The Cautious Maiden

by Dawn Crandall

  Dexter had noted it at one point, but he hadn’t seemed too concerned about it. And I decided to allow him to assume I’d decided to cut it and sell it, for what other reason would there be? He didn’t know I still associated with Ezra on occasion; or rather, that Ezra occasionally slunk in to Everston, badgered me, and then left. If he ever spotted Ezra, I was certain Ezra would be arrested for burning down Blakeley House.

  I hadn’t seen Ezra since he and his friend had attacked me.

  Although my brother hadn’t physically hurt me, there was no mistaking the new sense of dread that filled my moments and hours. And although he’d tried to explain that what he’d done was for a good—even if mysterious—reason, what he’d done still hurt me deeply and emotionally.

  I’d lived in such a strange state of displacement since my parents had died. Would I ever feel as though I belonged again? Really, only when I had a few spare moments at the front desk, and I could lose myself in my daydreams about the children’s books I liked to create, did I ever feel at home. And then again, sometimes I caught myself daydreaming about Vance Everstone.

  But I knew, quite well, that although I’d been raised as a lady and had lived my life just as a young lady ought, I was no match for someone like Vance, even if he had changed his ways. He was literally the wealthiest man I’d ever had the chance to meet or converse with. And I couldn’t begin to understand why he would make a point to talk to me, especially when he would then, so often, unceremoniously cut off those conversations once they got to a certain depth.

  A depth he had usually taken those conversations to himself.

  The man was a complete bafflement, and I didn’t know why he’d bothered talking to me past seeing me through my bruised feelings the week before.

  I huffed out a bit of my frustration. What did any of it matter anyway?

  Just as I was about to head out the side door closest to the female employee’s resting room where I’d changed out of my uniform, Estella turned around the corner from the hall that led to the elevators and the lobby. I knew by the determined look in her pretty dark brown eyes what she was going to ask of me. And I still wasn’t sure I wanted to give her an answer. Because I really wanted to say no, I couldn’t come up to dinner that evening. Vance would be there, and everything from the previous weekend would come back to me full force. And what if he ignored me again?

  I steeled my resolve and gave her the best smile I could muster.

  “You’ll have dinner with us tonight, won’t you? I meant to ask you before today, but I’ve not been feeling well.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” I nervously tangled my fingers through the strings of my reticule, completely avoiding her question.

  “It’s the last chance I’ll have to dine with you before we leave, and I would so enjoy it.”

  “Are you sure you’re up to hosting if you’re not feeling well?”

  “I’m feeling well enough right now, and hopefully I’ll last through dinner. I’d really like you to be there. It will be small—just you and Ben will be joining us.”

  “Oh, really?” My relieved response came out involuntarily, and so I hastily added the first thing that came into my head. “You’re not contagious or anything, are you?”

  Estella laughed softly under her breath as she led me by the arm to the main entrance of the lobby. “No, I’m not contagious.”

  The stagecoach rolled up the drive, and Estella pulled back the lace curtain. We both looked out the paned window, side by side.

  “Oh look, Vance is back,” she said, almost to herself. “I didn’t know he planned to return. I wonder why…?” Her voice trailed off, and I took a better look down the drive.

  Indeed, there was Vance exiting the stagecoach, offering his arm to a young lady with thick, gorgeous blonde hair piled expertly under her ostrich-feathered hat. She wore a black fur coat over a gray striped traveling suit, and I could tell she either knew Vance very well, or wanted to very much.

  “I hadn’t realized he was gone,” I admitted.

  “He left for Bangor yesterday morning; he needed to go down for something, but I thought he would travel on down to Boston to meet us at Everwood,” Estella explained, and then swept out the door to greet him. I lagged behind her, unsure of what to do. I had planned on accepting her request to dine once I’d learned it would only be Ben attending, but now…now she would insist that Vance join us, and then who would make up the numbers? Would Estella ask the furred and feathered young lady on Vance’s arm to attend? I hoped not.

  Would it be worth it to attend just to see Ben one last time before he headed down to meet with The Boston Inland Mission Society? The only other time I would see him would be while he preached on Sunday. And everyone wanted to speak with him on Sundays.

  Vance’s cool, deep voice brought me out of my reverie. “Estella, you recall Mrs. Ava Cagney of Bangor. Mrs. Cagney, my sister, now Mrs. Estella Blakeley.” His dark eyes just barely grazed past me standing behind his sister, but then he went on to add, “And this, if you’ll come forward,” he urged with a hand in my direction, “is her friend, Miss Violet Hawthorne.”

  Thankful that he hadn’t introduced me as an employee of the hotel, I nodded and said, “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “It is nice, isn’t it?” Mrs. Cagney answered, though her smiling eyes were still glued to Vance.

  “Are you traveling alone, Mrs. Cagney?” Estella asked. “Will your husband be joining you?”

  “Oh dear, no, my husband is gone; not long after we’d wed, unfortunately. I’m here with my lady’s maid, intending to meet up with my elderly sister-in-law for a few weeks of diversion.”

  And by diversion, I gathered she meant something very much to do with the compellingly attractive man standing beside her.

  Oh sweet heavens, had Vance actually had something to do with bringing her there? Or had they merely accidentally met on the stage? I really couldn’t tell from looking at them; only that she did seem to know him extremely well.

  Way more than I ever would, that was for certain.

  I couldn’t turn down Estella’s invitation, and I knew it had nothing to do with seeing Ben again or wanting to find out how well Mrs. Ava Cagney seemed to know Vance Everstone.

  And I no longer cared whether Vance wanted to talk to me or not; I simply wanted to observe him. Had he truly changed?

  ***

  Vance seemed reserved throughout dinner, even cautious in his treatment of our new guest. I really couldn’t tell if he enjoyed her presence. She, on the other hand, glittered at his side and shamelessly attempted to pull him into the conversation.

  I’d learned over dinner that her husband had been quite elderly at the time of their marriage and had left her the majority of his fortune.

  Ben, seated at my right, could speak of nothing but the upcoming trip to Boston with Dexter, Estella, and now, I assumed, Vance too. Wouldn’t Mrs. Cagney be disappointed when she learned that Vance would be leaving her presence so soon! I distracted myself with imagining her reaction when she learned she’d had dinner with the front desk clerk of Everston.

  During dessert, Vance kept his eyes on his fruits and sweetmeats just as carefully as he’d studied the stewed mushrooms. By the time we rose from the table, I was fairly certain he wanted little to do with Mrs. Ava Cagney, and that he most certainly hadn’t had anything to do with her initial plans of being there.

  We all descended the elevator down to the lobby to accompany Ben to his waiting carriage, for he had much to do yet in Laurelton before traveling to Boston.

  As the horses clopped down the drive, Estella took Dexter’s arm, excused themselves and turned back into the hotel.

  “Won’t you accompany me to the music room?” Mrs. Cagney asked as she sidled up to Vance. “I hear their piano is a fine instrument; I would simply adore trying it out for you.”

  Vance glanced back at me. “Perhaps some other evening,” he smoothly replied, taking her hand off of his arm. “I promised
Miss Hawthorne that I would accompany her home.”

  He hadn’t done any such thing, actually.

  In fact, he’d just spent the whole night acting as if I was invisible. Did he feel obligated to me for some inane reason? That he needed to protect me every chance he had? It was getting dark, but I had walked home from the hotel to the dormitory a hundred other times, just like all of the employees did every day.

  But no matter the reason, I couldn’t deny the escort, because he did make me feel safe. And I liked that. So I took his arm, and instead of seeming foreign, it was more like the most natural thing in the world. After a few minutes of walking beside me in silence, Vance said, “Ava’s made it no secret over the last few months—while I’ve been traveling back and forth from Everston to Bangor—that she’s most definitely set her cap for me.”

  Vance’s candid words shocked me.

  I still hadn’t given him an answer to his comment after a full minute of walking down the path toward the dormitory—because really, what was I supposed to say to that?

  He continued, “She’s the kind of young woman who can have her pick of men. And she thinks she wants me.”

  I still didn’t know what to say.

  He made a point to turn to me as we walked down the path, his dark eyes trying their best to snag my attention. “And I’m a little tired of it.”

  “But she’s a widow, and you’re a widower. Do you not think you would suit?” I finally dared. How had I come to such a place of confidence with him? That he would share such things with me!

  “She’s attractive, the strong independent type who could honestly survive being linked to someone like me, actually. But I don’t want a wife right now, especially one like vivacious, high-maintenance Ava Cagney. No matter how perfect she is for me socially.”

  Goodness, the questions I had for him! But could I ask them without seeming like a nosy gossipmonger? What would he think—?

  “I’m sure you’re wondering why. Why not take on the wealthy beauty who’s practically throwing herself at me? She’s everything I need, everything I could want in a woman, right?”

  “Because you’re still heartbroken over your wife’s death?” I hazarded.

  “No,” he cut me off quickly. “That is not it. It was difficult to go through, to watch what happened to Giselle, but no, I’m not heartbroken. Love must come before heartbreak.”

  I stopped walking, stalling him beside me. “You didn’t love your wife?”

  “I’d been forced to marry her because, you see, she’d found herself in a situation—”

  “Oh, you had to marry her?”

  “The child wasn’t mine. It couldn’t have been, but the man who was—” Vance took a step, dragging me along with him for a few feet until he stopped just long enough to say, “We shouldn’t discuss such things. You don’t need to know the details of the trouble I came into while in France.” And then he started us off toward the dormitory again. I let him keep his silence, although what he’d said only prompted more questions.

  Looking ahead, I was determined not to let my eyes stray his way again, embarrassed that I’d accused him of compromising a young woman, when that hadn’t really been the case.

  At least that time.

  My gaze wandered over the massive wall of windows of the dormitory, shrouded in shadows. The sun had long ago begun to set behind Iron Mountain, which towered above everything on the small peninsula protruding into Half Moon Lake.

  I was sure that any number of my fellow Everston employees watched us stroll down the path in the lamplight with baited interest. Why would the owner’s wealthy brother-in-law be spending time with Violet Hawthorne? I could almost hear a group of them muttering the words, snidely whispering, secretly thinking they already knew the answer.

  Maybe Vance was right, that it wasn’t a good idea for us to be friends, if that was anywhere near what was actually happening. I didn’t think so, but what else could explain it? He seemed to want to confide in me, even if it was only halfheartedly. And I’d confided in him the week before, though I really had no intention of doing so before it was already done.

  “So, you married her although you didn’t love her and she carried someone else’s child?”

  “I didn’t have a choice. The man responsible was already married, so she lied and said the child was mine; and she had the kind of powerful family one didn’t disobey, no matter who you are.”

  “Even if you’re Vance Everstone?”

  “Even if you’re Vance Everstone.”

  “May I ask how she died?”

  “The doctors on the ship thought she was having early labor pains, but it ended up being something else. Afterward, they suspected it was appendicitis.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t know how she would have fit in with my family here in the States, but I guess it doesn’t matter now.”

  “How long were you married?”

  “A few months.”

  “When was it that she—”

  “Last April.”

  “But shouldn’t you be in mourning?”

  “Hardly anyone I know in the States knew that I was married, though the rumors have flown since. Considering the situation, I thought it best that I just move on with my life.”

  “But not get married again.”

  “Can you blame me?”

  “No, I can’t.”

  We’d made it to the shadow of the building, which caused me to inadvertently grasp his upper arm a little tighter than I had before.

  He stopped me about ten feet away from the main entrance. “Look, Violet, I need you to understand that I care for your safety; that everything I’ve been doing since last weekend has been in the name of protecting you.”

  I let go of his arm, feeling that he’d done his service in escorting me home, and that I now just needed to get inside—to get away before he said anything too embarrassing. “I understand that completely, Vance.”

  He reached for my hand as I retreated, but I stepped back too quickly. “I just didn’t want you to get any ideas in your head about there being anything romantic between us.”

  “Of course not. I would never dream—”

  “Not that you’re unattractive, Violet. At all.” He didn’t follow me, but stayed where I’d left him. “You’re just so easy to talk to, but maybe that’s because I’ve been more focused on your safety—”

  “Rather than on seducing me?”

  “That’s not exactly what I was going to say.”

  “We’re hardly friends; I wouldn’t imagine thinking you were in any way interested in me romantically. That would be absurd. Just because I wanted to know more about your wife doesn’t mean I was hoping you’d—”

  “Really? You’ve never even given it a thought? At all?”

  I walked up to the porch, digging into my reticule for my key. “You act so surprised,” I said facing the door, trying to hide.

  Hearing a grunt from behind me, I turned to see Vance pitch forward. A man suddenly appeared beside him and kicked his knees out from under him. He fell to the ground clutching his middle.

  “Vance?”

  “Get inside, Violet!”

  But by then, the shadow man had come closer—and I still hadn’t found my key. Before he made it to me, a strong arm circled my waist like a vice and clamped my arms down. A hand covered my face, pressing a wadded cloth to my nose until all I knew was the sweet smell of blackness.

  5

  Compromised

  “None of us want to be in calm waters all our lives.”

  —Jane Austen, Persuasion

  Friday, April 1st, 1892

  The next morning I awoke to a pounding on my door.

  “Violet? Are you awake?” The pounding continued as I struggled to make sense of the words. “Violet, it’s past six o’clock. You’re usually out here by now. You’re going to be late for your shift.”

  My shift? What day was it?

  Who was calling me?
>
  Oh. It was Francie—we always walked to work together in the morning. How odd that I would forget.

  I buried myself farther under my covers; it seemed so much warmer than usual, and so hard to get out of my bed. Surely I could stay there for five more minutes.

  More pounding thudded against my door, and I heard the jangle of keys—but then the door opened without the telling sounds of having been unlocked. How strange.

  I covered my face with my arm. For some reason the thought of actually moving out of bed made me nauseous.

  “Violet Hawthorne! What is the meaning of this?”

  My eyes shot open to see the Female Resident Manager, Mrs. Ward, standing in my doorway, her blue eyes wide with undeniable shock.

  Francie stood close behind Mrs. Ward, her hands over her mouth. “Oh, Violet! What have you done? How could you?”

  How could I what? Sleep in? It was easy when our rooms were so cold, and my bed so warm.

  “Violet, what happened to your hair?” Francie asked.

  I reached up to finger the ends, “Oh! It’s a long story,” I mumbled. Is that what was the matter with them? The sight of my hair?

  I went to sit up and threw my covers back—only my arm rammed into something warm and heavy. Confused, I turned from Mrs. Ward and Francie and saw for myself what they thought so scandalous.

  There beside me in my bed laid Vance Everstone, fast asleep. His bare, muscular arm—which must have been what had kept me so warm while wrapped around me—was now sprawled over my pillow as he slept. I immediately looked down to observe my clothing; I wore only my knee-length chemise. It was no wonder they were shocked! I could barely come up with any words as I again stared down at Vance.

  In my bed.

  What had happened? And how?

  I stood, grabbed my coat, which was uncharacteristically bunched into a pile on the floor with my dress and reticule and hurried it on, desperate for some level of decency. Vance’s clothes—his jacket, shirt, trousers, socks and shoes—were dispersed haphazardly about the room.

  “This isn’t what it seems,” I finally stated, knowing they would never believe me. How could they? The situation was obvious—and irreparable. Even if I had no clue how it had come to be.