by Regina Scott
4
“You must speak to the commissioners of the Tacoma Theatre Company,” Cora’s mother told Winston as the carriage trundled for home. “Going to the theatre used to be so pleasant, surrounded by acquaintances, but apparently anyone can come through the doors these days.”
Had her mother seen Mr. Hardee among the attendees? Cora couldn’t begrudge him a seat. Master Polonius was a player of some depth, sharing classics from days of old and more recent popular tunes. When the lights had come up at the end of the performance, her gaze had been drawn in Mr. Hardee’s direction. Such a look of satisfaction had sat on his face that she knew she wasn’t the only one who would count the evening worth her time.
“Now, dearest,” Winston said. “Some have had to forgo the delight of an evening at the theatre in these trying times. I’m sure the commissioners are grateful to fill as many seats as they can.”
“Perhaps they should apply for a loan, then, instead of agreeing to house vagrants.”
Cora bristled, but Winston merely patted her mother’s hand. “There, now. Let’s speak of more pleasant things. I was glad to hear that Mr. Hardee agreed to guide us, after all.”
Her mother did not look nearly so glad. “And I was surprised to hear he claimed to be related to Mrs. Quinton, of all people.”
Winston’s smile was sad. “A tragedy when a mother will not acknowledge her son. But rest assured, they are related. He is the child of her first marriage. He left town before you and I were wed and you were returned to your rightful place in society.”
“And he will be joining us for services tomorrow,” Cora felt compelled to remind them both.
Her mother heaved a sigh. “Is it too much to hope he might forget?”
He didn’t. He was waiting at the appointed spot, near the base of the stone steps leading into the five-story tower that made up the entrance to the church when Cora accompanied Winston the next morning. As expected, her mother remained abed.
Mr. Hardee must own only one set of clothes or had brought the one set with him to the city, for he was still wearing the brown wool coat and trousers of yesterday, only more wrinkled, as if he’d slept in them. His hair, however, had been neatly combed and his beard freshly trimmed, if the paler line of skin around his mouth was any indication.
“Miss Baxter, Mr. Winston,” he greeted with a nod.
“Mr. Hardee,” Winston returned. “I understand you’ll be joining us for services today.”
“If I may,” he said. “My partner sends his regrets. He’s worshipping with other friends.”
A shame Mother wasn’t here to see such manners.
“Well, we are delighted to have you,” Winston assured him. “The church was constructed after you left the city, but I think you’ll find it suitably inspiring.”
He started forward with Cora on his arm, and Hardee fell in behind.
The long oak pews stretched on either side of the central aisle, while tall windows let in light. She’d always liked how the eye was drawn to the gilded altar at the front and the ornate cross behind it. She nodded to this acquaintance, that family. From near the front on the right, Mimi shot her a smile. Then her brown eyes widened as she must have taken in Hardee just behind. It seemed others had noticed as well, for a murmur blew like a spring breeze through the congregation.
Generally she sat between her mother and Winston. Now Hardee took her mother’s spot. His body shadowed the pew, and she felt each of his movements. As the accompanist took her place at the piano, he picked up the leather-bound hymnbook and held it open in his large hands for Cora. Being polite or attempting to rescue her?
Still, his warm bass paired quite nicely with her soprano. And he bowed his head more humbly than most men when the minister offered the opening prayer. He even remained focused during the sermon, which always seemed to run a little long to her mind. Surely Reverend Franklin could encourage charity without using an excess of adjectives.
Her guest didn’t seem to have a problem with it. “A fine sermon,” he told their elderly minister as they stopped to greet him on the way out the door.
“Mr. Hardee is visiting,” Winston explained.
“Indeed,” Reverend Franklin said before turning to Winston. “A disturbing rumor has reached my ears. Husted’s Grocers is about to declare bankruptcy, and this after we lost Prescott’s and Dunlevy’s.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Winston promised him.
Hardee glanced back at the building as he escorted Cora and Winston to where their carriage waited at the side of the church. Usually, more than a dozen coaches stood next to the planked sidewalk. Today theirs was one of four.
“Too many businesses rely on credit,” he mused.
“And how are we to expand without it?” Winston countered, drawing himself up. “The astute use of credit positioned this city for greatness.”
“And could bring it to its knees,” Hardee pointed out.
Winston nodded. “You’re right. You understand such matters all too well, I suspect.”
Hardee directed his gaze toward the waters of the Sound, sparkling in the distance, and did not respond. Perhaps he did understand how society worked. Never open the door to your true thoughts or they’d be used against you.
They reached the carriage, and he paused to look her up and down. She matched him look for look.
“Thank you for allowing me to join you,” he said. “We’ll be practicing this afternoon at half past one. Change into whatever you intend to wear to climb the mountain and meet me at the corner of Eleventh Street South and Pacific then.” He turned and headed downtown.
“Apparently we still need to discuss this concept of obedience,” Cora told her stepfather, who chuckled.
He wasn’t sure she’d show. He’d given her an order, after all, and she had never promised to comply. But he was glad to see the carriage coming down Pacific that afternoon, past the banks and shipping companies that lined the wide street. Her mother was right—few offices were open on a Sunday, and fewer carriages and wagons filled the road. The coachman had plenty of room to guide the horses to a stop at the corner as a church bell higher on the hill tolled half past.
He went to the door of the carriage to help her down and caught himself staring as she stepped onto the wooden planks of the sidewalk. “I told you to change into your climbing clothes.”
She spread her navy skirts, setting the gold chains that decorated the top of the darts to flashing. “These are what I intend to wear to climb. Will they not do?”
“Not in the slightest,” he told her. “The skirts are too narrow. You’ll never jump a creek much less a crevasse. And the sleeves are too short. That lace from your elbows to your wrists might look pretty, but it will never protect you from the freezing temperatures at night.”
She put her pert nose in the air. “I want to climb a mountain, not spend the night on it.”
“You’ll have to spend two nights or more on it to reach the summit,” he explained. “This isn’t a stroll through the arboretum at Wright Park, Miss Baxter.”
She dropped her hands. “Very well. I’ll find something that meets your requirements. Can I at least wear this for whatever test you had in mind today?”
Might as well. At least it would give him some idea as to her abilities.
“It will have to do,” he said. He glanced into the carriage and met the eyes of a dark-haired woman. “Where’s your stepfather?”
“Attending to my mother,” she said, and something in the tone told him to leave the matter alone. “We will be in broad daylight. Lily will be watching. It’s all perfectly aboveboard.”
“As you wish.” He took her shoulders and pivoted her to face up the hill. “Climb to the top.”
She eyed the steep slope that few climbed if they could avoid it. “That’s easy.”
“In ten minutes.”
She frowned at him. “Why does the time matter?”
“Because there are places along the route to the
summit that must be crossed at a certain pace in a set time or the melting snow makes them treacherous. Ten minutes, Miss Baxter. Starting now.”
She huffed at him, but she picked up her skirts and started climbing. Nathan followed.
She had a good pace and decent form, leaning into the climb and sweeping across the short plateaus where Eleventh Street crossed others. The curls below her upswept hair bobbed in the breeze, and he had to fist his hands not to reach out and touch one. At least the sidewalk was as sparsely populated as the street today. Every man still stopped to watch her pass, smiling and doffing his hat. Nathan tried not to scowl at them.
She had to pause and catch her breath twice, but she reached Yakima Avenue at the top of the hill with two minutes to spare.
“Satisfied?” she asked between gasps that set her bodice to quaking.
“Not quite,” Nathan said, raising his gaze to her perspiration-lined face. “We’ll try again tomorrow with a pack.”
She drew herself up. “A pack? Why must I carry a pack? I am paying you to escort me, sir.”
“And I’ll need to carry my own pack,” he told her. “I’ll carry most of the food and equipment as well, but you’ll carry some of the food, your clothes, and your bedding. Depending on how much you decide to take, the pack might weigh thirty to fifty pounds to start. Pack light, and it won’t be too bad.”
She brought a hand down to her skirts. “But apparently light won’t do.”
“I’ll look over your clothes and see what can be done,” he promised.
She shook her head. “Oh, Mother will love that.” She narrowed her eyes. “Do you intend to check Winston’s clothing too?”
“Anyone who’s never been climbing before, yes.”
That seemed to placate her. “Very well. I’ll just wait for the coach to come get us.”
“No,” Nathan said. “No coach. We walk down.”
She stepped away from him. “Why? I proved I could reach the top, and well within your time limit.”
“You proved you could climb a sidewalk,” he told her. “That doesn’t mean you can climb a mountain. And even if you can, you have to climb down.” He moved aside and bowed, hand spread wide. “Your carriage awaits, my lady.”
She picked up her skirts once more and started down.
But at a fast clip she could not safely maintain. It was the same on the mountain. Exhilaration at reaching the summit made some reckless on the way down. He skirted around her, put himself in front of her, and slowed his pace.
“Isn’t there somewhere else you’d rather be?” she demanded.
Nathan glanced back at her. As her gaze rose to meet his, defiant as always, she stumbled. He whirled as she pitched forward and caught her. Her form was soft, supple, warming him even from the quick touch. She blinked up at him as if just as arrested by the contact.
“Nowhere more important than here,” he assured her. He set her on her feet again.
She brushed off her skirts as if almost falling had dirtied them, or maybe it was the proximity to his person that concerned her. Nathan took another step back just in case.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll be more careful.”
“Wise choice, whether climbing up or down,” Nathan acknowledged. He made himself turn and continue toward the street below. She did not stumble again, and he told himself to be glad for that. At length, they reached the carriage.
She eyed the hill as if she had found new respect for it. “A pack tomorrow, you say?”
He nodded. “After we take care of other matters. First, I’ll assess your equipment and clothing, then we’ll visit Dickson Brothers on Pacific to purchase what else you’ll need. Ask your stepfather to draw some money for you.”
She raised her chin. “I have no need to apply to Winston for funds. I have money of my own.”
He glanced to where several men were lounging near the shipping offices, as if hoping for work to materialize even on a Sunday. “I wouldn’t say that so loudly if I were you. With this many out of work and hungry, crime will be on the rise.”
She paled. “Just know that I’ll be ready to do what must be done.”
He’d take her at her word, for now.
5
“A bath,” Cora told Lily as they climbed down from the carriage. “As hot as you care to make it. I could soak for an hour.”
“Yes, Miss Cora,” the maid said as they entered the house. “I’ll just ask Charlie to bring in the tub.” She headed for the back of the house.
Cora started for her room, but Darcy caught her the moment she reached the main entry hall.
“Oh, Miss Cora, I’m so glad you’re back. Your mother sent down her regrets, but Miss Carruthers insisted on waiting for you.”
“I’ll see her,” Cora promised, turning for the drawing room.
Her friend was sitting by the window as if hoping to catch a glimpse of Cora the moment she arrived. Now she popped to her feet in a rustle of green-striped taffeta and darted to Cora’s side. “There you are! I convinced Mother to let me come visit only to find you gone. I simply couldn’t wait until tomorrow to hear all. That was your guide? Were you with him just now? And without a chaperone too, you daring girl!”
She took Mimi’s hand and led her to the horsehair sofa. Mimi sank down beside her.
“His name is Nathan Hardee,” Cora explained. “He was assessing my stamina for the climb just now, and I did have a chaperone. Lily was there the entire time.”
“Oh.” Mimi looked the slightest bit disappointed, pink lips pursing. Then she fluffed out her puffy green sleeves. “Well, you clearly passed his assessment. When do you leave?”
“We haven’t decided. It appears I have equipment to purchase first, and I must find a different outfit.”
Mimi eyed her up and down. “What’s wrong with what you’re wearing? I remember when you first showed it to me. I thought it the perfect outfit for an enterprising lady. And it would look very well for the photograph they are sure to want for the papers.”
“Apparently it isn’t warm enough for the climb,” Cora told her. “He promised to look over my wardrobe so I can choose something more appropriate.”
Mimi nudged her with her elbow. “You’ll allow him in your room? Has your mother agreed to this?”
Cora sighed. “No, but I’ll have to find a way to explain it to her. I certainly don’t want to fail because of some absurd sense of propriety.”
“You won’t fail,” Mimi predicted. “You’ve never failed at anything you’ve set your hand to. That’s one of the reasons we asked you to represent us. Your success will be sure to turn heads.”
“So long as it turns hearts to our cause as well,” Cora agreed.
She chatted awhile longer with her friend, then bid her farewell in time to climb the stairs—which seemed inordinately higher than she remembered—for a nice long bath before dinner.
She leaned back against the copper sides of the bathing tub and closed her eyes, breathing in the heady steam scented with oil of roses even as she willed her sore muscles to relax. Who knew climbing that hill would be so difficult? Of course, climbing down had been more surprising. How easily those large hands had held her, keeping her safe.
Lest at any time thou dash thy foot against a stone.
She snapped open her eyes. How silly. The remembered verse had to do with the watch care of angels, and Nathan Hardee was certainly no heavenly guardian. Though he did appear to be doing a thorough job of taking care of her, despite her protests to the contrary.
Her mother consented to come down to dinner that night, though she wore her pink satin dressing gown with the enormous white ruffles at the wrists and hem. She was quiet and sighed a great deal as Darcy served the first course, a white soup. But the reprieve Cora had hoped for was all too short-lived.
“I cannot like how Mr. Hardee monopolizes your time,” she said between sips of the savory soup. “You have social obligations to consider.”
She had been dodging so
cial obligations since starting college three years ago, but her mother continued to campaign.
“In truth, I should be at the bank tomorrow,” Cora said with an apologetic look to Winston.
He dabbed soup from his mustache with a damask napkin before answering. “Not at all, dearest. I fully support your endeavor to climb the mountain. Though I’m sure you can spare your dear mother time for a ball or two with your friends.”
Cora bent over her soup. “I’m not sure anyone should be hosting a ball when so many are struggling.”
“Those who manage their money well are not struggling,” her mother insisted. “Are we to be expected to forgo every pleasure because a few find themselves insolvent?”
“Hardly a few, my love,” Winston said. “At services today, Reverend Franklin related more who have joined a long line of bankruptcies in recent months. Even the Washington National Bank of Tacoma will be closed. The stockholders voted to liquidate.” His blue eyes looked a bit liquid themselves, as if he felt for the bank director.
“Please give me a full accounting, Mr. Winston,” her mother said. “I must consider who to invite to the reception I am planning for September.”
“Of course, dearest,” Winston said dutifully.
Her mother patted his hand. “Tomorrow you can assist me with the guest list.”
“Actually, Mr. Hardee would like a moment of Winston’s time tomorrow,” Cora said. “He’d like to test our ability to carry a pack up a hill.”
Her mother drew herself up. “A pack! My husband and daughter are no common laborers. You have no reason to port a pack like some mule.”
Had she sounded so haughty when she’d questioned Mr. Hardee earlier? In truth, she’d thought he might be throwing up barriers, as men tended to do whenever she attempted to access places they thought should be reserved for them alone. But he’d likely seen her as spoiled and willful. He was the expert on climbing, after all.
Shame washed over her, as cold as a wave on the Sound. She gave her mother the same answer he’d given her. “Everyone must carry a pack, Mother. It’s too difficult to carry enough otherwise.”
