by Zina Abbott
“You planning to come to the harvest dance to see what they’re bringing in here? I mean, some of them are bound to be nothing to look at, otherwise they’d find a man to marry back where they came from without traipsing halfway across the country. I have to admit, though, a few of the women who’ve turned up here in the last few months have been lookers.”
Bennett offered a hint of a smile as he shook his head. He wasn’t interested in getting to know any women, lookers or not. “I’m not planning on coming to the dance. Those brides for the miners have nothing to do with me, not unless one of them talks their new husband into buying more furniture. I see no need to stand around and gawk at them. There will be twice as many men as women there, anyway, so I wouldn’t have much of a chance to dance.”
“Sure you’ll get a chance to dance. Maybe not every dance, but you’re bound to find someone who will dosey-doe around the floor with you. There’s always wallflowers who’d give their eyeteeth to step out on the dance floor with someone like you. You got in a dance or two at the big shindig at the River Valley Inn the Bainbridges put on for that first bunch of women, didn’t you?”
Bennett shook his head. “Nope. Avoided the place like the plague that night.”
Besides, Bennett thought to himself, the last time he had gone dancing was when he still wore the uniform of a West Point cadet. The pretty girls love to dance with a man in uniform. They have no use for a man who walked away from becoming an officer and a gentleman in order to do what he wanted to do and live the life he wanted instead of the one his family said he needed to live to uphold tradition. No, women would not be standing in line to dance with him.
Harvey’s words pulled Bennett away from his ruminating. “If nothing else, Ben, come for the food. You have to admit the ladies in this town know how to bake. It would be worth coming for that alone.”
The thought of tasting the pies and cakes the women of Jubilee Springs would bring to the harvest dance softened his aversion to going to the social. He did occasionally eat out, and there were the rare times he splurged and bought a cake along with his bread from the DeMitri Bakery. However, the variety he could sample all in one place at the dance had its appeal.
“Good point, Harvey. I’ll keep it in mind.” Bennett offered the miner a pointed look. “You searching for anything special, Harvey, or have something in mind you’d like me to make up for you?”
The man laughed and shook his head as he turned towards the door. “Naw, I just stopped by to chew the fat for a few minutes. Wanted to make sure you knew about the new women coming to town, and that they’ll be at the harvest dance.”
Bennett watched the man leave. Once the door closed, he turned his back to the front windows and stared at the door leading to his shop area. He had reached a stopping point with the piece he had been working on. He debated if he wanted to return to it until it was time to eat, or if he wanted to tackle his bookkeeping.
Bennett hated keeping accounts and working up estimates. However, he knew he needed to keep track of income and expenses so he knew how much to order for a project, how much the materials would cost him, and how much to charge so he could make a decent profit without taking advantage of his buyer. If it wasn’t clear or knotty pine or cedar like he could get at the local saw mill, he needed to factor in shipping. But, if he wanted to build quality furniture using the designs he inherited, it was the price he had to pay.
Bennett had made the mistake of mentioning his aversion to bookkeeping once, and learned the hard way to keep his frustrations to himself. He had received several pieces of unsolicited advice, including he should hire a bookkeeper, at least part-time, or send for a wife who knew how to keep household accounts. No, Bennett wanted no part of anyone invading his very private domain—not an employee, and certainly not a wife, no matter how helpful either could be. However, there was no two ways about it; Bennett hated bookwork.
Then, too, Bennett realized, he probably should rearrange his showroom, sweep the floor and dust his completed furniture pieces. When he had been in the bank earlier that day, the bank owner, Gerald Shumaker, had personally sought him out. He had told Bennett when he got some time within the next couple of days, he intended to bring Mrs. Shumaker to Bennett’s store to see if he could design and build a new dining room set to her liking.
Bennett knew his showroom looked more like a warehouse than anything, with nothing organized and pieces from different sets made of different wood stacked on one another. However, if he was going to convince potentially profitable customers like the Shumakers to order custom-made from him rather than send off to Denver for furnishings, he knew someone like Mrs. Shumaker would not be favorably impressed by his dirty, cluttered display area. He needed to set aside what he truly loved to do in order to organize and clean up.
Bennett looked heavenward in thanks that no one had died recently. He knew from experience all his projects come to a halt when he is called upon to measure a corpse for a casket and build it to specifications. Then, in spite of the volunteer efforts of several of the local church ladies to lay out the deceased, he is often called upon to dress the decedent, especially if the deceased is male and he had no strong ties to the people in town. And, since he usually brings the coffin containing the departed to the cemetery anyway, he is usually called upon to help dig the grave. Becoming the town mortician by default simply because he knows how to build a casket has its disadvantages.
He could only hope that no one dies until he has a chance to catch up on his bookkeeping, clean up his furniture showroom, and get started on whatever project Mrs. Shumaker has in mind.
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New york city, new york – mid-octoBER, 1881
CHAPTER 4
~o0o~
Delphinia felt like she was walking on air. Almost three months – three months – she had been confined to the house, imprisoned in her room except to come down for occasional family dinners or to meet with Andrew when he came to call. Three months she had been treated like a criminal and imprisoned like one by her own family, all because they had discovered her ruse. However, she now was once again free to enjoy the city.
Her freedom had come at a price. Convinced the bridal agency owner would no longer expect her due to the length of time that had passed since Lizett Millard had sent her the train tickets for a late June departure, Delphinia had finally given up and agreed to the marriage with Andrew. Besides, she had not been able to continue the correspondence with Aaron Brinks for three months. She suspected he would no longer consider a union between them. She needed to return the tickets and money to Mrs. Millard, along with her apologies, but not right away. She was once again free, and she refused to risk losing that freedom by taking the chance she might be caught sending correspondence to the woman.
Free. Once again she could visit the great New York Society Library, or tour the Metropolitan Museum of Art. She could visit the dressmaker, although she had not done so on her own since her release. Her mother came with her to be sure her trousseau was to her specifications. Like so much in Delia’s life, her mother did not allow choices to be left up to Delphinia’s preferences or discretion.
However, today she did not worry about her trousseau, or her fast-approaching wedding, or being forced to marry a man she detested. The oppressive humid heat that kept New York in its grasp most of the summer had finally released its hold. The air was warm, a gently breeze brushed her cheek and rippled the features in the hat she wore at a jaunty angle on her head. Her favorite luncheon restaurant was only half a block away. Much to the disgruntlement of her surrey driver who had not cared for her insistence she walk the last two blocks to the restaurant, she strode with confidence towards her luncheon date with her best friend since girl’s seminary, Ophelia Fenton. Surely, nothing could go wrong to ruin this day.
Delphinia could not have been more wrong. Her first inkling of trouble came when she entered the restaurant and took in the worry li
nes that covered Olivia’s forehead. Before she could ask Olivia what ailed her, her friend grasped her upper arm and started towards the door.
Olivia almost choked getting her words out. “Come, Delly, Let’s go find another place to eat today. Please trust me; we don’t want to eat here.”
Delphinia planted her feet and leaned away from her friend, forcing Olivia to stop. “What is the matter with you, Olivia? Why wouldn’t we wish to eat here today? This has always been one of our favorites.”
The young woman shook her head. “Not today. Please, Delly, trust me on this.”
Delphinia narrowed her eyes as she studied her friend. Something was going on. There was something—or someone—in the restaurant that Olivia did not want her to see. She twisted her arm free from Olivia’s grasp. “Whatever is in there you do not want me to witness, I intend to see, Olivia. Do not try to stop me.”
Delphinia eluded Olivia’s second grab for her and ignored her friend’s cry of distress as she barged back towards the main dining room.
A maître d’ stepped in front of Delphinia. “Please wait to be seated, Miss. I’ll have someone here shortly.”
Delphinia straightened to her full height which, with her two inch heels, gave her the height advantage over the man. She assumed the haughty manner she had witnessed her mother exercise to perfection. “I am not dining here, sir. I am merely here to see a friend for a few minutes. I will be leaving shortly.”
“Miss, it is the policy….”
By this point Delphinia heard no more. Her survey of the room revealed Andrew Sopworth sitting at the table about two-thirds of the way to the far wall of the restaurant with an attractive woman. Almost knocking him over, she barged past the maître d’. She kept her eyes on the couple, and did not miss the two putting their heads together and smiling as if sharing a joke between them. She was a mere fifteen feet away when she witnessed Andrew bring her hand to his lips and kiss the back of it. She was a mere eight feet away when she saw the woman rise out of her chair slightly in order to reach over and kiss Andrew on the lips.
As the woman resumed her seat, her eyes caught hold of Delphinia as she stepped to the table, far enough to on the other side from the couple that she could clearly see the woman with whom her fiancé shared his noon meal. Silence reigned for several seconds as the trio studied each other.
Finally, Andrew rose from his chair. “Delphinia, it is a surprise to see you. I was not aware you were yet well enough to leave the house.”
Delphinia refused to acknowledge his statement. Instead, her eyes bore into the woman sharing the table with her fiancé. She was pretty, Delphinia had to acknowledge, shorter, more rounded, voluptuous--definitely not a tall and thin beanpole like she was. The woman’s hair was a golden brown with round eyes full of laughter in her cherubic face.
Barely containing her anger, Delphinia turned to Andrew. “Are you going to introduce us, Andrew?”
The woman laughed, appearing to find humor in the situation. Yes, Andrew, darling, you must introduce us.”
Andrew cleared his throat, his discomfort obvious. “Delphinia Blakewell, may I introduce you to my friend, Miss Amelia Chase. Miss Chase, this is Delphinia Blakewell, a long-time acquaintance of the family.”
Delphinia rounded on Andrew who stood only two inches taller than her and raised an eyebrow. “Acquaintance of the family, am I? Not your fiancée? That would certainly be good news if it were only true.”
Amelia laughed, the woman’s delight over the situation grating Delphinia even further. “Certainly, Andrew. You know perfectly well I’m aware of your relationship with Miss Blakewell.”
Delphinia turned to the woman and studied her with distain. “And what kind of friend are you to Mr. Sopworth, Miss Chase? Judging by the non-sisterly kiss I witness you just give him, I doubt it is platonic. His mistress, perhaps? A common trollop he picked up for the day?”
Amelia’s tinkling laughter faced to the background as Andrew grabbed Delphinia’s elbow, pinching the nerves until painful in the same manner her father’s man, Emery Gardner had done the day he had forced her to walk out of the post office building with him. Did all men take special training in that particular maneuver as a means of subduing women?
Andrew forcefully turned her toward the door and began to walk her in that direction. “That’s quite enough, Delphinia. What I do on my own time is none of your concern. I will be by the house later to discuss this. Now, don’t make any more of a scene than you already have, darling.”
They approached the entrance to the restaurant, the maître d’ unwilling to meet their gaze. Delphinia spoke so only Andrew could hear. “I’m leaving now, Andrew. Unhand me. If I have returned home when you arrive this afternoon, then we definitely need to talk.”
At the sight of Olivia, her face creased with worry, still waiting for her near the entrance, Delphinia stepped away from Andrew who had released his grip on her elbow. Without a backward glance, she joined her friend and they left the restaurant.
The two women entered and dined at a tearoom that was their second choice of daytime eating establishments. For most of the meal they chattered away about inconsequential topics as Olivia brought her friend up to date on what had taken place during the three months Delphinia had been indisposed with her “mysterious illness.”
Finally, over dessert, Olivia broached the topic that had hovered between them like a giant, ugly beast. “Delly, do you want to talk about the woman with Mr. Sopworth?”
Delphinia turned away, her face contorted into a grimace. “No, Olivia, I prefer not. I do not wish to think about or discuss anything involving Mr. Sopworth at the moment.”
“She’s his mistress, isn’t she?”
Delphinia turned back, her eyes boring into her friend. “What do you know about Andrew’s mistress?”
Olivia bit her lip as if suddenly sorry she had brought the subject up. “Only that he has one. I overheard my brothers joking about it one day, saying that with the amount of time he seems to spend with her, he felt no pain at having access to you limited these past three months.”
Delphinia dropped her head to stare at her lap and swallowed. Sensing her anger was turning to sorrow, she willed herself to not shed tears before her friend. “Thank you for telling me, Olivia, and thank you for earlier. I know what you were trying to do, and I love you for trying to protect my feelings. But, I don’t wish to discuss Andrew yet. What I’ve learned today is still too new. I hope you understand.”
The expression on Olivia’s face told Delphinia her friend did understand. She did her best to enjoy the balance of their lunch talking of pleasantries, and completely avoiding the subject of Andrew Sopworth and their upcoming nuptials.
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CHAPTER 5
~o0o~
It had been less than an hour since Delphinia had returned to the house when Annie knocked on her bedroom door to announce Mr. Sopworth was waiting in the drawing room for her. Glancing quickly at her hair in her mirror, she determined she appeared put together enough to face Andrew and question him about what she had discovered that day.
In the drawing room, Delphinia studied her betrothed as he rose from the couch. She noticed he showed no signs of the fluster he had momentarily exhibited when she had walked in on him with the other woman. She closed the door behind her and sat in a chair on the other side of the room rather than join him on the small settee. She decided to skip past any pleasantries. “Who is she, Andrew?”
“I already introduced you. Her name is Amelia Chase. Now, let’s discuss something different.”
“No, Andrew, I wish to discuss Miss Amelia Chase. Is she your mistress?”
“Whether or not I have a mistress is none of your concern, darling. You seeing her today was unfortunate. However, I was unaware you were able to leave the house yet. Since the restaurant appears to be one of your favorites, we will avoid going there again.”
“It is no lo
nger one of my favorites, Andrew. How can I go there without visualizing my fiancé being there with some trollop? I’m sure everyone who works there, or who may know whom you and I are, are well aware you and I are engaged to be married, but you were there entertaining—her.”
Andrew leaned forward, his expression morphing into a scowl. “Do not get ugly about this, Delphinia. It does not become you. I would have thought your time…recovering…from your delusional notions would have calmed you.”
Delphinia jumped to her feet, her hands clenched. “Do not get ugly? Has it not already grown ugly, Andrew? You know we do not care for each other, yet you persist with this engagement. On top of that, you throw your mistress in my face.”
Andrew sighed and looked away. “An unfortunate happenstance, I freely admit. I had not intended for you to know.”
“How could I not find out, Andrew? Even my friend Olivia knew. She overheard her brothers joke about it.” Delphinia paused and waited until Andrew turned to look her in the eye. “Do you intend to give her up when we marry?”
Andrew studied her for several seconds before he slowly shook his head. “No. Ours is a marriage of convenience, darling, nothing more. I know you don’t care for me, and I expect you to be as cold as ice in the bedroom. I will only bother you enough to produce the heirs I need to assure I inherit what I have coming to me. I will promise you I will strive to be more discreet, but I will warm my bed elsewhere.”
The training she had received at the finishing school and from her mother paid off. Delphinia suppressed the shudder of revulsion and dismay she felt coursing through her. She stood and assumed an attitude of false bravado. “Then perhaps I shall play the same game, Andrew. If you can take lovers, so can I. Perhaps we both shall have our beds warmed even though it will not be by each other.”
