“Come along, good sir.”
She leaned down just a bit as she spoke softly to him, and he held her hand tightly. Keeping her eyes focused in the direction where they were walking, in spite of her concern for the young woman, she led David into the kitchen, which already had arrangements of ingredients set aside here and there for a variety of goods. Catherine knew she would be learning to bake something new today, and probably to cook as well. She hoped whatever Grace had in mind wasn’t too difficult. She didn’t want to waste any of the donated food or make too much of a mess.
“And who do we have here, Miss Catherine? Wherever did you find such a nice looking young man?”
Catherine looked towards the voice and found Grace smiling at David, just as the older woman moved forward and squatted down in front of the boy. Catherine couldn’t help but smile at the two of them, and at David’s complete trust of the two strange women he had only just met. She wasn’t ready to give up the warmth of David’s little hand yet, but she looked up as she heard voices approach the doorway, holding his hand tight.
“You’ll most likely find Grace in the kitchen, where I’m sure she’s preparing something for you now. Oh, I see the two of you have been distracted.”
Arthur laughed as he looked at Catherine and Grace, who was enraptured by the child, but Catherine’s eyes were fixed on the man beside her brother, just as his were on her.
Chapter Thirteen
Will could hear Arthur Davenport’s voice but had no idea what the man was saying. It was awful and wonderful at the same time, to be so taken by the gaze of another. Catherine was free of flour dust, without an apron, and her hair, which was nearly the shade of his own, was coiled prettily at the nape of her neck.
“Do you like children, sir? We always need a hand or two to entertain the young ones when their parents are working with us to find employment, or when they are working, just until something more permanent can be arranged.”
Will blinked and realized that Grace was speaking to him. About children, of all things. Well, he figured, Catherine and Grace were attending to one right now, so it made sense.
“Honestly, ma’am, I don’t have much experience with them. At least, I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so?”
Catherine tilted her head and Will was momentarily stunned by the fineness of her features, just as much as the sound of her voice. As soon as she spoke, however, she looked horrified and closed her mouth firmly as she looked down at the child. Was she nervous, or shy?
“Our new guest is experiencing a memory loss, but we’re hopeful that he will recall at least some important details soon. Dr. Colt will be visiting this afternoon, after he assists me with a more personal matter, and he may be able to shed some light on the predicament.
Grace stood up and eyed the young man with blatant curiosity.
“What shall we call you then? Will you have a preference, or should we name you as we will?”
“Will,” he blurted before he could help himself. “Uh, well, you made me think of it, since you used the word ‘will’ just now a few times. I suppose that would serve for now.”
Catherine kept her focus on David, and Will wondered what he could do to get her attention. He wasn’t sure what he would do once he got her attention, though - that was another matter entirely. He couldn’t just start speaking to her, especially not with Grace and Arthur present. It certainly wouldn’t be proper to be in here with her alone, either, so he might not have a better opportunity to converse with her, even just in the most superficial and polite way.
“Grace, you’ve been most kind, and I do appreciate your care of me both yesterday and this morning.”
Grace beamed at him like a proud grandmother as he continued.
“I’ve been most fortunate to make your acquaintance. And I believe you had some measure of work concerning me yesterday as well, Miss . . . ?”
As he looked directly at Catherine, he noticed Grace’s smile change from approving to amused, but he wasn’t worried about Grace just now. Grace could look at him any way she liked. He wanted Catherine to look at him again, more than anything else he could imagine.
“This is my sister, Catherine Davenport. She has just started helping here.”
Will turned to find Arthur watching him carefully, a bit of a warning in his gaze. His sister? That did not bode well. Arthur was extremely kind and generous, but Will was pretty sure he wouldn’t be kind or generous about his beautiful sister, who finally looked at him with wide eyes. She had noticed Arthur’s tone and expression as well, and was at the very least, embarrassed. He watched her bite her lower lip before she spoke and wondered what it would be like to kiss her. Not like he had kissed girls who had meant nothing to him, girls who had thrown themselves at him with no respect for themselves, and he had taken advantage because it felt good at the time. No, kissing Catherine Davenport would be like touching an angel, and tempting the devil. Arthur, for all his patience and understanding, wouldn’t be above physical reprimand if he knew what Will was thinking about his sister.
“I’m pleased to meet you,” she said quietly, and lowered her head in an elegant bob. Her eyes never left his. Either she had been sheltered to an extreme, which would explain her interest in him, or she was, he hoped, actually interested. How would that work, though? She was a girl who would only associate with The Four Hundred, and while his family definitely qualified, he couldn’t tell her, or her brother, that. Not now, not when he was pretending to have amnesia. Oh, what had he done? It didn’t matter now, not really, not with the shame attached to his family name, partly due to his own recent behavior. He might bear a name that once had been approved by Mr. McAllister but he hadn’t lived up to it. He didn’t deserve a girl like Catherine Davenport, and he supposed it was all for the best that he had played the part of someone else, someone new, and perhaps they could become friends of a sort while he was here. Whatever time he could spend with a girl who made him feel like he was awake for the first time in his life would be a gift.
Arthur cleared his throat beside him.
“I think we need to spend some time talking about what you do remember, and work out a plan as to how we can help you get yourself back on your feet again. Excuse us, ladies.”
Arthur tilted his head towards Grace and Catherine, but Will could do nothing but continue to stare until he felt movement beside him and realized that Arthur had turned away. He nodded sharply and followed before he could do or say something stupid. Catherine wasn’t the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, but there was something about her . . .
“My sister is here at the request of my parents, just so she can have some experience outside of our social circle before she settles down. I don’t want to assume that you would be anything but respectful, but she is very innocent as well as pretty, and I couldn’t help but notice how you looked at her. I will thank you to keep a polite distance.”
Will stopped in his tracks. Settles down? What did Arthur mean? Of all the words that had been so clearly enunciated in those few seconds, the only ones that rang through his head were those two. If Catherine was engaged, her future husband couldn’t be pleased with this arrangement. Who would want their fiancée, especially one as magnetic as Catherine, in the midst of strange men like him?
“Come along, we’ll have some tea and work out a plan for the next few days to start.”
Will began to walk again, his steps only a beat behind Arthur’s. How was Arthur so self-assured, at their age, and how could he possibly know how to help a man with no memory, no money, and no skills?
“I don’t know if you’re a praying man, but it’s how we begin and end most everything here at First Steps, so you’ll get used to it. A local retired clergyman, Pastor Michael, stops in now and again and is available for any spiritual counseling that is needed. I know I have a good talk with him every so often.”
Arthur smiled and Will could tell from the other man’s profile that there was something
tired in his expression, even as he might be doing his best to be encouraging.
“First Steps?”
Arthur stopped at a desk that had stacks of paper in neat piles, as well as an umbrella that leaned up against the side. He held his suit jacket against his chest as he lowered himself into a chair, then gestured for Will to take the seat across from him.
“My wife. That was what she named this establishment, our shelter. Our way of helping others as we know God wishes us to do. In any way we can, and in any way we can encourage others to do the same.”
“It must be a lot of work. I appreciate the time you’ve already spent taking me in, drowned rat that I was.”
He smiled and huffed something that wasn’t quite a laugh as Arthur replied.
“Well, you weren’t drunk, and we do see that quite a bit here. I try not to judge anyone, but sometimes it is difficult to handle a man in his cups, or after he’s been ill from the same. Grace took special care of you, as she does everyone who comes through our door. She’s a grandmother and believes that makes her qualified to look after just about everyone.”
Arthur folded his hands together in front of him and placed them on the desk very formally. Will wasn’t sure what to make of him. He seemed so old in some ways, and yet, couldn’t possibly be any older than he was. He had a wife already, and had pulled together this shelter, which spoke of a maturity beyond his years. Will thought that if fate had ever dealt him a perfect hand, this was it. If anyone could get him on the right path, he was sure it was the man watching him from across the desk now.
“You’re sure you don’t remember anything? Not even your name, an address? Any memory that you might think is insignificant may help us determine who you are, or where you came from.”
Arthur waited patiently, his gaze never wavering as Will maintained eye contact. Could Arthur tell he was lying? He swallowed and took a few seconds to decide which words he could say that would be the truth, without revealing his identity.
“I don’t know who I am anymore.”
“Will is a good name for him, I’m thinking. It will take a lot of that, and hard work, for him to make his way here. There are only so many positions, and so much work to be had here in town. Perhaps he has some training or skill that will show itself in time, and make his services in demand. Catherine, are you listening?”
Catherine had picked little David up and was holding him close, his hands grasping tightly around a sugar cookie shaped like a horse. It was crumbling in his damp fingers as he gnawed at it, one side of his head resting against Catherine’s chest.
“Yes, ma’am. I am. Just enjoying our new guest, who is very cuddly.”
Grace smiled at the two of them, her gaze moving from the boy to Catherine.
“It shouldn’t be too long before you have one of your own, a pretty miss like you. Now what’s this about settling down?”
Oh, Catherine thought, feeling her mouth twist into a frown. Why did Arthur have to say such a thing, and with Will there to hear it? Not that it should have mattered. Will, whatever his name truly was, wasn’t meant for her anymore than the Vanderbilt boy was. Still, there was something about his eyes, and the surety of his stare. It felt as if they already knew each other.
“Well, you’re daydreaming again, and from the way you and that boy were staring at each other, I can imagine what you have in your head. You’d best be sure about this ‘settling down’ and what your brother expects of you. He seems like a nice young man, this Will, but we don’t know much about him, obviously, and I wouldn’t like to upset Mr. Arthur on any account.”
“No, no,” Catherine interrupted. “Of course not. And there’s no settling down. I’m sorry he even brought that up.”
Grace narrowed her eyes, but her expression was less than threatening and more ornery.
“What do you mean, that?”
Catherine sighed.
“Don’t we have baking to get to?”
Grace pursed her lips and nodded, her eyes flickering down to David, who had fallen asleep as they conversed, his cookie in bits and pieces all over Catherine’s dress. Her mother would be mortified if she saw her now, and Catherine felt a pang of guilt as she smiled at the thought.
“Let’s get him back to his mother, who might be speaking with Mr. Arthur’s assistant already, then we’ll start our own work. And you’ll start telling me what you’re hiding, good or bad as it may be.”
The older woman walked past Catherine and out of the room, clearly expecting Catherine to follow. With her chin resting on David’s soft head of hair, she did.
Chapter Fourteen
Catherine fell into the schedule of work at the shelter as if she hadn’t been upset about it that first morning, when her parents had surprised her with her father’s command to help her brother. It was nothing as she expected; in fact, she hadn’t known what to expect, really, and she was ashamed that she had thought it would be terrible, to spend her time with strange, often unwashed, angry people, but while some of the clients did in fact fall into these categories, they had good reason for their mood and appearance. She wondered how she would behave if she were suddenly thrown into homelessness, hunger, and fear for her life, as some of the people she met were. Families with children who wanted a safe harbor for their little ones, older folks who were overwhelmed by personal and financial loss and had no idea how to fend for themselves. It was unrealistic to expect anyone under these conditions to act rationally, never mind politely. Many of them did both, but when one didn’t, Catherine was patient, as was her nature, but even more so. She found that it carried over into her relationships at home, especially with Sarah, and she certainly needed every bit of that as her sister’s behavior grew worse after Josie and Arthur moved out.
“I don’t see why her mother couldn’t move in with us and take care of Josie here. We’re just getting to be close, and I miss her.”
Sarah had been in and out of Catherine’s bedroom, stalking the halls and pouting. It was chilly most days, and even the Taunton boys had left for the winter, leaving Sarah without her favorite playmates, playmates that their mother had already told her were a little too close for her liking.
“A suitor would see the way you frolic about with those two and wonder. You wouldn’t want to discourage a gentleman of the appropriate caliber because you won’t behave properly.”
Their mother certainly was in a hurry to marry them off, and while Catherine was annoyed with the whole idea, Sarah was furious, but Catherine knew that underneath all of her sister’s demonstrations of anger, there was terror. Who would take Sarah for who she was, and not try to mold her into a society wife to parade about, a woman who would make her husband and his family look regal, reserved, powerful?
“Why can’t we marry for love? Don’t those books you’re always reading say something about love?”
Sarah, no more regal or reserved than she had been when they were five and roller skating into each other to their mother’s dismay, was standing in the middle of Catherine’s bed, bouncing on it with all the energy Catherine didn’t have. The difference between spending her days reading and preparing for whatever social occasion her mother had planned for her to attend and spending them at the shelter, not only baking, but cleaning, delivering food, speaking with new clients and assisting with the children, and sneaking glances at Will, who was with her brother a great deal of the time, meant she went to bed exhausted every night. She had never slept so well in her life, and had never imagined such a deep, restful experience. Her concern over her future and whether or not she was still expected to marry the Vanderbilt boy was weighed down by refreshing dreams of the far away places she read about in her travel books. A city of canals, another with a tower where princes imprisoned each other over their right to be king, and one on an island with a bloody history that could not be told from the beauty it now exuded. She and Sarah had lessons with their governesses over the years, of course, but dates and names were nothing compared to the physical
testaments described in the books she loved.
“Catherine, you’re not listening to me. Why doesn’t anyone listen to me?”
Sarah stomped and tumbled off Catherine’s bed, her pretty round face marred by a childish frown.
“Sarah,” Catherine began, but her sister had already opened the door just enough for her to slip through, not bothering to close it behind her so that Catherine could hear her mother’s voice on the stairs, firm but soft as she spoke to her maid about dressing for dinner.
“Catherine? Are you listening?”
Her mind had wandered, as always, from her soaring adventures watching over distant magical lands to the boy she shared smiles with now and again as he came and went with Arthur, who was taking him to meet a variety of people who might employ him, sometimes for a day, and sometimes, to speak with him about a more permanent position. On their carriage rides home, her brother had mentioned Will a few times, not only about the failure of his memory to return, but of an interest in architecture, in cityscapes, and building.
“Did he do this sort of work before he came here?” Catherine had wondered aloud, and Arthur shook his head.
“He doesn’t recall, but I’m willing to venture a guess that he has some experience in the field, Perhaps the family business, or an apprenticeship. The suit he was wearing when he came in, though,” he sighed. “That wasn’t the suit of an apprentice. Any apprentice.”
Catherine found herself wondering about Will and his identity, more often than not, and tried to redirect her thoughts. She was busy enough to keep her mind focused elsewhere, but if she saw Will in passing, or heard his voice . . . or if she didn’t, she wondered what he was doing.
“Mother won’t be happy, but Josie, and our child, are my priority.”
Oh, no. She had let her mind wander and missed whatever Arthur had been saying. It didn’t take much to upset their mother, though, even though she had seemed to be a little gentler in her nature at times since Arthur and Josie wed. It was as if she sometimes forgot that she was supposed to be better than most everyone else, and didn’t act as if she ruled over them all. Even though she did, for the most part. The only servant who had never earned the ire of her mother was Lillian, and now that Catherine knew more about their relationship, it made sense. Lillian was the closest thing to a true friend her mother had, although she would never socialize with her or share secret smiles with her in public.
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