Courting Susannah

by Linda Lael Miller

  She might have slapped him if they hadn’t been in the center of a crowded room with half of Seattle looking on. If she hadn’t wanted so much, so conversely, to surrender to him in every respect.

  The music stopped, and she was spared the necessity of an answer, because Mr. Zacharias, God bless him, appeared at her elbow straight away, asking for the next dance. At the first strains of the next piece, she and the lively older man went spinning away from Aubrey.

  “I’m so glad to see you,” she told her favorite student, and she was in earnest.

  He laughed. “Why’s that? You looked like you swallered the moon whilst you were dancin’ with Fairgrieve. And he was happy as a bear cub dunked in honey.”

  She couldn’t explain that she’d been afraid, minutes before, not of Aubrey but of herself. Her feelings were vast and unfamiliar, and they threatened to overwhelm her good judgment. “He’s going to ask me to marry him,” she told him, leaning close to speak into his ear.

  “Lucky feller,” Mr. Zacharias said. “You gonna say yes?”

  She wanted desperately to accept Aubrey’s proposal, even though she knew it was an empty one. She yearned to share his bed and his life, to bear and rear his children—not just Victoria, whom she already loved as deeply as she would ever love a babe of her own, but half a dozen more besides. What did that say about her? “I don’t know what to do,” she admitted.

  “Then I reckon you ought to bide your time. Till you come to such a place as to be real clear-minded on things.”

  Her feelings were all too clear, but that was too personal a thing to discuss with Mr. Zacharias or anyone else, except perhaps Maisie or the minister, Johnstone. She bit her lower lip and shook her head once, in frustration rather than denial.

  “You sure do look pretty tonight,” Zacharias said. His eyes were twinkling, and Susannah wondered how soon it would be proper to introduce him to Maisie. The two of them would make a fine pair, in her opinion. It made her smile to think of Maisie living in the grandeur of that house a few streets away, never wanting for anything again, as long as she might live.

  Maybe in the spring, she decided, when the sap was flowing again, even in older trees, weathered by time and hardship.

  The next dance was taken by Ethan, who looked splendid in his Sunday clothes. He took her hand when the waltz ended and led her out of the hot press of celebrants and into the shadowy parlor, where it was cooler.

  “Sit down,” he said, guiding her to a settee. “You look ready to swoon.”

  She took a seat, grateful for a chance to catch her breath. She leaned back and closed her eyes, humming softly to herself. When she looked again, Ethan had fetched each of them a cup of punch from the refreshment table just inside the ballroom.

  “Have you any idea how you’ve changed things around here?” he asked before drawing up a nearby chair and sitting down. He took a sip of punch while awaiting her answer.

  Susannah, taken aback by the question, held her own cup carefully, lest she spill the contents onto her silken skirts. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “I think you do,” Ethan said in a quiet voice. “That ballroom’s been closed up like a tomb since the trouble started between Aubrey and Julia. He never gave two hoots in hell about parties, his own or anybody else’s. Now, all of a sudden, he’s entertaining half of Seattle and keeping an eye on who you dance with.”

  Susannah had made a point of not looking to see whom Aubrey was dancing with. If Delphinia was waltzing around the ballroom in his arms, she didn’t want to know it. “I’m sure he’ll keep himself amused,” she said lightly.

  Ethan’s face was in shadow, but she saw his eyebrows rise. “What does that mean?”

  She sighed, took another sip from her cup before answering. The taste of the punch was tangy-sweet on her tongue. “Delphinia Parker is here,” she said. “Surely you noticed her.”

  “Ah,” Ethan said.

  Susannah sat up a little straighten “Now it’s my turn to ask,” she said. “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing. I just think it’s interesting that you’re jealous of Delphinia.”

  “I’m not jealous. Don’t be preposterous.”

  “I’m merely making an observation. A blind man could see that you feel something for my brother. Why are you pretending you don’t?”

  She set the cup aside, with a hand that trembled slightly, and lowered her head. “Is it so obvious?” she asked.

  “Maybe not to everybody,” Ethan answered. “But I know my brother, and I’m beginning to form some opinions about you, too.”

  “Such as?” It was safer asking questions. She could hide behind them—for a while, at least.

  “Beneath that piano-teaching maiden-aunt facade of yours, you’re a very passionate woman. You like waltzing until you’re breathless. You like being kissed, and wearing your hair all soft and loose like that. Am I right?”

  Susannah’s cheeks burned. “You’re rude, that’s what you are.”

  He chuckled. “In case you think I’m about to misbehave, relax. Aubrey has his sights set on you, and, whatever he believes, I’m not about to step over a line like that. I just think you need somebody to talk to, that’s all.”

  She was silent a long time, weighing the matter. Behind her, in the ballroom, the music was spritely and a little too loud. She wondered if Aubrey was smoking in the conservatory with a handful of other men or squiring some woman around the dance floor. Let it be anyone, she thought, besides his former mistress. “How do I know I can trust you?” she asked at long last.

  He didn’t answer directly; he simply leaned forward in his chair, bracing his elbows on his knees, the glass of punch still in hand. “What do you want most in this life, Susannah? What makes you toss and turn at night?”

  She swallowed. It was clear enough what he meant, though the temptation to pretend she didn’t understand was strong. “A family,” she confessed in a soft, bereft voice. “A husband and children.”

  “If Aubrey wants to marry you—and I know he does—what are you waiting for?”

  Susannah scraped her upper lip with her teeth. “He doesn’t love me.”

  “Love,” Ethan repeated, and frowned, sitting back now, pondering the word. “I had that once. Love, I mean. We took too long getting together, and I lost her. You know what, Susannah? If I could go back, I’d marry her right away, no matter what society had to say about it. If she didn’t love me back, I’d still take a chance. I’d squeeze all the happiness I could out of every moment.”

  She felt a chill weave itself along the length of her spine. Oddly enough, it had not occurred to her until that very second that Aubrey was mortal, that he could die, like anyone else. Suppose there was an accident, or he fell ill, and perished or simply went away, as Ethan’s Su Lin had done?

  “He doesn’t love me,” she said again, but softly. Brokenly.

  “He’ll learn to, if he doesn’t already. Don’t let him go without giving it a lot of thought first, Susannah. He’s a rare man, my brother. A good one, too.”

  Susannah felt tears spring to her eyes and was very glad of the dim light in the parlor. She could neither help nor hinder the slight quaver in her voice, however. “He was unfaithful to Julia. Why should I believe he wouldn’t betray me in the same way?”

  “Aubrey built and furnished this house for Julia, before he even met her. He went back east especially to find her. She was happy for a few months after they came out here, but then she changed. She did everything she could to torture him. He can be forgiven, I think, for seeking a little comfort somewhere else.” He watched her in silence for a little while, and it didn’t seem that he expected an answer. A good thing, since Susannah couldn’t have spoken just then to save her life. “The hell of it is,” Ethan went on, “I think he was supposed to find you when he went looking for a wife, not her.”

  Susannah had a handkerchief folded beneath the cuff of her right sleeve. She pulled it out, wadded it into a tight ball, and pre
ssed it to her mouth. “That’s crazy. How could he be looking for someone he didn’t know?”

  “He wasn’t,” Ethan said easily. “He was looking for somebody who was sensible and pretty and good clear through. That’s you, Susannah.”

  She sniffled. “Julia was good,” she protested.

  “Maybe,” he said. “She wasn’t the same woman you remember, though, once she’d been here awhile.”

  “But why?” Susannah asked. “Something specific must have happened. Do you have any idea what it was?”

  Ethan shook his head. “Despite what she would have had Aubrey think, Julia and I weren’t close. Fact is, we had sharp words once or twice, she and I. I guess that’s why she wanted to give the impression that we’d been lovers. She knew Aubrey would hate me if he thought I’d been with her, and who could blame him? A man ought to be able to trust his own brother, if not his wife. When you think about it, it was damned clever—she got back at me and drove Aubrey straight out of his head, all in one masterful stroke.”

  Susannah felt ill. It would have been a comfort to believe Ethan was mistaken, but she knew he wasn’t. There had been something fragile in Julia, something brittle. She had been capable of wicked mischief, even cruelty, when moved to anger or jealousy. Once, when an abandoned kitten had found its way to St. Martha’s and adopted Susannah, Julia had set about winning the animal’s devotion for herself, cooing to it, stroking it, giving it cream and bits of fish. Later, the kitten had fallen ill and died. Just as well, Julia had said. She’d been tired of looking after the creature anyway.

  Now, a surge of resentment swept through Susannah, and she felt silly for the intensity, the terrible magnitude of it. She hadn’t thought about that incident in years, but Ethan’s words had brought the memory back with all the immediacy of a slap across the face, and she had not had time to brace herself against it.

  Susannah stood. “I’d better be getting back to the party,” she said, smoothing her skirts. Julia’s skirts.

  Julia’s house, Julia’s husband, Julia’s baby. Would there never be anything, anyone, to belong only to her?

  Chapter 12

  The ring was quite modest, really, just a simple band, a narrow circle of gold studded with tiny, glittering stones. And yet it was the most breathtaking thing Susannah had ever seen.

  Aubrey took her aside, in the midst of the dancing, to offer it.

  There, behind a potted palm that Maisie had dragged in from the main parlor, he put the same question to her as before, but this time he spoke only with his eyes. Will you marry me, Susannah?

  She looked at the ring, then at his face, remembering what Ethan had said regarding the dangers of waiting too long for love. Perhaps he was right; perhaps love was something that could be nurtured and cultivated. She swallowed hard. “It’s—it’s not really proper, is it? Our getting married, so soon after—after Julia?”

  “Whatever Julia and I shared was over long before she died,” he said. His voice was low, but he did not seem concerned that others might overhear their conversation. “You’ll be happy with me, Susannah. I promise you that.”

  Her friend hadn’t been content, she reflected, for she was possessed of a logical turn of mind, generally speaking. On the other hand, Julia had been—well—Julia. She drew a deep breath. “When would—when would this marriage take place?” she asked, and the calm sound of her voice surprised her, for inside she was in a whirling tizzy. “If indeed it does take place, I mean.”

  His face revealed none of what he was feeling. If, for that matter, he happened to be feeling anything at all. The matter of matrimony was mostly one of practicality, as far as he was concerned; he’d made that quite clear from the beginning. As attractive as Aubrey was, in the spiritual and intellectual senses as well as the physical one, and as wealthy, he was for all intents and purposes just another lonely Seattle man. Like Mr. Zacharias and the other members of the parade of suitors posing as aspiring musicians. Her heart softened a little, despite the discouragement this logic caused her, for she certainly knew what it was to long for companionship and tenderness.

  “Why, Aubrey?” she asked, honestly puzzled. “Why would you choose me?”

  He had taken her hand in his, and he was poised to slide the ring onto the appropriate finger. “I’ve told you. Because I think you’re beautiful. Because it’s obvious that you care deeply for Victoria.” He paused and sighed mightily. “Because sometimes I think if I have to lie alone in that bed for just one more night, I’m going to go mad.”

  The mention of his bed was sobering. Susannah, after all, was a virgin. Except for her own turbulent imaginings and the few hints and tidbits Julia had passed along over the years, she knew nothing about matters of intimacy. Color surged up her neck to pulse in her face. “You don’t understand. I’ve never—I’ve never been with a man before. In—in that way, I mean.” She whispered this last, since some of the other dancers were beginning to squint and peer as they passed the potted palm. She would die of mortification if anyone overheard this most private of conversations.

  “And you don’t have to be intimate with me. Not before you’re ready, in any case.” He looked and sounded sincere, very unlike the man Julia had painted as such a scoundrel over the last months of her life. Was he speaking the truth, or was he simply another deceitful charmer?

  She stared at him after a few moments of closethroated misery. “But you said we would be sharing a bed.”

  “We would. But I won’t force you, Susannah. That’s another promise, one you can be sure I’ll keep.” He sighed once more, and the sound gave her an odd sense of comfort, though she could not have said why. “At whatever cost.”

  Susannah was once again stricken to silence, and this state of affairs lasted for some moments. She searched her mind and heart desperately for the proper words. When she did speak, it was in a rush of impulse. “Yes. If you’ll give me time, then—yes.”

  He smiled, kissed her forehead, and slid the ring onto her finger. “Then we have an agreement,” he said.

  It unsettled Susannah a little, his referring to their engagement as an agreement, but she supposed she should have expected him to use formal terms. After all, he considered their marriage to be a business arrangement, nothing more. Whatever might be happening within her own heart and spirit, she must not forget the truth of the matter. This was not a romantic match.

  “We have an agreement,” she said, and immediately wondered when she had become so reckless. The day she boarded the train in Boston to travel all the way to rough-and-tumble Seattle, she decided. That was when she had begun to change. Or was it even earlier, during the first part of Julia’s marriage, when she’d written such eloquent letters, brimming with the joys of love? Perhaps it had been then that Susannah’s wistfulness had deepened into yearning.

  Aubrey gave her his arm. “Smile a lot,” he instructed her in a pleasant undertone. “I want people to think you’re happy about this.”

  She was happy, truly so, she realized, and in spite of everything. But it would have been too humiliating to admit as much, since he did not share her devotion. She laid a hand on his forearm and raised her chin. No one, she determined, then and there, would ever know by her demeanor that she was the lover but not the beloved. She set her chin at a triumphant angle.

  Aubrey swept her onto the dance floor, and the other guests cleared the way for them, smiling. It was as though the beams of a radiant sun were pouring through the roof of that splendid house on that cold autumn night, setting them and them alone ablaze with a golden aura. Susannah felt the warmth of it settling deep, settling forever, into her very bones.

  When the music stopped, Susannah was breathless and flushed and happier than she’d ever been before. It seemed so easy then to push thoughts of Julia to the back of her mind.

  Aubrey held her left hand in his and raised it for all to see. The engagement ring glittered in the flickering, merry light of the gas lamps. “Much to my delight,” he said in a clear voic
e that carried into every corner of the ballroom, “Miss McKittrick has just agreed to become my wife.”

  There was a startled pause, or so it seemed to Susannah, then came a spattering of tepid applause, followed by exuberant shouts and whistles of congratulation. Some of the women glared at her from behind painted fans—perhaps they intended to import plain daughters and sisters, aunts and nieces, ripe for the marriage market, to Seattle and had chosen Aubrey, prosperous widower that he was, as a prime candidate for the role of bridegroom. It was the men who showed generous enthusiasm, who came forward first, grumbling goodnaturedly even as they offered their felicitations, punching Aubrey in the shoulder or pumping his hand. Maisie, breathless with dancing and beaming at all the attention she’d received, hurried over to hug her.

  “I checked on Victoria a little while ago,” she confided. “That girl Mr. Fairgrieve brought in is lookin’ out for her just fine.”

  Susannah, who had already visited Victoria several times herself, knew the child was fine. Distracted, she hoped the announcement of impending matrimony would not cut too deeply into her growing clientele of piano students. Marriage or no marriage, she still hoped to earn her own funds and establish some semblance of independence.

  She pressed the back of one hand briefly to her forehead, more than a little dizzy. She had agreed to marry a man she barely knew, she marveled. One who had made her closest friend wretchedly unhappy, who had stated frankly that he did not believe in romantic love, let alone feel it for her, Susannah. She wanted very much to sit down, but that was not to be.

  The band took up again, playing an energetic tune, and once again Susannah was in Aubrey’s arms, spinning round and round. She might have collapsed if he hadn’t been holding her so tightly, but, as it was, her feet barely touched the floor, and she felt as though she were dancing on clouds spun of sunshine and silk.

  He waltzed with Susannah until there could be no question of his devotion to her and then slipped out into the wintry garden to enjoy a cheroot. Since her arrival, smoking indoors had been tacitly forbidden.