by Caroline Lee
I look forward to it. And then hesitantly: Will you be there too?
Yes. I’ve never bothered to get my own house, since I’m away so often.
Then he went back and wrote in “at the clinic” after “away” and Annie’s heart squeezed a little. She loved that he was always so intent on the truth, so careful to make sure that he communicated everything properly. It was so different from the way she’d learned to “talk,” when Wendy helped her create a series of signs for various things. The “language” she’d grown up with was far from accurate or specific; she and her family could communicate entire sentences with only a few words. It wasn’t until Wendy taught her to read and write that she learned how to make a complete sentence or to understand the complexities of grammar. But even now, when she used her notebook to communicate, she usually used a sort of short-hand.
Here in New York City, she’d have to remember to be careful what she wrote, what she said. Reggie’s family were the sort who would care.
The trip to his parents’ home took longer than expected. Cheyenne was big, but a person could walk across it still. New York City was… well, it was tremendous, and crowded with people and street cars such that the horses had to pick their way carefully through the slushy streets. Annie spent the time with her nose practically pressed to the window, eager to see the sights and buildings she’d only read about. Reggie had the driver take them up Park Avenue and across Fifty-First, so she could see St. Patrick’s Cathedral, and then up—briefly—through Central Park. Then his heavy scrawl identified the sights of the Theater District and Longacre Square, and even though he mentioned that the area was improving, he refused to let her get out and gawk. Her cheeks grew warm from his teasing, but she didn’t mind.
It was almost evening when they finally arrived at the luxurious Carderock home on Fifth Avenue, and Annie tried to pretend that she wasn’t completely flabbergasted by such elegance. The front entranceway was bedecked in garlands and heavy red bows, and each of the large windows—there were ten that faced the street!—had a beautiful matching wreath hanging from the center. She couldn’t help but compare them to the simpler decorations she and her sisters and brothers-in-law had labored over in their cozy house in the Cheyenne wilderness.
Inside the foyer, Reggie waved off the stately older man in the servant’s black, and took her coat and hat himself. It was gentlemanly, and Annie smiled softly at him in appreciation. She could swear that she saw his cheeks color slightly, but it could’ve been the light from the electric lamps making odd shadows.
There was mistletoe hanging from the giant crystal chandelier above their heads, but she pretended not to notice.
When he offered her his arm, she placed her fingers on the wool of his jacket, and he led her into a parlor. The elegant lady who’d been waiting there rose to greet them, and Annie almost gaped at her dress. Mrs. Carderock was still a beautiful woman, and Annie remembered her being the paragon of sophisticated grace… but that was at her son’s wedding, almost a decade ago. Here she stood, in her own home, dressed in a gown elaborate enough to attend a ball. Annie was suddenly very glad that she’d changed into her nicest pale blue dress this morning, rather than the travel-stained dark gown she’d worn for most of the trip, or the skirts and shirtwaists she normally wore in Cheyenne.
Heaven knew what Mrs. Carderock would think if she knew that even those skirts were fancier than the jeans she preferred when she was on the ranch, training her colts.
“Welcome to fabulous New York City, my dear!” Mrs. Carderock continued, as she came forward to embrace Annie, but the rest of her greeting was lost. In fact, Annie wasn’t entirely sure about her first words, either, but judging from the kiss the older woman dropped on her cheek, she was certain it was a welcome. Reggie’s mother was apparently one of those with the aggravating habit of blending her words together. It was probably not even noticed by her peers, but Annie could already tell that she was going to get a headache, trying to follow her hostess’s words.
It was so much easier with someone like Reggie, who knew enough—either from his visits or his medical training—to speak clearly while looking directly at her. She liked the way he didn’t use contractions when he spoke, which made his meaning even easier to understand. His mother, on the other hand…
Mrs. Carderock stepped back and beamed at her, so Annie took a chance and dropped a small curtsey. “Thank you very much for having me, ma’am.”
She was looking directly at her hostess—Annie always had to stare at peoples’ faces, in order to make sure she didn’t miss their words—and thus saw the wince Mrs. Carderock couldn’t quite hide at her words.
Annie stifled a sigh. She’d never heard herself speak, of course, but her family had explained that her voice sounded wrong. Most of the people she interacted with in her life had gotten used to it, but it was always a surprise, meeting new people. Annie wanted to scowl at them—at Mrs. Carderock—and ask them how well they’d be able to speak if they couldn’t hear. She’d worked so hard to be able to speak at all, and people were bothered by something as silly as the sound of her voice?
Sebastian had explained to her years ago that the only way she’d be able to be accepted by society was to give up her signs—“All that waving about makes you look like a savage”—and learn to speak. She’d had to dismiss the language of signs Wendy had created for her when they’d both been young, giving up that part of herself and her past. Instead, she’d spent years of lessons studying the proper use of lips and tongues and breath in speech, mimicking them as well as she could. So she still couldn’t pronounce certain words—who cared?
Apparently Mrs. Carderock did, judging from her forced smile. “You must be exhausted from the journey, Annie. Why don’t you run along upstairs to change for dinner?”
Annie glanced helplessly at Reggie, who tilted his head just slightly towards the door to the foyer and the stairs. She appreciated his attempts at translation, but was more worried about what she was fairly certain his mother had just said: Change for dinner? But this was the nicest gown she’d brought with her.
As Reggie escorted her towards the main staircase, Annie couldn’t help but look back at the crystalline Christmas decorations and the perfection the house represented. She was beginning to suspect that she wasn’t going to fit in here, just as Molly tried to hint. Her oldest sister was usually right, but Annie hadn’t wanted to believe it. She’d wanted to see New York, to experience the beauty of a high-society Christmas.
But was it where she belonged?
Chapter 2
Mother was in fine form that evening. Reggie didn’t think that she’d stopped talking since they’d sat down, full of plans for the next two weeks. When she’d have to pause to eat something, then Victoria would take over, offering suggestions of people to visit and places to shop. His sister was trying to be helpful, but Reggie wouldn’t have minded getting a word in edge-wise. Father didn’t seem like he was paying any attention, but would occasionally catch his youngest son’s gaze and roll his eyes slightly. The ladies didn’t notice.
They also didn’t seem to notice that Annie was obviously a bit lost. She’d barely been able to take two bites; her attention was completely focused on the back-and-forth conversation between Mother and Victoria. She looked like a spectator at a tennis match, making sure to keep her eyes on the ladies’ lips. He knew it was simple necessity, because she couldn’t rely on her ears to keep her appraised of the conversation while she focused on her dinner. Her delicate little brows were drawn down over her narrowed eyes, and she worried her lower lip between her teeth.
As Mother launched into her plans for her annual Christmas fete, Reggie thought about that lower lip. He’d met Annie when she was all of twelve years old, and while he’d seen her four times since then, he’d always thought of her as that girl. But when his mother offered to write Sebastian with on offer of sponsorship, Reggie realized that she’d grown up. Well, maybe not “up”—she still only came up to his c
hin—but she’d blossomed into a lovely young lady. One that he greatly admired, in fact.
While he’d never had any interest in instruction, the way his brother did, Reggie admired the older man’s drive when it came to studying what he wanted. It was that realization that had put him on his own path in life, in fact. He might not be interested in Sebastian’s teachings, but he’d been intrigued enough about oralist techniques that he’d sat in on a few of his brother’s classes, when he visited Cheyenne. It was amazing that a girl—young woman—like Annie could learn to speak without hearing. He might be a doctor, but he was sure that she had a much deeper understanding of her own body, of the way her breath moved across lips and tongue, than he did.
And today, watching the wonder on her face as she drove through New York City, Reggie had realized that he wanted an understanding of those lips and that tongue.
Oh yes, little Annie had definitely grown up. She had her sisters’ thick brown curls—piled on top of her head in some kind of bun-thing—and dark blue eyes like the sea on a cloudy day. She wasn’t going to be the belle of the season, but Mother’s sponsorship would definitely not go amiss. The Carderock ladies always had a full social schedule around Christmas, and this year Annie would benefit from it all. Reggie wondered if she was looking forward to it.
Presumably, the goal of being “launched” into society would be to find a husband, and Reggie discovered that he was a little uncomfortable at the thought. The times that he’d seen Annie in Cheyenne, it was obvious that she belonged there. He’d once seen her riding a young horse, bareback and astride, with her hair down and swept behind her. At that moment, she’d looked completely at ease.
Being deaf hadn’t mattered at all. Hadn’t been a disability. He could still remember the look of joy on her face.
Similar to the look she’d given him today, when she’d recognized him at Grand Central Depot.
“Reginald!” His mother’s sharp voice told him that she’d been trying to get his attention. It wasn’t the first time that he’d mentally drifted during a meal, when she was going on about society gossip that didn’t interest him. It was the first time he’d done it while staring at a female guest, though.
Trying not to blush—gentlemen didn’t blush!—he switched his attention to the ladies across the table. “I’m sorry, Mother. What were you saying?”
She tsked, and Victoria stifled a giggle. She was only a year older than Reggie, but had been married for almost eight years now. Her husband Howard was a decent chap—much older than Tori—and had joined Carderock Shipping when Reggie had made it clear he had no interest in the family business. He was there now, with Bertie, finishing up some last-minute deal. Still, Victoria considered herself ever so much more mature than her younger brother, who couldn’t be bothered to care about the family company or the latest gossip.
So Reggie stuck his tongue out at her, and she had to hide her laughter behind her napkin at their mother’s harrumph. Reggie didn’t glance at Annie to see if she was smiling too, but turned his innocent gaze to his mother.
“I was saying, son, that you will have to find the time to escort our guest to as many events as possible. The Singletons are hosting a tea tomorrow, and I expect you to be ready to leave in a timely fashion.” It was an old complaint of hers, when sick people and medical emergencies didn’t always conform to her demands on his time.
But he dipped his chin slightly, and smiled as charmingly as possible. “I will make certain that the clinic is aware, Mother, and will do my best to be on time.”
“If you want to keep getting invitations, my boy, you’ll do better than your best.”
Even Father chuckled at that one, and Reggie’s smile turned rueful. “Yes, mother.”
“Annie will need an escort, Reggie, and your father is too old—”
“No I’m not,” Sebastian Carderock II interrupted, “I just don’t give a fig for all this social whirl nonsense.”
Reaching over, Mother gave his hand a little pat. “Yes dear. That’s what I meant.” They shared a smile, and Reggie rolled his eyes at his sister. Their parents had built a strong, loving relationship, despite their differences, and he couldn’t help but envy them. It would be nice to come home every day to a wife and family who supported him and his dreams.
Unfortunately, he’d had little success thus far. His family had thought that he was an idler for years, but he was just not interested in the same things that they were. Oh, he had a good enough head for numbers, but nowhere near as good as their oldest brother Bertrand, or Victoria’s husband Howard. Reggie made friends easily, but had little patience for the polite and careful maneuvering that proper society required. Years ago he’d discovered the improper society was much more fun, anyhow. It was his less-than-savory interactions with gamblers and gin-drinkers and the occasional woman of easy virtue that had fed his drive to do something to better the world. He’d become a doctor and worked at the clinic in order to help those people unfortunate enough to not receive invitations to the Singletons’ teas.
But he kept his smile in place as he stifled his sigh. “Yes, Mother. I wouldn’t want you ladies to go without proper company for the afternoon.”
His mother narrowed her eyes, obviously not sure if he was mocking her. But then she nodded briskly, and turned to Annie. “See, dear? He’ll do his duty by us. Tomorrow’s tea will be wonderful, I know, and you’ll be a smashing success. You did bring a finer dress, didn’t you?”
He saw the confusion on the younger lady’s face as she realized that his mother had been speaking about—and to—her, too fast for Annie to understand. A small pink tongue darted from between her lips, as if she were readying herself to speak, but Reggie didn’t want her to have to confess that she didn’t comprehend.
He knocked on the table to get her attention, and ignored his mother’s gasp at his rudeness. When those deep blue eyes turned his way, and smiled, and said clearly, “Mother wants to know if you have a full wardrobe. Tomorrow’s tea will be quite fancy.”
Annie understood, and the grateful smile she sent him made him feel warm, as if her approval was filling him up from the inside.
She glanced down at the dress she was wearing, and smoothed her palm over the material. Taking a deep breath, she focused on his mother. “I have few fancy dresses.” Her Rs weren’t quite clear, and the W in “few” was missing, but otherwise, she spoke clearly enough for anyone to understand. Reggie marveled again at the amazing work his brother and the other oralists were able to do, and wondered what Annie thought of being able to speak.
His mother frowned prettily. “Oh, dear. Well, the one you’re wearing—I wondered why you hadn’t changed for dinner—that one will get you through the Singletons’ tea, and then the following day will have to be devoted to shopping.” She sighed, pretending it was a hardship, but judging from the way Father rolled his eyes again, Reggie assumed that she wasn’t fooling anyone. “I’ll have Hodgkins send a note around to Madame DuPont to arrange it all, and we’ll meet with her and some other shops on Monday.”
Annie didn’t understand. Reggie could see it in her expression, although she was trying her hardest to keep up. Mother just spoke too fast, too animatedly. Without being able to see the full movement of her lips, Annie wasn’t able to comprehend what the older woman was saying, and Reggie suddenly realized that he was either going to have to explain things to his mother, or vow to always be on hand to “translate” for the older woman.
The idea of spending the entire Christmas season with Annie wasn’t as bad as he might’ve thought. Shopping and teas were tedious, but getting to see her eyes light up when she understood, or watching her worry her lower lip between her teeth—like she was doing now—would be worth it.
So he knocked on the table again.
“Reggie!” His mother gasped again. “Stop doing that.”
Keeping his gaze on the younger woman beside him, Reggie spoke to his mother across the table. “It’s the best way to get Annie
’s attention, Mother. I’m telling her that I need to speak to her.”
He heard his mother’s disapproval in her “Hmmm,” but he still didn’t turn. “Well, try to do it a little more subtly at the Singletons’ please.”
He didn’t bother acknowledging her. “Annie, Mother wants to take you shopping for new dresses. I am sure that you two and Victoria will have a grand time.” He managed to keep the wince out of his voice, and thought that he sounded quite sincere. What young lady wouldn’t find a day of shopping fun?
Unfortunately, he forgot that she couldn’t hear the sincerity in his voice… and there must’ve been something of his true feelings in his eyes. Because she glanced down at her dress once more, and he watched that lower lip slip between her teeth again. She seemed… hesitant, disappointed.
But then she straightened her shoulders and faced his mother. Reggie could tell that her smile was forced, and wondered if his family could as well. “Thank you. That sounds lovely.”
Annie Murray was strong. Stronger than she had a right to be. Stronger than she should have to be. She was a small woman—no bigger than his sister-in-law Serena—and deaf to boot. She should be helpless and weak. But she wasn’t; she had overcome so much, and accomplished so much, and now she was being strong for his mother. Telling her what she wanted to hear.
Reggie admired her, and that was a new sensation for him. At first, it was just because she was his brother’s student, who had overcome her disability. Then, the next time he’d visited, he’d seen her riding, and had found out that she’d trained many of the colts on her brother-in-law’s ranch, and he’d been even more impressed. And now she’d come across the country all on her own. None of the ladies he knew here in New York would’ve dared to attempt that journey alone, and she’d done it with limited ways to communicate, which was remarkable. He wondered what his mother—what Sebastian—thought of her journey to New York.