A Lady of Hidden Intent

by Tracie Peterson

  “I do. In fact, I . . . I believe I love him.”

  Catherine straightened and shrugged. “Then why would you ever need me to come along?”

  “I suppose it’s because . . . well . . . I’ve come to enjoy your company, and you put me at ease.” Winifred reached out to take hold of Catherine’s arm. “Please say you’ll come. I know it’s a sacrifice for you, and it’s rather selfish of me to ask, but I would feel so much better.”

  “I’m certain your brother and Mr. Arlington would feel differently.” Catherine went to the table to retrieve the second sleeve.

  “As I pointed out before, we are not of the same class. I would never have the proper clothes.”

  “You could borrow one of my gowns. We aren’t so very different in size.”

  Catherine knew that to be true. In fact, she and Winifred were almost identical in their measurements. “I can’t possibly do that,” Catherine told her.

  Hoping Winifred would forget about her invitation, Catherine tried to push the conversation back on the younger woman. “So, are you and Mr. Arlington formally courting?”

  “Oh no. I’m not certain he even cares for me. He has long been Carter’s friend. I fear he’s coming along only to accompany my brother.”

  “I cannot believe that. You are a beautiful young woman, Winifred. You are also very quiet, I’ve noticed.”

  “I cannot bear conflict,” Winifred explained. “I feel I can talk to you, Catherine. ”

  “I’m glad.” Catherine concentrated on her work, hoping that

  Winifred would continue.

  “I used to have friends—at least, I thought they were my friends,” Winifred continued. “Now I realize they only cared about money and their next new bauble. They were mean-spirited, even cruel to one another. They would always talk about each other behind their backs. I knew without a doubt they were talking about me as well, but then one day I happened to overhear such talk. It was about my father. He has a mistress.”

  She grew quiet, and Catherine could well imagine the caustic comments Winifred might have chanced to overhear. Catherine had known such women in England. “I’m sorry that you had to bear such a thing.”

  “It wouldn’t have bothered me, but I thought they were my friends. They were so insulting. So ugly about my family.”

  “What did you do?”

  Winifred drew a deep breath. “I withdrew from social circles.

  I wanted nothing more to do with them, much to my father’s frustration.”

  “Why should your father care, especially if they were speaking out against the family?”

  “He intended to see me married to one of their wealthy brothers,” Winifred said, shaking her head. “My father has always intended to arrange my marriage, just as my mother’s union was arranged for her.”

  “And I thought we were behind our times in Bath,” Catherine said without thinking. She immediately regretted the comment but knew if she drew attention to it, Winifred would find it strange. “But now you have Mr. Arlington, and you are already in love with him. Your father will no doubt be pleased.”

  “But Mr. Arlington isn’t from one of the wealthy families.

  His family does well enough. His father is a judge—or rather, was—so he’s highly regarded, but that will mean very little to my father.”

  “Perhaps you will be able to convince your father of his worth.”

  Catherine went back to the table and picked up a piece of trim.

  Winifred surprised her by jumping down from the fitting platform. “Please come with us, Catherine. I know I’m imposing on you, but it would mean so much to me.”

  Catherine found she couldn’t resist her pleading. Winifred had been nothing but gracious and kind. “Very well. What time is the event? I can come and meet you.”

  “Oh no. We’ll come for you in the carriage. Carter will insist.”

  “I’ll insist on what?” Carter asked.

  Catherine jumped in surprise. She was grateful to have Winifred positioned between them and could only hope he hadn’t noticed.

  “I’ve convinced Catherine to join us on Sunday for the Mozart performance.”

  “Splendid,” Carter said, smiling. “I shall look forward to that.” would go out of his way to learn everything possible about her.

  Of course, she thought, most of the outing would be in a place where conversation would be limited.

  “Catherine wanted to meet us, but I told her you would insist on coming for her in the carriage.”

  “Indeed I will.” Carter fixed his gaze on Catherine’s face. “I would hardly be a gentleman if I did anything less.”

  Reaching for her pincushion, Catherine forced her attention elsewhere. “What time should I expect you?”

  “We will plan to arrive just before two,” Carter said, sounding much happier than Catherine would have liked.

  “Very well.” Catherine’s reply sounded like a woman resolved to endure torture rather than something as pleasurable as a musical performance. In England she would have attended such affairs on a regular basis and relished the opportunity. Were it not for Carter Danby accompanying them, she might have looked forward to this outing as well.

  Sunday arrived and Carter found that he could hardly focus on anything until the carriage made its way to Mrs. Clarkson’s.

  “You’re acting like a schoolboy,” Leander teased in a whisper.

  Carter fumbled with his gloves and cast a quick glance at Winifred to see if she’d overheard Lee’s comment. She stared happily out the window, however, and didn’t seem any the wiser.

  When the carriage came to a stop, Carter bounded out the door before Joseph could climb down to assist him. Mrs. Clarkson’s seemed quiet, without a sign of life from the windows. For a moment, Carter feared that Catherine might have changed her mind.

  To his surprise it was Catherine who opened the door at his knock. She wore a beautiful gown of green silk and had secured a small bonnet atop a lovely arrangement of brown curls.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Shay.”

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Danby.”

  “Have you a wrap?” he asked. “The evenings have been quite chilly.”

  “Oh, I’d nearly forgotten,” Catherine said. She went back into the house and returned with a black shawl.

  Carter offered his arm and felt a sense of great elation when Catherine took hold. “You look quite lovely, Miss Shay,” he said.

  “Thank you.” She looked away as if embarrassed.

  “You are very different from most women. You never smile. Although, I could almost swear I have seen you smile—at least, I imagine that I must have at one time.”

  “Then perhaps you are simply recalling from a vivid imagination,” Catherine countered.

  “Do you not like to smile?”

  “I find my days spent in serious endeavors, Mr. Carter. I have very little to smile about.”

  They reached the carriage and Joseph opened the door for them. Carter leaned quite close to Catherine’s ear. “Then I hope I might have a chance to change that. I’d like very much to bring a smile to your face.”

  He saw her blush but said nothing more as he helped Catherine into the carriage. She quickly took the seat beside Winifred and cast her gaze to her lap as the younger woman took hold of her gloved hands. Carter climbed up and joined Leander.

  “Miss Shay, I’m pleased to see you again,” Lee offered.

  Catherine, obviously well versed in manners, raised her head to meet Leander’s smile. “Thank you. It is quite nice to see you again, Mr. Arlington.”

  “Have you enjoyed a pleasant Sunday?” he pressed.

  Her reply was simple and to the point. “Yes. It’s been a lovely day.”

  Carter watched her and wondered again where he might have met her. He hadn’t lied when he said he imagined her smiling. He had seen that smile in his deepest dreams, if not in his wakeful moments. It was clear she was much more than she admitted to being. The way Catherine walked,
moved—even climbed into the carriage—proved that she’d been raised among people who’d trained her to be a lady.

  So why was Catherine Shay working as a seamstress in

  Philadelphia?

  Throughout the performance Carter watched her and continued to wonder. She seemed knowledgeable regarding music, and when Winifred asked, Catherine admitted to playing the piano after years of lessons. It was yet more evidence of her upbringing.

  Poor people did not have money for lessons.

  During the ride home they easily conversed about the performance. Carter had noticed the stolen glances between Lee and Winifred and felt a growing confidence that they would soon be properly courting.

  “I love the ‘Church Sonatas,’ ” Winifred said. “They are some of my favorites.”

  “And the musicians were quite accomplished,” Catherine admitted. “I’ve not heard better.”

  “Have you attended many concerts?” Leander asked.

  Catherine looked out the window into the growing twilight.

  “I have attended whenever time permitted.”

  “In England?” he pressed.

  Carter could see that she’d grown very uncomfortable. A part of him wanted to halt Lee’s questioning and put her at ease, while another wanted answers.

  “Yes, in England and in America. I’ve been here for five years now.” She quickly turned to Winifred. “You asked me earlier whether I played the piano. What of you? Do you play?”

  “I do. Mother saw to it that I had the best of teachers. Pity I wasn’t the best of students.”

  “You play quite well, Miss Danby. I’ve heard you on many occasions,” Lee interjected.

  “Leander is right, sister of mine. You play beautifully.”

  Catherine patted Winifred’s hand. “I should very much like to hear you play one day.”

  They were nearly back to Mrs. Clarkson’s when Carter got an idea. “Why don’t we go back to our house and have a little supper? I’m certain Cook won’t mind.”

  “Splendid idea,” Leander agreed.

  “You will join us, won’t you?” Winifred asked Catherine. “It is still early.”

  “I’m afraid not,” Catherine replied. “I must rise quite early tomorrow. I have several things to accomplish before that time.”

  “Surely you’ll need to eat during that time. Why not spend the meal with us?” Carter said. He caught Catherine’s gaze and smiled. “I promise to have you back before seven.”

  “No. If it’s an inconvenience to return me to Mrs. Clarkson’s, I can walk from here.” She reached for the door as if to open it and escape.

  Carter stopped her hand. “We’ll return you home, Miss Shay. I wouldn’t allow a lady to be left unaccompanied on the streets.”

  “Thank you.” She turned to Winifred. “My free time is quite limited. I beg you to understand.”

  Winifred met her gaze. “But of course. I know what an imposition our outing has been for you.”

  “Not at all,” Catherine replied. “I enjoyed myself very much, but I need for you to understand,” she looked up to meet Carter’s gaze, “that I have other responsibilities.”

  Carter thought there was a tone of pleading in her voice.

  Almost as if she was desperate to keep a shroud of mystery cloaked about her. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. What was it about her? Her eyes seemed to hypnotize him into submission.

  They spent the remaining time in silence, and when the carriage finally halted in front of Mrs. Clarkson’s, Carter moved to the door to keep Catherine from jumping out.

  “Allow me,” he said, dismounting. He reached up to take hold of Catherine’s arm.

  “Thank you for the lovely day,” Catherine told Winifred and Leander. She let Carter help her down, and he couldn’t resist holding her for just a moment longer than necessary.

  Catherine lifted her face, and the desire to kiss her nearly overwhelmed Carter. Releasing her, he stepped to the side and offered his arm. Catherine moved slowly to accept and allowed him to take her to the door.

  “Miss Shay, I must say it has been a very pleasant day for me. Thank you for accompanying us. I know it pleased Winifred, and that, among other reasons, makes it dear to me.”

  She released her hold on Carter and reached for the door handle. He found the loss of her touch strangely difficult to bear and longed to take hold of her again. But just as he’d resisted stealing a kiss, he held back.

  “Thank you, Mr. Carter.” She turned to go.

  “Miss Shay.”

  She looked over her shoulder but refused to otherwise turn.

  “Yes?”

  “I would very much like it if you would accompany us again.

  My sister has very few friends, and you have offered her great comfort and kindness. ”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Carter. As the weeks grow closer to Christmas, so grows my work. Your sister is very sweet, and I like her a great deal, but I cannot take time away from Mrs. Clarkson.

  She needs me.”

  “What if I need you too?” he asked softly.

  This caused Catherine to turn. Her eyes widened, but only for a moment. She quickly regained her composure. “We all have needs. Good night, Mr. Danby.” She hurried into the house and closed the door firmly behind her.

  Carter couldn’t help but smile. The expression on her face hadn’t suggested distaste at his comment. There was hope for the future—their future.

  Catherine had never felt this way before. Carter’s attention and comments had left her breathless and her heart racing. She told herself it was because she feared being revealed, but in truth, she knew it was something more.

  “So you’re home,” Felicia declared.

  Catherine jumped and knocked a book off the corner of the table.

  “You’re certainly a nervous ninny.” Felicia eyed her for a moment and laughed. “Were you not hiding behind so many secrets, you might not fidget so.”

  Catherine struggled to recompose herself. “My ‘secrets,’ as you call them, are none of your concern.”

  Felicia’s smug expression left Catherine chilled, but no more so than her words. “I believe secrets are meant to be exposed, lest they be a danger to all concerned. I shall enjoy revealing your secrets.”

  “I have no secrets worth telling,” Catherine stated, trying hard to sound nonchalant.

  “Ah, but I believe otherwise.” Felicia toyed with a blond curl.

  “England must have been a fascinating place to live. Yet you left it all behind to come here.”

  “Many people have done likewise. America is a wondrous country, offering opportunities that cannot be had in my homeland. The very idea of owning vast properties alone has sent many a European to your shores.”

  “True, but there is something more, and we both know that.

  This country has also served as a haven for those whose intentions have been to hide away from the past.”

  Catherine felt almost as if an invisible hand were clamping around her throat. Felicia seemed to know something, but she wasn’t yet ready to reveal it. Catherine knew she would have to tread lightly. If she gave the young woman any sign of worry, Felicia would never let the matter rest.

  Feigning a yawn, Catherine headed for the stairs. “I’m hardly old enough to have much of a past, Felicia. I wish I could offer you something more intriguing, but I’m a rather simple person with nothing more startling to offer than the news that I’m wearing secondhand shoes.”

  “Everyone has something in their past that haunts them,”

  Felicia said.

  Catherine refused to turn around and continued to climb the stairs. “Good evening, Felicia,” she said in a measured manner. She desired only to leave the scene before her anxieties over the evening and Felicia’s comments got the best of her. “We have an early morning, and I’ve still much to do before retiring.”

  She felt certain that Felicia watched her, but Catherine tried not to be flustered by the
thought. There was no way of knowing for sure what Felicia was getting at. Perhaps she had overheard something Catherine said to Selma. Perhaps she was only guessing. Either way, Catherine would have to be extra careful in the future.

  CHAPTER 11

  Carter, we’re very happy to have you join us,” Zilla Arlington announced. She accepted his embrace and kiss on the cheek as if he were one of her sons. “Come and tell us everything about this new house you’ve created. Lee tells us it’s quite the estate.”

  She barely gave him time to discharge the servant with his hat and coat before dragging him to the family’s private sitting room. “Look, Kendrick. Look who has come to call.”

  “Carter, my boy. Good to see you.” The older man got to his feet and crossed the room. Stocky in build, Judge Kendrick Arlington was surprisingly light on his feet. He immediately took hold of Carter’s hand, but rather than shake it, he merely patted it and smiled. “You have been much absent from our company.”

  “And don’t I know that,” Carter admitted. “Mrs. Arlington has grown even more beautiful in my absence.”

  Zilla Arlington laughed. “You do flatter in such a pleasing manner. All young men should take lessons from you.”

  “And all women should seek your secret,” Carter countered.

  “My secret?” the woman questioned in surprise. Her blue eyes sought Carter’s face.

  “The one regarding your youthful countenance. You must surely hold a secret to the fountain of youth, for you look just as young and lovely as when I was a boy.”

  She laughed in delight, and even the judge chuckled and added, “It’s true, my dear. I age and age, but you remain the same.”

  “Oh, how you do go on. But don’t I love it.”

  “And,” Carter said, turning to the judge, “I have missed sitting here at your fire, hearing tales of your days in court.”

  “Well, perhaps we shall share some intriguing stories this day. I have some warm apple cider—not the hard stuff, mind you. Would you care for a mug?”

  “I would,” Carter said, taking a seat in a rather outdated fauteuil near the fire. The armchair was one of his favorites. “I’m chilled to the bone.” Judge Arlington took the chair across from him and nodded as if in agreement to both his declaration of cold and of agreeing to drink cider.