by Bess McBride
“I doubt she considers herself a diversion, Grandmother, but with your permission, I will bring her back for a cup of tea to help settle her nerves.”
Robert gave Melinda a look, and she immediately jumped into action. “All right, ladies, why don’t we return to the lounge so Miss...er...the nice lady can come and have a cup of tea?” She skillfully shepherded the women away, to the increased sound of high-pitched questions.
“No, I don’t know where she came from, ladies...” Melinda’s voice trailed off as she moved away.
Ellie glanced back up at the two men staring at her. Robert nodded at Samuel, who gave Ellie a last sympathetic glance before pushing open the door to cross over to the next car. She would have followed, but Robert managed to block her way without really seeming to do so. He casually leaned against the doorjamb in a relaxed fashion but with a presence reminiscent of a stonewall.
She slumped, sudden exhaustion overcoming her desire for flight.
Chapter Three
“May I help you up?” Robert moved away from the door and extended a hand to help her rise. Ellie stared at the well-groomed hand for a moment before she reluctantly took hold.
“I’m just waiting for the conductor. That’s all. Then I’ll be on my way.”
“Certainly, Miss...em...” He extended his arm for her to take, but she pretended not to see as she glanced down and brushed imaginary wrinkles from her skirt. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught his wry expression and half smile as he dropped the supportive arm to his side.
“Ellie,” she murmured. “Ellie Standish.”
“Miss Standish.” With an elegant wave of his hand, he indicated she should precede him toward the back of the car.
“Mr. Chamberlain,” she acknowledged with a nod as she moved past him with a straight back. Her moment of dignity vanished when she tripped on the unexpectedly plush red and gold oriental carpeting underfoot.
Robert’s hand shot out to take her arm and steady her. With a burning face, she righted herself, nodded thanks and pulled her arm from his warm grasp. She moved into the center of the room where the occupants of the lounge alternately stood or sat. An elderly woman in a dark, high-necked, Victorian-style silk dress presided on a red velvet-cushioned rattan loveseat. She signaled Ellie forward.
“Come, girl. Sit here.” With an incline of the large, dark beribboned hat on her head, she indicated Ellie should sit in the single chair beside her own.
Ellie paused, unwilling to be spoken to in such a high-handed way, and equally unwilling to offend a senior citizen...especially a woman who apparently thought she had some sort of regal power. Acutely aware she was the center of attention as she hovered in the middle of the room, Ellie swallowed her pride, moved quickly to the luxurious chair and sat down.
Robert returned to his original position at the back door to lean against it with crossed arms. Ellie watched several pairs of admiring female eyes follow his progress and she understood their message. He presented a dashing figure—straight out of some Victorian romance in his well-tailored and immaculate dark blue coat and trousers.
“So, what is this I hear about you stowing away on our carriage, young lady?”
Ellie’s bemused eyes flew to the older woman’s arrogant face. She appeared to be in her late seventies, though her costume made it difficult to guess an accurate age. Sharp blue eyes appraised Ellie steadily.
“Listen, Mrs. Chamberlain, is it?” The older woman tipped her head in a slight nod. “Well, listen, Mrs. Chamberlain. I’m not a stowaway per se. I’m not sure how I came to be in your carriage, but as I’ve told your grandson over there, I’m more than happy to be on my merry way.”
Ellie looked across the room to see Melinda’s eyes widen with apprehension. Let the girl worry. She had no intention of being bullied any more by these strange characters. She returned her challenging gaze to Mrs. Chamberlain’s face. Two red spots appeared on the older woman’s cheeks. The smell of coal must have blurred Ellie’s common sense because she didn’t quit there.
“I didn’t really know people had railway carriages of their own these days. But if you have leased this one, then I’m sorry to have stumbled onto it. As I said, I’m ready to skedaddle, but Bobby here kept me from leaving with Samuel.”
“Samuel?” Mrs. Chamberlain wrinkled her forehead with an eye toward Robert.
“The steward,” Robert murmured from his position along the wall.
“The steward? What does he have to do with all of this?”
“Nothing. He just happened to see me in the seat up there.” Ellie jerked her head in the direction of the front of the car. “He seems very worried, by the way. You aren’t going to try to get him in trouble, are you? Like report him? Because he didn’t do anything.”
“Good gracious! What is she talking about? Robert? Melinda, pour the woman some tea, will you, dear?”
Melinda sprang into action and picked up an empty teacup and saucer from the table in front of the loveseat on the opposite wall.
A rustle of skirts and quiet murmurs left a befuddled Ellie with a quick impression that all of the other women resumed their seats. Only a lone dark-haired woman in a white shirtwaist blouse and dark brown skirt remained standing near Robert.
“Samuel will be fine, Miss Standish.” Robert surveyed her with continuing amusement. Even from this distance, emerald sparks lit up his eyes.
“Standish, you say?” Mrs. Chamberlain turned crinkled eyes back to Ellie, who tore her gaze away from Robert once again. “That’s a fine old name in American history. Are you related? How is it that you come to be traveling in the immigrant section, then?”
Ellie reached up to rub her temples. A headache seemed imminent.
“I don’t think I’m related to Miles Standish, if that’s what you mean. If I am, it’s probably through some illegitimate offspring or something. And I don’t know what you mean by immigrant section. Are you talking about a coach section? Trains don’t have class systems anymore. Thank goodness!”
Ellie rattled on, only slightly aware of several gasps from the other side of the room. She turned toward the unusually silent young women and noticed that several of them stared down at the carpeting with rosy cheeks.
“Young woman, we do not speak that way in public. I can see that you probably are indeed from the working class. Please refrain from any further unsavory comments while in my carriage.”
Melinda rose and crossed the room with Ellie’s tea, the delicate cup rattling in the saucer. Ellie looked up to see the young blonde biting her lower lip and shaking her head ever so slightly as she met Ellie’s eyes. Ellie reached for the cup, forgetting she didn’t want the tea.
With a cautious look in her grandmother’s direction, Melinda swished her way back to her seat.
Ellie stared down into her cup and took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Chamberlain. I didn’t mean to offend you. I just don’t know what you mean by an immigrant section.”
“That is not the offense to which I referred, Miss Standish.”
Robert interceded, a hint of laughter in his voice. “I believe my grandmother referred to the...suggestion that Miles Standish might have had an...indiscretion. Isn’t that so, Grandmother?”
“Robert, that sort of talk does not bode well for you, either.”
Ellie stared at two deep dimples in Robert’s angular cheeks. Although seemingly a domineering, arrogant man—much like his grandmother—the whimsical dimples warmed his face and made her heart flutter. The teacup rattled in the saucer as her hand trembled. She lowered the cup to the teak occasional table beside her seat.
“Um, do y’all have any bottled water, by chance?” she asked.
Heads turned toward one another.
“Bottled water?” Melinda murmured.
“Yeah, you know, just some water. I’ve got the worst headache.”
Melinda half rose, her sympathetic face filled with concern.
“Sit down, Melinda, there�
��s a good girl,” Mrs. Chamberlain said. “Miss Standish, I don’t think we have anything such as bottled water. Would you care for a lemonade instead? When the steward comes back, he can fetch one for you.”
Ellie rubbed her temples once again. “No, no, thank you, Mrs. Chamberlain. By then, the conductor will have come to get me, and I can get back to my seat and my purse and get something for my headache.”
“I see.” The older woman nodded. “Drink some tea. The hot water will help clear your headache.”
Ellie gave her a quick smile and nodded. Would the conductor ever come? She picked up the delicate pink-and-gold-decorated porcelain teacup again and swallowed the hot liquid. It did feel pleasant in her dry mouth.
“Miss Standish. If you’re not in the immigrant section...and forgive us for assuming so, are you in tourist class?” Melinda spoke from across the room. “I’ve seen that carriage before...once.”
“I think there is some confusion as to what carriage Miss Standish was on, and I do not think she feels up to resolving the matter at the moment. Perhaps we should let her sip her tea in comfort for a few minutes before we assail her with more questions.”
Ellie turned toward the voice of the dark-haired female who stood next to Robert. A beautiful woman who appeared to be in her late thirties, she stood almost as tall as Robert. Her slender build showed off her costume to great advantage. She regarded Ellie with dark-lashed, warm brown eyes and a pleasant curve of her full lips.
“A friend of the family, Mrs. Constance Green.” Robert made the introduction with familiarity. Ellie’s heart skipped a beat. When he looked at Constance, his grin took on an affectionate twist.
Constance nodded in greeting but did not move forward. Ellie studied the heightened color on the beauty’s face, her feminine instincts telling her that Constance was interested in Robert. She bit back a small sigh of disappointment. She wasn’t surprised. The man certainly was handsome!
Ellie nodded gratefully to Constance and took another sip of the surprisingly brisk tea.
“I really don’t know what’s taking the conductor so long to get here. I’m sure he’ll get me back to my car and my seat, and I can get out of your hair. You must have things you want to do.”
“I doubt if the conductor will arrive before our next stop, at Wenatchee,” Robert offered. “Unless he was in the dining carriage next door, Samuel will not be able to contact him until he can make his way to the carriages further down.”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s quite true, Grandson. You’ll just have to settle in for a bit, Miss Standish. We won’t reach Wenatchee for another hour yet.”
“An hour?” Ellie looked from Robert to his grandmother. “Really? Well, why can’t Samuel just call the conductor? I really should make my way next door to find out what’s going on.” She attempted to rise but Mrs. Chamberlain laid a restraining hand on her arm for just a brief second before removing it.
“No, Miss Standish. That is not possible. It is not safe.” Mrs. Chamberlain’s words reawakened a vivid picture of the funhouse connection between the trains. Never one for such carnival rides, Ellie didn’t know if she would make the crossing in one piece. She slumped back into her chair and picked up her tea to toss off the last dregs. Uncomfortably aware that the women on the other side of the room continued to stare at her, she set her cup down, lowered her eyes and busily picked at a loose thread on her skirt.
“Miss Standish, forgive me, but I was wondering. What material is your skirt? I haven’t seen one like that before.”
A younger woman about Melinda’s age gazed at Ellie with an earnest expression. Her blue hat with decorative netting contrasted wonderfully with golden chestnut hair.
Ellie suspected she’d fallen into a wormhole. What kind of a question was that?
“Denim. You know? A jeans skirt?” She hunched her shoulders self-consciously as she looked down at her ankle-length skirt. “I know they’re a bit old-fashioned, but I like them. They’re comfortable for traveling.”
Melinda giggled. “There, Amy, I told you it was called denim...like serge. A sturdy fabric used by dockworkers and such.” She turned to Ellie. “Did you make the skirt yourself, Miss Standish? I have never seen this material in a skirt before.”
Ellie stared at the characters before her with narrowed eyes. Was this some elaborate hoax?
“No, I bought it, Melinda. Just like you can buy denim skirts in your local department store.” The gig was up! Ellie crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat. She avoided looking at Robert, knowing he would continue the charade.
“I must say, you all are certainly deep in character. Is this some sort of Victorian reenactment I’ve wandered into?” She scanned the eyes of the women across the room, daring them to continue the lie.
“Reenactment?” Amy’s young forehead wrinkled. “I beg your pardon?”
“Oh, please, ladies and gentleman. You know, like a Civil War reenactment or a Mountain Man rendezvous.” She continued to avoid Robert’s eyes, though she was acutely aware he watched her. “I’m just exhausted and confused enough to believe in all this. You’ve had your fun, though. Are you a period piece ensemble on tour? Oh, wait, I know! One of those mystery dinner theater groups!” Ellie clapped her hands, thankful to have found an explanation for her bizarre companions. She ignored the lack of affirmative response. “Well, y’all have done a wonderful job. I almost... I gotta tell you...I almost thought for a moment...that I’d stepped back in time. Good job!”
“Miss Standish, what are you babbling about?” Mrs. Chamberlain turned toward her grandson. “Robert, I do not think she is well. Come see if she has a fever. No, on second thought, do not. She might carry some sort of contagious disease.”
Ellie shook her head warningly at Robert, but he dutifully crossed the carriage and put a hand to her forehead. His touch tingled. She jumped back into her seat and swatted at his hand.
“That’s enough, thank you, Robert. I’m just fine. All right, you guys, so how ‘bout that bottled water? Can I have some now?”
“She has no fever, Grandmother, though it appears her hazel eyes are flashing fire.” With a playful grin, he chuckled and ran a finger lightly across her cheek before he moved away.
Ellie jumped up in agitation. “All right, y’all. I’ll admit that I’m going to have a hard time getting to the next car. I’m petrified to cross that itty bitty thing between us, but I’m ready to head out.” She ignored the well-acted stunned expressions on their faces and turned to head toward the door. A sudden thought struck her, and she rotated to face the group. “You know, I teach women’s studies. The turn of the century is one of my areas of interest. What a coincidence that I should meet you all, eh? Too funny!” She dipped a quick curtsey in deference to the theme. “Thanks for the tea, and thanks for the show. It’s been great.”
Ellie spun away and made a beeline for the door before anyone tried to stop her. She slid the heavy door open and stepped out onto the narrow connector between the two cars. Dragging the door shut behind her, she hesitated on the landing as she stared wide-eyed at the precarious, wildly moving floor between the two cars. Wind rushed through the connector—wind and the dense smell of coal. She moved forward with a tentative step, preparing herself for a balancing act extraordinaire as she crossed the rocking corridor. That there was no way she could fall to her death on the tracks below did nothing to ease her fear of heights and fast moving, rocking trains.
She heard the door open behind her but refused to turn around. If anything, the sound gave her the impetus to jump across the uneven connection in a single motion. She steadied herself on the opposite landing.
“Well, Miss Standish, I see you made it across safely. I was worried about you.” Robert raised his voice to make himself heard above the rumbling on the tracks and the whistling of the wind.
She turned to face him. With legs apart, he stood with effortless balance...of course.
“Oh, I’m fine, thank you very much.” It seemed obviou
s her words faded on the wind, because he frowned and gave his head a slight shake.
She cupped one hand to her mouth to shout. “Yes, I’m fine, thank you. See ya!” Ellie turned away and stopped short with surprise. Facing yet another old-fashioned wooden door, she reached for the brass handle. The hairs on the back of her neck tingled. She knew he watched her. An unexpected sway of the carriage threw her off balance again, and she staggered against the closed door.
As she attempted to right herself on the lurching train, she saw Robert nimbly step across the connector. He grasped her hand and reached around her waist with the other to brace her body against his as another round of rocking overtook the train.
He spoke near her ear. “Here, now. I have you,” he said soothingly. “You really should have asked for help, Miss Standish. I don’t think you have your train legs yet.”
Unnerved by the unexpected thrill that shot through her at his touch, she attempted to pull away. With a sigh, Robert kept firm hold on her and reached for the door.
“All right, madam. If you insist. By all means, let us see if we can find the conductor in the dining carriage.” He pulled open the door and released her. Ellie stumbled through the entrance and entered another nightmare. White linen tablecloths with vases of flowers brightened dining tables hosting yet more people in Victorian dress. Several African-American stewards moved through the length of the car, ably balancing plates of food on large round trays. The ornate décor of the dining car matched the lounge car with the glow of highly varnished wood walls and ceiling, brass fittings and red/orange oriental carpeting.
Though the rocking motion of the car eased once they were out of the connector, Ellie leaned against the nearest wall for support. She turned to stare at Robert as he entered and quietly shut the door.
“Are you kidding? This is huge,” she said.
Robert cocked his head with a puzzled look. With a glance over her head, he surveyed the room and nodded.
“It is a rather large dining car, isn’t it? We usually take our meal in our carriage.”
