by Karen Kirst
She patted the spot and nodded. “That’s better. Thank you, Henry.”
He’d never been overly fond of his name, but he liked the way she said it, swallowing the H slightly and removing the choppiness by flowing the N into the R. No doubt that was the result of having learned French at an early age. “You’re welcome.”
She picked up the letter and read it again.
As much as he’d like to know what was in it, he refused to pry. “I think I’ll get some of that gingerbread before the children devour it.” He stood.
“My father wants me to leave sooner than was originally planned.”
“What?” He plopped back down.
“He sent a letter by Pony Express. To Stuart. In this letter he relays Father’s wishes. It seems South Carolina is expected to announce its intention to secede very soon, making travel a risk. Stuart checked on the departures. The Sonora is scheduled to leave San Francisco December twenty-first, and Father expects us to be on it.”
Dread settled in Henry’s stomach like an anvil. “But he agreed to let you stay until Christmas.”
“He did, and I will. Stuart knows how important it is to me not to uproot the children before then.”
Uproot the children. How could she say the words so calmly? Had she thought about what she intended to do, or was she simply carrying out her father’s wishes? Pauline had stood up to the man, but from what Henry had seen, Lavinia rarely did, which concerned him. How would she fare when she returned to Philadelphia without the children? What price would she have to pay? If only there was some way to spare her the punishment Paul Crowne was sure to mete out.
“So you don’t plan to leave ahead of schedule?” Please, Lord, let that be the case. I’d like as much time as possible to show her that the children will be better off here and make the parting a little easier on her.
“Stuart did some more checking and discovered that the Golden Age won’t sail until January first. He took the liberty of telling my father that’s the one we’ll be taking.”
Had he heard correctly? “Mr. Worthington made the decision without consulting you?”
She lifted her head in regal fashion, her chin thrust forward, and assumed the imperious air he hadn’t seen since she’d first arrived and had stated her intention to take the children away from him. “Stuart and I have talked over the matter at great length. He’s aware of my wishes.”
Henry’s stomach pitched. “I didn’t realize the two of you were so close.”
Why it mattered, he didn’t know. But it did.
A wave of nausea washed over him as he waited for her response.
* * *
Why Henry’s observation bothered her, Lavinia didn’t know. But it did.
Her relationship with Stuart wasn’t something she wanted to explain or defend. She preferred not to think about it at all. Her father had put forth so many potential suitors over the years that she’d grown weary of the process. Stuart might be the latest one foisted on her, but he didn’t make her heart beat faster the way Henry did.
No. She mustn’t think about Henry in that way.
He sat beside her awaiting a reply. His curiosity was understandable. After all, Stuart would be accompanying Alex and the girls back to Philadelphia, provided she removed the hurdle of Henry’s guardianship in time.
She’d been praying, eagerly awaiting the Lord’s guidance, but she had yet to discover anything that could serve as grounds for successfully contesting the will. Not that she’d given up. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Returning without the children wasn’t an option.
There had to be a way to have the will invalidated and Henry’s roles as executor and guardian revoked, and she would find it. She reviewed her notes on the statutes regularly, so she was familiar with them. She’d written Stuart, asking for referrals to the best lawyers in San Francisco. She’d find one who would take her case, come to Amador Country for the trial and—despite Mr. Price’s doubts that it was possible to do so—win.
“As I told you the day you pulled that limb off me, Stuart works for my father. He traveled with Gladys and me all the way to Sutter Creek, but he returned to San Francisco right away.”
“I take it he has business there.”
“That’s correct.” Was it her imagination, or did Henry look relieved? “Father’s heard the city is on its way to becoming the cultural center of the West. He asked Stuart to explore the possibility of opening a hotel there—the Golden Crowne.”
“So would Mr. Worthington oversee the project?”
“Not that I know of.” She could see why Henry might think that, given what she’d said so far. “Stuart believes Father is testing him to see if he has the skills and expertise needed to make an accurate assessment and formulate a plan. He’s already proven his ability to manage a hotel, but establishing one isn’t a task Father has delegated before. He’s always seen to that himself, but he believes the time has come to train a successor.”
“And he’s considering Mr. Worthington.” Henry was quick to grasp the situation, but he didn’t look happy about it. There was a firm set to his mouth.
“He is.” She focused on the carpet runner lest Henry see the pain she had a hard time hiding when she thought about her father’s insistence that she marry a man of his choosing, an heir to take over his hotel empire. Other than announcing her intention to attend Jack and Pauline’s wedding and her plan to travel to California after learning of their deaths, Lavinia had only faced off with her father one other time. Over this very issue.
It had been a dark, dreary day not long after Pauline had moved away. Lavinia could remember it in vivid detail—the ticking of the mantel clock, the scent of her father’s pipe tobacco, the jellylike state of her knees. She’d stood before his desk with her backbone as stiff as his ebony walking stick and stated in no uncertain terms that she resented his interference in her romantic relationships. Although she hadn’t yet turned seventeen, he’d already begun to introduce her to men he deemed suitable.
“I gather from the heat flashing in those dark eyes of yours that you don’t like the idea of Mr. Worthington at the helm.”
She hadn’t been looking at Henry, but apparently he’d been watching her. With effort, she schooled her features. At least she hoped she had, but remaining calm while discussing one of the most difficult days of her life wasn’t easy. Her chest had been so tight that morning in her father’s study that she had feared she’d swoon. The only thing that had kept her from doing so was the thought of her father disparaging her for being a feeble female. Any show of weakness opened her to his ridicule, and she couldn’t abide that.
One day, she would earn her father’s favor and no longer fear him speaking ill of her as he had her bright, beautiful sister. Until that day came, Lavinia would choose her battles carefully.
“I think Stuart would do a wonderful job running the business.” That was the problem. Of all the men her father had sent her way, Stuart was the only one she believed to be up to the task.
Henry studied her, as though trying to figure out what she dreaded putting into words. “But…?”
“There’s more to it than that.” A great deal more. She twirled an escaped curl around her finger and was reminded of Henry’s clumsy but kind attempt to put her hair to rights. Why she’d accepted his offer to replace her hairpin, she didn’t know. Perhaps it was because they’d agreed to set aside their differences down in Jackson. She couldn’t remember ever having enjoyed spending time with a gentleman as much as she had with Henry. He was funny and kind and—
He was staring at her, his eyebrows raised, clearly waiting for her to elaborate.
She drew in a fortifying breath and forged ahead. “Before Father will accept a man as his successor, that man must first become his legal heir.”
Henry’s eyebrows shot even higher and then
dived into a V—whether from concern or disapproval, she couldn’t tell. “Are you saying Mr. Worthington is your intended?”
“Not at the present, but…” She chose her words carefully. Henry harbored enough animosity toward her father as it was. “Father and I made an agreement years ago when he first began thinking about who would take over his company should he become unable to oversee things himself. He can suggest men he’d like me to consider as prospective suitors, but I have the final say on which one of them I will accept.”
Henry raked a hand through his hair, leaving his wavy locks disheveled. Instinctively, she reached up and smoothed his tousled hair as she’d wanted to do earlier that day. She pulled her hand back quickly, but he caught it and twined his fingers with hers.
He gazed into her eyes, his own filled with unmistakable concern. “Are you saying your father planned to choose your husband for you?”
She withdrew her hand, hid it beneath the folds of her skirt and rushed to her father’s defense. “It’s not uncommon. Some of my friends’ marriages were arranged by their parents.”
“I know it’s done, but I’m glad you aren’t willing to settle for that.”
She wasn’t, but earning that right hadn’t been easy. Father had fumed before sending her away. Five agonizing days had passed before he’d relented—with stipulations.
Henry lifted her chin with a fingertip, not removing it until she looked at him. “You aren’t reconsidering, are you?”
“Not that’s it’s any business of yours, but when I marry, I fully intend it to be a love match.” She hadn’t meant for her reply to have an edge to it, but Henry’s questions were forcing her to revisit a topic that triggered painful memories.
“What if the man who claims your heart doesn’t meet with your father’s approval?”
Standing before her father’s desk, she’d asked him the same question when he’d called her into his office to give her his answer. He leaned back in his large leather chair, hands behind his head, and told her in no uncertain terms what would happen if she chose to marry a man who wasn’t one of those he sent her way. She knew all too well he’d meant what he’d said.
“That won’t be a problem since I only spend time with men he considers suitable.”
“You might have gained a small measure of freedom, but your evasiveness tells me there’s more to the story. What’s to keep you from enjoying the company of gentlemen of your own choosing?”
His probing question tapped into the sense of unfairness she’d battled for years and loosened her tongue. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I went along with Father’s wishes because it’s important to me to remain in his good graces. I refuse to suffer the rejection my sister did. He said terrible things about Pauli—”
She clamped her right hand over her mouth, turned away and gripped a baluster with her left. The wrought iron was cool to the touch, a contrast to her heated state. She’d dropped her guard and had told Henry far too much.
The murmur of the children’s voices in the kitchen carried, punctuated by Dot’s laughter. At least someone was having a good time.
“Lavinia? Please, talk to me.”
As much as wanted to ignore Henry, she couldn’t. She released the railing and forced herself to look at him.
The compassion in his eyes seemed genuine. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just trying to make sense of things.”
She focused on the toes of her forest green boots peeking from beneath her skirts. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have lashed out like that.”
“It’s understandable. I pushed you too hard, but I have a better understanding now.”
“Father means well.” Surely, he did. He just had a strange way of showing it.
Henry cleared his throat, drawing her attention to him and the tightness of his fine features. “I take it Mr. Worthington has met with your father’s approval, given that he consented to have him serve as your escort.”
“He didn’t have to consent. Having Stuart accompany me was his idea, not mine.”
No! She’d done it again, speaking too soon and saying too much.
The tension in Henry’s face eased, giving her the impression he’d been battling jealousy, which made no sense. The children had given him the opportunity to kiss her, but he hadn’t taken it. Not that she’d wanted him to. Well, perhaps the impulsive part of her had, but the sensible part knew better than to encourage him.
She gave herself a mental shake and changed the subject. “Gladys and I have chosen the desserts she’ll be preparing for the Christmas party. Would you like to see the list?”
“Sure.”
“It’s in the parlor. I’ll get it and meet you in the kitchen.”
Lavinia hopped up, retrieved her notebook from the desk and stepped into the entryway just as someone rapped on the front door. She opened it. “Oh, Mr. Staples. What a surprise. I thought you’d be over at your shop.”
“My brother’s handling things for me.”
“I see. Well, please, come in.”
“Thank you.” The grocer stepped inside, clutching his hat by the brim and spinning it ’round and ’round.
“What can I do for you?”
“I wondered if I might have a word with Gladys. If it’s not too much trouble, that is,” he added quickly.
Mr. Staples had never struck her as nervous before. “Is everything all right?”
“It’s fine, Miss Crowne. Better than fine. Leastwise, I think it is. I’ll know more when I talk with Gladys.”
“I hope nothing’s come up to change your plans to take her riding Saturday. She’s looking forward to it.”
The portly man’s smile was as broad as it was unexpected. “Oh, I’ll be taking her riding, all right, but if she’ll have me, I aim to marry her first.”
Lavinia’s notebook slipped from her hands and hit the floor with a thud.
How could she manage without Gladys?
CHAPTER TEN
Two days had passed since Mr. Staples had made his startling announcement, and yet Lavinia was still grappling with the news. The kindly grocer had apologized profusely about the timing of the wedding and honeymoon trip, but he was taking advantage of the unexpected visit from his brother, who had agreed to watch the shop in his absence. Having been cheated by a clerk in years past, Mr. Staples wouldn’t leave his shop in the care of anyone but a trusted family member. Since his brother would be heading to the new state of Oregon the day after Christmas and wouldn’t be back in Sutter Creek for another year, Mr. Staples had seized the opportunity to marry the woman who had him smiling like a schoolboy.
Although Lavinia understood the grocer’s situation, it complicated hers. She’d been counting on Gladys to prepare the desserts for the party. But her departure would give Lavinia an opportunity to show the community—and Henry—that she could cope with challenges. That would serve to strengthen her case when it went to court.
She shook off her concerns. This was Gladys’s day, and she deserved to be happy.
The first time Lavinia had seen a bride beaming at her groom was the day Pauline had stood at the back of the small church the Hawthorn family attended and gotten her first glimpse of Jack standing beside the minister, waiting for her to walk down the aisle to him. It appeared Gladys was just as smitten with Mr. Staples. The skies might be overcast that Saturday morning, but the grocer’s bride-to-be was radiant.
Lavinia adjusted the simple veil she’d fashioned for Gladys the day before and turned her around so she could see herself in the mirror over Lavinia’s bureau. “If I’d had more time, I would have seen to it that you had a lovely wedding dress to go with this, but the emerald gown you’re wearing draws attention to your striking green eyes.”
Gladys gazed at her reflection with wonder
, fingering the soft tulle that flowed around her in a cloudlike mist. “I could be wearing a flour sack for all I care. I thank the good Lord for bringing Emery into my life. I’d given up hope of getting married years ago, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to find a feller. At my age, I would have been happy with companionship, but God’s given me a man who adores me. I can be a mite prickly at times, but Emery said I just needed someone willing to peel back the layers.” Her laugh, although rusty, was a welcome sound.
“It’s easy to see how much he loves you. His eyes light up when you walk in the room, but we need something that will make his chin drop when he sees you at the top of the stairs. I have just the thing.” Lavinia opened her jewelry box and pulled out the strand of pearls Gladys had often admired. “I wasn’t able to get you a wedding present, so consider this my gift to you. Let’s see how the necklace looks on you.”
Gladys shook her head, threatening to dislodge her veil. “I can’t accept that. It’s far too generous.”
Lavinia kept her tone light and playful. “Now, don’t go robbing me of my joy. You’ve been making me look good for years. It’s my turn to do something for you.” She slipped the string of pearls around Gladys’s neck before she could protest further and clasped it. “There. You look lovely.”
The giddy bride whirled around and pulled Lavinia into a hug, a display of affection so unlike Gladys and so unexpected that Lavinia had to take a step back to keep from losing her balance. “You’re too kind, Miss Lavinia. I’m going to miss you.”
She returned the embrace. “I’ll miss you, too.” Gladys had been more than a servant. She’d become a friend, although her work with the children had been a huge help. Without her, Lavinia would be hard-pressed to care for them. Her fledgling cooking skills would hardly suffice. She’d only helped with the laundry once and had yet to attempt ironing. Henry, with his vast array of knowledge, could probably tackle those tasks and more. She didn’t want to think about what that did to her chances of becoming the children’s guardian.
