Courting Susannah

by Linda Lael Miller

  “Perhaps,” he said pleasantly, smiling a wolfs smile, “you should just move into Zach’s mansion and be done with it.”

  “Can’t you two stop your bickerin’ long enough to figger out that you’re meant to be together?” Maisie interrupted, startling them both with her presence as well as her outlandish words. Neither Susannah nor Aubrey had heard the woman come in, but Victoria had; she gurgled in gleeful recognition and held out her chubby little arms to the new arrival. Maisie lifted the child to her shoulder.

  Aubrey tugged at the cuffs of his shirt and straightened his shoulders. “Miss McKittrick,” he said, “is not interested in being married. At least, not to me.” With that, he turned around and stalked out of the room.

  “Well, I’ll be jiggered,” Maisie marveled, and cackled the way she’d been doing all day, like an old hen. “That man’s smitten with you, Susannah. Imagine—him bein’ jealous of old Zach! I ain’t never seen anythin’ like it.”

  “Nonsense,” Susannah scoffed, afraid to hope that Maisie was right. That somewhere inside Aubrey Fairgrieve lurked a tender feeling, a seed of sweet regard that might one day grow into love. “He may be jealous, but if he is, it’s because Julia betrayed him, not because he cares for me.”

  “Give things time,” Maisie said, with a gentleness so unexpected that it brought tears springing to Susannah’s eyes. “He was bad hurt, Mr. Fairgrieve was. But he’s a good man.” She chucked Victoria beneath the chin. “Why, just look at the way he holds this little mite. He ain’t scairt to pick up a baby, like most men would be.”

  “You’re forgetting,” Susannah said quietly, rubbing both temples with the tips of her fingers, “that he didn’t believe Victoria was his child until he had things out with Ethan. He didn’t even bother to name her.”

  “I reckon he considered her his all along, whether he believed he was the father or not,” Maisie insisted, bouncing the delighted infant on her ample hip. “He thought he could keep himself from lovin’ her, that’s all, so’s she couldn’t break his heart for him. He tried, and he failed at it.”

  Susannah sat down hard on the piano stool. The next day was Saturday, and the party Aubrey insisted on giving would be held in the evening, thus forcing her to face a houseful of curious guests. And Sunday morning meant braving the disapproval of the Ladies’ Christian Benevolence Society to attend church. The members viewed her as a scarlet woman and would continue to do so until she married respectably, left Seattle, or died of old age. No one, she knew, could be quite so unbending as the devoutly religious.

  “There, now,” Maisie said, laying a hand to Susannah’s shoulder. “You look a mite frazzled. Why don’t you bundle up and have yourself a nice walk, whilst I tend to the babe here?”

  Susannah welcomed the offer. Although it was surely cold outside, and great flakes of snow were drifting past the windows, there was still enough light for a quick stroll. She thanked Maisie and hurried into the entryway to collect her cloak from the hall tree.

  Curiosity drew her past Mr. Zacharias’s residence, a great stone edifice with many windows, a gabled roof, stables, and a carriage house. She stood at the gate, looking up at the structure and wishing she could somehow cause herself to care deeply for the man inside. He was a kindly sort, she knew, and clearly generous as well. His rough exterior hid a romantic nature, and he would make someone a fine husband.

  She was about to turn away and return to Aubrey’s house and her duties there when the front door of the mansion swung open, and Zacharias appeared in the chasm.

  “Howdy!” he called out, waving. He looked and sounded so pleased by her visit, however inadvertent, that Susannah couldn’t help smiling.

  “Hello, Mr. Zacharias,” she said. He picked his way through the snow toward her, moving with the light, dancelike steps of a leprechaun. He had left his coat behind, and his beard was turning white.

  “Come on in, and I’ll show you my pianny,” he said, with such pleasure that Susannah could not think of a way to refuse him. She was well aware, as she took Zacharias’s arm and allowed him to escort her up the unshoveled walk, that members of the Benevolence Society were probably watching her through the windows of the nearby houses.

  “I can’t stay long,” she said. “I’ve left Victoria in Maisie’s care, and she’s got her hands full with Jasper and the housework.”

  Zacharias smiled his understanding. “He’s spoken for you, has he? Aubrey, I mean?”

  They had gained the gaping front door, and Susannah stepped into an amazing foyer with a painted, Italian-style ceiling and colorful mosaic floors. She had no desire to mislead her friend and student. “Yes,” she said, with resignation rather than enthusiasm.

  “And you don’t want to get yourself hitched up with him?” Zacharias was watching her closely as he helped her out of her cloak.

  “The truth is,” she admitted, feeling quite miserable, “I believe I care for him.” It was hard to say, but she was an honest person, and, besides, she didn’t want to give Mr. Zacharias false hope. If he decided not to take piano lessons anymore, she would just have to accept the fact.

  The aging miner took her arm and led her into a spacious room with walls papered in gaudy embossed velvet. The fireplace was either painted gold or plated with the real thing, and a spectacular grand piano stood before a trio of towering windows overlooking a garden drifted with powdery snow.

  Susannah was drawn to the instrument as surely as a saint would be drawn to an angel. She uncovered the keys, touched them with reverent fingers.

  “Had that sent all the way from San Francisco, Californy,” Zacharias said, not for the first time. He sounded a little wistful, and Susannah turned to look at him with affection and true regret that she could not care for him in a romantic way. “I know I ain’t young and finelookin’, like Aubrey is,” he said, as though he’d been reading her mind, “but I’d make a good husband.” Above the grizzle of his beard, his round cheeks turned bright pink. “You’d have your own bedroom and ever’thin’ like that there.”

  Susannah crossed the room and laid a hand on Zacharias’s arm. “I can’t marry you,” she said. “But it isn’t because there’s anything wrong with your appearance.” Not so suddenly, she wanted to break down and weep. “It’s just that I do care for Aubrey, hopeless as that seems. I’d give anything if things were different, but there it is. And I don’t know what to do.”

  Hesitantly, Mr. Zacharias patted her hand. He heaved out a great sigh. “Well, I confess I had my hopes, but never mind that. Set yourself down here, and I’ll see if I can rustle up a cup of hot tea. You want a little whiskey in it, too? Sometimes that’ll smooth out the road for a person.”

  Susannah smiled in spite of her low spirits. A glance at the windows told her the sun would soon disappear entirely, but suddenly she didn’t care. Victoria was safe with Maisie, and she was safe with Zacharias. “I would enjoy a cup of tea,” she said primly. “As for the whiskey—” She let her voice trail away, pursed her lips a little, and shook her head.

  Zacharias left the room, and Susannah immediately rose and went back to the piano. It was a superior instrument, better even than the one in Aubrey’s rear parlor, and playing it on a regular basis would be a joy.

  After pulling off her gloves, she sat down on the long, sleek bench and arranged her fingers on the keys. Soon soft music filled the room, delicate and magical, like something flowing from another, better world.

  The rattle of a tea cup somewhere behind her caused her to stop and turn around. Zacharias stood nearby, holding an incongruously fragile teapot in one gnarled and leathery hand. “That was mighty pretty,” he said in a reverent voice. “Put me right in mind of my Martha, God rest her soul.”

  “Your wife played?”

  “Not so well as you,” Zacharias said, his eyes full of fond remembrance, “but she could coax out a tune if she tried. ’Course, she never had a pianny like that one. She used to go down to the church and use theirs, when she took a mind to make
music.”

  Susannah’s heart twisted a little. She joined Mr. Zacharias at the gilded round table where he’d set the tea service and took one of the two spindly chairs.

  “I didn’t have nothin’ when Martha was alive,” Zacharias said, sitting down opposite her. “That sorta takes the frolic outta all this.” He gestured with one hand to indicate their rich, if not tasteful, surroundings.

  “I’m sure you will find another wife,” Susannah said gently and in all sincerity, watching as the older man poured their tea with infinite care. “She’d want you to be happy, your Martha.”

  Surprisingly, Zacharias laughed. “Oh, no, she wouldn’t,” he countered, taking his own tea from the saucer instead of the cup. “She told me once that she’d never take another husband if I died afore her, and she expected me to honor her memory for the rest of my days if she was the one to pass first. I’ve tried, I truly have, but sometimes I jest get so lonesome I dern near can’t stand it.”

  Susannah was careful not to look at Zacharias for a few moments, giving him time to shore up his dignity a little. “Surely there are widows in Seattle—”

  “Nary a one,” Zacharias lamented. “Why, they get snatched up quicker’n gold nuggets in a creek bed soon as they step off the train or sail in with a ship. And if their man happens to drop dead after they get here, there’ll be fellers at the funeral with a ring in their pocket.”

  Susannah was a little shocked by this statement, but she hid her response for the sake of Mr. Zacharias’s feelings. Men, she reflected, in the privacy of her own thoughts, were very odd creatures. Love seemed to matter less to them than convenience.

  She took a sip of her tea, which was surprisingly good, before answering. “Have you considered sending away for a bride?” she asked. She knew there were always discreet advertisements in the eastern newspapers—she and Julia had often giggled over them when they were girls—and matrimonial agencies operated in major cities like New York and Chicago. It was entirely possible that something of the sort might be found in San Francisco.

  Zacharias shook his head and made a rueful, clucking sound with his tongue. “You just don’t know what you might find waitin’ for you at the end of the dock if you do that,” he said.

  This time, Susannah wanted to laugh instead of cry, but she kept a straight face. “You could exchange photographs,” she suggested. “Correspond for a time, perhaps.”

  “I knew a feller did that very thing. Sent a letter and his likeness to a place in Boston, Massychusetts. Got a letter back right soon, ’long with a picture of a pretty little gal with bright eyes and piles o’ billowin’ dark hair. Good figger, too. They wrote back and forth for nigh onto a year. Then she said she’d marry him. He was all excited and paid her passage. The weddin’ was done by proxy, so’s they could settle in right away once she got here. Well, now, when she turned up, she was twice the size of the lady in the picture and plain as mud. That wouldn’ta been so bad—Sam hisself had no call to get too picky, you understand—but she had a sour nature into the bargain. Yessir, that woman could strip the hide right off a man with a look, and when she got to ravin’ and swingin’ a rollin’ pin or a chunk of firewood or whatever might come to hand, well, she was downright dangerous.”

  Susannah took another sip of tea. Zacharias’s tale was vivid in her mind’s eye. “Then you could go in person. To find a wife, I mean.”

  He sighed forlornly and nodded toward the windows. “Winter’s on us, and there’ll be no gettin’ over the mountains afore spring. I don’t care much for ships, truth to tell, so I reckon I’m strapped for a woman. I’d like to keep on studyin’ the pianny, though, if it’s all the same to you. Women like music, don’t they?”

  “Indeed they do,” Susannah said. She put down her tea cup, all too aware that it was dark out. The street lamps would do little to push back the gloom. “I must go, Mr. Zacharias,” she told him, rising from her chair. He stood simultaneously, and once again, she was touched by his eagerness to show good manners. “Are you attending the party tomorrow night at Aubrey—at the Fairgrieve house?”

  He beamed. “I got me an invite. Me’n Aubrey are old friends, even though we sometimes exchange hard words.” In the garish entryway, he helped her into her cloak, then reached for his own expensively tailored coat. “I’ll see you home. Least I can do, when you was so neighborly as to come callin’.”

  Susannah wasn’t about to turn down his offer. “You’re very kind,” she said in all sincerity.

  Less than ten minutes later, she was back in Aubrey’s house, hanging up her cloak. Zacharias had taken leave of her at the front gate, though she knew he’d stood watch until the door closed safely behind her.

  Aubrey was locked away in his study, engaged in some sort of business meeting from the sound of things, and Maisie was in the kitchen, as usual. She was holding Victoria on her lap, while Jasper played at her feet with a carved wooden horse. The room was warm and fragrant, but Maisie’s earlier good cheer had vanished, replaced by a fretful expression.

  Susannah was instantly alarmed. “Maisie, what is it?”

  “I was gettin’ plumb worried about you,” Maisie scolded. “Figured you’d been carried off somewheres—”

  Susannah smiled. “I’m safe and sound, as you can see. I was having tea with Mr. Zacharias. That’s quite a house he lives in.”

  “Made him a fortune up in Alaska,” Maisie said.

  Just in from the snowy outdoors, Susannah shivered a little, just to think of the Klondike in winter, and dragged a chair over close to her friend’s. “I’ll take the baby from you,” she offered in a gentle tone.

  Maisie wasn’t ready to surrender Victoria. “She’s a sweet thing,” she responded. “I’d like to go on holdin’ her for a while, if n you don’t mind.”

  “Of course I don’t,” Susannah said, touching her friend’s arm. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Always sets me to feelin’ lonesome, this time of year. A little melancholy, too.”

  Susannah gave her a hug, careful not to crush the baby. “I understand.”

  “Makes a body yearn for a husband and a house.” Maisie looked around. “Oh, this place is right grand, but it ain’t mine. I’d settle for a cabin if I could have me a good man. One who’d be kind to my Jasper, I mean.”

  An idea niggled into the back of Susannah’s mind, outlandish and purely wonderful, but she wasn’t quite ready to share it. “Have you a party dress, Maisie?” she asked.

  Maisie looked baffled. “Never did,” she said. “Not in my whole life.”

  Susannah assessed her friend. She was bigger than Julia had been, that was certain, but not so much that a few alterations wouldn’t suffice. They need only find a gown with fairly generous seams. “Well, it’s about time you did.”

  “What are you up to?” Maisie asked, looking wary.

  Susannah smiled, letting the question pass unanswered. Maisie was a good woman, tender-hearted and hardworking. She attended church every Sunday, without fail, and once or twice Susannah had seen her poring over an old Bible at the kitchen table, eyes narrowed in concentration, lips shaping the holy words silently, reverent in her concentration. She cooked and kept a spotless house, and she was a splendid mother to Jasper. Why, if she was gussied up just a little, she’d have herself a husband in no time.

  “Susannah?” Maisie prodded.

  Susannah looked her over. “I think green is your best color,” she speculated. “Come with me.”

  Maisie didn’t balk until they’d reached the threshold of Julia’s old room. When Susannah marched in, headed for one of several wardrobes, stuffed to bursting with beautiful gowns, Maisie lingered in the corridor.

  “What in blue blazes—?”

  Susannah opened the first cabinet and started riffling through its contents, rejecting one dress after another. Finally, in the third and final armoire, she found a dark green velvet, apparently made to accommodate Julia during her pregnancy. A few snips and stitches here a
nd there, and the lovely frock would fit Maisie perfectly.

  Of course, Susannah was thinking of pairing her friend with Mr. Zacharias, though she didn’t think it prudent to say as much, just yet, anyway. This was Seattle, after all. Wives were a scarce commodity, and Maisie would make an exceptional one.

  “Try this on,” Susannah said, holding up the dress.

  “Are you crazy?” Maisie wanted to know.

  Susannah laughed. “Probably. Now, get in here and shut the door. There’s no time to waste if we’re going to have you ready for the party.”

  Maisie looked up and down the corridor before stepping, wide-eyed, into the bedroom. Susannah made up her mind to ask Aubrey if she could pack away Julia’s things and turn the room into a proper nursery for Victoria.

  An hour later, the dress was fitted and basted, and Maisie looked grand. She stared at her image in a cheval mirror, while Susannah, holding Victoria, looked on with smiling approval.

  “I thank you, Susannah McKittrick,” Massie said, sounding awed. There were tears standing in her eyes.

  “You look beautiful,” Susannah replied, and she meant it. She had a feeling Mr. Zacharias and a number of Seattle’s other lonely bachelors would agree.

  Chapter 11

  When morning spilled over the eastern horizon, Susannah arose, attended to Victoria and to her own ablutions, and descended the rear stairway into the kitchen. She found Maisie at her usual duties, humming happily as she prepared a fragrant, sizzling breakfast at the stove.

  Victoria, bouncing in Susannah’s arms, caught sight of Jasper playing on the floor and strained toward him with the whole of her small, strong body.

  “Not until you’ve had your bottle,” Susannah said, holding on tightly and brushing the baby’s temple with the lightest pass of her lips. She watched her friend with amused speculation for a few moments. “You seem in good spirits this morning, Maisie.”

  The other woman smiled as Susannah settled herself and Victoria in the rocking chair, then handed over the customary bottle of warm milk. The household was falling into a routine. She was glad of that, for it made her feel as though she belonged.