by Bird, Peggy
“Really? Why didn’t he remove the burden from you then? Did he want you to continue to be tormented? That’s not the Henry I know.”
“He thought it was important for me to trust him enough to tell him myself, rather than be exposed.”
Charlotte smoothed Rosemary’s hair as she thought for a moment. “I suppose it does make sense. So, how did he take it when you finally did reveal yourself?”
“He proposed to me.”
“What? You’re just now telling me your news? And why are you so glum about it?” Charlotte placed her hand over her heart. “Don’t tell me you turned him down. He and Marguerite would be such lovely additions to our family.”
Rosemary’s tears began to fall again. “No, Mother. I love him, and want nothing more than to marry him. I agree Marguerite would be a wonderful sister-in-law. But he recanted his offer within an hour of asking me.”
“Why would he do such a thing?”
“Because of his father, who’s upset about Marguerite’s move to New York and turning her back on the man he’s chosen for her to marry. Henry is certain his father will now sell the New York branch of the business in an attempt to make his children fall into line. Which means Henry will be out of a job. And without a job, he won’t marry. Even though I’ve told him I can earn my own money. I’ve never even met his father, but the man is ruining my life! He should return to Boston and leave us alone.”
Charlotte reached over and took one of Rosemary’s hands to stop her incessant wringing. “You’ve always been such a lovely mix of quiet and melodrama. I’m certain, if Henry’s father does offer the company for sale, Henry has a foolproof plan in place. He won’t let you go now that he’s found you.”
“I wish I could be as confident as you, Mother.”
“Well, your father can keep nothing from me, as you are well aware. And he’s told me of Henry’s sound business plan for a takeover of the company. It’s a wonderful idea, and I’m sure it will work.”
“Oh, I hope so. Henry told me some of what he and Papa discussed, but I was a bit distracted. Henry did mention children before he took back his proposal. Can you imagine, me running after tiny versions of Henry?” Rosemary sighed as she slid back into the settee.
“Or tiny Rosemarys. You were such a beautiful baby, with your big, gray eyes. So dry your tears and go write something. Your career as an author is not over, nor is your engagement. It’s just hit a temporary snag.”
Rosemary stood. “You’re right, Mother. And I do have an idea for a new book, about the California Gold Rush, or maybe the Comstock silver lode in Utah Territory. I was planning to start on it tonight.”
Charlotte stood alongside her daughter and grabbed her into a hug. “That’s my girl. Go be creative. The best way to repay the elder Mr. Cooper for interrupting your lives is to write the best books possible and to be an outrageous success. Make him regret his decision to sell, if it is truly his intention.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
At breakfast the following morning, Rosemary played with her food, tearing a blueberry muffin into tiny bits and dropping them onto her plate, which was already brimming over with fried eggs, ham, and toast. She speared an egg yolk with the corner of her toast, its yellow gooeyness spreading over the plate. She positioned her bits of muffin alongside the yolk, forming a barricade to stop its movement. Exactly what she needed to do with her heart again. Form a wall against Henry’s father’s ability to hurt her.
Her mother paid no attention, since she had her focus on Saffron, who was a notorious picky eater. Her father finally raised his eyes from his paper and glanced at Rosemary. Her own loss of appetite did not go unnoticed.
“If you don’t eat something, Rosemary, you’re going to waste away to nothing. You’re already so thin. Next thing you know we’ll have to invent more adult methods to get some food in you, as we do with Saffron. Cook won’t be happy if a plate comes back to her kitchen barely touched. And I am so anticipating her wonderful Wednesday morning banana bread tomorrow.”
Rosemary set down the remains of the muffin and brushed her fingers together to rid herself of crumbs.
“Sorry, Papa. I’m a bit distracted today, and I have no appetite.”
“Yes, I can see that. And I think I can help. We’ll play a few games of our own. Will you meet me at the bank this afternoon?”
“Of course, if you want me to. Is there a special reason?”
“Indeed there is. Henry’s father has scheduled an appointment with me for one o’clock. It seems he has a business he wants to sell.”
Rosemary’s eyes filled with tears as she glanced at her father. “Oh, no. Surely you’re not going to help him, are you?”
Her mother stood, along with Saffron. “Tell Rosemary of your plan, George.” She brushed a hand over Rosemary’s hair before she left the room. “You’ll be pleased, I’m sure,” she said. She hurried out of the room, taking Saffron with her. Rosemary turned her attention back to her father.
“What plan?”
“I think if the man is so behind the times that he wants to sell a business simply to keep his daughter from working there, he needs to be accommodated. Men such as Maxwell Cooper don’t belong in the publishing business. Not in New York City, anyway. He must bring his thinking into the nineteenth century. And what better way to drive home the point than to have you there with me, eager to learn the banking business?”
Rosemary smiled through her tears. “It would send a statement, wouldn’t it?”
“It may not be enough to make Cooper rethink his stance on women in the workplace, but you will at least be able to find out exactly what kind of proposition he is putting forth for the potential sale of the business. I’ve already told Henry the bank would loan him the money he needs if it’s a prudent investment. And the bank can accomplish the sale to an anonymous buyer without Mr. Cooper ever knowing to whom he’s selling. You can go directly from the bank to Henry and tell him what the elder Mr. Cooper’s demands are.”
“Has anyone ever said you are one clever, devious man, Papa?”
“Yes, but it never gets old. Especially when it comes from one of my children. Now, dry your tears, and I’ll see you later today. I must get to work.”
George snapped the newspaper shut and placed it on the table. He rose and leaned over Rosemary, placing a kiss on her cheek before he left the room. “Eat up, please. I want my banana bread tomorrow.”
She picked up a bite-sized piece of muffin and, for the first time that morning, relished its buttery goodness. She could see the benefit in meeting Mr. Cooper while her involvement with Henry and Marguerite remained unknown. Yes, she could create another deception. This time she’d be a dutiful daughter learning the family business, and learn instead what kind of man she had pitted herself against. Perhaps she had removed all the duplicity between herself and Henry, but it didn’t extend to his father. She could be duplicitous once again.
• • •
Rosemary settled quietly into a seat across from her father’s desk and smoothed her skirt. She had dressed in what she hoped was appropriate business attire. She had on her Phoebe Wyatt clothing of a white blouse, brown pinstriped satin skirt with only petticoats instead of a hoop, and a splash of subtle color tied around her waist.
He handed her a ledger to skim over, so she could actually gain an air of authenticity while attempting to pull off this latest ruse. When she glanced at the title of the document, she was surprised to discover it was a profit and loss statement from Henry about Cooper and Son, New York division. The various authors who were represented each had their own entry detailing how much it cost to produce the books, how much revenue was generated, and how much was paid out in royalties. Rosemary didn’t need to feign an interest. She was engrossed in the minutiae about the company by the time Maxwell Cooper arrived.
He was shown into the room as Rosemary and her father rose from their seats. Rosemary’s first impression of Maxwell Cooper was of a well-dressed, highbred man
, with a patrician nose and pale blue eyes. He was slim, but not skinny, and exuded an air of superiority. She searched his face for any trace of Henry, but could see none of his features in the elder Mr. Cooper. Thankfully, their lack of sameness was also apparent in their approaches to working women. Mr. Cooper’s manicured fingernails caught her attention as she extended her hand to him. He didn’t shake her hand, as he had her father’s. Rather, he wrapped his hand around hers and bowed over them. Rosemary put a tight smile on her face as his different approaches to the two of them was not lost on her.
“Please, take a seat, Mr. Cooper,” her father said as they situated themselves. “My daughter, Rosemary, has only recently joined my bank as an employee and is learning the business. I hope you don’t mind if she sits in on our meeting.”
Maxwell Cooper’s gaze slid slowly over Rosemary, and goosebumps cropped up on her skin. This man was cold. Her pity for Henry and his treatment at the hands of his father was renewed. She had to mask her distaste for him. Fortunately, she was by now a professional at wearing a mask. But she still breathed a silent sigh of relief when he turned his gaze instead to her father.
“Most unusual, isn’t it, Mr. Fitzpatrick? For a woman to be an employee? Even if she is your daughter.”
“Not at all, Mr. Cooper. One of my other daughters worked here several years ago, until she married and moved west, and was quite the whiz at picking solid investments for our customers. It’s been my experience that women are a great asset to business, as their minds more easily grasp details. It does make sense, does it not? One only has to consider how many details go into the business of them getting dressed in the morning to understand why. My house is filled to overflowing with my wife and daughters, and their various laces, pins, and ribbons. But enough of that. Let’s talk about why you’re here today.”
Mr. Cooper leaned forward in his chair. “What I want to discuss with you is my business here in town, which I want to sell. I’m hoping you can assist me in my endeavor.”
“I do have some contacts who are always in the market for new businesses. Tell me a bit about this one, and let’s discuss your price.”
“It’s a publishing house. My son has been trying to run it for me, but he has no head for the type of work needed to run a company, so I’ve decided to close the business. But it’s highly marketable. Last night, my son showed me the latest manuscript from one of the writers he has under contract, and it’s a solid, good story. I’m certain if anyone reads the saga of Harry Hawk, they’ll meet my price. Especially if they have any insight at all as to how a book such as a good, rip-roaring western should be marketed. I think a whistle-stop train tour into the Wild West would be an excellent idea.”
Rosemary fought to control her gasp as she caught her father’s quick glance and his flicker of amusement. It happened so quickly, she was certain Mr. Cooper was none the wiser. Goosebumps again erupted on her skin, but this time it was from his praise of her work, not from his perusal of her. She closed the ledger book and cradled it close to her body, now greatly interested in what the man had to say.
“If the Harry Hawk story is so good, why are you not interested in keeping the business, Mr. Cooper?” Rosemary queried.
He brushed imaginary lint from his light brown suit before he faced her. His actions were almost as if he was trying to brush away her comment.
“It’s a personal and family decision, young lady, and none of your concern.”
George Fitzpatrick cleared his throat. “But it is of concern to a potential buyer. Is there some underlying reason why you would sell off a profitable business?”
Mr. Cooper stared at George, and Rosemary was pleased to see her father did not flinch or break eye contact with the brash man. Mr. Cooper’s hands clenched into fists, and he placed them on top of the desk. He was obviously angry at her father’s direct line of questioning.
“My reason for selling is to streamline my company. Is that a good enough answer for you? You can tell your potential buyers there’s nothing wrong with the business except for the fact my son is at the helm, and it’s not a good fit. It is a sound publishing house, despite what he has done to try to ruin it, and the Harry Hawk manuscript is enough of a reason why someone should buy it. Have I made myself clear?”
“Indeed, Mr. Cooper. Now, let’s settle on a price for the business, and I’ll see what I can do for you.”
Mr. Cooper may have been a brazen, uncompromising man with antiquated ideas about women, but he was an astute businessperson. The value he put on the publishing house robbed Rosemary of breath for a minute. She held the ledger against her body and wrapped her hands around it, holding on so tightly her fingers went white. He had asked for a lot of money. She had no idea if her father was willing to loan Henry such an exorbitant amount.
As her father led Mr. Cooper out of his office and into the public portion of the bank, Rosemary paced the small room. Would Henry and Marguerite be able to buy the business from their father and keep him in the dark? Would her Harry Hawk story ever see the light of day? Would she and Henry ever marry? She had no answers yet.
Her father finally returned and moved to her side. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her temple. “Go and tell your fiancé we have a deal. Mr. Cooper certainly wants to be rid of the business in a hurry. He grossly undervalued the company, and I’d be a fool not to loan Henry the money. F.P. Elliott has done it again.”
“Really, Papa? Mr. Cooper is asking for a lot of money, in my opinion. But you know better than I, since I only started perusing the balance sheets when he arrived. So, Henry can buy the company from his father? I can’t wait to tell him. Thank you.”
She kissed his cheek with a loud smacking sound and turned quickly to run to Henry with the good news.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
A few days later, Rosemary was in Henry’s office for her twice-weekly fencing lesson. Dressed in breeches and a flowing white shirt, she had caught her hair back into a queue resembling Henry’s, but had pulled her long hair up and caught the ends into the queue as well. She wanted no flying tendrils to distract her as they fenced. This would be a celebratory encounter, as his father agreed to the sale to an anonymous bidder, and the engagement was, at least tentatively, back on.
Henry entered the office carrying two iron masks with metal see-through mesh. She studied the devices carefully.
“What are these for?”
“Well, you’re a quick study, and we’ve progressed to the next phase of instruction. You’ve learned all the basic moves, and we’re now going to engage each other in an actual bout.” He ran his hand slowly down her cheek, and paused to kiss her lips. “I wouldn’t want to harm your lovely face. So, we must wear some protection. Put this on.”
Rosemary’s body reacted with a chill of excitement, from both the bout to come and from Henry’s touch. His kiss was as exciting as the fact they were actually going to practice the stances Henry had been drilling into her for weeks now in an actual exercise! She could hardly wait to best him. She quickly donned the vest he handed her and picked up her sword while Henry put on his protective gear.
“En garde.” Rosemary’s gray eyes glimmered with excitement before she put on her mask.
Henry nodded, and picked up his own sword. “Prêt.” He bowed to her.
“Allez.” She countered, taking the stance for engagement. Their blades rang out as they touched. Henry smiled as he fended off her initial thrusts, but she grew bolder with each move, backing Henry into a corner. Too late, Rosemary realized it was a tactic of Henry’s, to lull her into thinking she was besting him. He performed a beautiful riposte, a simple, direct move that went from the parry position to the target. Which in this case was Rosemary herself.
“Are you having fun?” Henry laughed as he wielded his sword.
Henry was getting the best of the bout, as he toyed with Rosemary. He was about to take control of her weapon in a prise de fer and claim the prize of the bout, which would be another kiss, wh
en the door swung open sharply. They both turned their swords toward the intruder.
Maxwell Cooper stood in the doorway, eyes ablaze.
Rosemary attempted to melt into the corner as Maxwell glared at his son.
“Whatever are you doing? Henry, is this how you run my company? By turning it into a playing field for your fencing pastime?”
The only sound in the room came from the chugging printing press one level down. Its noise was usually a comforting accompaniment to whatever went on upstairs, but right now, it set Rosemary’s teeth on edge. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, willing her breathing to even out as she waited for Henry to reply.
She noticed his fingers tightening around the grip of the sword. He held it aloft for a few beats before lowering it, setting it carefully on the desk and removing his mask. He turned to face his father.
“Why are you here, Father?”
“To see that you clear out the office. The business was sold yesterday.”
Henry’s lips formed a tight smile. “I believe the new owner is quite all right with me being here and with a little office swordplay.”
“Oh? Have you already had a discussion with the new owner?”
“Why yes, Father, I have. The new owner has decided that a bit of fencing, especially when it’s with one of the company’s most predominant dime novelists, is indeed a worthwhile endeavor.”
Maxwell Cooper turned toward Rosemary, who stood silently in the corner.
“This is F.P. Elliott? Show yourself, man.”
Slowly, Rosemary lifted the mask from her face and turned toward Maxwell Cooper. His gasp of surprise almost made her smile.
“Didn’t expect me, did you?”
“But, but, you work at the bank, with your father. What are you doing here?”
“In addition to working with my father, I also am an author. I was unable to thank you properly at the bank for your kind words about my writing, but I can do so now. I’m glad you thought so highly of my work you raised the price on the company. I hope Henry can market the book properly, so it will sell as many copies as you think it should. Maybe by including a whistle-stop train tour into the Wild West. I quite like that idea.”
