by Erica Vetsch
Pull yourself together. Don’t be a silly goose. He probably won’t even speak to you.
They stepped into a foyer so grand, Josie sucked in a surprised gasp. Foyer was hardly the word for it. To her right and left, a wide area with carved oak paneling stretched through the middle of the house. Before her, across the carpeted expanse, an immense staircase rose to a landing that broke off to the right and left to curve upward to the next floor. On the landing, rainbows of light filtered through stained glass windows featuring swans and lotus flowers in whites and pinks and yellows.
Garlands of greenery and flowers draped the banisters, and ribbons hung from the wall sconces. The chandeliers—she counted five—lit and further softened the austerity of the room. Women in large hats and impossibly wide-sleeved dresses and men in frock coats and starched white shirts headed to the left.
“Good afternoon, sir.” A man Josie assumed was the butler noted the embossed invitation Papa held out for his inspection. “The wedding will take place in the gallery, sir. At the end of the Grand Hall.”
Grand Hall. That was certainly the right name for it. Josie fell into line with her sisters and headed toward the far end. Organ music began. Josie searched every face as they entered the room, looking for him while trying not to appear so.
An elbow nudged her ribs. Antoinette pointed up. Light streamed through a gabled glass roof overhead. Oil paintings, some as large as a double quilt, hung in ornate gilded frames on both side walls.
Giselle slipped her hand into Josie’s and whispered, “Look at the flowers.”
White blossoms—lilies, roses, chrysanthemums, and others Josie couldn’t name—nearly obscured the fireplace at the far end of the room. Even from this distance, Josie could smell their fragrance. She squeezed Giselle’s hand and bent to say, “Beautiful, aren’t they?”
Giselle, a garden lover from birth, nodded, not taking her eyes from the bouquets. Josie had to guide her down the center aisle to the row of white chairs Papa had chosen.
Grandma Bess went in first, followed by Clarice, then Josie, and on down the line until Giselle. Mother sat between Giselle and Papa. Just as she did in church. Just as she always did everywhere.
Antoinette kept craning her neck to look behind them at the organist and the pipes extending up more than two floors above. Clarice, to Josie’s left, twisted her handkerchief and chewed her bottom lip.
“Is something wrong?” Josie kept her voice low.
Clarice looked at her lap and gave a short, quick shake of her head.
Josie shrugged. Clarice had always been an intensely private person, keeping her thoughts to herself, holding herself apart from her sisters. Where Antoinette said any and everything that came into her head, where Giselle showed every emotion on her face, Clarice remained aloof and self-contained, always a mystery. Josie went back to watching people.
He came in before she was ready. Following the groom up the far aisle, his presence sent a jolt from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. Her mouth went dry. He was even more handsome than she remembered. Older. After all, it was three—almost four—years since she’d seen him last.
Dark brown hair, smooth and shining, blue eyes that glistened when he laughed, and white teeth that flashed often. That’s how she remembered him, smiling, laughing, enjoying himself. He’d teased her a bit, a girl of just fifteen, gauche and uncertain at her first Shipbuilder’s Ball. He hadn’t danced with her, conferring that honor on Clarice instead, but Josie hadn’t really minded. Just watching him had been enough.
Eli Kennebrae. He looked in her direction, his face sober. Her pulse quickened and the butterflies in her stomach turned to seagulls.
The groom, Noah Kennebrae, on the other hand, smiled so wide, Josie wondered if his cheeks ached. Thick brown whiskers covered the lower half of his face. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and clasped and unclasped his hands in front of him, watching the doors at the back of the room.
Pachelbel’s Canon swelled out from the organ. Josie lost sight of Eli behind the ostrich feather-adorned hat of the woman in front of her.
Through her misty veil, the bride’s smile beamed even brighter than her beautiful golden hair.
Josie didn’t pay much attention to the ceremony. She kept her gaze on Eli, noting his broad shoulders, strong profile, and erect stance. Did he still smell of shaving soap? What would it be like to be a bride, walking up the aisle to exchange vows with Eli Kennebrae? She blushed for having such intimate thoughts about a man she barely knew. And yet, the fantasy lingered in her mind.
When the preacher said, “You may now kiss the bride,” Noah took his new wife, Anastasia Kennebrae, into his arms and kissed her long enough and with such tenderness that every woman in the room from Grandma Bess to Giselle sighed in satisfaction. Josie caught Mama wiping a tear with her lace handkerchief.
Josie followed her family outside onto the spreading back lawn for the reception. The breeze from the lake cooled her cheeks, though the sun was fierce. Tablecloths fluttered, and more massive bouquets of flowers in urns along the walk enveloped Josie in their perfume.
Expecting to be seated at a table with her younger siblings, Papa surprised Josie by directing her and Clarice to a table of adults.
Her heart jumped into her throat and stayed there.
Eli Kennebrae rose, and his easy smile flowed over her like a warm blanket. “Mr. Zahn.” He shook Papa’s hand.
“My daughters—” Papa turned to them and hesitated, his brows coming together slightly. “Clarice and Josephine.” He smiled broadly, as if relieved to have come up with the answer without a prompt.
Josie winced at the sound of her whole name.
Eli held their chairs for them and made introductions. “My grandfather, Abraham Kennebrae, and family friend, Geoffrey Fordham.”
Josie nodded to the elder Mr. Kennebrae. His white hair reflected the sunshine and his black eyes glittered. She had the impression, invalid chair or not, of great strength and mental sharpness. He seemed to miss nothing going on around him. The other man smiled politely at her but made no real impression. Her attention shot back to Eli across the table.
Mama and Grandma Bess took their places, balancing out the numbers. Josie turned to see where her other sisters had gotten to. Giselle and Antoinette sat at a long table near the bottom of the garden, being attended to by a white-coated waiter.
“A lovely wedding, Mr. Kennebrae.” Mama smoothed her dress at the waist and tilted her head so her wide-brimmed hat would shade her face. “They’re an ideal couple, aren’t they? I predict they’ll be very happy together.”
“I agree. They had some rough sailing, but that’s all behind them now.” Abraham Kennebrae turned to Grandma Bess. “You’re looking well, Elizabeth. It’s been some time since I saw you.”
“I keep myself busy. Always a lot for a grandmother to do with a houseful of granddaughters.”
He grinned. “I have a feeling they won’t be underfoot too long. Girls as pretty as these will have suitors hanging about the front gate sooner than you think.” He elbowed Eli, who rolled his eyes and looked out over the lake. “Yes, indeed, fine-looking girls you have there, Radcliffe. You should be proud. Shouldn’t be surprised if an engagement was announced soon.”
“Stop it, Grandfather. This isn’t the time or the place.” Eli’s blue eyes flashed.
Undercurrents sucked around the table like the tide. Josie didn’t know where to look or what to do with her hands. Meeting Eli again wasn’t supposed to be this awkward.
❧
Eli excused himself from the table as soon as he decently could and mingled with the guests. How could he be thinking of selling his freedom, even for a chance of fulfilling his dreams? Not that he should complain too much. Radcliffe Zahn did have some fine-looking daughters. But it was the principle of the thing that galled him. He couldn’t go through with it. He’d tell Grandfather tomorrow. No ship was worth tying himself to a virtual stranger for the rest of his life
, no matter how pretty she was.
“Eli Kennebrae?” A short, barrel-chested man with silvery whiskers bristling outward from his cheeks stopped Eli on his way toward the punch table. “Gervase Fox. Glad to know you.”
Eli shook the man’s hand, surprised at the strength generated by such a small fellow. “Glad you could come.”
“Now, don’t run away. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” Fox held Eli’s elbow when Eli would’ve moved on. “I hear you’ve been in Virginia learning the shipbuilding trade.”
“That’s right.” Eli’s interest was caught, as it was whenever shipbuilding came up for discussion.
“Why Virginia? Not enough shipbuilders on the lakes for you to learn from?”
Eli frowned at the challenge in Fox’s question but brushed it off. “I wanted to learn the mechanics of oceangoing vessels to see which ones would best apply to lake ships. I’d already studied in the Kennebrae shipyards here.”
“And did you learn anything?”
The way Fox leaned in, eyes trained on Eli’s face, caused Eli to step back a pace. “A few things, here and there. What did you say you did again?”
“Didn’t say. Figured you’d know. I’m Gervase Fox, Keystone Steel and Shipping. Surely your brothers have mentioned me. We’re friends, Jonathan, Noah, and I.”
“Excuse me, sir.” McKay touched Eli’s arm, and Eli turned to the Kennebrae butler. “Mr. Kennebrae would like to see you.”
“Thank you, McKay. Nice to have met you, Fox.” Eli walked away from the little man with the distinct feeling that he was being watched.
Grandfather met him on the back veranda. “Where have you been? It’s time for the photographs.”
Eli allowed himself to be positioned here and there in the family photos, glad for his brother about the marriage but bored with the proceedings.
Jonathan wore a concerned look and watched his wife, Melissa, like she was a stick of dynamite. Just over a month away from her confinement, Melissa bore his anxiety with good humor.
“How’re you holding up?” Eli sat beside her while the photographer set up shots of the bride and groom.
“Fine. It was a lovely wedding. They look so happy, don’t they?”
Eli had to agree. The grin hadn’t left Noah’s face for a month. And his bride couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him. A stirring of something—was it jealousy?—flickered in Eli’s middle. If he got married, he’d want his bride to look at him like Annie looked at Noah. His resolve to tell Grandfather to call off ideas of an arranged marriage strengthened.
Laughter drew his attention. Geoffrey stood with the two oldest Zahn girls near the table with the wedding cake. Wouldn’t it be nice to be Geoffrey, no one trying to force him into marriage, free to just chat with pretty girls on a nice afternoon?
Eli excused himself from Melissa and sauntered over to his friend.
“Almost done?” Geoffrey lifted his chin in the direction of the photographer.
“Yes, though I’m nearly blind with all those flashes.” Eli accepted a glass of punch from a passing tray. He looked at the younger Zahn girl over the rim as he drank. Something about her face caught his attention as it had when he first saw her. He liked the way her nose tilted up a bit at the end and the way her lashes fringed her blue eyes. Why did she seem so familiar to him? Had they met somewhere before?
“I think I’ll stroll down toward the water,” Geoffrey spoke to no one in particular. “Would you care to join me, Miss Zahn?” Geoff held out his arm to the older Zahn girl—Clarice, wasn’t it?
She nodded and accepted his offered arm, leaving Eli standing with her sister.
He set his cup on the table behind him. “Josephine, right?”
She winced. “Please, call me Josie. Josephine always makes me feel like a pet poodle on a satin pillow.”
He grinned. “Josie it is, then. I hate to be so forward, but I feel as if we’ve met somewhere before.”
The way her eyes lit up told him he’d been right. “Yes, we have, though I’m surprised you remember. It was some years ago.” She flicked a glance up at him through her lashes then looked out over the lake once more. Captivating.
“Some years ago? Let’s see. Was it at the yacht races? No?” He cast back in his mind. “Founder’s Day Picnic?”
She shook her head and hooked her little finger through a strand of hair that had blown across her cheek. He studied the curve of her jaw and the slender column of her neck before dragging his mind back to the question at hand. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to jog my memory.”
“The Shipbuilder’s Ball of ’03.”
He snapped his fingers. “That’s where it was. We danced together, didn’t we?”
Her expression went from happy to sad in an instant, like snuffing out a candle. “No, that was my sister. You danced with Clarice that night.”
❧
Josie stood on the front lawn and watched the bridal couple drive away. Women waved handkerchiefs and men clapped. She prayed they could go home soon. No matter how she looked at it, it always came up the same. She would always and forever be just one of the Zahn girls, interchangeable, identical in everyone’s eyes. The moment Eli had confused her with her sister, it was like someone had set a cold sadiron on her heart and left it there, pushing all the life out of her. Would he, or anyone else, ever see her as an individual?
That Eli, of all people, had done it only made it hurt more. And yet, could she blame him? It had been a long time ago, and she and Clarice did look so much alike. Perhaps she should solace herself with the fact that he remembered that night at all.
Her gaze found him, leaning against the gatepost, talking to his friend, Mr. Fordham. His hands gestured as he spoke, and Mr. Fordham laughed. They must be good friends.
The tinkling of a bell caught her attention. The Kennebrae butler stood on the front steps beckoning the guests near. Beside him, Abraham Kennebrae sat stately and proud. On the far side of the invalid chair stood her father. Puzzlement knit Josie’s brow as she moved to stand with the others to hear what they had to say.
Her mother edged close and clasped her arm, drawing her through the crowd to stand at the front of the semi-circle of guests. Josie found herself in her familiar spot in line between Clarice and Antoinette, a place both comforting and exasperating at the same time.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” Their host cleared his throat. “We didn’t want to take any of the attention away from the bridal couple, so we waited until their departure to make this announcement.” He motioned to Papa, who stepped forward, smiling.
“It is with great pleasure that I announce the engagement of my daughter—” He paused and looked frantically down at the row of girls in pale blue.
Josie’s breath stuck in her throat, and all thought ceased. Her heart beat against her ribs like a captured bird, and her mouth went dry. Engagement?
Her father continued, “Clarice to Eli Kennebrae.”
All the air whooshed out of Josie’s lungs.
Clarice gave a strangled little cry of surprise.
Papa beamed. “Come up here, Clarice, Eli.” He beckoned.
Mama gave Clarice a shove to get her started.
Clarice moved as if in a dream.
Josie knew exactly how she felt. This whole day had been a nightmare.
Three
A band of steel settled around Josie’s forehead and tightened a little with each new comment from her parents.
“A fall wedding, don’t you think?”
“Consolidating the shipping makes sense.”
“I hear charmeuse is the new thing for wedding gowns. But I think you should get married in silk.”
“Abraham and I have been planning this for over a year.”
“Do you think we should have the wedding at Belle Maison or at Kennebrae House? Today’s wedding was so lovely, but I want my girl married at her own home.”
And so it went on through their arrival home and continued all through the light supper. A
supper neither Josie nor Clarice was able to choke down.
Josie looked at Clarice again. Her sister sat as if in a stupor, eyes blank with shock. Josie knew just how she felt. A lightning bolt from a clear blue sky couldn’t have hit with more surprise.
Clarice was engaged. To Eli Kennebrae.
Josie looked to Grandma Bess to see how she was taking the situation. Grandma sat in her customary chair, paying no attention to the ebb and flow of conversation going on around her, totally engrossed in one of her magazines. How could she read her serial stories at a time like this?
Josie wanted to stand and scream at her parents for being so cruel. How could they just spring this on everyone? And why did it have to be Eli?
Josie’s train of thought stopped when she realized everyone was looking at her. She didn’t remember getting to her feet.
“You wanted to say something, Josephine?” Mama raised her eyebrows expectantly.
Heat coursed through Josie’s face and neck and spun in her ears. “It’s been such a big day. I think I’m developing a headache. May I be excused, please?”
“Yes, of course, and Clarice, you may go, too. We’ll talk more in the morning.”
Josie dragged herself up to her room. The mess of papers and books beside the desk remained. She had no energy or enthusiasm to clean it up. It would have to wait until morning. And with her tutoring cut off and no hope of college, why bother to keep the books out anyway?
She was turning back the rumpled comforter and getting ready to climb into bed when someone tapped on the door.
Clarice entered when Josie called.
Surprised, Josie slid into bed and pulled the covers up over her lap. Clarice wasn’t one for midnight confidences, though Josie supposed if ever she needed someone to talk to, it would be now.
Clarice sat on the end of the bed and leaned against the footboard, pulling her knees up and tucking her toes under the hem of her dressing gown. “I can’t believe any of this is happening.” She grabbed the cuffs of her sleeves and put the heels of her hands up to cover her eyes.
