A View Most Glorious

by Regina Scott

“Like climbing the mountain.”

  She nodded. “And now that I’ve achieved it, I wonder whether there’s more. More to life, more to me.”

  His mouth felt dry. “I find myself wondering the same things.”

  She cocked her head. “Then you’ve decided to stay in town?”

  The idea made his skin itch as if he hadn’t washed his clothes in too long. What was wrong with him? She was worth any effort.

  The glass on the front door flashed as the next patron entered. Cora straightened. Kincaid strolled up to them and tipped his hat to her.

  “Come to jilt me before I jilt you?” she asked with a ready smile.

  “I would rather humble myself in private,” he assured her. “As I did last night.”

  Trying to sow dissent again. Did he never tire of it?

  “Yes, our conversation after the ball was quite interesting,” Cora said. “Have you come for suggestions about who to appoint to your board of directors? Nathan may have advice in that area.”

  Kincaid stared at her. So did Nathan. The businessman recovered first.

  “Intriguing idea. Join me for coffee at the Union Club, Hardee, so we can discuss it further. You won’t be a member, but my invitation will see you through the door.”

  He had little interest in spending any more time with Kincaid, much less recommending others to work with him, but perhaps he could encourage the fellow to release Cora from this engagement with the least amount of fuss.

  “Very well,” he said. “If you’ll excuse us, Cora.”

  She nodded, but he felt her gaze on him all the way out of the bank.

  “Despite having no chance, you continue to pursue Coraline, I see,” Kincaid ventured as they started up the hill to C Street. A breeze blew in from the Sound, bringing with it a touch of brine. “Given that you acted as her guide up the mountain, I assume she sees you as a brother.”

  “You assume nothing of the kind,” Nathan said, “or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  Kincaid sighed. “You’ve allowed your time in the wilderness to roughen you, Hardee. Society is about subtleties, sophistication.”

  “Give me honesty and plain speaking any day,” Nathan countered as they reached the club.

  Kincaid didn’t speak to him directly again until they had been seated at a table overlooking Commencement Bay, with black coffee steaming in fine china before them and cream and sugar in silver containers waiting on the white damask tablecloth.

  “So, you prefer it plain,” he said. “Very well. I have no interest in your opinion on a board of directors. How much money will it take for you to return to your squalor and leave Coraline Baxter alone?”

  Nathan shook his head. “There’s not enough money in the world.”

  “Ah.” Kincaid made a show of stirring cream into his cup. “I feared as much. She won’t have you. She and I are in the middle of a complicated dance, but it’s only a matter of time before she follows my lead.”

  Nathan grinned. “You still don’t know her, do you.”

  Kincaid’s face tightened, then he barked a laugh. “Apparently better than you. You cannot accept that Coraline is used to the finer things in life. You can’t offer her those things. I can.”

  The words plunged a knife into his dreams, but he said nothing.

  Kincaid toyed with his cup, but his gaze lingered on Nathan’s face. “Or is prestige not the issue with you? How sad. You truly think you’re pursuing Coraline because you love her.” He leaned forward. “If you loved her, you wouldn’t think for a moment about subjecting her to the dangers of living in the wild, miles from those who care about her.”

  Once more the knife struck, this time even more closely. “And you offer her safety?”

  Kincaid shrugged. “I offer more than safety. I offer civilization—the theatre, shopping, friends and acquaintances. Surely you see the advantages.”

  He did, to his everlasting sorrow. He knew the limitations of his life.

  He knew the benefits as well.

  Clean air, clear water.

  Quiet nights lulled to sleep by the murmur of the creek, mornings heralded by birdsong.

  The satisfaction of accomplishment, of achievement.

  Friends and acquaintances who welcomed him for who he was, not the family he’d been born into.

  Or married into.

  Nathan pushed back his chair and stood. “I suppose we’ll have to leave it to Cora, then. She’s always known what she wanted. I doubt this time will be any different.”

  Even if his heart yearned for her to say she wanted him most of all.

  29

  Nathan did not return to the bank that afternoon. Cora told herself not to be disappointed. He wasn’t used to the quiet work, the hushed surroundings, the walls on all sides. He would accustom himself to it.

  Even if she could not quite re-accustom herself to it.

  Kincaid reappeared midafternoon. She saw him cross the lobby through the open door of her office. She raised her head, but he did not approach her, going straight to her father’s office instead. They remained behind closed doors for a full quarter hour by the brass clock on her desk. Oh, to overhear that conversation! As the door opened and the pair started toward her office, she busied herself with reviewing the proposal before her.

  “Coraline,” her father said as they paused in the doorway, “Mr. Kincaid has requested that I give you leave for the remainder of the afternoon. He has some matters he’d like to discuss in private.” He scowled to the businessman. Interesting. Whatever Kincaid wanted to talk about, her father didn’t approve.

  “I can’t imagine Mr. Kincaid could have anything he must say to me that could not be said in the bank,” Cora replied brightly.

  Kincaid took a step into her office and lowered his voice. “I’d like to conclude our engagement, Miss Baxter. Surely you can spare a few moments for that.”

  Was he going to release her before her Thursday deadline? She glanced at her father.

  “Go only if you feel comfortable, dearest,” he urged.

  She rose. “Perhaps Mr. Kincaid would be so good as to walk me home. I must meet with the Tacoma Women’s Suffrage Association tonight in any event.”

  He bowed. “I’d be honored.”

  She fetched her hat, and they set off.

  He clasped his hands behind him as they started up the hill for C Street. He seemed to be deep in thought. A ploy to get her to ask about his thoughts? She refused to gratify him.

  They reached the top of the hill and turned onto C Street by the Union Club before he roused himself to speak. “Sorry for taking you away from your work.”

  Cora cast him a glance. His head was down, his gaze on the rough wood of the sidewalk.

  “A great deal piled up while I was away,” she acknowledged. “But I’ll sort through it soon enough. How was your meeting with Mr. Hardee? He did not come back to the bank.”

  He chuckled as they passed the Union Club. “I must apologize there as well. I fear I frightened him off with my questions.”

  Cora shook her head. “Oh, I doubt Mr. Hardee was frightened of anything you would have to say. Why would you need to question him in the first place?”

  “Merely attempting to protect you,” he assured her. “He may have been one of us years ago, but I cannot like the company he keeps now.”

  “Eugene Thackery and his wife are delightful,” Cora argued as they moved into the residential area, the big houses stretching away on either side of the street. “And I quite enjoyed Mrs. Ashford’s company. I sensed a kindred spirit.”

  “A shame she must limit her contributions to society, being so far out in the wild,” he commiserated.

  “I am persuaded she will make her influence felt, no matter the size of her sphere,” Cora said. Her parents’ home was coming up on the right, its stately shape visible among the trees her mother had had planted. “You might as well say it, Mr. Kincaid. Our so-called engagement is over.”

  “I have
a different proposal,” he said as they climbed the steps to the door. He moved forward to hold it open for her. Cora led him to the formal parlor. Darcy, who had been dusting there, ducked her head and clutched her rag close.

  “Will you let my mother know we have company?” Cora asked her.

  She bobbed a curtsy and cast Kincaid a glance out of the corner of her eye. “Yes, miss.” She hurried from the room.

  “I’m not interested in a different proposal,” Cora said as she spread her skirts to sit on the chair by the window. “I believe I’ve made that abundantly clear.”

  “Ah, but I would be remiss if I did not take advantage of the opportunity.” He went down on one knee in front of her. “Coraline, I have thought hard on our conversation last night, and I know I can be the man you want. Please, honor our engagement and marry me.”

  Cora shook her head. “I’m glad you’ve reconsidered your business practices, sir, but I will not marry you. I wish you would accept that.”

  He took her hands. “How can I when I now know anything else could mean your family’s ruin?”

  She pulled out of his grip. “Our ruin? What are you talking about?”

  “That announcement in the paper,” he pressed. “You blamed me, but it was your mother. She tried to trap me.”

  Anger pushed her to her feet. “That’s a lie! My mother would never risk censure.”

  His eyes gleamed as he rose. “I have it from Winston himself. How do you think her friends, or better yet, her rivals will react when they learn of her cunning?”

  He had to be spinning more lies, trying to catch her like a spider in its web. Cora clamped her mouth shut, but he shook his head.

  “Ah, Coraline, can you not see the truth? She is so determined to marry you off that she would do anything. Given your beauty and accomplishments, some may wonder why she must go to such lengths.”

  “Why indeed,” Cora flung back at him. “You seem ready to take me no matter how tarnished.”

  He drew in an audible breath through his nose. “I tire of your games. I have been patient. I no longer have that luxury. This Panic has affected my businesses more than I care to let on in polite society. A Seattle bank has offered the funds I need to keep my businesses operating, if I can prove myself respectable. The evaluator was very pleased to see the announcement of our engagement.”

  How ironic. No doubt a proposal evaluator like her, looking at profit, loss, risk, benefit, debit and credit. And she was the dominant feature in the credit column.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I won’t marry you.”

  “You will,” he growled. “You stand in the way of everything I planned.”

  “This financial mess is of your own making,” Cora insisted. “I won’t be party to it.”

  His color flamed. “Stupid girl. You have no idea how the world really works. I’ve done my best to conform to your mother’s rules. No more. You should be thankful I’m willing to accept you after what she did. Marry me, and I’ll allow you, your mother, and your stepfather to keep your places in society. Refuse, and you’ll all pay.”

  Fear nibbled at the edges of the anger sustaining her. No! She could not give in! She would not let him win. She could accept whatever censure might come.

  But her mother? Oh, she would not survive such a fall.

  “You promised,” she said, frustrated to hear her voice crack. “I will cry off.”

  He raised a brow. “And have me declare you and your mother nothing but conniving tarts, in public?”

  “Better shamed in public than married to you,” Cora retorted.

  His fist flew. It caught her on the cheek, rattled her teeth, and her knees buckled. She grabbed the back of the chair to keep from hitting the floor.

  “That was your fault,” he said, towering over her. “Perhaps now you’ll see what’s good for you. My financial troubles are only a momentary setback. I offer you a future of wealth. You offer the respectability that’s been denied me. It’s a fair trade. You will marry me, and you will be an obedient wife, or I can promise it will not go well for those you love.”

  “That’s quite enough, Mr. Kincaid.”

  He turned at the sound of her mother’s voice, and Cora stared. Her mother stood in the doorway, a pistol gripped in both hands.

  “You will step away from my daughter and leave this house,” she continued in her cool, crisp voice. “You are no longer welcome under my roof.”

  He eyed her, and Cora could almost hear his mind calculating. Did her mother mean it? Did she know how to use the weapon? Could he take it from her?

  As if she heard the same thoughts, her mother pointed the weapon at his chest. “It’s been a while since I used one of these, and I am understandably upset by your treatment of my daughter. I doubt I could shoot to kill, but in my agitation, I might aim for your arm and hit your stomach. I understand stomach wounds are a particularly foul way to die.”

  Kincaid washed white. “Your servant, madam.”

  Her mother backed into the hall to give him room to leave, and Cora went to join her. She must have sent for reinforcements, for Oscar and Charlie came barreling through the kitchen door then, Cook behind them armed with a rolling pin, Darcy with a fireplace poker, and Lily with one of Cora’s long hatpins.

  “I would have been a good husband to you,” he said to Cora.

  “No, Mr. Kincaid,” Cora said, jaw throbbing. “You’re incapable of being a good husband. If I see you again, it will be in court on charges of assault.” She made sure he was down the steps before shutting the door behind him.

  Her mother lowered the pistol and sagged. “Lock the door.”

  Cora did so, then hurried to her side. “Oh, Mother, you were wonderful.”

  “Never knew you had it in you, missus,” Darcy marveled.

  Her mother handed Oscar the gun. “Put this away before I hurt someone.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said. Then he saluted her. So did Charlie. Oscar led him and the others for the kitchen.

  Cora linked arms with her mother and felt a tremor run through her.

  “Do you really know how to shoot?” she asked as she walked her to the family parlor.

  Her mother nodded. “My second husband would on occasion become violent after imbibing overmuch. Protection, for you and for myself, seemed wise. Our gardener at the time showed me what to do.”

  Her face fell as she collapsed onto her chair. “Oh, Coraline, please forgive me for ever suggesting that man might make you a good husband. I thought you were merely being headstrong to refuse him. I didn’t see how you could possibly climb that mountain, so I arranged for the announcement to be placed in the paper. I thought it would run the day after we returned, when things were settled, but you came down a day earlier than expected and you’d done it. There was no time to retract the announcement.”

  “You should have told me,” Cora said, hand coming up to rub her sore cheek. “But you couldn’t have known Mr. Kincaid was this awful. I misjudged him myself. I thought pride would force him to accept my refusal. He’ll tell everyone the story about that announcement. I’m afraid we must prepare ourselves for a scandal.”

  Once again, Nathan stood looking up at the grand house on Tacoma Avenue. He had no expectation of a welcome. Why was he here?

  My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.

  “Well, Lord,” he said aloud, “you’ll find plenty of room to be strong here.”

  He made himself climb to the door. This time, an older manservant answered his knock.

  “Nathan Hardee,” he told the fellow. “Here to see his mother.”

  The man’s snowy brows shot up, then he must have remembered himself, for he inclined his head. “If you would be so good as to wait in the entryway, sir, I will endeavor to see if madam is home.”

  She was home. The servant would have said if she was out. Asking whether a lady was home was a polite way of saying that Nathan’s welcome wasn’t a given. He already kne
w that.

  And so he stood in the entryway, rocking from his toes to his heels and back on the parquet floor, trying not to notice the massive portrait that covered the right wall, showing a stern-faced man with his hand possessively on his lovely wife’s shoulder. And no children in sight.

  The clatter of heels on hardwood made him turn. His mother stopped in the corridor to stare at him, hand to her lace-covered throat. Every golden hair was in place, every inch of her amethyst-colored skirts was pressed and proper.

  “Nathan,” she murmured. “I thought I’d refused you enough that you’d never return.”

  He couldn’t tell whether she thought his return now was a good thing or a bad thing. But she was talking to him, and for that he was thankful.

  “I was in town,” he said. “Supply run.”

  She took in the fine coat and trousers. “I see.”

  The words hung in the air, like a wall between them.

  “I’ve been offered a job at the Puget Sound Bank of Commerce,” he blurted out. “I’m not sure I want to take it.”

  She moved closer, then opened the door on his left. “Come into the parlor. Let’s talk.”

  Feeling numb, he followed.

  It looked very much like the family parlor in Cora’s mother’s house: overstuffed furniture draped with lace-edged doilies, polished wood occasional tables crowded with ornate boxes and porcelain statues. It seemed his mother had amassed a great deal since he’d last seen her.

  She sat on the camelback sofa that was covered in a flowered pattern and nodded to the spot next to her. “Please, join me. It’s been an age.”

  “At your request.” He couldn’t help the reminder, but he sat beside her, feeling as if he’d dropped onto one of the flowered meadows at Paradise Park.

  She made a face. “I know, Nathan, and I must apologize. After your father died, my world fell apart. And I lashed out. I thought I’d found a better way, a more stable existence.”

  He glanced around at the rich furnishings again. “It seems you have.”

  “It is gilding only,” she murmured. “The substance is missing. It’s taken me years to understand that. Please, forgive me.”