Wherever You Go

by Tracie Peterson

  “She did say yes,” he muttered to himself. He didn’t let it bother him, however. People got engaged and unengaged in the blink of an eye. In fact, women in his social circles were considered dull if they hadn’t been engaged on at least a dozen occasions by the time they actually wed. No, he just had to figure out a way to separate them. He needed time alone with Lizzy. Time to show her a better life—a life only he could give her.

  The trip to England would help. He would have at least seven days as they crossed the ocean where Lizzy wouldn’t be preoccupied with work. He could take time to walk and talk with her and help her see how much they had in common. Then, once they were in England, the schedule was such that he would have plenty of time with her. The troupe was staying on his father’s country estate, and that alone would afford him easy access to Lizzy.

  But with Wesley DeShazer there, it would be difficult to get Lizzy to himself. There had to be a way to keep DeShazer from making the trip. It was just that simple. But how? What could he come up with that would keep Wes on the opposite side of the Atlantic?

  He was still searching for a solution when Chris Williams walked into the box office. He spoke momentarily to the ticket sales people before making his way to where Jason was working.

  “I thought you were watching the show and ordering photographers around,” Jason said, barely looking up.

  Williams ignored his tone and took a chair. “I’ve managed all of that and then some,” he replied in a nonchalant manner. “Thought I’d come see what you were up to.”

  “Readying the receipts and money. We leave right after the show.”

  “Yes, I know. New York bound, and soon we’ll be on the Atlantic and headed to England.”

  “Home for us both, I suppose.” Jason tied off the money bag.

  “I’m not sure where home is these days. I sold my grandmother’s house, so it’s not like I have a place to go to in London.”

  “I mentioned you in a letter to my father. He knew your grandmother. Said she was quite a remarkable woman.”

  “She was,” Williams said with a thoughtful smile. “She was highly thought of by all in her society.”

  “And a very elevated society it was. Despite being an American.”

  Williams chuckled. “Well, she was fond of America and England in kind. She said she might have been born an American, but London courted her like a suitor and won her over. That was why she remained there even after her husband died.”

  “Ah yes, John Lamb. He was, I believe, your grandmother’s second husband.”

  Williams nodded. “He was. He went to England to work with Charles Adams, the U.S. minister to the Court of St. James’s, and naturally my grandmother went with him.”

  Jason leaned back in his chair. “I did a little research into you when you asked to do the story on the wild west show.”

  “Well then, you probably know everything you need to know about me.” Williams got to his feet. “And I can say in return that I’ve also done my research on you. Your family has a fascinating background. Mother was an American whose family made their fortune in some . . . interesting ways.”

  Jason fixed his expression so as not to let on that the journalist’s comment bothered him. His mother’s family was both admired and feared as a powerful family. Their business dealings were sometimes questionable and had garnered more than a little attention in the 1890s, around the time of the nation’s big financial troubles. It was also known that they held a great deal of power among the dockworkers and teamsters, but as far as Jason could see, there was nothing wrong with that.

  Williams continued. “Your father was the fourth son of a poverty-stricken earl. Despite not being able to get the title passed down to him, your father’s choice of brides brought money back to the family and reestablished the earldom. I’m sure your uncle was quite grateful, given he inherited the bulk of the estate. I can’t imagine it being easy for your father to see all of his hard work handed over to his brother, but it did spare the family from ruin, and that alone had to be of value to him socially. I’d really love to do a story on it sometime, but for the moment the focus of my work is America.” He smiled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should probably make certain those photographers are getting the proper pictures of the closing ceremonies.”

  Jason stared after the journalist in fury. He didn’t know that much about Williams or his background. Little had been said about the woman who’d raised him or why, and that alone suggested something was being hidden. Still, the fact that Williams had gone to the trouble to dig into Jason’s family was worrisome. Would he cause problems?

  Shaking his head, Jason forced himself to calm down. He had nothing to fear. As Williams had already stated, Jason’s family history was easily known. He rather liked that his mother’s father had been feared far and wide as a city boss. Grandfather had run things his own way and ignored laws and other people when they became obstacles. Jason found that was an example he could embrace. Perhaps his mother’s family could even help him accomplish what he wanted where Lizzy was concerned. A few telegrams here and there, and he’d have all the help he needed.

  One of the box office employees cleared his throat. Jason turned to see what the man wanted.

  “We’ve closed the box office and wondered how much longer you would be.”

  “I’m finished.” Jason felt a moment of irritation but gathered his things. “Where’s the nearest telegraph office?”

  “Not but a block away, sir. I can take you there, if you like,” one of the older clerks replied.

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  He considered what needed to be done. He wanted to wire ahead to New York and let his mother’s sister know he’d be in town. That would result in a family gathering—a dinner, no doubt—where he could rub elbows with his uncles and cousins. His father had warned him about getting into any obligation with that side of the family, but Jason figured it couldn’t hurt this once. He wasn’t sure what kind of solution would help him most, however. If he had thugs beat Wesley to a pulp, leaving him unable to travel, then Lizzy might change her mind and remain behind. If he arranged for Wes to be taken—to just disappear for a time—then Lizzy would no doubt insist on staying to look for him. No, it would have to be something that wouldn’t upset plans for the show.

  As they made their way to the telegraph office, a thought suddenly came to mind. Jason had the perfect solution for getting Wesley out of his hair. The ranch in Montana was being managed by Mrs. Brookstone, Lizzy’s mother. Wes had been the foreman until Oliver asked him to work with the show this year. If Mrs. Brookstone requested Wes’s return to the ranch for some sort of crisis, then the troupe could be safely on its way to England before Wes could get to Montana and realize it was a hoax.

  “I could give him the telegram just before we leave,” he muttered to himself. Even if DeShazer telegraphed back to Montana, someone would have to take the message from Miles City to the ranch, and then if Mrs. Brookstone sent a reply, it would have to be taken back to Miles City. That would buy Jason hours, if not days.

  But what would happen once the situation was realized? Jason knew Lizzy would never appreciate him doing such a thing, but he felt confident of his ability to woo her. He was certain that without the interference of DeShazer and Lizzy’s uncle, he could have Lizzy to himself most of the time. Once they were in England, Father could keep Oliver Brookstone busy, so it was just a matter of ridding himself of DeShazer.

  Jason was certain they could have nearly a month, if not more, to themselves before DeShazer could rejoin the troupe in England—if he rejoined them. It would take a week to get back to the ranch and then another to get back to New York. Add the Atlantic crossing to that, and Jason felt confident the time would be enough to win Lizzy’s heart. DeShazer might not even be able to rejoin the show abroad if Jason failed to leave him a ticket to sail.

  The idea was taking shape, and Jason was nearly beside himself with delight. Of course, it was possible DeS
hazer would learn the truth sooner than expected and make a hasty path to rejoin the show. If that happened, Jason would simply deal with DeShazer when he showed up in England. He’d admit his desperation to win Lizzy, and on the slim chance he failed, he would take their condemnation and admit defeat. At least for the time being.

  But there was one overhanging cloud.

  His father.

  Jason would still have to deal with the old man. Father expected him to choose a business in London and settle down. He expected Jason to marry and marry well. It was doubtful he’d see Elizabeth Brookstone as an acceptable choice, given his ambitions for royal favor and political power. And then, of course, there was the issue of money. Jason was expected to marry into wealth even greater than that of his family. His father had visions of him one day becoming a member of parliament. An American rancher’s daughter would hold little appeal. Even once Jason convinced Lizzy to marry him, he would still have to fight his father for approval.

  He gave a heavy sigh. He loved Lizzy enough to endure anything. To wage war if necessary. And why not? Men had gone to war over women before. History was full of such stories. Jason smiled. Wasn’t there some saying about love being strong enough to conquer any obstacle? If not, then there should be.

  Chris wondered how much Adler knew or how far he’d go to know every detail of Chris’s life. He didn’t like Adler. Not at all. He knew the Englishman was devious and determined, and just the way he had brought up the topic of Chris’s grandmother had made it seem like a threat.

  This was the reason Chris was cautious about getting too close to anyone. He’d been careful beyond reason, in fact, when it came to relationships. Yet here he was, traveling with the Brookstone troupe. Not just for a few days or weeks, but for months. And in such close quarters that he couldn’t help getting into intimate talks with one or more of the crew. Already he’d grown closer to Mary, and then there were the late-night conversations he’d had with Wes. It was just a matter of time before Wes asked questions Chris didn’t want to answer.

  “And I was fool enough to find comfort in it,” he muttered, shaking his head.

  “I hope you’re feeling better.”

  He stopped at the sound of Mary’s voice and turned. She stood there smiling, dressed in her beautiful finery for the final act of her show.

  He nodded. “It was nothing. Just summer malaise, I’m sure.” His words were clipped.

  “Is something wrong?”

  Chris couldn’t hide his annoyance. “Just that people don’t seem to understand minding their own business.”

  He left without any further explanation. He didn’t like the way things were going. On one hand, he’d made some good friends among the Brookstone folks, but on the other hand, he was starting to have feelings for Mary that could only lead to heartache. Maybe it would be best to go to his editor once they were in New York City and tell him to put someone else on the story. After all, if Adler decided to dig into Chris’s past, the story would come out for all to know, and then Brookstone would no doubt want him to leave anyway.

  He thought of Mary’s hurt expression. He’d have to try to explain. But how? Mary believed in total honesty—no pretense or deception.

  Chris sighed. “And my whole life is pretense and deception.”

  seven

  The rocking motion of the train made Mary sleepy, but Oliver had insisted on the troupe meeting once the train pulled out of the station in Philadelphia and headed for New York City.

  “As you know, our next show will be the last before heading to England,” Oliver announced. “Jason has seen to it that news of our great successes and sold-out venues has preceded us to London, so we anticipate that our shows there will be well attended. We will be headquartered at Jason’s family home outside of London. We have created a fair amount of time for you to enjoy sightseeing and other pleasures, but Jason has also arranged for a variety of lectures and smaller shows for individual groups. Otherwise, we will perform regularly, most evenings for six weeks in London at the Earls Court Exhibition Centre.

  “When we finish there and return to New York, we will head straightaway to Buffalo for the Pan-American Exposition, which is going on even now. As Jason and I work to create a memorable final act for 1901, we were wondering if we might ask a favor of Wes and Lizzy.”

  Lizzy looked to Wes, who sat protectively at her side. He shrugged. “I suppose that depends on the favor.”

  Oliver smiled. “Well, given the spirit of things and your new engagement, I wondered if we could prevail upon you to stage the engagement at the conclusion of Lizzy’s act.”

  Wes frowned and shook his head. “Our engagement isn’t for theatrics.”

  “I’m surprised you’d even suggest such a thing, Uncle Oliver.” Lizzy looked perplexed. “It doesn’t sound like you, so I’m assuming this was Jason’s idea.”

  Jason held up his hands. “Yes, I suppose it originated with me in the sense that I reminded Oliver of how important you are to the show, and since you’re planning this to be your final year, it might be nice to give your fans something special. After all, you are the most popular of all the performers, although each and every one of them is important.” He nodded to the others and continued. “We thought this might be a perfect way to announce that you’re leaving the Brookstone show to settle down with the man you love.”

  Lizzy eased back in her chair. “I see. Well, when you put it that way, it doesn’t seem so unreasonable.” She looked at Wes. “What do you think? I mean, we’re already engaged, but it might be a nice way to make the announcement to the world.”

  “I don’t see a need to playact at our engagement. Oliver could just announce it and tell the audience it’s your final performance.”

  “Yes, he could do that, Wesley, but we thought it might be nice to advertise that there will be a special surprise for the audience at the end of the show. We just wanted to promote the positives, even have Lizzy announce that Ella will take her place and encourage everyone to support Ella in next year’s performances. It’s more to support the overall good of the show,” Jason said, looking from Wes to Lizzy and back again. “Of course, if you’re not certain about the engagement . . .”

  “Ha! You wish.” Wes shook his head. “Oliver, if it’s something you feel will benefit you and Lizzy is agreeable to it, I suppose I can bear up under it.”

  “As long as you’re willing to consider it,” Oliver said, “we can discuss it when we’re sailing and have plenty of time to decide the details.”

  Mary glanced toward where Chris sat taking notes. She wondered how he was feeling and what was going on with him. He had seemed so distant since being sick in Washington. She had tried to see him then, and he had sent her away, telling her he might be contagious and he didn’t want to risk her getting sick. But it seemed to Mary that it was something else entirely. His whole demeanor had changed. He seemed so much quieter . . . lost within himself. She could relate to that. She too found herself lost in her thoughts of August and how he’d died. How there was no justice for him and probably never would be.

  “Chris, will you be visiting your editor while we’re in New York?” Oliver asked.

  Chris stopped writing and nodded. “Yes. In fact, I believe it would be good if you joined us for a meeting, Oliver. I believe you and Mr. Maddox would benefit by getting to know each other. I won’t stay on the train for our two nights in New York. I have my own apartment and need to repack for our trip abroad, but I will arrange the meeting and get back to you on a time.”

  “Certainly. I’d be delighted,” Oliver said.

  The meeting went on for another twenty minutes before Oliver finally dismissed everyone. He and Jason left immediately for the men’s car, while most of the women headed to their own car. Wes and Lizzy remained for a few more minutes, speaking softly and sharing a good-night kiss, while Chris finished writing in his notebook.

  Once Lizzy and Wes parted company, that left Mary and Chris alone, just as she’d h
oped. Her feelings for him were growing. She cared about him but told herself it was just friendship. Nothing more. And as his friend, she wanted to do whatever she could to offer her support if something were wrong.

  “Chris, I wonder if we might talk a minute.”

  He looked up and glanced around the room, seeming to realize for the first time that the others had gone. He closed his notebook. “What about?”

  He sounded all business, and it irritated Mary. “About you. About what’s wrong.”

  “Nothing’s wrong. What are you talking about?”

  “Prior to our arrival in Washington, you were pleasant company. You were open and talked about so many things. Since Washington, however, you’ve been . . . well, different. I even heard from some of the others that you’ve taken to drinking.”

  He fixed her with a stern look. “What I do is none of your business. I’m not a drunkard, if that’s what has you worried.”

  Mary felt as if he’d slapped her. She had always been a strong woman, able to hold her emotions in check without difficulty, but Chris’s harsh comment made her feel like crying. She fought back tears and took a moment to control her feelings.

  Chris got to his feet. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to finish writing my thoughts.”

  Mary stood as well. “I thought we were friends. Close friends, even. Over the weeks since you joined us, I thought our friendship had grown into something special.”

  “Why? Because I spent time with you? I’m a writer. I was getting to know you—to know everyone.”

  “And you don’t want my friendship?” Mary knew it would be better to just stop the conversation, but she couldn’t help herself. She’d done nothing wrong, and yet Chris was suddenly treating her like a stranger.

  He gave an exasperated huff. “In my business I find friendships to be a liability more than an asset.”

  “But why?”

  “Friends put demands on me that often interfere with my writing. Now, I must take my leave.”