by Beth Byers
“You must allow me to,” he said, ears turning purple.
“No!” Hettie said, trying to yank her hand from his grip. “Stop this!”
Frederick tapped the silver spoon in his hand against the crystal glass as Cecil cleared his throat. They obviously wanted the attention of every person in the dining car. Cecil dropped to one knee, removed his hat, pulled a rose from the table vase and began to speak.
“You know that I love you—”
“No,” Hettie said, yanking her hand again.
“I always have,” Cecil said. “Just like that Gilderoy lad from your books.”
Hettie’s mouth dropped open and Ro had to fight from laughing at his ignorant attempt to prove he knew anything about her.
“I was too rough, too—ah—unkind, but it was only to hide my complete adoration.”
Hettie’s face was brilliantly red and she yanked at her hand again. “No!”
Cecil looked excited when he said, “You don't know love when you see it. You've tricked yourself into thinking you know what love feels like, and you expect the real thing to look like that.”
“Did he—” Ro asked, staring at Hettie in shock.
“Did you quote my Anne books to me?” Hettie hissed.
“Hettie, I want your love!” Cecil said, nodding. “Your friendship can never satisfy me.”
“Oh,” Ro breathed in horror, “my goodness.”
“Shut your mouth!” Hettie told him, leaning back with all her weight until he was forced to let her go. She fell onto Ro’s lap.
“He is a bigger fool than I’d guessed,” Ro told Hettie as she helped steady her friend.
“Did he—” Hettie’s eyes welled with tears. “Did he—”
“Quit playing games,” Gladys snarled to Hettie. “Say yes already, and we can open the champagne.”
“Did he ruin Gilbert and Anne?”
“He ruined some poor chap named Gilderoy,” Ro said, laughing. “He could never touch L.M. Montgomery’s brilliance.”
Hettie rose and glanced around helplessly. The other tables were staring in shock at Hettie and Cecil, their mouths agape.
One woman hissed, “Aren’t you going to say yes?”
“No!” Hettie breathed, shaking her head. “No!”
Silence followed her statement. The only sound at their table or anywhere in the dining car was the rumble of the train. Hettie pulled herself off Ro’s lap, waited for Ro to rise and then crossed to Mr. Ribsy. “We won’t be sitting with them again.”
“Of course,” he said in a near whisper. His eyes were as wide and shocked as everyone else’s. “That wasn’t the first proposal I’ve seen, but it was definitely the most awkward.”
Ro snorted and Hettie glanced at her friend, then the man, and then took an opened bottle of wine from the nearest waiter as they turned to leave.
Cecil, however, would not be denied and caught up with them in two strides. Hettie should have known it wouldn’t be that easy to escape.
“Really?” Cecil demanded. “You’re going to say no again? What do I have to do to stop with this…this nonsense?”
The waiter next to them choked on a laugh and the conductor gave him a stern look, but Hettie was past amusement. “Mr. Cavanaugh,” she said like a furious schoolmarm. “I have refused your proposal before and I will continue to refuse. The answer is no.”
“No?” he shouted.
“You will not ask me again, Cecil, if you know what is good for you. The nerve to make it a public proposal to pressure me into saying yes is simply appalling.”
“Hear, hear,” Ro added helpfully.
Everyone ignored her as Hettie continued. “You clearly have limitless levels of audacity to stoop to. That you would do so tells me that you don’t know me at all. I would be mortified if I said yes to such a proposal even from a man I at least somewhat admired, let alone a man I am coming to despise.”
“Hallelujah.” Ro’s helpfulness was only acknowledged by the chortling waiter behind them but Mr. Ribsy moved closer with concern.
Cecil’s face was beet red, Amy and Gladys looked furious, and Frederick’s mouth was slack with shock.
“You aren’t going to get a better one,” Gladys said scornfully. “You should be grateful.”
“Be quiet,” Amy snapped at Gladys. To Hettie, Amy’s tone softened. “Hettie, be reasonable. Our families both stand to benefit greatly from such a union.”
Hettie’s response was hard and quick and dismissive. “Amy.”
“Hettie.”
“Save your commentary.”
“You’re a fool.” Amy crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re going to alienate Father and be disinherited.”
“Fine,” Hettie told her sister archly. “Better disinherited than married to a fool.” Hettie let her gaze travel to the gaping Frederick before returning to Amy. They’d never been close, but Hettie admitted it hurt to have her sister abandon her for this lot.
Hettie moved to step away from the table, but she was too slow. Cecil flew into a rage and grabbed Hettie’s shoulders before she could get away from him. He slammed her against a wall, startling the diners seated at the tables to either side. “Who do you think you are to turn your nose up at me?”
Ro’s voice was steely and firm. “Get your hands off of her, Cecil.”
Simultaneously, Hettie spoke with the calmest calm. “Let go of me, Cecil.”
Before she’d finished her command, Frederick had made it around the table and was attempting to pull Cecil off her. Hettie kneed hard, but Cecil twisted just in time. “You stupid, ginger cow. You’re nothing! No one wants you.”
Frederick yanked Cecil off and Ro quickly put herself between Cecil and Hettie.
There were gasps and alarmed, overly dramatic screams in the car. Mr. Ribsy gave an order and the waiter who had been laughing took hold of Cecil and dragged him from the dining car with Frederick’s help.
“Get your hands off me,” Cecil yelled to both men. “Frederick, you’re a dead man. You both are! I’ll shut down this train. I’ll see you fired. You’ve messed with the wrong man.”
“Look what you did,” Gladys told Hettie, crossing quickly with the intent to slap her, but Ro caught Gladys’s wrist.
“Look what I did,” Hettie said dryly. “I could have been married to that man. Whatever was I thinking to throw away such happiness?”
Chapter 7
Safely back in their private compartment, Ro looked at Hettie.
“That was madness.”
“It was,” Hettie agreed, staring at her hands. They were shaking. “He attacked me.”
“He did,” Ro agreed. “It’s…not easy to get over.” She spoke from experience.
“You aren’t over it,” Hettie reminded Ro. “You have nightmares and you have put nearly all men on the list of foes.” Focusing on Ro allowed Hettie calm down far more quickly than she’d have thought. Hettie stood, wrapped herself in her furs, shivering lightly.
“Do you blame me?”
“No,” Hettie said, opening her arms and wrapping the fur around Ro too. “Hand me that bottle.”
Ro took a drink and handed it to Hettie and then said, “If your mother could see us now—”
Hettie burst into giggles.
“Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
Hettie leaned forward and unbuttoned the collar of her dress to look at her skin.
“If I see handprints on your shoulders where he was holding you, I’ll kill him, Hettie. I mean it.”
Hettie looked at the fingerprints on her skin, considered her red-headed complexion and felt certain that she’d be bruised before morning. She licked her lips and glanced at Ro, who was waiting with a worried expression.
“I’m fine.” Hettie took a swig from the wine. “I don’t like feeling helpless. I couldn’t have gotten him off me if I was alone. A bruise? No bruise? I’d like to have that part of my innocence back.”
Ro knew exactly what Hettie was talking about and
her expression said she’d like her own innocence back as well. Hettie took another sip of the wine and handed the wine bottle to Ro and stood, leaving the fur coat behind for Ro.
“This might be pathetic,” Ro said. “Hiding in here as though we’re the ones who are guilty. We need weapons.”
“I feel certain that I would shoot myself or stab myself.”
“Lead pipe it is,” Ro announced with a laugh.
It was the first real laugh after what had happened.
“You know what I hate about this?” Hettie paused by the window. “Is this pose melodramatic enough?”
Ro snorted. “I need to hear what you’re going to say next to be able to say for sure.”
“It makes me grateful for that dog Harvey. He could have easily overpowered me. He was far larger than Cecil.”
Ro’s amusement faded, but she said, “Yes, I think that pose is melodramatic enough. Though perhaps artfully drape your hand near the window and then lean on it.”
“Like this?” Hettie assumed the pose. Hettie was shaken up, but she’d found it in her to put on a brave face. Even though Hettie was the one with bruises, Ro was the one who would have nightmares. She had experienced far more in her past. “It really is coming down hard out there. I feel as though Anne would be quoting poetry, but I can’t think of any.”
Ro shook her head at Hettie. “Nor can I. You really are all right, aren’t you?”
“I’m quite all right.” Hettie heard the lie in her own voice and willed herself to get it together. A deep breath and then she continued, her voice stronger this time. “Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t love the way he manhandled me, but it’s over now. You were there—”
“I was,” Ro agreed.
“I know Frederick and that fine waiter helped me.” Hettie turned and flopped onto the bench near Ro’s side of the compartment.
“They did.”
“But it was you that mattered because you were helping me already. Without you, I might have been pressured by my mother. Without you, I might have gone home after Harvey died. Without you, I could have been Cecil’s wife and that violence would have been a frequent occurrence.”
“I’m drinking here,” Ro told her, “and you’re making me want to sick up long before I’ve overdone.”
Hettie laughed and reached out, stealing the bottle of wine and setting it on the floor. “Let me be clear. I need you, Ro. And you’ve saved me more than you know. Though I do want to marry again. Someday.”
Ro groaned.
“So I need you to help me make sure it isn’t a Cecil or a Harvey. I feel absolutely fine, but my unreliable hands won’t stop shaking, and I think it’s the idea that this could have been my fate.”
“You are stronger than you know, and you said no to Cecil.”
Hettie nodded, though she wasn’t convinced. “You know, I didn’t think Frederick had it in him to stand up for someone as he did. Especially in front of Amy. Maybe the old chap has finally had enough of her. I don’t know how he hasn’t left her already.” Hettie shook her head and sipped from the wine bottle again.
“Don’t get greedy. I need a drink, too,” Ro teased her. “I saw my best friend flung about like a ragdoll.”
Hettie rolled her eyes. “If I see Cecil again on the train—hopefully he has the good sense to isolate himself for the duration of the trip—it might be difficult to choose who to deal with first, my sister or Cecil. I can’t believe she didn’t know he was a toad, and why does she care who I marry, especially since I’ve no intention to remain in Montreal?”
“What were they like before they married?” Ro asked, propping up her feet.
“Frederick definitely doesn’t match well with Amy. When he was courting, she was on her best behavior. I thought perhaps love had calmed her. As soon as she was married—Frederick’s family has more money than mine—Amy was right back to her old self. Marrying for money—not so different from Cecil, if I could be so bold.”
“Ah, no wonder she’s on his side. They’re two peas in a pod.” Ro stretched out her feet. “This was supposed to be an escape.”
She shivered at the thought. “I’m truly sorry I brought you here, Ro. They are ruining our adventure. I was naive to think only the Montreal leg of our journey would be torturous. I was beyond wrong. We’ll find a way to be rid of them all once we get to the island. I promise.”
Ro smiled cheerfully. “Hettie, do not apologize for anyone else. Your family is responsible for their own behavior, not you. Besides, think of it as part of the adventure. We’ll always remember the trip to PEI now, right?”
Hettie laughed. “We’ll remember something, won’t we?”
All at once, the train screeched to a stop. The force was so great that Ro was knocked from her bench onto Hettie’s, face first.
Ro groaned and pulled the broken wine bottle out from under her. She had been saved a cutting only by Hettie’s fur coat.
“You’re going to get this cleaned,” Ro moaned. “And I think I have bruises to match yours.”
The contents of their compartment had spilled around them when they’d come to a far too fast stop. Hettie took a deep breath and stood slowly, pulling Ro up, avoiding the mess. She brushed the broken wine bottle and wine onto the floor of the compartment with a towel and used another to wipe off Ro and then the seat.
“Are you all right?” Hettie asked as her friend asked the same question. They met each other’s gazes, laughed, and then slumped onto the dry seat to recover their nerves. There were screams and shouting in the aisle, and they could go out to find out what was happening, but then they might run into Hettie’s family.
Once the commotion died down, Hettie stood to see if Ro was truly unharmed, but Ro was already getting to her feet. “What in the world is happening?”
She glanced out the window and her brows rose. “I think we might be stopped due to snow. Look, Ro.”
Ro crossed to the window and stared, the windowpane fogging with her breath. “This is madness. I’ve never seen so much snow in my life.”
They could see nothing in the distance but fields of frozen snow, and the sky continued to drop buckets.
“I think we are in the middle of a blizzard. Have you ever seen a blizzard, Ro? It’s quite a sight to see. Or rather not see. If we were out in it, you wouldn’t be able to see much past your hand.”
“Oh, isn’t that beautiful?” Ro’s eyes were bright with childlike wonder. “There’s enough snow to actually build a snowman. I want to build one before we leave. I haven’t had a chance.”
“You haven’t realized, have you?” Hettie sighed. “We’re trapped on a train with Cecil Cavanaugh, miles from anywhere. Don’t leave my side.”
“We need that lead pipe.” Ro leaned down to pick up her cosmetics case. She opened it, shutting it quickly when she realized her perfume bottle had broken and the heavy scent pervaded the compartment. “This is now all garbage, and it must go right away. Well, let’s make the best of it, shall we. I’ll send for hot tea and we’ll while away the time rearranging this mess and then let’s plan our next adventure.”
Hettie noticed that Ro quite purposefully left no time for Hettie to weigh in, instead blazing ahead about their adventure while tidying up their compartment.
“Where do we want to go next? As far as I can see, we’ve got two objectives. A ride in a hot air balloon and the beginning of our search for tapestries and other mercantile for our Philanthropic Fashion Foundation for the Poor and Unfortunate.”
“That’s quite a business name you’ve selected there, Ro. I can’t wait to see the signs. Very succinct. Rolls right off the tongue.”
Ro threw a pillow at Hettie. “You’re quite funny, now aren’t you.”
Hettie opened the compartment door and found her favorite Mr. Ribsy. She grinned winningly at him and said, “I know you’re busy.”
The look on his face said he was drowning.
“I wonder if I might set this outside here?” Hettie put down Ro’s
cosmetics case. “Salvage what you can—when you can—and we’ll give you a bonus. Also, we need a broom. We’ve got glass. We’ll be fine, however, until you can.”
“Bless you, ma’am.” He glanced over his shoulder as a woman shrieked. “She’s not injured,” he assured Hettie, then he winked. “She has an appointment.”
“Does she?” Hettie looked back to the snow. “You know…someone should really inform the snow.”
Back in the compartment, Hettie found that Ro had used a piece of paper to sweep the glass to the side and used the towel to mop up the wine.
“Between your perfume and the wine, we might need to crack that window,” Hettie announced.
“How are we going to make our textiles philanthropic?” Ro asked, ignoring her jibe.
Hettie crossed to the window. “We hire women. Give them chances to grow, fair pay, and consider that many of them have children.”
“That’s obvious, isn’t it?” Ro muttered.
“Mmm,” Hettie agreed. “It’s almost like you had thought of it already and were distracting me.”
“Who, me?” Ro demanded. “It does smell in here, Hettie. Crack the window, would you?”
“We’ll have snow in here. Would you like more damp?”
“I’m getting a headache,” Ro shot back. “It’s wet anyway.”
Hettie shrugged and cracked the window enough to let in the air.
Chapter 8
“It’s been four hours since the train stopped. What is taking so bloody long?” Hettie peeked out the curtain. “The snow stopped. The sun is out. Why aren’t we moving?”
Ro sat with her feet up, reading a magazine between watching Hettie pace back and forth in the tight quarters of their compartment, frustrated and concerned.
“Why, I’m sure I don’t know what could be taking so long.” Ro’s tone was twisted in sarcasm. “Oh, no that’s right…I forgot to mention that the train’s engineer stopped by here on their last trip by. He runs all his predictions by me.” The last came out a little sharply, revealing that Ro’s pretense of nonchalance was exactly that—pretense.