“We did. Mother thought it much too dull, and we repapered it in this lovely gold stripe. We also added a few mirrors to reflect the light.”
“I like it very much. Perhaps we can do something like this at home to brighten the interior.”
“I’m so glad you’ve come. I so enjoy our visits.” Ella lowered her voice. “Father rarely allows me to entertain.”
“What are you girls whispering about?” Ella’s mother asked.
Ella put her arm around Lizzy’s waist. “We’re hoping to have a chance to ride together.”
“There’s no reason you shouldn’t,” Mother replied. “The weather has been lovely.” She returned her attention to Lizzy’s mother.
“Forgive me,” Ella whispered. “I’ll explain everything later.”
Lizzy looked concerned, but she said nothing.
Ella saw her father and Mr. Brookstone speaking with a tall, handsome stranger. She lowered voice and leaned closer to Lizzy. “Who is that?”
Lizzy glanced over her shoulder. “That’s Mr. Jason Adler. He’s from England and apparently will be with our show for a time.”
Ella returned her attention to Lizzy. “Doing what? I thought it was all female performers.”
“He’ll be helping Uncle Oliver. You did hear that my father passed away earlier this year, didn’t you?”
Ella felt the blood drain from her face. How unfeeling she’d been not to mention it first thing. “I apologize. How thoughtless of me. I’m so sorry for your loss. We received your uncle’s telegram and were devastated for you.”
Lizzy was all graciousness. “Don’t feel bad. My father was an amazing man, and he will be missed, but he was also very practical. In fact, he insisted that the show had to continue—that it was his legacy and the only memorial he wanted. He begged Mother and me to continue with the performances. I suppose he knew that by keeping us busy, we would have less time to be swallowed up in sadness.”
“I liked your father. He was always so pleasant—even humorous. So unlike my father.” Ella fell silent, knowing she’d said too much. “I’m sure you must be tired. There’s time to rest before supper. Why don’t I show you upstairs, where you can take a nap or at least freshen up? I’m sure the servants have already taken up the bags.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to desert my mother,” Lizzy replied, “but I would like to be able to talk to you without everyone else listening in.”
Ella took her hand. “Mama will see to your mother’s needs. Come along.”
“Thank you.”
Taking the grand staircase in the deliberately slow manner she’d been taught, Ella glanced back down at the guests still speaking in the foyer. “Mr. Adler is quite handsome.”
“I suppose he is.” Lizzy sounded distant.
“Is something wrong?” Ella hoped she hadn’t offended.
“No, not really. I suppose I’m still wondering what role he’ll play in our show. Apparently there has been some concern about how we’re managing the business and, well . . . everything related to it.”
They reached the top of the stairs, and Ella stopped. “I know we’re not all that close, although I consider you my dearest friend.”
“I feel the same and must contradict you. We’re very close,” Lizzy said, smiling. “I don’t confide in many people as I do with you.”
Ella glanced down the hall where a black woman stood dusting one of the tables. She lowered her voice even more. “We need each other, then.”
She hurried to pull Lizzy down the hall and past the uniformed woman. When they reached the final door on the right, Ella opened it and all but dragged Lizzy inside.
“I’m sorry to seem so rude, but there is always someone listening in on conversations around here.” Ella let go of Lizzy and glanced around the room. There was no sign of Lizzy’s suitcase. “They’ll bring your things up soon, but in the meantime, let me open a window. It’s rather stuffy.”
Ella could feel Lizzy’s gaze on her. She had been hoping they might have a chance to talk about Ella’s situation. It was unseemly to involve an outsider in family matters, but Ella was starting to feel nervous. Still, it would be best to wait until they could be away from the house. Perhaps on their ride tomorrow.
“You seem upset.” Lizzy’s voice was soothing and kind.
Ella grew a deep breath and turned back to face her. It was silly to pretend nothing was wrong. “There is . . . a problem. But I can’t speak of it just now.”
As if to stress the point, a knock sounded on the bedroom door.
“Come in,” Ella called.
“I has Miz Brookstone’s things,” the young man declared. He brought in the bags and set them at the foot of the bed. “Mara say she be in by and by to put ’em away.”
“Thank you, Elijah. You may go.”
He gave a bit of a bow, then hurried from the room.
Lizzy looked at Ella. “We could go for a walk. I’m really not all that tired.”
Ella shook her head. “No. It will keep. I probably shouldn’t bother you with it at all.” She bit her lower lip. Had she already said too much? “Get some rest. Dinner will be served promptly at seven. Tell Mara what you intend to wear. She’ll have it pressed and ready for you.”
Lizzy nodded. The look of worry on her face left Ella feeling guiltier than before.
“Everything is just fine,” Ella said, forcing a smile. But it wasn’t fine. Nothing in her life was fine.
When they came down to supper that evening, things went from bad to worse. Jefferson was there. Jefferson Spiby was the basest form of man. He was also Ella’s fiancé, thanks to her father’s business arrangements. They had been engaged since she was fifteen, and the only reason they hadn’t married yet was that Mother insisted Ella was too young. But now that she was twenty, that excuse no longer applied. The wedding was planned for Christmas.
Jefferson spotted Ella and smiled in that suggestive way of his. It was embarrassing and terrifying at the same time and always left her feeling like she wanted a bath, even if she’d just come from one.
She had very nearly convinced herself that she should say nothing to Lizzy Brookstone, but seeing Jefferson here and knowing what he planned for her, Ella couldn’t remain silent. She had been making plans for weeks, ever since learning that Lizzy was coming to the farm. If she didn’t see them through, her fate with Jefferson would be sealed.
“Ella darling, your intended could not stay away,” her father declared as she and Lizzy joined the family in the large parlor.
Jefferson watched her like a cat eyeing its prey. He made his way to her, sleek and calculating in his moves. When he finally stood before her and Lizzy, he smiled and took Ella’s hand.
“My dear, you are deliciously beautiful.” His words were barely whispered, and no wonder. Ella knew her father would never allow such talk. He kissed her hand, rather than hover over it respectfully, and touched his tongue to her knuckles, leaving Ella nauseated.
“Lizzy, this is Jefferson Spiby,” she said. “Jefferson, this is Miss Brookstone. Her father and uncle are the owners of the Brookstone Wild West Extravaganza.”
He straightened and let go of Ella. Turning to Lizzy, he smiled and extended his hand to take hers. He lowered his head until his lips nearly touched her knuckles, but then quickly straightened. “Miss Brookstone, I am charmed.”
Lizzy’s expression was guarded. She looked at Jefferson as if she were assessing the truth of his statement. Ella should have warned her that he couldn’t be trusted, but that would have required further explanation.
“I understand you are a trick rider, Miss Brookstone,” Jefferson said.
“I am,” Lizzy replied.
His smile turned to something more like a leer. “You must get into some very . . . interesting positions.”
Ella was mortified at his suggestive tone and glanced around quickly to make certain no one else had overheard. Everyone seemed otherwise occupied in conversation, however. She looked back just as
Lizzy replied.
“You have me at a disadvantage, Mr. Spiby. You know my relationship to Ella and the Flemings, but I know nothing of why you’re here.”
Ella wanted to laugh out loud at the look on Jefferson’s face. He wasn’t used to women standing up to him. He regained his control quickly, however, and looked at Ella. “Why, I’m our dear Ella’s fiancé. We’re to be married very soon. Christmas, in fact.”
A servant appeared at the entryway. “Dinner is served.”
“Ah, thank goodness,” Mr. Fleming declared. “I’m positively famished. He extended his arm to Lizzy’s mother. “Might I escort you to dinner, my dear? I’ll trust your brother-in-law and Mr. Adler to bring my wife.”
“And I’ll bring along Ella and Miss Brookstone,” Jefferson announced. “That will leave Robert to bring up the rear.”
Ella glanced at her brother Robert, who stood gazing into the eyes of his wife, Virginia. They had been married for five years and had two little boys, but they were still very much in love. Robert put his arm around his wife’s waist and smiled. “I’d be delighted,” he said.
They made their way into the dining room and, once everyone was seated, began to enjoy the delectable dishes Cook had created. Ella tried to keep her mind on the meal and polite conversation, but Jefferson made it nearly impossible. Not only had he broken with protocol to position himself at her side, but he insisted Lizzy sit at his side as well. Ella had hoped she might have Lizzy to herself.
The table was set with Mother’s finest Royal Worcester china in the Pompadour pattern. The cream-colored china was artistically exquisite, with gold-painted leaves, flowers, laurels, and other delicate designs. Created prior to her mother’s family coming to America, the set was their very best. Everything on the table was of the finest quality, from the crystal to the silver. This dinner was staged to impress. Something her father loved to do.
The evening passed surprisingly enough in easy conversation. Oliver Brookstone was full of stories and entertained them all. Ella had very nearly forgotten about Jefferson and her own troubles when one of the serving girls tripped and spilled orange sauce on the sleeve of Lizzy’s gown.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” the poor woman said, looking frantically for a napkin.
“You stupid girl,” Jefferson declared, jumping to his feet. “You should be whipped.”
Lizzy only smiled and shook her head. “It’s not a problem, I assure you.” She had her own napkin in hand and waved the girl away. “It wouldn’t be the first time I spilled something or had something spilled on me. Please, don’t worry about it.”
Ella tried to hide her horror. She glanced toward her father. He looked livid. She knew he wouldn’t make a scene here, but later he would punish the girl for her clumsiness, maybe even fire her. He could be so cruel at times.
Jefferson muttered something and reclaimed his seat. The lighthearted atmosphere faded quickly, and from that point on, everything seemed to be on edge. Gone were the entertaining stories of the wild west show and soft laughter.
When supper was finally concluded, Ella’s father rose. “Rather than take our brandy and cigars in the library, I suggest we make our way to the stables. I know you’re anxious, Mr. Brookstone, to have a look at your horses, and we can enjoy our cigars while considering their merits. Then we can have a brandy before retiring.”
Ella hoped the men might spend a good long time there and give her a chance to speak to Lizzy about her trouble, but it wasn’t to be.
“If we’re going to look at the horses,” Oliver Brookstone declared, “then I want Lizzy to accompany us. She knows more about horseflesh than anyone in our family save my brother, and in his absence, I’ll trust her to know that the animals are fit for our needs.”
It felt as if a hand had tightened around Ella’s throat. No one challenged her father, and no one ever suggested that a woman was qualified to pass judgment on Fleming horses. She couldn’t even bear to look at him for fear of what she might see in his expression. The entire room went silent, and even the servants went rigid, awaiting the coming storm.
“Well then,” her father finally said after a lengthy silence, “I suppose we can forgo the cigars. After all, I wouldn’t want to offend a lady’s delicate constitution.”
Lizzy had the audacity to smile. “I assure you, Mr. Fleming, my constitution can bear up under most anything.”
Ella would have groaned aloud had she not feared the repercussions. Here was yet another challenge to her father’s authority.
He motioned for one of the footmen. “Have the groom bring the Brookstone mares to the sale room. I wouldn’t want Miss Brookstone getting her lovely gown dirty by traipsing all over the grounds.”
Thankfully Lizzy didn’t comment further. Ella knew that would have been more than her father’s temper could have tolerated.
“If the rest of you ladies would excuse us—” He paused, then without warning called Ella’s name. “Why don’t you join us? Ella also knows horses, and it might be nice for Lizzy to have her friend along. Certainly more appropriate.” He didn’t give anyone a chance to speak but turned and led the way.
There would be a price to pay for all of this later, but for now, Ella took up her shawl and kept very close to Lizzy Brookstone.
Lizzy could see that Mr. Fleming was unhappy with the turn of events. She had learned long ago that men of his breeding were often reluctant to believe a woman held any value outside of keeping a house and bearing children. She hadn’t meant to comment on his remark, but the words were out of her mouth before she could hold them in check.
“You can see for yourself they are a handsome pair,” Mr. Fleming announced as a uniformed groom lead the mares into the showroom. “I’m still disappointed in myself for agreeing to part with them.”
The four-year-old Morgans were finer than any Lizzy had seen. Their large brown eyes seemed to watch her with concentrated care. They were nervous at the new attention, but Lizzy could see their quality and the remarkable strength of character, even in this brief encounter. Her father had told her about the horses long before she’d ever seen them, and his instincts about them had been right.
“They are very fine.” She moved slightly to the right to better see them.
“Samson,” Mr. Fleming called, “walk them around the room.”
The man quickly followed the command. He led the mares together, one on either side of him. He walked them the full length of the showroom and back.
They were superb. Their buckskin coats glistened in the lamplight. They bore all the Morgan qualities Lizzy loved. Delicate, fine-chiseled features marked their heads. Their elegant necks were draped with black manes, and their tails bore the same ebony hue. Lizzy could only imagine the beautiful foals they would bear.
“They are handsome,” Uncle Oliver declared. “My brother never failed to find the best. That’s why he preferred your farm to any other.”
Mr. Fleming smiled for the first time since the trouble at dinner. “I’m glad to be appreciated.”
Lizzy looked at Ella, who stood between her father and fiancé. Spiby held on to her in a possessive manner, and Ella looked miserable. They were completely mismatched. Ella was petite and childlike, while Spiby was at least twice her age and stood a head and a half taller. It was appalling to imagine her having to marry the much older man.
A cat skittered through the room and spooked the mares. The one on the right started to rear, which upset her twin. Neither horse would easily calm. Lizzy watched as Jefferson Spiby stepped forward and yanked down on the rope that held the mare on the left.
“You must show them who has control,” he said even as the horse backed away from him and shook its head. He reached up and twisted hard on the mare’s ear. The horse on the right became even more agitated.
Lizzy started to say something, but Uncle Oliver put his hand on her arm. The look he gave her urged restraint.
“For pity’s sake, Samson, control those animals,” Mr.
Fleming demanded. He turned back to Lizzy and her uncle. “As you can see, they’re high-spirited, but with the right trainer, they will perform in whatever manner you choose.”
Spiby finally had his horse under control and looked back at them with a broad smile. “Rather like a good woman.”
Lizzy stiffened and considered throwing back a sarcastic comment, but one glance at Ella changed her mind. Spiby wasn’t worth it, especially if it only served to cause her friend more pain.
Thankfully, August Reichert, the Brookstones’ head wrangler, took that moment to appear and try to get the attention of Lizzy’s uncle. Lizzy could see the other men were already deep in conversation about something, so she went to August, curious at the look of perplexity upon his face.
“Good evening, August. Do you need something from Uncle Oliver?”
“Since he’s busy, maybe we could have a word in private, you and me?”
She smiled. “Of course.” She glanced back at Ella. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Lizzy followed August from the showroom, and once they were well away, he stopped to look back at the building. “They’re a touchy lot around here. I’ll be glad when we leave.”
“Why do you say that?”
They were far enough from the lanterns that lit the path from the house that Lizzy could barely make out the frown on August’s face. “I turned our horses out in the field as I was instructed, but when I came back to the stables, lookin’ for some liniment to rub on Betty’s black, I was all but strong-armed out by Fleming’s men and accused of snooping. I tried to explain what I needed and that I wasn’t trying to cause a ruckus, but they wouldn’t hear me out.”
Lizzy considered this. Mr. Fleming had allowed them to graze the Brookstones’ horses in his pastureland, but apparently his generosity only went so far. “I admit that Mr. Fleming and Mr. Spiby are hardly the sort I like doing business with. Father never spoke much about them except to say they produced excellent stock.”
When You Are Near Page 4
