeth,” he said. His voice was warm and gentle. “You look lovely.”
I took his outstretched arm. “Thank you.”
The reflection of lights played across his flint-colored eyes, and I sensed something behind his gaze and the curve of his lips. I paused at the dining room door. Was that admiration in his gaze? Was it admiration in mine?
Forever Elle (Regency Romance) Page 11