A Sensible Arrangement

by Tracie Peterson

  Returning to bed, Marty tried her best to go back to sleep and forget about the letter from her sister and the women’s prayers. But her mind kept returning to Hannah’s missive, Alice’s words. When Alice came into the room to pull back the drapes an hour later, Marty reluctantly gave up the battle.

  “Good morning,” Alice said with a bright smile. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Not exactly.” She slipped her legs over the side of the bed and stretched.

  Alice went about the room attending to her daily chores until she came to the desk. “I see you had a letter from your sister. Have you told her yet about your marriage to Mr. Wythe?”

  “That’s none of your business,” Marty snapped and immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry, Alice. Like I said, I didn’t sleep very well. I’m afraid I’m acting like those snooty society women. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

  Alice’s expression changed from surprise to warmth. “Of course. Everyone has a bad day now and then. I’m sure this matter has weighed on you heavily.”

  “It has,” Marty admitted. “I’m certain that’s why I couldn’t sleep. I don’t know how to break the news to her without it hurting or alarming Hannah. She worries about me more than she should, and if I tell her what I’ve done, I know she’ll probably load up and come here demanding to meet Jake and know everything about him.”

  “Would that be so bad?”

  Marty grimaced at the thought. If Hannah came here, then the knowledge of Marty’s ranch would be revealed. “I don’t know,” she lied. “I just don’t know.”

  Alice moved into the dressing room. “I know you plan to go to tea this afternoon at Mrs. Keystone’s. Would your lavender striped gown suit you?”

  “As well as anything,” Marty replied. “I have no desire to go to tea. No desire to make small talk with women of society. Perhaps I’ll send my regrets and tell her I’m feeling unwell.”

  “Lie to Mrs. Keystone? Over tea?” Alice asked, popping back into the doorway. “Why ever would you sin in order to get out of tea? Just send her a note that says you won’t be there and leave it at that.”

  Marty smiled. Alice really had gotten over her fear of talking back and offering her opinion. “I suppose I could, but you know how these society women are. They take offense at the smallest thing.”

  “So let them,” Alice countered. “If not over this thing, then it will be another. No sense in being miserable over it. It seems to me that being firm in your convictions is something these women understand.”

  “It’s just that every time I meet with them, they have yet another restraint or rule for me. Do you know that Mrs. Morgan was actually appalled by my idea to read to the orphans? She said it wouldn’t be fitting. She used excuses like how it would be unfair to the destitute motherless and fatherless children to see such obvious examples of money and know that they would never have such things. I told her I could dress very simply and have the carriage leave me off a block away, and that upset the poor woman further. I thought she might actually faint.”

  Alice smiled. “You have a good heart. I don’t know those women, but it doesn’t sound as if they value the same things. Now, I’m not judging them, mind you—I couldn’t begin to say what’s in their hearts. But their actions will speak for them.”

  Marty followed Alice into the dressing room and considered her maid’s words. She’d never considered herself good or selfless. Alice’s comment only served to vex Marty all the more. A good and selfless woman wouldn’t treat her sister as Marty had. She wouldn’t feel the need to lie and hide the details of her life—and she certainly wouldn’t have gone into an arranged marriage and kept it a secret from the people she loved.

  Jake smiled as he came into the house an hour earlier than usual. Despite the rainy weather, Jake felt more than a little excited. He had a surprise for Marty, and he could hardly wait to tell her about it. Brighton greeted him at the door as usual and asked after his day.

  “It started much too early, as you will recall,” Jake told his man. “I must say I’m glad that it’s Friday.” He handed Brighton his umbrella and outer coat.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Just then Mrs. Landry appeared. “Goodness! Don’t let that umbrella drip all over my freshly polished floor. There’s a porch for such things.”

  “I apologize, Mrs. Landry,” Jake declared before Brighton could speak. “It’s all my fault. I was in such a hurry to get inside and see my wife, that it totally slipped my mind.”

  She gave an exasperated sigh. “It’s not your fault at all, Mr. Wythe. If Mr. Brighton knew his job properly, he would have been waiting for you on the porch.”

  “But I came home early. Hardly his fault.”

  Brighton looked at Mrs. Landry with a rather smug expression. She jerked her chin high. Jake wanted to laugh out loud at the twosome, but knew better.

  “A good servant anticipates his master’s every move. If Mr. Brighton were American trained, he would know that. I seriously doubt the English ever do anything without a fixed schedule in place. Americans are far more spontaneous.”

  “I will admit the truth of being spontaneous, Mrs. Landry. However, I couldn’t say if that is the case or not for the English. I’ve never been abroad.”

  “Mrs. Landry is rather ignorant of how a gentleman’s manservant performs his duties.” Brighton looked at the woman in a matter-of-fact manner. “The truth is, Mrs. Landry is woefully uninformed when it comes to understanding gentlemen.”

  “Ha! I know well enough, you rapscallion. You would think that the only people in the world who know how to keep order in a house are the English! I can tell you this much: I’ve been overseeing households for more years than I care to admit. I know perfectly well how to keep a house and how to keep the folks in it. And you still haven’t removed that umbrella. I’m going to have to redo this entire foyer.”

  To Jake’s surprise, she got down on her knees and pulled a cloth from her pocket. Wiping at the water, she shook her head and muttered about Brighton’s inadequacies. Jake smiled at Brighton, who only gazed toward the ceiling and sighed.

  “Do you know where Mrs. Wythe might be found?” he asked no one in particular.

  “I believe she’s reading in the small sitting room,” Brighton replied.

  “Of course she is,” Mrs. Landry muttered from the floor. “Just as she is every afternoon at this time.”

  “Thank you.” Jake headed off to find Marty just as Mrs. Landry started in once again on Brighton’s failings.

  “Marty?” he called, entering the sitting room. He looked around the room and thought perhaps she’d retired. Instead, he found her dozing by the fire. How pretty she looked, curled up with her feet under her. She was dressed simply but looked as fresh and beautiful as any grand dame of society.

  “Marty?” he said again, not wanting to startle her.

  She opened her eyes slowly and looked up. Obviously still drowsy, she smiled and closed her eyes again. Jake touched her cheek and at this, Marty’s eyes flew open and she was fully awake.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He laughed and took a seat. “Nothing. In fact, I have a surprise for you.”

  “A surprise? Goodness, you’ve done nothing but bestow presents and lovely things upon me since I arrived. I honestly feel spoiled.” She straightened in her chair and the book she’d been reading dropped to the floor.

  Jake picked it up and looked at the title. “The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes?”

  She shrugged. “I found it in the library. It’s really quite entertaining. Written by an Englishman named Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.”

  “Actually, as I recall from my days at school,” Jake said, “he’s Scottish. He just lives in England now.”

  “Ah, I see. Well, I enjoy his writing.” Marty set the book aside. The clock chimed and she glanced at it as if something were wrong. Looking back at Jake she shook her head. “You’re home very early.”

  “I went to work very early. I’d received a no
te from Mr. Keystone requesting we meet prior to the bank opening for the day. Therefore, I took it upon myself to close up shop early and come home with a marvelous surprise.”

  This made her smile. “Do tell?”

  He leaned forward on the edge of his chair. “Well, it has come to my attention that you’ve not yet attended our new opera house. I was fortunate enough to secure tickets to tonight’s performance of Cavalleria Rusticana. I thought I might entice you to spend the evening with me.”

  Marty’s face brightened. “I would love to. Oh, what a treat. Thank you!” She jumped up and without warning leaned over and kissed Jake on the cheek. “I’ve been so bored. You have no idea.”

  Jake watched her for a moment, wondering if she would spoil the moment by apologizing. To his relief, however, she smiled. “I should go get ready.” She paused at the doorway. “Will we dine in or out?”

  “Why don’t we make a complete evening of it. I’ll take you to one of the best restaurants in town.”

  “That sounds wonderful. I’ll let Mrs. Landry know so she can tell Cook.”

  He watched her leave and couldn’t contain his smile. Not only was she pleased at the thought of an evening out with him—even if it was based on her boredom—but she’d kissed him. Never before had she originated such a sign of affection. His grin broadened. Tonight might very well be the start of something entirely new.

  “I wondered if you’d like to go to church with me tonight,” Mrs. Landry said to Alice. “Since the master and mistress are out until late, I thought you might enjoy it. I know it’s not your regular church, but we’re having a ladies gathering. There will be a speaker and good food. I’d love for you to join me.”

  Alice looked up from her ironing, pleased. “I’d be happy for the diversion. Do you suppose Mr. and Mrs. Wythe would mind?”

  “Not at all. I will arrange it with them so you needn’t worry.” Mrs. Landry touched her hand to her graying hair. “I should go fix myself. It’s been a very busy day, and I’m sure I look a fright.”

  Alice shook her head. “Not at all. You look fine.”

  “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” Brighton murmured from where he sat polishing a teapot.

  “What was that?” Mrs. Landry questioned. “Did I just hear a dog yammering?”

  Alice smiled and turned back to her ironing.

  Later that evening as they walked to Mrs. Landry’s church, Alice couldn’t help but ask the housekeeper about her deceased husband and whether she’d considered remarrying.

  “Oh goodness, no. Not truly. I mean, there have been thoughts, of course, but nothing of any substance,” Mrs. Landry answered quickly, then fell silent. “Mr. Landry was quite a handful, let me tell you. That man was always in need of something. I wore myself out just trying to anticipate him. No, I don’t think I’ll marry again.” She walked in silence a little longer before adding, “Of course, it would depend on the man.”

  “Of course,” Alice replied, hiding her smile.

  They continued their journey in silence. The chilly night air caused Alice to pull her shawl close, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching them. She glanced around, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

  I’m being silly. I’m just remembering that night.

  Of course. That was all it was. This night was so similar to the evening she’d been injured and her father killed.

  “You remind me of my daughter, Meg,” Mrs. Landry stated without warning. “She’s a sweet girl like you. She’s in her thirties now, but when she was younger, she could have been your sister in appearance.”

  “Except for the scar, I’m sure,” Alice said.

  “Alice, we all have our scars. Some are visible and others aren’t, but they are there all the same. Your scar makes you no less worthy.”

  “I’m afraid it will make me less worthy of a man’s love.”

  “Bah! If he’s worth his salt, it won’t matter to him,” Mrs. Landry said. “You wait and see, Alice. You’re but seventeen. In a short time, the right man will find you, and you will lose your heart to him and he will lose his to you. It will be just as it should be, and the scar will not matter.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Alice replied, not really convinced. Though she’d prayed for just such a thing, her heart doubted.

  “Here we are,” Mrs. Landry said, leading the way toward the large oak doors of the church. “Let’s get in out of the damp night air.”

  Alice hurried to follow her, but just as she reached the door, she stumbled and dropped her small purse. Pausing to pick it up, Alice noticed movement across the street and straightened. She could see the outline of a man. The cherry-colored glow of a cigarette at his lips left her feeling shaken. The man who’d cut her had reeked of cigarette smoke.

  The man didn’t move, even though Alice was sure he knew she’d seen him. What was he doing there? Why was he following them? Or was he? Maybe this man was simply out for an evening stroll.

  Swallowing back her fear, Alice picked up her purse and hurried after Mrs. Landry, whispering a prayer as she went.

  Chapter 16

  The following Monday morning, Marty looked at the paper on her desk. The blank page intimidated her in a way she didn’t like to admit. Dipping her pen in the inkwell, she began to write a greeting to her sister.

  Dearest Hannah,

  I hope this letter finds all of you well. The weather is quite lovely here. I find it very different from Texas. The mountains are still covered with snow, which sends chilled air down over the city each evening after the sun goes down. The air is also much dryer. That, perhaps, is one thing I’m not certain of getting used to. My skin is always in need of lotions.

  She put the pen aside and tried to think of what to say next. She had thought to speak about the new fashions she now possessed, but that would only cause Hannah to question how she could afford such luxuries—she knew that Marty hadn’t taken much with her. No, there was little Marty could write about, if she was determined to keep her secret.

  She thought again of her life in Denver and of Jake. The opera had been so enjoyable. Even now she found herself humming the intermezzo. The music had been glorious, and Marty found that it touched her soul like nothing she’d ever known. Perhaps it was because the story was one of love gone terribly wrong—of sacrifice and death.

  Or maybe it was nothing more than the evening itself. She and Jake had shared a wonderful dinner together. He had been in such a happy mood, regaling her with stories of his youth. She could see the passion he had for returning to Texas, and though it concerned her, she couldn’t help but recall her own fond memories of that state. More troubling, however, was that she was starting to feel things for Jake that she had only experienced with Thomas. And always, it came in unexpected ways. The touch of his hand on her arm. His hand at the small of her back. The way he looked at her.

  She picked up the pen again and tapped it against her head. The time had come. She needed to tell Hannah about Jake. Perhaps she should ease into it, tell Hannah she had met someone and found him to be of great interest. Then again . . . maybe not. She dipped into the inkwell again.

  I find Denver to be a marvelous place to live. In fact, I am giving strong consideration to making this my permanent home.

  Marty frowned. That alone is enough to send Hannah here. She’ll wonder if I’ve lost my mind. She sighed.

  I know that might seem strange to you, given that I have no family here. But I very much enjoy the climate and the people. I have made good friends who are kind to me and have

  She paused, wondering how much to put into detail.

  taken me under their wings. They are well placed in society, and I find their lives to be quite interesting. The grandeur and opulence is unlike anything I’ve ever known.

  She reread the last few lines. Hannah would know that Marty’s simple taste would not be drawn to such finery. How could she make it sound more like her old self? A thought came to mind, and she
smiled.

  I find myself wondering just how much better the money might be spent on helping the poor or attending to the needs of orphans. Speaking of which, I have arranged to spend some time at a local orphanage reading to the children there. I’ve even decided I might take up sewing for them, as well.

  Marty bit her lip and whispered the next words aloud before she wrote them. “Of course, the pay would not be much, but with my wealthy guardians insisting that I need not concern myself with the financial aspects of life, it will give me a small amount of spending money for extras.”

  It was a perfect way to ease any worries Hannah might have about Marty’s well-being. She wrote the words, then wondered if she should go forward with her plan to mention Jake.

  “Mrs. Wythe?” Alice called from the doorway.

  Marty looked up to find the young woman with Kate, the household maid. “What is it?”

  “Mrs. Landry would like to have Kate scrub the floors in here. Would that be acceptable?”

  Marty nodded. “Yes, I need time to think about what else I want to say in this letter.” She put the pen down and got to her feet. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

  Her mind overflowed with scenarios she could make up—stories that would sound completely plausible. She could mention meeting Jake at church her first week there. That would have an element of truth, but it would cause more questions, since Hannah knew she’d not attended church after Thomas’s death. She could just say that she’d fallen head over heels and they’d gotten married. Or she could tell Hannah the truth . . . but she doubted her sister would take very kindly to having been duped.

  No sooner had Marty stepped onto the first floor, however, when she noticed someone looking into the foyer from the porch window. She pretended nothing was amiss but went quickly to where she kept the shotgun.

  “It might be nothing,” she told herself as she moved back to the foyer. “But I’d rather not take a chance.” Opening the front door, she peered out but didn’t see anyone. She walked to the railing and looked out on the yard. Apparently whomever she’d seen was gone now.