All in Good Time (The Gilded Legacy)

by Maureen Lang

  But if they went up and made a run for it, would the mob catch them?

  Dessa forced away her fears. She must do something if she was to keep the others safe. Staying here seemed anything but.

  She pulled Liling and Mei Mei from their seats. “We have no choice. We’ll have to run.”

  Jane popped up from her corner but pressed back into the shelves behind her. “It’s not safe out there! And where will we go?”

  Dessa was already directing the girls toward the ladder. “We’ll make a run just a couple blocks away. If Mr. Foster’s carriage driver is as loyal as I think he is, he’s still waiting.”

  “But we might get caught!” Jane protested. “That mob is still up there!”

  “We’re not going that way. We’ll circle around them, as far as we have to, and stay in the shadows.”

  “What if we get caught?”

  “Jane!” Dessa caught the girl’s shoulders and shook her hard. “Do you want to die of smoke down here or take your chances up there?”

  “Oh, miss!” She burst into tears and flung herself into Dessa’s embrace.

  “Hush now, Jane; we’ll be all right. I promise you.” She just hoped she could keep that promise.

  Nadette went up the ladder first, scurrying faster than Dessa would have thought possible considering her skirt. Jane, Liling, and Mei Mei went afterward, though Dessa told them to wait inside the carriage house until she joined them.

  She looked at Mr. Dunne before going up. He seemed content to stay where he was. It might not be wise to have a tottering man along with them, but she could hardly leave him here to die if the smoke got the best of the place.

  “You’d better see to yourself, Mr. Dunne. And not down here. They’re not after you, so if you go up you shouldn’t be in danger as long as you stay clear of us.”

  He lifted a careless palm. “Ah, miss, ’tis a saint you are to worry over me. But I’ll take me chances right here.” He grabbed one of the jugs and hugged it to his chest.

  “Please don’t drink any more, Mr. Dunne,” she said. “You’ve done a noble thing, hiding the girls here tonight. I had no idea this place existed. I want to be able to say thank you in the morning—and not just to your memory.”

  He’d been about to lift the jug to his lips, but her words stopped him. “Did I now? Do you think it’s true? That I played a part in savin’ anyone tonight?”

  “Indeed I do.”

  “Well, then,” he said slowly, recapping the jug. “Well. So there you have it.”

  But Dessa could stay no longer. She climbed the rungs as fast as she could—relieved a moment later when Mr. Dunne followed. He’d left the whiskey below.

  Even before she reached the others huddled together, the bells and whistles from a fire wagon came blessedly to her ears.

  Thank You, Lord, for such clear direction!

  The sound of the fire brigade whistles came as some relief to Henry, though it did nothing to lift his spirits despite his guess that the sound had dispersed the mob out front. The tarnished brick walls of Pierson House still stubbornly stood, but flames continued to devour everything inside.

  Dessa wasn’t in there. She couldn’t have been.

  He repeated the words over and again, silently, persistently. From moment to moment he went from trusting God and believing those words to waves of relentless fear.

  If she wasn’t in there, then where would she go? Had she made it to Foster’s carriage? He only hoped she wasn’t alone. Only Remee had been in that line, miraculously but ineffectively protecting Pierson House.

  Some bouncer Mr. Dunne had proven himself. Or maybe he had done his job, at least so far as Jane and the Chinese girls went, since they were nowhere to be found.

  Mr. Dunne! Turning round to the carriage house, a burst of hope lit his heart. Mr. Dunne lived in that ramshackle place. Maybe even now the old sot was proving himself worth something and hiding all of them.

  Henry lurched toward the door, yanking on the handle—but it didn’t budge. “Dessa!” His throat, still parched from the smoke, protested at the use, but he called her name again, then again, banging on the doors. He’d bust them down if he had to.

  And then they fell open. A young girl stood there, her eyes wide, cautious. Maddeningly, Henry didn’t recognize her. Where was Dessa? Did this girl know?

  He nearly leaped at her, wanting to shake information out of her even before giving himself a chance to ask. But shadows—several of them—emerged behind her, and he grabbed the door instead, flinging it wide so he could identify those standing before him.

  Two petite shadows. Another he recognized as belonging to Jane.

  With a cry of relief he was surprised to hear come from his own mouth, he saw Dessa—and pulled her into his arms.

  Dessa was crying before she even knew it. He was here! He’d come after her! How foolish and miraculous—and wonderful.

  When Henry’s mouth came down on hers, she didn’t even care what the others thought. She received his kiss as if it were her first—and certainly it was, at least the first one that had anything to do with love. She tasted smoke and cinders but didn’t care, except that it meant he’d been far too close to danger.

  Pulling back, she saw something else on his face. A trail on his cheek that made its way through the soot covering him nearly everywhere. “Oh, but you’re bleeding!”

  He raised a hand to his face. “Am I?”

  “Are you all right?”

  He pulled her close again. “I wasn’t until seeing you.” He threw a glance toward the house. “I thought you were in there.”

  “You didn’t . . . you didn’t go in there after me, did you?”

  “He certainly did,” said a new voice from just beyond the carriage house. Dessa looked to see Mr. Foster’s silhouette. He was somewhat crouched over, as if favoring one side, but when he stepped closer she saw he had a grin on his face—a face every bit as grimy as Henry’s.

  “And are you all right, Mr. Foster?”

  “No thanks to the man you’re holding.”

  Henry’s quick grin revealed white teeth that were a stark contrast to his face. “It seems to me I just dragged you out of that inferno.”

  “And why was I in there to begin with? To fish you out.”

  Henry shrugged. “So we’re even.”

  Dessa went light-headed at the news. Henry had risked his life—for her!

  “Oh, Henry,” she whispered, her vision blurring with new tears. If only he knew. . . . He may not think her worth such a drastic risk if he learned she was anything but the virtuous woman he believed her to be.

  When his lips found hers again, gently, sweetly, she savored the lingering moment. It might very well be the last.

  39

  DESPITE A GOOD soap and scrub in the bath, fresh clothes, and a much-needed rest after last evening’s adventures, Henry still smelled smoke. After more than one dream of facing a fire, he’d awakened in a panic—only to settle his head back on his familiar pillow in blessed relief. It was over. Dessa was safe. The mob had disbanded with a few broken ribs and noses, but despite the destruction of Pierson House and one opium den, there had been no loss of life. Thank God.

  Finding a place to take Dessa and the others had been nearly as challenging as rescuing them. Dessa asked about being taken to the Whites’, but Henry discouraged that until knowing whether the violence was truly quelled. She’d readily agreed, wanting to avoid any possibility of putting a private residence in danger, least of all one belonging to her dearest friends.

  He would have suggested his own home but doubted that would be viewed as proper, even with his mother still there. He did, however, invite Mr. Dunne to stay with him, making a note to remind Barron to put away the wine he usually kept in the parlor.

  When Foster offered the Verandah—wisely rejected for being too close to the source of trouble—Henry realized a public place was the best option. He suggested they stay at the Windsor, as his guests. It was, after all, s
till a plush hotel, capable of drawing wealthy tourists despite its location mere blocks away from the worst of the Fourth Ward. But the horrified look on the face of the girl called Liling had Dessa and even Jane quickly shaking their heads. Dessa whispered something to him about suicides in the main staircase, and so he pursued that avenue no further.

  They had at last agreed upon the respectable—though not extravagant—Alvord House. It might not be one of the most popular hotels anymore, not with Market Street traffic spreading out, but the hotel clung to its elegance with free private baths, excellent meals, and most importantly, a secluded entrance just for ladies.

  Foster had arranged for a police officer to escort them and another to concentrate his beat walk at the corner, on the lookout for any hint of trouble—a sign to Henry that the man might well be capable of the concern he claimed to have. It was hard to doubt a man who’d chased him into a burning building.

  Orders for protection drew some attention from the hotel staff, but with Henry’s generous tip they didn’t ask questions.

  After seeing that the girls were well taken care of, Henry had gone to the White home. Despite his ragged appearance, he was readily admitted by William and soon joined by a concerned and curious Mariadela. Henry explained, as briefly as possible, what had happened, but finished by telling them where Dessa, Jane, Nadette, and the Chinese sisters could be found. They were in immediate need of clothing, since theirs had been lost in the fire. Henry promised to pay for all necessary purchases, from shoes to shawls, and William pledged he would charge him 10 percent below cost.

  As he dressed that morning, Henry had only one thought on his mind: seeing Dessa.

  And that would happen soon. She’d agreed to meet him after lunch, out at City Park. It was only there, on a bench in the open parkland, that they would find any time alone.

  Liling and Mei Mei were fully dressed in brand-new, store-bought Western gowns from White’s Mercantile, as were Dessa and the others. Both sisters allowed their hair to be free of everything but simple pins at the sides, also provided by Mariadela, making them appear even younger than they were.

  They’d just finished a late breakfast, which had been brought to the room. Though Henry had offered to pay for several rooms, none of them could bear to be parted so soon after their ordeal. So a bellboy had been called to drag in another mattress, and the sisters slept on that, while Jane and Dessa took the bed and Nadette grabbed nothing more than a pillow, curling up on the floor in front of the door without complaint.

  It had been near dawn when they’d at last settled down from their anxious rehashing of the night’s events. One by one, they’d talked out their experience with the hope of putting it behind them.

  Dessa learned that Remee had run down the street to Miss Leola’s at the first sign of trouble and somehow convinced the women there to help. Jane said she’d heard one of the girls say Pierson House may not be a place any of them wanted to join, but just knowing it was there had brought comfort. The girls now had a choice, if ever one wanted to leave—which this girl hastened to add she did not. But even if she never chose the Pierson House option, she wasn’t going to let anybody take it away.

  That had brought tears to Dessa’s eyes. In spite of all her mistakes, perhaps her efforts weren’t completely in vain. But the image of Pierson House left in shambles made her doubt herself anew. God might have prevented the fire. . . .

  She caught back such thoughts, as if Sophie herself were there to scold her. “We may question the circumstances God allows to draw us to Him or to teach us, but we must never question His love. His will is known to those who seek it, all in good time.”

  Dessa drew in a deep breath. She’d learned her lesson about not taking on too much too quickly; now she must remember not to question His love, no matter what had happened last night—or what might happen today.

  Standing before the only mirror in the room, which was attached to the dressing table, Dessa caught a reflection of the girls sitting behind her—Nadette and Jane, Liling and Mei Mei. Dessa had asked about Remee and been told she was last seen going off with some of her former sisters in the trade. Dessa wondered if she ought to worry about that, but somehow knew she didn’t have to.

  She wiped her face with a damp cloth one last time. She’d already scrubbed away any leftover tension from last night, but wanted to look her best. No one, not even Dessa herself, could doubt the depth of Henry’s feelings for her after last night. He’d rushed headlong into a burning building for her!

  Yet her heart fluttered every time she imagined meeting him today, with equal parts anticipation and fear.

  “You look like you’re goin’ to a execution instead a meetin’ a beau,” Nadette said with a sharp eye on Dessa.

  “He’s not—”

  “Don’t you dare deny it now, Miss Caldwell,” Jane said, coming up behind her to tuck a stray strand of hair into her loose chignon. “We all saw him kissing you.”

  “And he faced a fire for you; don’t never forget that,” Nadette added.

  Dessa couldn’t help but smile. “I won’t. Believe me, I’ll never forget that. It’s just . . . Last night was rife with emotion. I’m not at all sure Mr. Hawkins will feel the same in the light of day.” Especially after she told him what she had to say.

  “He ‘Mr. Hawkins’ now, Miss Caldwell?” asked Liling. “No. You greet him ‘Henry’ today. So he know nothing the way it was before fire.”

  Dessa turned from the mirror to face them all. Each one looked so hopeful, as if she represented their dreams too. She wanted to tell them the best of their futures shouldn’t depend upon anyone but God and themselves, that her own future would be fulfilling with or without Mr. Henry Hawkins, because she was following the will of God.

  But the truth was, the blessing of love was something she’d hoped for despite her busy life. That had never been more clear than since she had met Henry. Not all women shared that dream; Sophie had set such a wonderful example of that, an example Dessa had expected to follow. But she knew now that she shared a closer kinship with the women whose faces she stared at—and that their shared dream included marriage.

  If it wasn’t to be hers after all, she had no idea how difficult that would be to face.

  Henry felt like a youth again. Excited, hopeful, insecure. He was ready to make plans for the future. A future he hoped would be shared with Dessa.

  The bank was behind him now, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t start up another business. He could easily go back to selling dry goods—though he doubted the Whites would welcome his competition again.

  Which led him to consider asking Dessa how she would feel about moving to Leadville so Henry could be nearer his mother. He knew her own modest dry goods store was capably run by the Owen family, and Henry had no desire to usurp them. But the store was on the meager side, and Leadville had far outgrown the simple requirements of miners. There were real families out there now, and with them came more sophisticated needs. Needs Henry was only too happy to be able to provide for. He’d be careful to avoid selling the type of equipment his mother offered so they would complement each other rather than compete for the same customers.

  Yes, this could work out very well indeed. If Dessa wouldn’t mind leaving Denver, at least for the foreseeable future.

  She would most likely want to rebuild Pierson House; he couldn’t imagine her thinking anything else. How would marriage, if he was blessed to have her agree, fit into her hopes and plans for her mission? Was whatever she felt for him enough to let them find someone else to oversee a venture that was so important to her?

  Still, he knew he hadn’t imagined those kisses last night. They hadn’t been one-sided, and that made his heart dance between his concerns.

  Henry resisted the surprising urge to twirl his walking stick as he paced before the park settee, their designated meeting spot. Fallo had left him there, then gone on to the hotel to retrieve Dessa. Henry pulled out his pocket watch for the third time. They
should be here at any moment.

  When he looked up, he was pleased to see his carriage approaching. She wasn’t even late. It was only his eagerness that had made him impatient.

  Waving away Fallo’s assistance, Henry himself pulled out the step and aided Dessa from the carriage. She greeted him with a smile, but it wasn’t the most dazzling smile he’d ever seen on her lovely face. Nonetheless, after a kiss to her hand, he did not let go. Folding her arm through his, he set a leisurely pace along the parkway, wishing he had something clever to say. Something they might laugh over to banish the unnecessary tension.

  But she looked nearly as nervous as he felt.

  Dessa could barely breathe, let alone speak. What could she say? How could she tell him she wasn’t all he believed her to be? How could she tell him that if it hadn’t been for the goodness and generosity of Sophie Pierson, Dessa herself might have been forced into the kind of life suffered by the women she longed to help?

  “Were you able to rest well after the excitement of last night?” Henry asked after they’d walked a little way from the carriage.

  “The ladies and I were up far too late, talking about all of it.”

  Her arm was still linked with his, and he put his walking stick under his free arm to pat her hand. “You were very brave in all of this, Dessa. I admire you for that. And for so much more.”

  Now her blood pumped so madly through her veins that she felt light-headed. “May we sit?”

  The settee wasn’t far, and he led the way, allowing her to take a seat first. Dessa fussed with a button on one of her new gloves; she wished she could take them off, hold them, fiddle with them in the hope of spending some of her nervousness, though the afternoon breeze was pleasant enough to keep them on. “Henry—”