But Father?
If my suspicions were correct, why hadn’t he told me? When I had asked my questions, he’d shut me out, told me I needed to ask Cal himself if I had questions.
Instead, I’d promptly become so infatuated with the man, I’d forgotten to even care about the answers.
Then there was Miss Abernathy, who stood before me now. Cal’s mother, Letty Hawthorne, was one of her best of friends. Could Letty be short for Charlotte? Could her very own friend, in actuality, be someone she unknowingly held such severe judgments against?
And if it were all true, what would Miss Abernathy do when she found out?
“You said Mr. Chauncey Hawthorne III is now still one of New England’s most eligible bachelors, despite the scandal...but that he’d once been married?” I asked, for everything in me now worked on the suspicion that we could very well be talking about Cal, Mabel, and Letty Hawthorne. And the thought that Miss Abernathy, and possibly my own mother and her other influential friends, would retain such judgments over them, created what felt like a tunnel of despair spiraling through my chest.
“Oh yes, his fortune alone will ensure he will marry well, as he had the first time. Not to anyone of our class, of course, but to someone with a good family name, but who might be, for whatever reason, in desperate need of money. Someone who wants the privilege of living in house like Hilldreth Manor.”
“And his first wife…what happened to her?” I asked.
“His first wife died shortly before the whole scandal with his father came about, poor dear. I don’t recall her name, though. It’s a miracle I recalled the name of his sister.”
“And he lived with his wife for a short while, before she passed away…on Beacon Street?” I endeavored to ask evenly, for my thoughts were fragmenting through me, sinking into my stomach…making me feel ill. Everything in me wanted to run for the door, to search the place for the familiar face I knew would be in that crowd…the familiar face with a new name.
“Yes, that was what I said.”
In that instant, I had a most brilliant thought, the one question that would answer everything, if only Miss Abernathy could recall one more detail. “Miss Abernathy, you don’t happen to remember Mr. Chauncey Hawthorne III’s middle name, by chance, do you?”
“Well, of course! Everyone who’s anyone from Westborough knows that. The middle name is after a great-grandmother, if I recall, and is O’Callaghan.”
Although the suspect details had been aligning for some minutes, the utter shock of realizing the truth still stunned me.
Chauncey O’Callaghan Hawthorne III was Cal.
Cal was Chauncey O’Callaghan Hawthorne III.
Why hadn’t anyone told me—least of all, Cal?
And what exactly did this mean?
That he, and so many other people, had lied and lied and lied.
But the more I thought about it, did it even matter?
I couldn’t blame Cal for living in hiding because of the scandal attached to his otherwise good family, in South Boston of all places. I’d been guilty of hiding away myself for the last two years. And his mother and sister, perhaps it was best they had moved to South Boston and lived in their finely appointed little double house, waiting for the rumors to die down. With how young Cal’s sister was, and how ill his mother had become in the last few years, and how everything about their life had become so trying. I couldn’t even try to imagine how difficult it all had been.
I had a feeling Cal had tried to tell me at least once, now that I thought back to all of our discussions. Of course he would have gotten around to it. He’d given me enough clues, after all. And there were so many other factors, more than even Miss Abernathy knew.
Like the fact that my father had known everything all along.
“Miss Abernathy, do you think he’s still here…now?” I asked.
“Well, yes. His five thousand special gift donation was the first to be announced. Did you not hear? I’m sure he’s still around. He would want to stay longer than to simply impress everyone with his generosity; he’s likely here to declare to the world that he’s back in Boston with plans to move into Hilldreth Manor, with money to spare.”
“Excuse me then.” I put my hand on Miss Abernathy’s plump arm. “I was on my way up to the stage. I’d forgotten I wanted to tell them to announce my special gift donation as anonymous.”
Honestly, they could have already announced it, and I wouldn’t have known. I’d been so focused on everything Miss Abernathy had been willing to share in the last ten minutes.
“Why ever would you want to do that?” Miss Abernathy asked, incredulous. Then she seemed to understand my real cause in leaving so quickly, for she said, “Now, Nicholette, you don’t mean to have an introduction made, do you? What are you thinking?”
But I’d already started for the other side of the room by the time she’d asked this. Which was just as well, because I didn’t know what to think, except that I just needed to see him.
15
Mr. Hawthorne
“Thou hast ravished my heart.”
— Song of Solomon 4:9
Searching the ballroom the best I could, I quickly examined every crowded group as I passed. Was Cal even there anymore? He’d told me he wouldn’t be there, that he needed to keep a low profile. But then why had he come?
To make his substantial donation and reveal himself to Boston?
Because he was eager to have his old—his real life back?
Because the case was over?
Or because he knew I’d be there?
As I circled the ballroom again, I had to admit that I might have missed him. Perhaps Cal had only come to make his monetary donation for the sake of the Children’s Aid Society, and then left, not wanting me to see him. Realizing that I probably looked a bit ridiculous hurrying about the room as I was, I decided to find a quiet place to rest…to think.
There were all kinds of little corners and alcoves in the Cravens’ third-floor ballroom, and I crept into one of the draped-off rooms, hoping no one else had had the same idea. There were five tall, rounded windows circling the turret-shaped room, all without curtains, all gathering moonlight and spreading it all about the floor. There was a small sofa and two chairs, as if the room were made for a tiny meeting area. I didn’t know what else anyone would find to do in such a room during a ball…besides what I’d done in a very similar room at Everthorne…the last time I’d seen Cal.
Or rather, the last time I’d seen Chauncey Hawthorne III.
When he’d kissed me breathless.
I sat upon the sofa, turned to face the windows, and stared up at the full moon shining down into the little room.
God, is this You…? Is this You helping me?
I felt as though my whole world had shifted irreparably. And what would be left? I was in love with Cal…I knew this. But what would I do now? Would I be allowed to marry him? I wanted to. I still wanted to.
Instead of circling the ballroom aimlessly, I realized I should have simply found my father…but would his answers to my questions have been the same as they had been the last time I’d asked? Would he again simply tell me to go straight to the source, to get my answers from Cal?
It had been my goal, in searching the ballroom, not that I had planned what I’d say when I saw him.
The light-bluish drapes at the entrance to the little room rustled, and a burst of laughter came from the other side. Standing, thinking I should allow the room to the group of friends ready to escape the crowd—and not to just sit there and dither endlessly—I hurried toward the opening in order to leave. I reached the curtain just as it was pulled aside to reveal no group of friends, but only Cal Hawthorne.
He stepped into the little room, letting the blue curtain fall behind him. “Were you looking for someone?”
“Just you,” I admitted. Not knowing how to feel besides utterly confused and completely and irresistibly drawn to him, I stayed my ground, right there in front of him,
with maybe only a foot between us.
“I had hoped not to create too big a stir tonight.” Cal didn’t move, simply stared down at me as he spoke.
“Oh, but there is a stir,” I muttered. Throughout the crowd, and also deep in my heart.
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. And something tells me you’ve already solved the mystery…of who I am.”
I took a step back, still so very unprepared for what to say to him. I had so many questions, and not a word would come. And I didn’t want to call him Chauncey. I could barely reconcile in my mind yet that he was Chauncey. However, the only thing that ending up coming out of my mouth as I looked into his familiar gray-blue eyes was, “You’re…you’re Chauncey O’Callaghan Hawthorne III.”
“I told you my name could be considered atrocious.” He came farther into the small room, taking up so much of the space with his impressive form. And yet, he seemed a bit shy now…as if he weren’t quite sure of my response. “It’s not exactly something one has practice admitting. Think how it would have sounded if I’d simply blurted it out, as I’ve been half-tempted to do a number of times.”
“You could have simply told me your given name was Chauncey when I asked you last week at Everthorne.” I thought of everything we’d said and done the last time we’d seen each other…and how differently I’d imagined this next meeting would be. “It probably would have been a good opportunity, considering everything else from later on that evening.”
His stature was so tall and strong, so intimidatingly attractive as he stood before me. And for all his charm and rugged appeal, he still seemed unsure, and quite nervous. “Were you ready to hear it that night at Everthorne?”
“I was barely ready tonight.” My words came out as a hoarse whisper.
“And would it have mattered then, Nicholette?” He closed the distance between us and inched his face closer to mine, also barely whispering the words. “Does it matter now?”
“Yes. Or no…well, actually, it would have…it might have. I’m glad you didn’t tell me.” I knew I’d come full circle; that nothing I’d just said made any sense. But really, little was making sense to me about anything. Except the fact that I still loved him, no matter what his name was.
“You’re glad I didn’t tell you.”
“Ironically, it’s probably best that I didn’t know…best that I hadn’t met you under the impression that Miss Claudine Abernathy has been trying to engrain in me tonight.” Stepping back again, I bumped into one of the armchairs and fell into its seat. I sat up nervously, and he came forward and took my hand in his.
He lifted me to my feet but then refused to let go of my hand. Clasping it in his, he pressed it to his chest, over his heart. He took a step, and at the same instant, pulled me closer.
And I wasn’t going to fight it any longer. There was no use. I knew the only place for me, truly, was with him, in his arms.
“This Mr. Chauncey Hawthorne III seems to have scandalized the gentile crowd gathered for this charity event, simply by showing up…and flaunting his money,” I said.
“Now, now, I wouldn’t say that…not if it’s for a good cause. Consider my appearance tonight merely an opportunity to announce my family’s return to Boston.”
I turned my hand and gripped his, my fingers entwined between his…and he let out a deep breath, as if relieved. “I can understand that, but Miss Abernathy is positively beside herself. I don’t know what she’s going to do when she—”
“Yes, I recall her opinion from the dinner party last week. Is that what you are afraid of? That Miss Abernathy and her scandalized sentiments about my father are going to prevent us from being together?”
I lifted a hand to the sleeve of his jacket and combed my fingernails against the material, from his shoulder to his chest. Tugging gently at his lapel, I brought his face down to mine and said, “Don’t you think that they—?”
“Not with everyone we have behind us. You just wait and see.” Wrapping his other arm farther around my waist, he brought me closer, allowing his hand to come up behind my back and his fingers to rest on my bare shoulder. “Between your father, Bram Everstone—and especially when Miss Abernathy realizes that Charlotte Hawthorne is her dearest, favorite friend Letty Hawthorne, she’ll come around.”
Although his face was slowly nearing mine, and I knew very well that he was now much more interested in kissing me than talking, I couldn’t help but ask, “Does this mean Ezra Hawthorne has been caught? That the case is over?”
“Yes, he’s been apprehended and jailed. It happened the night of the dinner party at Everthorne, in fact.”
“I’d had a feeling the urgent message was regarding your cousin, and I prayed for you, as I said I would.”
“And I believe God answered those prayers.” He lowered his head again, his gaze breaking from mine for the first time since he’d put his arms around me. Now, his eyes were focused on my lips. “And so many others besides.”
“And now we can have our meeting with Dr. Wellesley?” I asked breathlessly.
He smiled. “It’s already planned, and he’s looking forward to it.”
“Does Violet know about your true identity?” I asked, now merely flirting with his patience.
“She didn’t until earlier today. My father had been estranged from her father since they were young, before any of us were born. Mother had always—in the somewhat irregular letters between my mother and hers—referred to me as Cal and Maybelle as Mabel, our long-time nicknames.” He slid his fingers up to my cheek and then cradled my jaw in the palm of his hand. “But please don’t mention anything about Ezra to Violet yet. She doesn’t know that he’ll likely hang for all he’s done over the last few years. Although he’s been entirely wicked, he is her brother.”
“And now that it is finished, you’re not going to help with anything else…very dangerous, are you?”
“I can’t promise that I won’t. As a Christian, I can only promise to follow where God leads…however, I don’t see anything dangerous on the horizon.”
“I see.” But I understood his noble stance. It was part of who he was, and something about him that garnered even more admiration. “So what happened?” I asked.
“Nothing terrible, but it was definitely clear that God had His hand in the situation. But I’ve seen His hand work in so many other ways lately, it shouldn’t have surprised me. God is the One who has made all of this possible.” His cheek grazed mine, and he whispered, “When there seemed to be no way.”
“For so many reasons,” I reiterated, quietly. For it was definitely the truth.
“When I met you in the bookshop, I had my plan…” he said quietly. “That I would stay out of sight and not pursue you until the case was resolved, and I would be free to do so without secrets and misunderstandings…” He chuckled under his breath and stood back a bit, bringing his balled fist to his lips as he cleared his throat. Catching my eye again with an irresistible smile, he added, “At least that was my plan until I found you listening, waiting behind my bedchamber door that day Mabel sneaked you into my house.”
My hand, which had been at his chest, slipped up his jacket to his shoulder. “I thought I wouldn’t be blamed for that.”
“It is true, I don’t blame you…it’s just that I haven’t been able to get that image of you standing there out of my mind, no matter how I’ve tried.” His arm tightened about my waist.
“Yes, I know the feeling.” Though I’d meant my every thought of him over the last few months, from every moment I’d shared with him, I realized what I’d said had unfortunately sounded more specific to that one embarrassing instance.
“You also have trouble nixing that thought from your memory, Nicholette?”
I chose not to respond, considering the blush I could already feel creeping into my cheeks was incriminating enough.
“So I decided I wouldn’t lose you again—no matter the case, no matter the fact that you couldn’t know my real name because of the ca
se, and no matter that we had no idea when we’d actually nab Ezra.”
“And Father encouraged you, didn’t he?”
“It was some time after our meeting in the bookshop that he first visited me at Rochester Farms and admitted he’d figured out why I’d left the bank years ago—because of what my father had done.”
“He would hardly tell me anything about you,” I admitted. “Except that it pleased him to have me know you.”
“I begged him not to tell you my true identity, under the guise that it was more for the sake of letting the rumors settle a bit more. He didn’t understand, of course, that it was because of my involvement with the police we’d not made the transition. No one was supposed to know our true identities while I was undercover, you see. Least of all you.”
At this, Cal sat us upon the sofa, his arm still about my waist, and both of mine still draped around his shoulders.
“He was quite eager to see how things would progress between us, for he was fearful you would become too interested in a certain Mr. Alexander Summercourt to give me a decent chance.” An irresistible smirk graced his lips, his dimples coming out full force with the glee-filled smile. I couldn’t help it. I pulled him down to me and kissed him.
One arm remained looped around me, and the other was now braced against the wooden back of the high sofa, as if he weren’t certain whether to allow the kiss to go on or not. And then he pulled away, but only an inch—with a mere inch between our faces, he said, “Well, we know where that particular gentleman stands now.”
“He never had a chance with you around.” I sighed against his chest, happily.
Cal took his hand from the sofa and brought it around my shoulders. “I knew if I could make you love me, despite everything, then perhaps it wouldn’t matter so much when you found out about my father, and realized the stigma that came with my name.”
I sat back, put a few more inches between us, and studied his face, knowing he was being quite serious now, speaking of his father.
Enchanting Nicholette Page 15
