Jen Turano - [Ladies of Distinction 02]

by A Most Peculiar Circumstance

  “I can assure you that Arabella will never forget you again, dear. As for Zayne, well . . .” Gloria glanced at Cora. They exchanged a strange look and then, without speaking another word, spun on their heels and marched up to and into the house, closing the door behind them with a resounding thud.

  “What was that about?” Arabella asked.

  “They’re plotting,” Agatha replied. “They’re always plotting these days.” She took Arabella’s arm and began to stroll toward the house. “One would think that since Hamilton and Eliza only just got married, our mothers would be satisfied for a while, but instead they seem to have come to the conclusion that everyone needs to enter into the state of wedded bliss. Quite frankly, they’ve turned scary.” Agatha stopped walking and grinned. “I have high hopes they’ll settle their attention on you now that you’ve returned home. You are older than I, after all, and I’m sure they’ll take that into consideration.”

  “I’m not that much older,” Arabella said, “but I must admit my mother has already informed me that she’s determined to see me married. Knowing she’s joined forces with your mother sends chills down my spine.”

  “There’s the prodigal daughter at last.”

  Arabella turned from a chuckling Agatha and laughed in delight. She let go of Agatha’s arm and raced up the steps, launching herself into her father’s embrace.

  Douglas Beckett gave her a hard squeeze before he set her away from him, his eyes twinkling down at her. “I hope you’re not too upset with me for not meeting you at the station, dear.” His glance slid over to the phaeton that the groom was beginning to drive away, and just like Mrs. Watson, he shuddered.

  Arabella laughed again. “I knew exactly why you didn’t accompany Mother, and besides, you and I saw each other not so long ago, so it’s not as if we’ve been parted forever.”

  “Speaking of being parted, though, when you left California ahead of me, I was under the impression you were simply leaving early to catch a rally or two. From the telegrams Mr. Wilder sent back, it seems as if you attended a good dozen, and what were you thinking by leaving Miss Hunt behind?”

  “I was hoping you wouldn’t find out about Miss Hunt.”

  “I ran into the lady at the fish market, three days after you departed.”

  “Rotten luck there,” Arabella muttered before she brightened. “But as you can see, I made it back perfectly unscathed and with a barrel of stories to share with you.”

  “Stories which will have to wait, since your mother is determined to throw this dinner party to welcome you home,” Douglas said before he looked over her head. “Ah, Miss Watson, I didn’t know you were here.”

  “Hello, Mr. Beckett,” Agatha said as she climbed the steps to join them. “I didn’t want to interrupt your reunion.”

  “Very kind of you,” Douglas said. “Did you come with your mother, or did Zayne bring you?”

  Agatha turned a lovely shade of pink.

  Arabella blinked and then blinked again. Could it be that the delightful lady blushing right in front of her carried a bit of affection for Zayne? If that was the case, well, she’d certainly have to push things along. Agatha was a definite improvement over Helena, and—

  “I came with my mother,” Agatha said, abruptly pulling Arabella out of her daydream. “But look, there’s Hamilton’s carriage. What’s he doing here?”

  “Hamilton and Eliza took my luggage because Mother didn’t think it would fit in the phaeton,” Arabella answered.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t make the claim you wouldn’t fit in the phaeton,” Douglas said.

  “Believe me, it did cross my mind, but then Zayne told me Hamilton and Eliza have a tendency to, well, display affection for each other at times, and I decided braving Mother’s driving was the more pleasant option.”

  “Their ‘affection’ will ensure I’ll have another grandbaby before too long,” Gloria said, stepping outside as she settled her attention on Arabella and Agatha. “Our next order of business will be finding suitable gentlemen for the two of you.” She sent them a nod, then disappeared once again through the door.

  “Maybe I should consider another extended trip,” Arabella said.

  Douglas laughed. “You’ll do no such thing. The holidays are right around the corner, and we expect you to remain in town to enjoy the festivities. Besides, haven’t you had enough adventures for a while?”

  “I enjoy adventures,” Arabella said, “and everything about my latest one turned out fine in the end.”

  “Thanks to the efforts of Mr. Wilder, whom I don’t seem to see at the moment,” Douglas said.

  “Zayne’s taking him home,” Arabella said before she narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

  “I need to have a chat with him.”

  “Why?”

  Douglas shrugged. “You spent quite a lot of time alone with the gentleman, and while your mother and I do encourage you to live your life to the fullest, there are still rules, and you’ve unfortunately broken quite a few of them.”

  Arabella sighed. “Father, I understand your concern, but nothing untoward happened between Theodore and me. We barely tolerated each other’s company. I’ll be completely mortified if you do something unexpected, such as pulling out your rifle and demanding that Theodore make an honest woman of me.”

  “He is considered quite the catch,” Douglas pointed out. “He’s handsome too, from what I’ve heard ladies say.”

  “He’s also chauvinistic, arrogant, and believes women are best kept in the kitchen or at parties. And while this is certainly a fascinating and disturbing conversation, we’re going to have to push it aside since I see your grandchildren sprinting your way.”

  “This ‘disturbing conversation’ is not at an end,” Douglas warned before he moved down the steps with his arms opened wide. He swept Piper and Ben into an embrace even as he planted loud kisses on their cheeks.

  He really was an exceptional gentleman and wonderful with children. For some odd reason, an image of Theodore hugging Piper and Ben at the train station suddenly flashed to her mind.

  She blinked. Now, that wouldn’t do. She’d been anxiously waiting for the moment when they’d part ways, and she certainly didn’t need him popping into her thoughts when she least expected it.

  It was rather peculiar.

  “Why, pray tell, is everyone standing around outside?” Eliza asked as she scurried up the walk and hurried past Arabella to stride through the door before she turned. “It’s freezing outside.”

  “She does have a point,” Agatha said as she followed Eliza, with Arabella following a second later.

  “Hamilton told me we don’t have much time,” Eliza said before she shrugged out of her coat and handed it to a waiting maid, sending the maid a smile. “He’s afraid we’ll get immersed in lady talk, and then I’ll fret about not having enough time to dress for dinner.”

  Arabella had the strangest feeling “lady talk” was actually a subtle way of saying “Theodore talk,” and since she really didn’t want to talk about him, especially since she’d just been contemplating the gentleman, she needed to come up with something a little less troubling.

  She’d recently read a riveting article about poisons.

  “Ladies, there is no time to dawdle,” Gloria said as she strode into the room. “The dinner is still hours away, but Arabella is a disaster, at least in regard to her hair. I’ve just now summoned Mrs. Cook. That dear lady, after hearing we are facing an emergency, has agreed to drop everything and come to our aid, which means Arabella needs to go immediately to her room and prepare herself.”

  “You allowed Mrs. Cook to believe my hair constitutes an emergency?” Arabella asked.

  “Obviously you have not looked in a mirror lately, darling, because your hair is an emergency. Why, poor Mrs. Murdock was having quite the time of it not gawking in your direction, but no worries now. Mrs. Cook is a genius when it comes to wielding a pair of shears, and she’ll have you looking shipshape in no time.”
Gloria pointed to the steps, and since Arabella knew a lost cause when she saw one, she took Eliza and Agatha by the hand and pulled them with her up the stairs.

  “Am I imagining things or is Gloria acting odder than usual?” Eliza asked once they reached the top of the steps and Arabella gestured to a hallway to the right.

  “Agatha and I believe she’s plotting.”

  Eliza smiled. “Ah, that explains it. I was recently the recipient of one of her plots, but I must say, everything turned out rather well for me in the end.” She released a satisfied sigh.

  “Oh, here we go again,” Agatha said as they came to a stop in front of a closed door. “Just wait, Arabella. You’re in for a rough time of it because your brother and Eliza can be quite nauseating to be around at times.” She let out a grunt. “It’s beyond embarrassing when they ogle each other. They try to be discreet, but I catch them at it all the time. You’ll soon be like me, finding any reason to stare at ceilings, watch the dust float by, or one time I was forced to pretend I was picking a scab.”

  Eliza’s mouth dropped open. “That’s revolting.”

  “Not when compared to your behavior with Hamilton.”

  “When you have a husband, dear, you’ll behave exactly the same way.”

  “Yes, I’m so looking forward to that,” Agatha said. “You do realize you called me dear, exactly like my mother.”

  “I did, didn’t I?” Eliza said. She shrugged. “Marriage has obviously matured me.”

  “It’s turned you a bit nutty,” Agatha countered.

  “Yes, well, enough about me,” Eliza said as she turned to Arabella. “I’m dying to know what happened between you and Theodore.”

  Arabella reached out and turned the knob on the door to her private suite of rooms, stepping aside as she ushered Eliza and Agatha in. To her relief, Eliza seemed to forget all about Theodore when she stepped into the room.

  “It’s pink,” Eliza proclaimed.

  “Shockingly pink,” Agatha added as she strode across the floor and headed for a large bookcase that spanned the opposite wall. “Are these all romance novels?” she asked as she ran her finger along some of their spines.

  Arabella smiled. “I do enjoy a good romance, but . . . don’t let that information be known to just anyone. I have a reputation to uphold.”

  “What did Theodore say when he learned you read romance?” Eliza asked.

  Arabella moved to a comfortable chaise upholstered in soft pink and rose, took a seat, and patted the cushion beside her, waiting until Eliza took a seat before she spoke. “I don’t think he’s aware of my reading preferences, except for the newspaper. I keep telling everyone that Theodore and I did not spend an exorbitant amount of time chatting, yet no one seems to believe me.”

  “I’ve never known Theodore to be less than chatty,” Agatha said as she set down the book she’d been skimming and moved to the window. “I think Mrs. Cook must have arrived, which is unfortunate since the conversation was just starting to get interesting.”

  “There is nothing of interest to tell you about Theodore,” Arabella said.

  “I’m quite certain that isn’t exactly true,” Gloria said, stepping into the room with Cora right behind her. “But Agatha’s right. Mrs. Cook has arrived. I’m certain she’s going to have a fit of the vapors when she sees your hair, so talk of Theodore and how interesting he is will simply have to wait.” She tilted her head. “How are we going to explain what happened to you?”

  “We could tell her the hair just fell off my head,” Arabella said.

  “Because that happens every day,” Gloria muttered.

  “Having a crazed sheriff slice off my hair with a knife isn’t exactly something that happens every day either.”

  Gloria plopped down on a bright pink chair with pink tassels hanging from its skirt. “You will start at the beginning, my dear, and do not even consider withholding a single detail.”

  Thirty minutes later, Arabella found herself winding up her story as Mrs. Cook clucked and tittered with every snip of her scissors. There had been no point in using Mrs. Cook as an excuse to delay telling her tale, not after the woman had bustled into the room and Gloria blithely announced the reason for Arabella’s missing hair. Mrs. Cook insisted on hearing all the details, and Arabella hadn’t been able to come up with a sufficient reason to refuse.

  “So then, Theodore left me alone in the cell, and not long after that he came back with Sheriff Dawson in tow, and I was released.”

  “That is so romantic,” Mrs. Cook gushed.

  “There was nothing romantic about it,” Arabella argued.

  Gloria cleared her throat. “Oh, I don’t know about that, Arabella. There certainly is something romantic about a dashing gentleman such as Theodore racing to a damsel-in-distress’s rescue and saving said damsel—which is you, by the way—from a most unpleasant fate.”

  “Do you know, the first time I saw Mr. Wilder, I got a bit weak at the knees,” Cora said.

  What did that have to do with anything?

  “Perhaps I shouldn’t have extended an invitation to Mrs. and Miss Murdock,” Gloria said slowly. “Felicia is a charming young lady, and I’d certainly hate for Theodore to become distracted from the plot, or, ah . . . well, you know.”

  Perhaps she had not been clear regarding her interest, or lack thereof, in Theodore.

  She cleared her throat. “Mother, you know I hate to disappoint you, but I’m an independent woman, more independent than most because of Grandmother’s inheritance. I’m not opposed to marriage . . . eventually. However, Theodore Wilder is not meant for me. You must realize his idea of the ideal wife is a demure lady who will not be opposed to catering to his every whim.”

  “If you love someone, dear,” Cora said, “you want to do special little things for them.”

  “Yes, but it should be a choice,” Arabella argued. “I have the distinct feeling Theodore was brought up in an environment where those ‘special little things’ are expected of women. There’s a difference between wanting to do for a man and having it expected of you.”

  “She does have a point,” Agatha said. “And everyone in this room—well, besides you, Mrs. Cook—is aware of the fact that Theodore is beyond old-fashioned.”

  “Even I know that Mr. Theodore Wilder is a fine figure of a man,” Mrs. Cook said with a chuckle as she made a final cut and tousled Arabella’s hair. “There, it’s the best I can do.”

  Arabella smiled her thanks and pulled off the piece of linen Mrs. Cook had set around her shoulders to catch any falling hair. She rose to her feet. “I suppose I should change my dress.”

  “Aren’t you going to look in the mirror?” Eliza asked.

  “Arabella’s never been overly concerned with her appearance,” Gloria said.

  “If I looked like Miss Beckett, I would find it difficult to pull myself away from my reflection,” Mrs. Cook declared. “If I do say so myself, dear, I did a lovely job layering your locks so your shorter hair blends in. With the amount of curl you possess, and your reputation for being fashionable, I doubt anyone will even realize your style was not intentional. You look absolutely charming.”

  Arabella glanced around and found all the ladies nodding in agreement. Feeling a bit self-conscious but not wanting to hurt Mrs. Cook’s feelings, she moved to her mirror and couldn’t quite stifle the gasp that escaped her lips. She leaned closer. Her hair was a shiny mass of loose curls that tumbled to her shoulders. The area of her head where her hair had been cut off was layered quite adeptly, but . . . Arabella narrowed her eyes. She didn’t look like herself anymore.

  “You remind me of an imp,” Agatha said.

  “An imp?”

  “Yes, you know, those mischievous creatures that frolic in children’s books.”

  “I thought an imp was like an urchin,” Eliza said.

  “She certainly doesn’t look like an urchin,” Cora exclaimed. “In fact, she looks, hmm . . .”

  “Approachable,” Gloria finish
ed for Cora. “Oh, this is so exciting.”

  “Why would you find this exciting?” Arabella asked as alarm began sliding through her.

  “You’ve always shown such little regard for your appearance, darling, but now you will no longer be able to secure your hair back in that stern chignon you’ve been wearing for years. You look five years younger, and need I say a bit frivolous?”

  “I look frivolous?” Arabella asked, spinning back to look in the mirror. She did look frivolous. The riot of curls framing her face seemed to accent her eyes, and for some reason it appeared as if her eyes were now larger.

  “I look as if I’ve lost my intelligence,” she muttered.

  “A girl should never have too much intelligence,” Mrs. Cook proclaimed. “You are going to have the gentlemen of New York falling at your feet.”

  “I certainly hope not,” Arabella said, although . . . it would be interesting to see if Theodore would feel compelled to fall at her feet.

  She blinked at her reflection even as the thought came to her that perhaps she really had lost a little of her intelligence with each inch of hair Mrs. Cook had cut away.

  She turned and forced a smile. “Since I have now been sufficiently groomed to attend Mother’s dinner party, may I suggest we continue our conversation at a later date? I’m sure everyone would love an opportunity to freshen up a bit before the festivities begin.”

  She bid Eliza and Agatha goodbye, ignored the smug looks she saw her mother and Cora exchange, thanked Mrs. Cook once again, and finally plopped into a chair once everyone had left her room.

  She permitted herself a moment to simply sit, but then a restless urge swept over her. She pushed to her feet and strode to the wardrobe. As she rummaged around the contents of her closet, the thought kept springing to mind that, for some unknown reason, it was imperative she find the perfect outfit to wear to dinner.

  8

  Theodore stretched his legs and regarded his mother and sister, who were sitting on the opposite side of the carriage. Both of them were fidgeting, a circumstance that was slightly alarming.