“He doesn’t seem…safe,” I answered quietly.
“I’m surprised at you, Nicky, thinking up wild antidotes regarding people you hardly know.”
Did I not know Mr. Cal Hawthorne? I felt as if I did—I felt as if I’d known him for the longest time…and that getting to know him better would prove to be an absolutely fascinating adventure.
Which was the last thing I needed.
“And why ever would you say such a thing?” Father continued.
“Just an impression I got….” But then I took my chance to ask, “Do you know what his family is like?”
“Wealthy, well-respected, for the most part. His grandfather helped bring the railroads through Westborough and left quite an inheritance for his descendants.”
“Did you happen to know him while he was married?”
“You know he is a widower then, do you?”
“I’ve heard mention of it before… from Miss Abernathy.”
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” he stated.
“Now, Father, before you—”
“Were you also told that it was the same sort of arrangement your mother made with Grace Everstone when you were younger? Only his wife had been ill, and it was obvious to everyone that she would likely die young. But no one imagined she would pass away a mere three months after their wedding.”
Although I’d known he was widowed from our first meeting, and I’d heard a little about it from Miss Abernathy, hearing this information now, from my father, stirred a peculiar ache in my chest. Something like jealousy, which was ridiculous. I tried to convince myself that it had to do with wishing I’d had three months married to William, but I knew that wasn’t it. Being married for one day and widowed had been difficult enough. I couldn’t even imagine if we’d been married for three months before he’d been murdered.
But that really wasn’t it at all. I was jealous that someone else had had the fortune to be married to Mr. Cal Hawthorne.
Even as I told myself over and over and over that I didn’t want him.
“He’d worked for me for only a short time before the wedding, and then for maybe a year after. And it probably had a lot to do with why I’d grown so attached to him. He lived here in Boston alone, his family all still in Westborough at the time. His wife had been from New York, if I remember right, so her family wasn’t around either. It was such a trying time for the boy, I couldn’t help but take him under my wing.”
I knew Father had always wished for more children besides myself. It wasn’t a secret to anyone that he would have especially loved having a few sons, as all of his closest friends had. They’d all seemed to have more than enough. And then he’d been blessed with only me.
“I’ve been worried about him for a long time now, for I hadn’t known what had come of him over the last few years. You see, when he stopped working for me at the bank, he just left one day without a word and never came back. Which wasn’t like him at all.”
I had to agree. I couldn’t imagine the Mr. Hawthorne I’d experienced those three times I’d met him in recent weeks doing such a thing, and it made me wonder.
And I didn’t want to wonder. I wanted to stop thinking about him altogether.
But I couldn’t seem to make that happen.
That he had somehow made such an impression on Father all those years ago, and the fact that they had formed such a lasting friendship that could be picked back up so easily said much for Mr. Hawthorne’s character.
“Where did he go?” I asked.
“I was unable to find out a thing about him for the whole following year, no matter how I searched. And then your mother decided we’d take the extended vacation to Europe for you… I thought the idea of ever seeing him again was hopeless.”
“You never found out why he’d left the bank without a word? And was that three years ago, then?”
“It was. Just about the same time you’d become engaged to William. And I did find out the reason. And everything considering, I decided to forgive him,” Father contributed. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought you here today to meet him. We did need to buy you a horse, after all.”
“What was the reason he gave up his job working for you at Massachusetts Bank to work for some horse breeder?”
“The boy had his reasons, Nicky, and sometimes it is not for us to know everything. You know that. And right now, that’s something that doesn’t need to concern you.”
This felt like a slap in the face. Since when would Father intentionally want to keep information—which I desperately wanted—away from me?
Father looked at me suspiciously. “It pleases me that you want to know Cal better, Nicky, it truly it does. But you’ll have to get your answers from him as you get to know him better yourself, if you want them that badly.”
After traveling the rest of the way to the train station in silence and then having Fergus loaded onto the cargo car of the train into Boston, we made it to our compartment. A few minutes after the train started on its way, and after a long silence between us, Father spoke up. “We received an invitation in the post this morning for a dinner party at Everthorne in August.”
“Which I’ll also not be attending.”
“You will go, Nicholette.” Father huffed. “We’ve already been too lax in our social responsibilities since returning to Boston. It is time we stepped out more.”
But why did our first outings have to be a wedding and then a dinner at Everthorne?
I simply wasn’t ready to go into the mansion that used to be mine for such a short period of time. Even knowing that Vance and Violet had renovated the interior, I still didn’t think I would be able to stand a visit yet. Then, of course, there was the fact that it was Vance’s dinner party. And I hated Vance.
He now had everything I’d ever wanted. Everything I’d had for a split moment.
And it was his fault it was gone.
“Cal’s sister, Mabel Hawthorne, will be there.” Father’s voice roused me from my haunted memories. “I thought you’d be looking forward to seeing her again.”
“Oh…yes,” I allowed.
Mabel and Sylvie and I did get together on a regular basis, usually at Everwood, where Sylvie lived with her mother and stepfather. And Mabel had never once brought up what we’d done that day, for which I was deeply thankful. I didn’t like to think back on it myself, for I’d never done anything so embarrassing in all my life.
“Cal will likely be there, too, of course, in case getting to know him better is indeed of interest to you.”
“Father.”
“He’s become quite the eligible bachelor now that Violet has married Vance, you know. And I heard Evangeline and Claudine discussing him the other day in great detail. It seems they’re hoping he’ll snag your attention.”
“Is that right?” I finally uttered. “They don’t seem to be the only ones.” I slid a knowing glance across the cabin, directed straight at Father’s brownish-hazel eyes that matched my own. And he grinned, realizing he’d been caught.
I didn’t like this at all. The knowledge that Father desired for me to become so closely acquainted with Mr. Cal Hawthorne spoke volumes.
And it didn’t make any sense. Not now that I’d seen in what a bizarre manner he and his mother and sister lived their lives. Not that it was a bad way of living, just so strange.
Then, of course, there was the whole part of his life that none of them knew about.
“Dearest, I know it might be difficult to see Everthorne, but do try to think more about your future than your past. You have so many years ahead of you.”
Fighting back tears, I couldn’t answer.
Father reached into the space between us on the bench seat and grabbed my hand, squeezing it for a brief moment. Then he let go. “I’m sorry you’ve had to go through this. I do hope keeping you away from Boston for the last two years was the best thing. You don’t know how we’ve worried about this transition you’ve had to make back into society. I
don’t want you to feel pressured to marry, but I want you to know, it would make me happy if you did.”
“Really?” I asked, genuinely shocked. “Why?”
“You know we weren’t able to have any more children after we had you…and I’ve missed that. Being a parent is a wondrous thing, daughter, and I think I’d enjoy being a grandfather.”
Ah, so that was his reasoning. Knowing this changed so much about my perception of how things had been in the last few years. Perhaps he and Mother hadn’t been so worried about my reentrance to society as they were anxious about how things would go for me after I did so.
“I’m looking forward to that too someday, Father.”
And it was the truth. I did want to marry again, to rebuild my life, to become a mother someday.
“When is the dinner party?” I asked, knowing full well I was giving Father too much hope that I’d eventually agree.
“The eleventh of August. And I see that look on your face, Nicky.” Father grinned knowingly. “You look like you’re considering.”
“I’ll think about it, Father. But I’m not making any promises.”
8
Riverway Park
“Willing is not enough; we must do.”
—Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
A week later, while I’d been traveling through town with my parents, calling on many of their old friends to request items for the silent auction at the upcoming Charity Ball, we happened to stop at our favorite restaurant for lunch. As my parents and I made our way into the front door of the restaurant, however, I immediately noticed Vance and Violet Everstone sitting at a table in the corner, along with Sylvie Boutilier and Mr. Cal Hawthorne.
Jealousy swarmed through me at seeing Mr. Hawthorne seated next to Sylvie, and I tried to tamp it down, to make it disappear forever, but there seemed nothing I could do. I hated that I still had such severe reactions at just the thought of him, and especially the sight of him. Despite how I fought the feelings he induced, it was a constant, losing battle.
But why were Mr. Hawthorne and Sylvie there with Vance and Violet? Were they trying to make a match between them the same way Miss Abernathy wanted to match him with me?
Ugh, what a thought. How would I ever stand to be friends with her again?
They didn’t notice us come into the restaurant at first, but Father fixed that when he led Mother and me over to their table as we were being shown to our own table across the room.
Fortunately, we only stayed long enough to say hello and then moved on to our table for our meal. But my relaxed meal with my parents had become anything but that knowing that Mr. Hawthorne sat next to the French, charming Sylvie Boutilier on the other side of the room.
Sylvie, who didn’t have the guilt of being found snooping in his house hanging over her head. Yes, she’d been with us for a moment, but Mr. Hawthorne wouldn’t have known that. He’d only known his sister and I had been there.
When we finished our lunch, our friends had long since left the restaurant, and I was forced to imagine Mr. Hawthorne spending the rest of his afternoon with Sylvie, which had me in a particular mood. I certainly didn’t like it. Why was it that the sight of this one man—no matter the situation—did more things to my heart than any other man before him? Why did he have such influence on my emotions, when I didn’t even want to like him?
When we came out of the restaurant to call for our carriage, we realized that our friends hadn’t left after all. Both Vance and Mr. Hawthorne stood next to Vance’s large carriage, which was parked next to the sidewalk a little ways down the street, and we made our way over.
“Glad to see you are still here,” Father said, patting both Vance and Mr. Hawthorne on the back. As we walked up to the carriage, Mother and I noticed Violet and Sylvie inside, keeping out of the sun, and waved to them.
“We were wondering if you wanted to join us for our excursion to Riverway Park,” Vance said. “It’s a shame not to enjoy the beautiful weather we’re having.”
“It is a wonderful day, but unfortunately we are taking advantage of it in our own way, calling upon our friends who have volunteered to donate items for the Charity Ball’s silent auction.”
“That reminds me,” Vance said. “I have something I’d like to include as well. We weren’t in town when you initially went about asking for donations.”
“Very well, we’ll always find room for something more. I have a feeling the auction items this year are going to make for a successful benefit.”
Vance looked at Mr. Hawthorne for a moment, which caught my attention, for I hadn’t looked at either Vance or Mr. Hawthorne until then. Since walking up to them, I had kept back with Mother as Father had his conversation.
But then Violet asked, “Could you, at least, spare Nicholette?”
My eyes darted to Violet, and then Mr. Hawthorne, who looked as surprised as I felt at the request.
“Well, I don’t see why not,” Father said. “What do you think, Nicholette? Would you rather go with your friends to the Riverway than continue on with us?”
I was torn. I did, and I didn’t. I wanted to see more of Mr. Hawthorne, yet I knew it was a terrible idea to do so. Then there was Sylvie. It could end up that Vance and Violet walked together through the park and Mr. Hawthorne and Sylvie were to walk together. Would I merely find myself bringing up the end of the line all on my own? That didn’t sound like a good time. But then there was also the alternate possibility—that I would be the one walking alongside him….
Which was a terrible idea.
It really was.
However, I found I couldn’t say anything but, “I—I suppose.”
Father took my arm and guided me closer to the carriage, next to Mr. Hawthorne.
“That is perfect. We were just taking Sylvie to pay a call on a dear friend of hers from finishing school for the afternoon, and we have a few hours until it is time to take her home.”
It wasn’t perfect. It was terrible. And I was foolish.
Once we said goodbye to my parents, Vance entered his carriage, leaving Mr. Hawthorne to help me in to sit between Violet and Sylvie on the forward-facing bench. He then climbed in, and we were off.
As I sat there, facing Mr. Hawthorne in the carriage, staring out the side carriage windows, I knew I shouldn’t have come. Why had I set myself up to walk alongside him for a stroll through the park? What was wrong with me?
I liked him more than anyone I’d ever met before, that was what was wrong with me. And there I was practically inviting him to take another chance.
And I shouldn’t have wanted him to. I didn’t know if I’d be able to resist giving in to him if he reverted to how very amiable he’d been the first time we’d met at Brittle Brattle Books.
On our ride to drop Sylvie off at her friend’s house, while Vance and Mr. Hawthorne spoke of horses and made plans to go riding together sometime, Sylvie scooted closer to me on the bench and whispered in my ear, “Mabel told me what you overheard between Mr. Hawthorne and his friend at his house. So I think I’d better give you another lesson—”
“Really, Sylvie, I don’t need any more lessons,” I whispered back, though what I’d said didn’t mean anything to anyone. “I’ve decided against everything I thought I needed help with.”
“You need the lesson even more, then.”
“All right. What is it?”
“Let Mr. Hawthorne court you.” She made sure to cup her hand over my ear, which caught Mr. Hawthorne’s attention. His gray-blue eyes met mine across the space of the carriage, even as he was in the middle of saying something to Violet.
My heart skipped as Mr. Hawthorne’s ever-so-slight smirk kicked up at one side, and I drew in a quick breath.
“That sounds more like a demand than a lesson,” I uttered back to Sylvie.
“And a marvelous one, if I might say so. Just imagine.”
I didn’t need her help imagining. Wondering what it would be like to allow Mr. Hawthorne his suit was already some
thing I continually fought against on my own without her help in bringing up the idea. Especially when he continued to glance at me during our carriage ride throughout town.
It didn’t take long to get to the park after dropping Sylvie off at her friend’s house. When the carriage stopped on the east side of Riverway Park, Vance helped Violet out first. Then Mr. Hawthorne climbed out to help me. As Vance and Violet started down the path, Mr. Hawthorne offered me his arm.
I placed my hand upon his forearm until my fingers curled into the bend of his elbow. Goodness, I’d had no idea he was so solid.
I sucked in my breath, unable to refrain from thinking back to when I’d watched him in his home. How differently I’d thought of him then, how hopeful I’d been, and how thrilling it had been to study him with awestruck wonder for those few minutes before overhearing his conversation with Officer Underwood that had changed everything.
Mr. Hawthorne and I stepped down the path in silence, and I wondered again if the walk wasn’t merely a terrible idea, but rather the most horrendous idea ever.
We didn’t go far before he guided us off the path toward a stone bridge that went right over another path that Vance and Violet had taken. They’d already been well on their way to losing us, especially now that we’d stopped.
Trees surrounded us all along the hills that sloped up to each end of the bridge where it met the bridle path, and the green canopy of leaves overhead provided much-needed shade. The bridge he’d chosen to take me looked quite peculiar, as if it were supposed to be built over a river or canal, but instead, a dirt path went under it.
Mr. Hawthorne guided me toward the wall of the bridge and I let go of his arm. He took off his hat, holding it in his hand. “Look, I wanted to apologize for what happened when you were visiting my sister.”
I didn’t give him an answer, for I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to say anything. And why did he want to apologize to me? I’d been the one in the wrong.
Mr. Hawthorne smirked, then looked over his shoulder to be sure no one was near enough to hear. “I don’t want you to think I blame you for being in my house…” he leaned in and continued with a whisper, “for being found in my bedchamber.”
Enchanting Nicholette Page 7
