by Bonnie Leon
“She said she didn’t know John was sick.” Dust roiled up from under the carriage and in through the windows. Hannah covered her nose with a handkerchief.
With a cough, Lydia tipped her head against the back of the seat, briskly fanning the air. “And what did ye tell Thomas ’bout our trip to Sydney Town?”
“Just that we planned to do some shopping. I’ll have to see if I can find a little something for him while we’re there.”
When they approached Sydney Town, Hannah felt her tension grow. What am I doing? This scheme is ridiculous. I ought to tell Dalton to turn the carriage about and return to the Athertons’.
“Shall we stay at the hotel?” Lydia asked.
“That’s fine.” Hannah leaned out of the window and shouted up at Dalton. “We’ll be staying at the hotel.”
“Right,” he called as he steered the team into town.
When they drove past the boardinghouse, Hannah studied the building. If Margaret had a gentleman friend, he’d mostly likely be there—the hotel was too expensive for long stays. She tried to remember what the man she’d seen with Margaret had looked like. It had been a long while. He wasn’t very tall, not much taller than Margaret, and built rather stocky.
Dalton stopped the carriage in front of the hotel and disembarked. He opened the door and assisted the women. Sweat ran in rivulets down his face, then disappeared inside his shirt collar. He took the luggage from its rack and carried it indoors. “Mrs. Atherton said she’d cover the expenses.”
“How kind of her,” Lydia said. “But I’m quite capable of—”
Dalton stopped. “She wants to pay for your stay.” Without another word, he stepped up to the registration desk.
“It’s not necessary, really,” Lydia told Hannah. “David and I are doing well.”
“Of course, but it pleases Catharine.” Hannah smiled. “And I suppose she wants to make certain you and the baby are comfortable. You’re beginning to show, you know.”
Lydia glanced at her slightly rounded abdomen, then looked at Hannah, a flush in her cheeks. “Ye can tell, really?”
Hannah nodded.
“I have gotten a bit thick ’round the middle.” Her expression softened. “I don’t mind, though. I just wish ye were free to share yer joy as well.” She looked more closely at Hannah. “Those shifts ye’ve been wearing do nothing for ye.”
“I’m dressed fine for a housemaid.”
“I wish John knew. He’d be thrilled.”
“At the proper time. Although I doubt the news will be well received.” Hannah kept her voice low.
Lydia studied Hannah. “I can scarcely tell. If ye’d not told me, I’d have no idea.”
“I’m thankful for that.”
“When will ye speak to him? It will have to be soon. Ye can’t keep it hidden forever.”
Hannah knew that, but she wasn’t ready for anyone to know, not just yet. “I’ll tell him at the proper time.” Hannah could barely abide the idea. Margaret would be livid and she had a right to be. John would be shocked, but after a bit of time he’d accept the news graciously. But others . . . well, there would be talk. She and John weren’t married. People would count the months and know that they’d been reckless . . . after Margaret had arrived. Humiliation filled Hannah and she could feel her face burn with shame. Before, when her friends and most in the church had learned of her past, they’d been gracious, but would they be so willing again?
No matter. She pressed her hand against her abdomen. I cherish you.
Dalton moved to Hannah and Lydia, bags in hand. “You’re all checked in. They’ve rooms for you on the second floor. Right this way.” He walked toward the staircase, leading the way. He settled Lydia in her room first, then took Hannah’s bag to hers. “I’ll take the carriage to the livery and will return promptly. If you have need of anything, I’ll be down the hall in room 210.”
“Thank you, Dalton. You’ve been a great help.” Suddenly overcome with gratitude at his presence, Hannah rested a hand on his arm. He glanced at it, clearly uncomfortable at the familiarity. “I just want you to know I appreciate your friendship.” She removed her hand.
“And I value yours.”
“Lydia and I will be having dinner in the dining room, if you’d like to join us.”
“Thank you, but I’ve friends in town. And I’ve promised to sup with them.”
“All right, then. I’ll see you tomorrow. Lydia and I plan to inquire about Mr. Douglas first thing.”
“I asked after him at the desk, but he’s not registered here.”
“Then he must be at the boardinghouse or has left town. I hope he’s not in town and that this has all been a terrible mistake.”
Dalton’s gaze softened. “I do hope you’re right, but I’ve a bad feeling.”
“This time, I will be glad to find you mistaken. I’d like to return home with our minds at ease.”
“We can hope, eh.” With a nod, he left the room.
Hannah stood at the door for a moment, watching until Dalton turned down the hallway to the staircase. She hadn’t been completely honest with Dalton. She was torn between wanting John’s happiness and wondering if reconciliation would come if the rumors were true.
Lydia opened her door and stepped into the hallway. “Ye ready for dinner or would ye rather inquire ’bout Mr. Douglas first?”
“I’m not hungry. Dalton said there’s no one by the name of Douglas registered here.”
“Shall we go to the boardinghouse, then?”
“I suppose that would be the best thing. Might as well do what we must.” Butterflies took flight in Hannah’s stomach.
Hoping to appear nonchalant, the two friends walked down the staircase, across the lobby, and out to the street. Hannah stopped on the sidewalk and took a deep breath. “I don’t know that I can do this.”
“Of course ye can. We’ve done lots worse things.” She smiled at Hannah and linked arms with her. “This is nothing when ye think of all we’ve been through.”
“I suppose you’re right. I’ve nothing to fear.” Inside, though, Hannah knew that what they discovered had the potential to change her life.
“Come on, then.” Lydia led the way across the street. “We might as well do what we came here for.”
When they reached the boardinghouse, Hannah let Lydia go in first. The smell of roasting meat and vegetables greeted them. There was no one at the front desk.
“I’d hate to intrude on the boarders’ evening meal. Perhaps we should return later.”
Lydia looked at Hannah, her hands on her hips. “Anyone managing a boardinghouse expects interruptions.” She put a hand on Hannah’s arm. “Don’t be scared. If we find nothing, yer life remains just as it is. And if we do, it could give John back to ye. Ye’ve nothing to lose, Hannah.”
“I know you’re not callused, but haven’t you thought what this can mean? It could cause great sorrow, especially to John.” Hannah looked at the polished wood floor. “If we’re wrong and John discovers what we’ve done, I’ll know his contempt. I don’t think I can bear that.”
“Ye’ve got no choice except to find out.”
“I do have a choice. I can turn around right now and go home.”
Lydia stared at her. “And then where are ye?” She folded her arms over her chest. “Yer willing to leave John at the fate of a wicked woman? Can ye live with that?”
Hannah felt anger rise up inside her and she lashed out. “You have everything in life that you could want—a good man who loves you, a fine living, and a child on the way.” Hannah suddenly realized she envied Lydia. “How can you know what I feel or need?” she asked, with less vigor.
Lydia’s green eyes turned hard. “Have you such a short memory, Hannah? It’s not been so long ago that I had nothing—lost me mum, me freedom, me life.”
Remorse at her reckless words sucked the air from Hannah’s lungs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.” She grabbed hold of Lydia’s hand. “I’m happy
for you. Truly I am.” She squeezed her friend’s hand. “Please, forgive me. You’re my dearest friend.”
Lydia squeezed back. “I’m afraid we’re both a bit tight, eh.” She smiled.
“I suppose. And you’re right, I have to find out.”
The sounds of footsteps from the hallway quieted the two friends.
“Good evening to ye,” said a heavyset woman with a big friendly face. “Are ye looking for the proprietor?”
“Yes, we are,” Hannah said.
“That would be me, then.” She smiled.
“We were . . .” She’d not thought about what to say. How could she inquire about a guest without raising suspicions. “Have you any rooms available or do you have a houseful of tenants just now?”
“I have rooms. It’s been rather quiet the last few days. I’ve only one new boarder, well, two actually—a young man here on business and an elderly gent and his wife, and I’ve a man from London who’s been here quite some time, several months in fact.”
“Oh? I’m from London. Perhaps I know him.”
“I doubt that. London’s a big place. Name’s Weston Douglas. He seems a fine gentleman.”
The room whirled. Hannah grabbed the edge of the desk to steady herself and tried to concentrate on the woman’s face. “The name is familiar. Is he a lawyer?”
“No, I don’t believe so. He’s a . . . well, I’m not certain exactly what he does. He has an office in town, but spends little time there. I think he’s a merchant of some sort. Seems well off, though. Said he plans to return to London, but I don’t know how his lady friend will like that. I suppose they may go together.”
“Lady friend?” Lydia asked.
“Oh yes, what is her name?” The proprietor rested a finger against her chin. “Mary . . . no that’s not right. It begins with an M I’m sure. Oh, yes. Margaret. She comes by now and again. I think I heard him say they plan to return to London together just as soon as they complete some business or other.”
Hannah’s heart galloped erratically. “Return? Did he say when?”
“I’ve said too much already.” The woman clicked her tongue. “My mouth sometimes runs amuck. He usually spends dinner with us. You can ask him yerself.”
“Thank you, but we’ve already registered at the hotel.” Hannah backed toward the door. She needed to get out. How could this be true? Was the Margaret seeing Mr. Douglas the same one married to John? It was too much to be a coincidence.
“We’ll let ye know tomorrow if we decide to make a change in our accomodations,” Lydia said, taking Hannah by the elbow and escorting her out the door. Once on the sidewalk, she stopped. “Ye look like ye’ve seen a ghost.”
“I feel worse.”
“It’s just as I said. She’s up to something. I knew it. Going back to London, is she?”
“Why? Why would she do such a thing? Does she think John’s going to leave his home here and return with her? And what about Mr. Douglas?” Hannah started walking, taking quick short steps. “Perhaps it’s not the same woman.”
“Hannah, for heaven’s sake, you’re not making sense. Of course it is. Who else could it be?” Lydia’s stride outdistanced Hannah’s. “We have to find out what she’s up to.”
18
“I knew it,” Lydia said. “In my heart I knew. I thought maybe it was my loyalty to ye that made me dislike her, but I was right.” She strode across the street.
“Lydia, we have only assumptions. We don’t know anything for certain. What if Margaret had a reason to see Mr. Douglas, an acceptable reason?”
“And what might that be? What good motive could she have to sneak off to Sydney Town while her husband lies abed . . . near death.”
“She did no sneaking, and John wasn’t that terribly sick when she left.” Inside Hannah felt as if two storms were battling. She didn’t want to believe Margaret would do anything so dishonorable, and yet she knew that if it were so, she and John might possibly reunite. Lord, forgive me for my selfishness.
“John should know,” Lydia said.
“Not yet. We need to make certain there is something amiss.”
Lydia led the way into the dining room, where the smell of coffee and roasting pork welcomed them. “The only way to discover more is to spend time with Mr. Douglas.”
Hannah followed her friend to a table and sat across from her. “And how shall we manage that without raising suspicions?”
“I don’t know for certain, but our opportunities will be better if we stay at the boardinghouse.” She leaned an elbow on the table and rested a cheek in her hand. “I wouldn’t mind that. Whatever that woman was cooking smelled awfully good.” She grinned.
“How can you jest at a time like this? John’s life may well be torn asunder . . . again. He’s taken Margaret in, he’s trusted her.” Hannah felt sick inside. “If our fears are true, he’ll face more suffering and humiliation. I can barely stand the thought.”
Lydia straightened. “What’s wrong with ye? Yer making no sense. Don’t ye want John back?” She leaned closer to Hannah, lowering her voice. “If this is true, ye can be together again. Ye know he loves ye. And this thing with Margaret may hurt him, but in time it will be forgotten. In the end ye’ll both get what ye really want.”
“I can’t even allow myself to think of the possibility.” Hannah clasped her hands on the table in front of her. Mrs. Atherton’s warning rang through her mind, turning her cold with apprehension. Could she trust her motives? “If we’re to find the truth, I can’t permit my needs to even enter my mind. The idea of taking advantage of another person’s tragedy for personal reward is repulsive.”
“That’s not what yer doing, Hannah. Yer setting a wrong to rights. If Margaret has done what we think she has, then it should be made right.”
“Poor John. Hasn’t he suffered enough?”
“Yes. He has and I’m not about to let this woman continue to misuse him.”
“It’s not up to you or to me.”
“Then who?” Lydia sat back, crossed her arms over her chest, and blew out an exasperated breath. “Don’t be foolish.”
Hannah felt the sting of disapproval. “You believe me foolish?” A bit of Lydia’s bluster faded. “I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. Of course yer not, but in this . . . I just think ye ought to be strong enough to dig out the truth.”
“Even if it’s not pleasing to God for me to do so?”
“Ye think God approves of what Margaret’s done?”
“No. Of course not, but we don’t know just what she’s done, if anything.”
“That’s why we have to find out.” Lydia leaned forward and rested her arms on the table. “I know ye’ve tried to be fair. But ye can’t shrink from this. It’s time to do what’s right.”
Hannah, Lydia, and Dalton left the hotel with Dalton lugging the bags at his insistence. When they stepped into the boardinghouse, the woman they’d seen the night before greeted them. “Good morning. So ye’ve decided to stay here after all.”
“That we have,” Hannah said.
“It was the smell of yer cooking that convinced us,” Lydia said. The woman smiled broadly. “I’m known as a fine cook.” She turned her attention to the registry. “Would ye two ladies like to share a room?”
Hannah and Lydia looked at one another. “Yes. We would,” Lydia said.
“All right, then.” The woman wrote in the ledger, then asked, “Your names?”
“Mrs. David Gelson.”
“Hannah Talbot.” Hannah’s maiden name tasted like lead on her tongue.
The woman turned the ledger toward them. “Sign here.”
After Hannah and Lydia had both put their signatures to the ledger, the woman said, “I’m Mrs. Jones, Elen Jones. My husband went to his eternal rest two years ago.” Her eyes turned moist, but she tipped up her chin and managed to smile. “I’ve been running this place since. If ye have any needs, just let me know.” She moved toward the entryway. “Now then, up the stairs, turn le
ft, and go down two doors. Your room is on the right.”
“Thank you,” Hannah said, glancing at Dalton.
Elen turned to him. “Are you with them?”
“I am.”
“All right, then, Mr. . . .” She glanced at the register. “Gelson. I’ll—”
“I’m not Mr. Gelson. I’m Dalton Keen, and I’m simply accompanying the ladies.”
“Oh. I do apologize.” Elen blushed. “I’ll put you across the hallway from them.”
After signing the register, Dalton carried Hannah and Lydia’s bags to their room, and then with a warning about prudence, he set off for his own.
Lydia stepped into the hallway. “Dalton. We’ll be going downstairs for . . . tea.” Mischief lit her eyes. “Just in case yer wondering where we got to.”
His mouth tight and his brow furrowed, he said, “I’ll be down shortly.”
Lydia stepped back into the room. “He’s not happy with us, I can see that.”
“It’s not us,” Hannah said. “It’s the circumstances. He realizes what may be at stake.” She looked around the room. It was clean and tidy, with frilled curtains at the window. There were two beds with a bureau between them. A side chair sat in one corner beside an armoire. “This is nice.”
“That it is.” Lydia sat on one of the beds and pressed a hand into the mattress. “I believe they’ve used feather ticking, but it could use some new stuffing.”
“Do you think we should go downstairs straightaway? I’d like to see if Mr. Douglas is among the breakfast guests.”
Lydia stood and moved to the door. “We can only hope, eh.” “Lydia, this is not a game.”
“I know that. Would ye prefer I wear a frown and growl at everyone?”
“No, of course not.” Lydia had always been one to take life straight on without grumbling. “I’m sorry. I just have a bad feeling about all of this.”
Lydia moved to Hannah and draped an arm over her shoulders. “I know. But we’ve got to remember God is in this with us. He’ll see to it that his will is done. But we’ve still got to do all we can.”
