“Catherine, there’s something I’ve wanted to say for some time. I know that you’ve only been in America for five years.”
The carriage came to a stop and Catherine reached for the door, but Carter halted her. “Please just hear me out.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Please don’t. Please.” She met his gaze and he couldn’t continue. He had no desire to cause her pain, yet that was exactly what he was doing.
Joseph opened the carriage door and offered Catherine his hand. She took up her bag and hurried out of the carriage. She might have run for the door, but Carter called her back.
“You’ve forgotten this.”
She turned and saw the dress box. It seemed she wrestled over the decision to return to the carriage and Carter or simply let it go. Before she could do anything, however, Joseph took the box from Carter and hurried up the walkway. Catherine accepted it from him and wordlessly walked inside.
Catherine entered the house and immediately found Mrs.
Clarkson at her side. She seemed quite excited and quickly took the box from Catherine and set it aside.
“Come with me. We have a visitor.”
“Who is it?” Catherine asked. She put her bag down and began to unbutton her coat.
“It’s Mrs. Sarah Hale from Godey’s Lady’s Book. She wants to feature some of your designs and perhaps a pattern or two in several of their editions. It’s all quite exciting.”
Catherine had barely removed her coat before Mrs. Clarkson took it from her. “Come along.”
Trying to show a positive spirit, Catherine pulled off her gloves and nodded. She followed Mrs. Clarkson down the hall, untying her bonnet as they went. Catherine barely had time to put her gloves in her hat and set it aside on a small hall table before Mrs. Clarkson pulled her into her own private sitting room.
“Here she is,” the older woman announced. “This is Catherine Shay.”
A beautiful woman, who appeared to be Mrs. Clarkson’s age, got to her feet to greet Catherine. “I am Mrs. Hale. I manage Godey’s.” She was dressed fashionably in a walking-out suit of dark plum wool, with a tiny black bonnet and black gloves.
Catherine nodded and curtsied. “I’m pleased to meet you.”
“I have long wanted to make your acquaintance. You are spoken of by the best families in Philadelphia. Your gowns have made you famous.”
“Catherine has brought enormous success upon this house,” Mrs. Clarkson declared. She turned to Catherine. “Mrs. Hale is offering a substantial payment for the rights to print six different designs and perhaps two patterns. Will you agree?”
Mrs. Clarkson gave Catherine a fixed stare, as if to remind her that she was desperately trying to gather money. Feeling there was no choice, Catherine nodded. She hadn’t wanted fame. She had, in fact, tried her best to hide away from the world.
“Wonderful. I will make the arrangements for you, dear.”
Mrs. Clarkson patted her hand.
“I would like very much to discuss your designs,” Mrs. Hale interjected. “Perhaps Miss Shay could remain?”
“Catherine is very busy with final gown preparations. You know that there are many upcoming parties. Please forgive her, but perhaps another time?”
Certain her relief was evident, Catherine met Mrs. Clarkson’s gaze and nodded. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Hale. I’m quite fond of your work. I believe Godey’s has offered the common woman great insight into the genteel life of society.”
The woman smiled and nodded. “Every woman is a lady at heart. I am certain our readers will delight in what you have to offer. We shall increase your fame across the country now. You will have more than enough work once people know how to reach you.”
Her words did little to comfort Catherine. If she wasn’t careful, her identity and secret would be revealed. She headed upstairs with this thought on her mind, as well as ideas of what she could do with the payment Mrs. Hale would give. The extra money might very well allow her to get her father the help he needed. Then as soon as he was freed and vindicated, she could go home.
But that thought held some regret. There would be no future with Carter Danby if she returned to England.
CHAPTER 17
The day before the Danby annual masquerade ball, Carter sat in Leander’s office and smiled at the wonderful news. The duke of Mayfield had written to Leander personally.
“He says that the judge is reviewing all of the materials and he soon expects Mr. Newbury to be free. The duke has made special arrangements for Newbury to be moved to his estate. It’s unusual, but the duke believes a great wrong has been committed.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Carter replied. He hadn’t expected such good news but was happy for it. What a great Christmas gift this would be for Catherine.
“The duke was also relieved to know that Catherine was safe. Upon studying the entire matter, he was alarmed to hear of threats being issued from Baker for Catherine’s well-being. He says there is no doubt, however, that she has had nothing to do with any of this. I shared the matter with Father and he agrees; she should not live in fear. We need to arrange a meeting, Carter. A meeting between you, Father, myself, and Miss Shay. We can give her this information and allow her to know that she is not in danger of arrest.”
“But she may be in danger of Baker, the man they clearly want brought to justice. I will not see her used as bait to lure him in. Not unless she can be completely protected.”
Leander nodded. “I agree. I would not wish it for her or any woman.”
“I’m also hesitant to get her hopes up,” Carter said, trying to figure out what was best. “Should something go wrong and her father remain imprisoned, I think it would cause her even greater grief. It would be rather like losing him all over again.”
“I suppose you are right. Still, having some hope seems preferable to none.”
“Let’s pray on it and see what is to be done. I want her to have hope, but I don’t want it to be of a false nature.” Carter got up to leave, then stopped. “Oh, I thought I would let you know, I overheard Mother going on and on about Winifred’s masquerade gown. Apparently it’s pink silk with real roses sewn into the bodice. I saw a few of the pieces when it was being designed, but I can’t really tell you anything more.”
“The roses should make her easy to spot; I’d hate to spend the evening with someone else,” Leander said with a smile. “And what of Catherine? Did Winifred manage to convince her to attend?”
Carter laughed. “She nagged her and gave her a gown to make over for the event, but she wasn’t at all sure Catherine would keep to her agreement to come. So I have enlisted the help of Mrs. Clarkson.”
“I hope it wasn’t as costly as setting up Miss Shay’s outings with your sister.”
“Not quite, but still it was worth every penny.”
“And what is she going to wear?”
Carter shrugged. “I haven’t any idea, but I’ll know her. A mask of lace and wire won’t keep me from recognizing her.”
The twenty-second of December dawned cold and clear. Catherine worked to see the sewing room put in order. They were finishing with the last of the New Year’s gowns, and Mrs. Clarkson had promised a full two days off for Christmas. It had been agreed upon that those two days would be the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth, and since the twenty-third was a Sunday, they would actually have three days to call their own. With her fingers stinging from hours of needlework, Catherine thought of nothing but delicious hours of idleness.
The last few hours had been focused on the details of cleaning and finishing costumes, and now Catherine performed the final sweeping in the alteration room. She straightened as the clock chimed four.
Three days. Three days to do nothing, if that’s what I choose.
She remembered her youth and the boredom she felt in the life of a leisurely young lady. She had often whined and complained only to have Nanny Bryce put her to work with a needle and thread. When Nanny Bry
ce and Catherine’s mother had passed away, Catherine thought her life would end. The emptiness and sorrow she felt were often more than she could bear. There wasn’t even the noise of her young brothers to console her. She and Father had clung to each other in their grief. The memory only served to strengthen her resolve to see him set free. Despite Carter Danby’s appealing nature and desire to court her, Catherine was determined to keep her mind set on her father’s needs. She would simply find a way to put Carter from her life, even though she knew it wouldn’t be easy.
Winifred had sent one invitation after the other throughout the month, and Catherine had managed to excuse herself from each event. She hadn’t seen Carter since that day at the Danby house and felt quite vexed with herself for even thinking about him. She missed him more than she wanted to admit.
“Nothing can come of it,” she muttered.
But that didn’t stop her from seeing visions of the handsome dark-haired man in her dreams. Night after night she had tossed and turned while dreaming of Carter Danby. Once when she’d been walking home from town, Catherine had thought him to be following her with the carriage. But when she turned to investigate, there was no one there save a conveyance carrying a woman and several children.
“Catherine?”
“I’m in here,” she called.
Selma came into the room and grinned. “We’ve been looking all over for you.”
“I’ve been working to get things picked up and cleaned so that we might finish early and start our holiday.”
“Well, we have a bit of a surprise for you. An early Christmas gift of sorts.”
Catherine put the broom aside. “Whatever do you mean, Selma?”
“You’ll see. Come with me to Mrs. Clarkson’s sitting room.
It’s quite exciting.”
Catherine pulled off her apron and hung it by the door.
“Very well.”
She walked down the hall behind Selma and tried to imagine what the two women might have been up to. She knew they both worried about Catherine’s lack of rest and her refusal to attend parties and outings with Winifred. They had also been concerned about the time she spent worrying over her father. And since Mrs. Clarkson had been admitted to the circle of trust regarding Catherine’s true identity, she had constantly fretted over the matter, trying her best to help Catherine find resolution.
For just a moment, Catherine allowed herself a dream. She thought of what it might be like to find her father on the other side of the door. The idea caused her heart to skip a beat. Oh, what glory it would be to see him again. To see him safe and healthy. What if he were here? What if they had caught Finley Baker, and her father had been set free? But when Selma opened the door, it was only Mrs. Clarkson who stood on the other side.
Disappointment washed over her. She silently chided herself for being such a ninny. Had she not guarded herself against just this type of thing for years now? She forced a smile and looked at Mrs. Clarkson.
“Catherine, come in. We have a present for you.”
There was little time to advance or even attempt to sit before Mrs. Clarkson clapped her hands and Dolley and Beatrix appeared carrying a gown of shimmering green silk. The neckline had been fashioned in a graceful cut and trimmed in pink hothouse roses. It was lower than Catherine was used to but certainly not overly immodest.
“What is this?” she asked, turning to Selma.
“It’s your gown for the party tonight. The masquerade at the Danbys.”
“I cannot possibly attend that party, and you should know that better than most.” Catherine’s stomach knotted at the thought.
“Of course you can. Just as Winifred suggested, you will be completely unrecognizable. With this gown and mask, no one will even suspect your identity.”
Catherine thought of one man who might well try. “It would be too big of a risk.”
“Not at all, my dear. I have some new white evening gloves,” Mrs. Clarkson began. “They will hide the fact that you work with your hands. Not only that, but I also have some lovely jewelry that will cause all present to suspect you a wealthy woman. They were a gift from my dear departed brother, and they match the gown perfectly.”
“And I fashioned you a mask of green lace and silk,” Selma told her.
“It’s all too much to imagine,” Catherine said, unable to deny that she would love to attend the party.
“Then don’t. Hurry upstairs, where a hot bath awaits you. I will come and help you dress, then Beatrix and Dolley will help you with your hair and such. It’s all settled for you.”
“I can see that,” Catherine replied. “But what of leaving before the unmasking?”
“That’s been arranged as well,” Mrs. Clarkson announced.
“I’ve hired a carriage to take you to the party. The same man will return for you and be waiting in an agreed-upon place so that you can slip from the house unnoticed and make your way home.”
“But what of my—”
“Cease with the excuses,” Mrs. Clarkson said with a smile. “You are going to enjoy a party that the rest of us can only dream of. Come home and share all of the details with us, and that will be our reward.”
Two hours later, Catherine stood before a mirror as Dolley added final touches to the cascade of curls that she’d created. Catherine could scarcely believe her own appearance. The gown fit her better than anything she’d ever owned. It draped gracefully across her neckline and cinched snugly at the waist before spilling into a full, sweeping skirt. The pale green satin served her well with its inset lace bodice and puffed sleeves.
“I can hardly believe my appearance,” she told Dolley. “You’ve made me look . . . well . . . completely changed.”
“I like arranging hair. I had thought to be a personal maid to a lady, but then I came here to live at the sewing house.”
“You are very talented,” Catherine said, knowing that were her situation different, she would most eagerly hire Dolley to style her hair all of the time.
“You are beautiful and easy to work with,” Dolley declared.
“I’ve never seen anyone with such thick and wondrous hair. My own is so thin and mousy. Not at all pretty like yours or even red like Beatrix’s.”
“Me mum says that red hair is God’s way of warnin’ folks of the temper that lies beneath,” Beatrix piped in.
Catherine smiled at this comment. She was finding it easier and easier to smile these days. She knew her father was still in peril, but the money was quickly adding up, and after Christmas she planned to get word to Captain Marlowe to see if he might locate a barrister to help her father. She felt hopeful . . . something she hadn’t felt in a long time. That alone made her happy.
“It’s nearly time to leave,” Selma said, entering the room. “I’ve brought the gloves and Mrs. Clarkson’s jewelry. I must say you will look like the fine lady you’ve always been once we finish you off.”
Catherine started for a moment, worried that Beatrix and Dolley might wonder at the comment. They seemed unmoved, however, and finished securing the last of the curls. Looking in the mirror, Catherine surveyed her hair from every angle possible. No one would recognize her. She had always worn her hair up and carefully secured to keep it out of her way while working. This arrangement had it sweeping up and then tumbling down her back in an array of curls and tiny ribbon accents. She thought only for a moment of Carter knowing her in England but dismissed her concern. At seventeen, she was only a shadow of the woman she had become. It was little wonder he hadn’t recognized her when they first met.
Selma secured the necklace of peridot and gold around Catherine’s neck. It draped perfectly against her smooth white skin. Catherine pulled on the gloves while Selma secured matching earrings. “Mrs. Clarkson said this stone of peridot is believed to bring peace and success. It’s even mentioned in the Bible.”
Catherine gently touched the necklace with her gloved hand. “Perhaps it will help me hide my identity, for surely no one would expect
a seamstress to wear such expensive jewels.”
“If the jewels don’t work,” Mrs. Clarkson said, “then surely this will keep you hidden well enough.” She handed Catherine the mask.
“Had I not known you since birth,” Selma declared, “I wouldn’t recognize you now. You’ll have no trouble remaining a mystery to all at the party.”
Studying her reflection for a moment, Catherine could only agree.
“Here is your cloak,” Mrs. Clarkson announced, “and the carriage is waiting for you even now.”
Catherine had worried about what she might wear over her gown, but Mrs. Clarkson had already attended to the matter. The hood was carefully fitted over her hair, and Dolley admonished her to take care and not lean back against the carriage seat.
“Remember, the man has been instructed to await you at midnight. He will park and meet you wherever seems fitting and secluded.”
Catherine nodded and allowed them to move her toward the door and downstairs. It wasn’t until she was being handed up into the carriage that she allowed herself to believe it was all really happening.
“We want to hear all about it when you get back,” Mrs.
Clarkson called.
“Oh yes,” Dolley said with a sigh. “I want to know all about the party. I’ve never been to a ball. It must be glorious.”
“It is,” Catherine murmured in the confines of the carriage as the driver closed the door. “It is glorious, especially when someone is there waiting for you.”
Felicia watched with Lydia from the upstairs window as the entourage helped Catherine to the carriage. She burned with jealousy.
“It isn’t fair that she gets to attend the ball.”
“Why didn’t you tell Mrs. Clarkson what you know about her?” Lydia asked.
Felicia hadn’t shared all of the details with Lydia, but the girl knew that they now had enough information to get Catherine dismissed from the sewing house.
“I don’t plan to tell Mrs. Clarkson. Not unless Catherine proves to be less than cooperative. I believe all I will need to do is have a talk with her and she’ll leave on her own accord.”
A Lady of Hidden Intent Page 17
