“They most certainly are. Lizzy’s feelings will affect the entire show because, as you so often put it, Lizzy is the heart of this show. If she’s upset, just remember that will play out in her performance. Therefore, it might behoove you to refrain from trying to come between her and Wes.”
Jason shrugged. “I believe in the adage that all is fair in love and war.”
Mary shook her head, knowing without a doubt that he was only going to cause further trouble. “You may come to regret that.”
Chris sat across from Mary at the impeccably set table. She was still wearing the lovely gown of mauve silk with ivory lace. She’d rid herself of the fancy jewelry but still looked every bit the grand lady.
With their orders placed, Mary sat in silence, waiting for him to begin the conversation. Chris tugged at his collar, then gave a nod. “I need to say what I must and stop worrying about what you might think of me.”
“I really don’t know what to think,” Mary admitted. “You’ve been dark and brooding for days.”
“Yes, and for that I am sorry. I want to try to explain, but I’m afraid there is still a great deal I’d rather not say.”
Mary frowned. “Christopher Williams, I don’t recall ever trying to force you to speak on any topic that you didn’t want to share with me. I have asked for an explanation of your treatment but made no demands.”
“I know that, and I suppose that only serves to make me all the more regretful.”
“Then why don’t you just say what you wish to say, and if I question you on something that you don’t want to discuss—tell me. I’m not a child, and I too have things I don’t wish to share with others.”
“Seems simple enough.” He toyed with his fork. “I was born near Washington, D.C., and being there brought out the worst of memories. Being there, in fact, left me feeling ill both of mind and body.”
“And why was that so hard to explain?” Mary asked as the waiter placed a bowl of French onion soup in front of her.
Chris waited until the waiter had finished serving them both before continuing. “There’s a lot I can’t say . . . or rather that I don’t want to talk about. Suffice it to say, my father and brothers didn’t have the best reputation, and I didn’t want to be confronted by anyone who knew them and would associate my behavior with theirs.”
“I knew you were troubled, so I prayed for you,” Mary said, smiling. She picked up her spoon and shrugged. “I pray for you often, even though I suppose by some standards my faith is not all that great.”
“Nor mine. I’ve had a fair exposure to church teachings but have struggled to make any real acquaintance with God. Until lately, in fact, it wasn’t in the forefront of my mind.”
“For me it’s just always been there. I’ve always attended church with my family, but I suppose I haven’t ever worried about a personal understanding. My grandparents encouraged me and prayed for me. I suppose I thought that was enough. Although, since losing my brother, I have sought to better know God in order to seek answers.”
“And has God given you those answers?”
“Not exactly.” Mary sampled the soup and smiled. “It’s good. You should try it.”
Chris did just that, and for a while they ate in silence while he pondered all the questions and doubts that swirled through his head.
“As far as the past is concerned,” Mary said as she put her spoon aside, “you needn’t worry about what I will think. Nor anyone else here, for that matter. I think Oliver Brookstone and Lizzy are two of the most compassionate and forgiving people I’ve ever known. They would never hold the wrongdoings of others against a child who had no say.”
“I can see that just in knowing them this short time. Nevertheless, I’m haunted by the past, and it often causes me regret and even . . . bitterness.”
“Bitterness I understand.” Mary dabbed the napkin to her lips. “I shared a lunch with Ella and her brother today. Lizzy was there as well. Robert Fleming said that nothing will be done regarding my brother’s death. Apparently, just as Ella stated, people are either too afraid of her father and Jefferson Spiby or too indebted to them to speak out against them. He told Ella to do nothing further to interfere, but I’m hoping you were serious about getting someone to go to the farm to investigate.”
Chris met her worried expression. “Of course I was serious.”
“I’d like you to move forward with that. Even though Robert Fleming asked Ella to do nothing more, this wouldn’t involve Ella. No one would think her involved at all.”
“It’s already been done. I put things in motion when I met with my editor yesterday. He doesn’t know the extent of why I wanted him to include Fleming Farm as the focus of the story, but the reporter who will write the story is a good friend of mine. I explained to him in some detail that something underhanded and dangerous is going on there.”
Mary leaned forward. “And he was all right with risking his life to investigate?”
Chris grinned. “All right with it? He jumped at the chance. He loves a challenge, and the more dangerous, the better. He’ll ferret it out. You just wait and see.”
She shook her head and eased back in her chair. “Thank you. I’m so grateful. I was beginning to fear that nothing could be done.”
Chris felt a strong urge to protect this beautiful young woman. He wanted to assure her that he would set her world to rights—that he would never let anything hurt her again. But how could he do that when his own world was in such disarray?
For a long while they ate and said nothing more. All around them the world continued, unaware of their thoughts and unconcerned with their troubles. Chris had seen so much in life—talked to people from all walks and heard their goals, troubles, trials, and victories. He’d done what he could to capture in words the deepest desires of mankind, and yet for all of that, he still couldn’t figure out his own heart.
“Mary,” he finally said, putting down his fork and knife, “I don’t feel like I can be completely open about my past or the things that are troubling me now, but I want to express my regret for making you feel bad. It wasn’t fair of me to put that on you. The truth is, I don’t deserve your friendship. Worse still . . . it frightens me.”
“Frightens you?” she said in surprise. “Why in the world should my friendship frighten you?”
“Because I have spent my entire life avoiding such relationships. I know the dangers it would expose me to . . . and expose the other person to. I’ve worked hard not to entangle myself in anyone else’s life, and then I met a beautiful young woman who has a way of drawing me out of myself.” He shrugged.
In the candlelight he could see her cheeks flush. “I accept your apology and in return give you one of my own. I forget that just because I tend to be outspoken, I expect everyone else to be the same. I don’t want to force you to tell me your secrets, Chris. I just want you to know that you can—that I care enough to ask. But I want you to know that I also care enough to refrain from asking. If that’s the price for our friendship, then I’m willing to pay it.”
He was touched by her sincerity and gentle expression. She did care about him. Something deep within his heart told him the past wouldn’t matter to her. She would never hold it against him. But just as quickly, a steel band surrounded his heart, and his thoughts betrayed him.
But I hold it against myself. The past is my burden to bear, no one else’s, and I won’t put it on her. I can’t.
ten
With her horses safely in Wesley’s care, Lizzy made her way to the wagon where her things were being loaded. They were departing soon for the ship that would carry them to England. It was thrilling to imagine the long voyage. Lizzy had never been abroad, and the thought of traveling across the ocean and seeing foreign places was beyond her wildest expectations. The fact that Wes would be with her made it all the better. How she wished they were already married.
Carson stood atop the wagon, tying down the tall stack of trunks. He gave Lizzy a wave. “I think we h
ave everything.”
“I’ll make one more run through the cars, just to make sure.” She hiked up the skirt of her fine gown to avoid the dirt and oil on the tracks. Jason had insisted the performers dress formally, as he had arranged first-class passage for them. Lizzy and the others had come back to the train after the performance to find a new outfit for each and every person. Her own gold gown was regally trimmed in lace and fringe. She felt as if she were queen of the show.
The climb into the commons car was a little more difficult in a fancy dress and delicate heeled shoes. While Lizzy appreciated the custom fit of finery, she was also a great deal more inhibited. The undergarments alone were confining in a way that made her want to tug and twist to free herself from their grip. And the dainty shoes that matched her gown could hardly stand up to a sturdy pair of boots. Still, as her mother would have said, everything had its place. And first class on a luxury liner was not the place for split skirts and boots.
She looked around the room to make sure all necessary articles had been packed, but the car had been thoroughly emptied. She found Alice in the costume room collecting the last of the items there. Alice’s reddish-brown hair had been carefully curled and pinned into place to complement the icy-blue silk gown she wore.
“You look beautiful.”
“So do you,” Alice replied, smiling. “I’ve never had anything this fine.” She stopped to give a twirl. “When I was a little girl, I dreamed of owning beautiful clothes like this. Well . . . maybe not exactly like this. Styles were different back then. I always wanted a bustle.”
“I know what you mean.” Lizzy looked around the room. “I thought bustles were so glamorous, the way they stuck out in the back, but it was the hooped skirts that I wanted. I saw pictures of them in my mother’s old copies of Godey’s Lady’s Book.”
“Yes, I loved those too,” Alice declared. “I thought they made the dresses look like big bells. What fun to remember that. The clothes these days are beautiful but seem far less creative.”
“Perhaps we should dream up something and then introduce it in the show.” Lizzy chuckled. “Uncle Oliver said he’s always asked by women where they can purchase the split skirts we wear. I swear, if we sold those along with our little flags, we’d make a bundle of money.”
“Everybody wants what seems novel.” Alice went back to packing the few remaining articles on her bed.
Lizzy went to the sewing table. “I’ve come to help, since Jason already put Agnes and Brigette on the train home.”
“Will they rejoin us when we return to America?”
“I hope so. No one can sew as well as Agnes, and Brigette has learned to be nearly as good. I suppose it helps to have such a talented aunt.” Lizzy picked up a spool of thread. “Still, I wish they were going with us. I know Jason said he’d have plenty of help for us there, but I like our little family. Now, what can I do?”
“There’s not much left, as you can see. I’m just trying to make sure the last of the sewing supplies gets packed. I know we can probably buy more in England, but since they’re here anyway, it seems foolish not to take them.” Alice tucked a handful of material into one of the open carpetbags.
“You must be especially thrilled with this adventure,” Lizzy said, picking up the only other stack of material still on the desk. She handed it to Alice. “I was just thinking how I envy you and Carson being married. I wish Wes and I were. I think it would be the most romantic of trips.”
“Like a honeymoon,” Alice offered. “That’s how Carson and I are viewing it. A genuine wedding trip.”
“Yes. I had thought of that.” Lizzy picked up a large sewing kit. “Where do you want this?”
“The trunk.” Alice pointed to the end of the bed.
Lizzy deposited the basket there and straightened. “I’m a little afraid of traveling by ship across the ocean. I wonder what it will be like.”
“Well, you’re soon to find out,” Alice said with a grin. “And I wouldn’t fret too much about not being married. At least you and Wes will have a lot of time together.”
“If only Jason would leave us be.” Lizzy shook her head. “I don’t understand why he won’t accept that I’m in love with Wesley. He can be such a sweet man—very thoughtful—but I love Wes.”
“It doesn’t seem like Jason believes that matters. I think he’s convinced he can change your mind.”
“But I’ve told him otherwise. I’ve made it quite clear.”
“Some men refuse to give in until a woman is legally bound. Jason strikes me as that sort.”
Lizzy sighed. “I hope not.” She glanced around the room. “Well, it looks like you have everything under control here. Do you need help getting it out to the wagon?”
“No, Carson will be in directly. In fact, I’m surprised he hasn’t already made an appearance. If you want, go check out the men’s car. I think that will be the end of it.”
“I’ll do that. You never know—something might have been overlooked. Uncle Oliver is terrible about forgetting things.”
Lizzy left the commons car and went to the men’s. She had no sooner stepped through the connecting door, however, than she caught sight of her uncle and Phillip sitting at the small table. A bottle and two glasses sat between them, and Uncle Oliver was pouring what looked to be another round.
“What’s going on?” she demanded.
Phillip grinned. “We were just celebrating.”
Uncle Oliver looked apologetic but happy. “We made more money tonight than we’ve ever made before, Lizzy girl.”
“That’s wonderful news, but Uncle Oliver, you know we don’t allow liquor.”
“It’s just a little celebratory drink. Nothing more.”
Lizzy looked at the half-empty bottle. “How many celebratory drinks?”
Phillip laughed. “She’s too smart for us, Oliver.” He held up his glass. “To Lizzy Brookstone!”
“Don’t drink to me.” She made her disgust no secret. “I can’t believe you two. This is uncalled for. Uncle Oliver, you promised Mother you wouldn’t drink.”
He nodded and put a cork in the bottle. “I did. I’m sorry. It’s just . . . sometimes a fella has to celebrate. You take this.” He handed her the bottle.
Wes entered the car. He looked at his brother and Oliver and then turned to Lizzy. “What’s going on here?”
Lizzy held up the whiskey. “This is what was going on. Apparently, a celebration for all the success we had tonight.”
Wesley frowned and turned to his brother. “There’s work to be done. Get over to the tack car and see that everything is loaded properly. I’ll speak with you about this later.”
Phillip had the decency to lower his head and say nothing. Whether he was embarrassed or sorry for his actions, Lizzy couldn’t say, but she was sure the last thing he wanted was to hear a lecture from his big brother.
“Uncle Oliver,” Lizzy started after Phillip had gone, “you know this stuff makes you ill. You must stay away from it.”
“Don’t worry about me, child. It was just one drink. Now, tell me how the packing is going. Are we ready to head out for the ship?”
“Oh, there you all are. I’m so glad to have found you,” Jason said, holding up a piece of paper. “We’ve had a telegram from the ranch.”
“Is Mother all right?” Lizzy asked, putting the bottle back on the table.
“Apparently she’s fine, but there are some ranch problems that have her requesting Wesley come home to lend a hand.”
“What kind of problems?” Wes asked, taking the telegram from Jason. He read it quickly. “It doesn’t say, just that it’s urgent I come now.”
“But we’re leaving for England,” Lizzy said, looking at Jason. “If Wes goes back to Montana, he won’t be able to accompany us. We need him.”
“Yes, I did think of that,” Jason said with a slight nod. “There won’t be much for him to worry with on the ship, and once we’re in England, my people can take over. I’ll wire ahead an
d let them know.”
“If Rebecca bothered to send a telegram requesting Wes, then you know it must be important,” Oliver said, looking at Lizzy.
“Then I’m going back with him. Something might be wrong with Mother. She might need me.”
“The telegram says she’s fine, that it’s just ranch business,” Wes said, looking up from the slip of paper. “I don’t think your mother is in danger.”
“And you know what Rebecca would say about the show and your obligations to it,” Oliver said, getting up from the table.
Lizzy noticed he was none too steady. Perhaps it was best that she remain with the show and keep an eye on her uncle. She sighed. “But I was really looking forward to our time together.” She looked at Wes and knew he understood.
“Wes can join us as soon as the ranch business is dealt with, and he can wire us at my father’s estate to let us know what’s happened,” Jason interjected. “It surely won’t take long to figure out. At least I wouldn’t think so. I’ll see to it that he has a ticket waiting for him at the ship’s office. Once he finishes with his duties in Montana, he can simply telegraph me. I’ll have my people waiting to take care of his needs when he reaches England. We’ll all be together again soon. You’ll see.”
Lizzy nodded. It seemed there was nothing else to be done.
Jason turned to Oliver. “I have a few matters for you to sign off on,” he said. “If you would accompany me, we can take care of it now.”
“Certainly.” Oliver went to Lizzy and kissed her on the cheek. “Try not to fret, my dear. I’m sure nothing is amiss. I’ll wire your mother myself and make sure she knows how to reach us in England if there’s further need.”
“Thank you.” Lizzy hugged her uncle, then waited until he and Jason had gone to go to Wes. He opened his arms to her, and she cherished his embrace despite the heat of the evening. “I don’t want to go without you.”
“I know. I’m not happy about sending you to England with Jason. He’s always up to something where you’re concerned.”
Wherever You Go Page 10