by Merry Farmer
“Sir, you must be out of your mind to assume that I would even begin to consider something so vile as—”
“What’s going on out here?” Vivian demanded from the doorway.
Rance whipped around, reaching for the nearest chair and pulling it out without so much as breaking a sweat. “I was just making sure Lady Elspeth had the best place at the table,” he said. “Oh, and she had a spider on her shoulder. I flicked it away.”
Vivian’s expression vaulted through about ten kinds of emotions before settling into an overly-sweet smile. “You’re so considerate, my dear. Isn’t he considerate?” She marched over to Rance and grabbed his arm, yanking him away from Elspeth and around the table.
Elspeth never thought she’d be so grateful for any action on Vivian Bonneville’s part. Melinda and Bebe rushed back onto the porch a moment later, then Honoria behind them.
“It was nothing,” Melinda laughed, crossing to sit with a plunk at the table. “Just an accident.”
“Wind doesn’t blow over vases on the far side of the room,” Bebe said, crossing her arms.
“It was a strong wind,” Honoria mumbled, taking a seat next to Elspeth as she too sat.
Bebe humphed, then demanded, “Move, Honoria. I want to sit next to Lady Elspeth.”
“I—”
“No, I am going to sit next to Lady Elspeth,” Vivian announced in her most regal voice. She dropped Rance’s arm and swept around the table. “Get out of that chair, Honoria.”
Elspeth’s back went straight. “And what if I want to sit next to Miss Honoria?”
“No, it’s all right,” Honoria whispered, getting up and scooting to the side before anything more could become of it.
Vivian leapt into the chair as though they were playing a party game. Bebe pouted, then skipped all the way around the table to sit on Elspeth’s other side. Elspeth made no complaint about that since Bebe shoved Rance out of the way and occupied the chair before he could. Rance gave up and circled back around the table to sit between Vivian and Melinda, leaving Honoria to take the seat beside Bebe. That left one open chair.
“Where’s Mrs. Lyon?” Bebe asked, already reaching for the teapot on the table. She started pouring a cup for herself.
“Bebe.” Vivian huffed and rolled her eyes. “You’re supposed to pour for our guest first.”
“But I’m thirsty,” Bebe protested.
“Pour!”
Elspeth jumped at Vivian’s shouted command. Bebe spilled tea, her hands were shaking so much as she poured Elspeth’s cup.
“Now, Lady Elspeth,” Vivian said once they were all settled, with tea and cakes brought out by a harried-looking girl in plain clothes. “We want to talk to you about your future.”
“My future?” Elspeth reached for a dainty lemon tart.
Across the table, Honoria shook her head slightly. Elspeth’s hand paused over the plate of confections. She arched a brow. Honoria flicked her eyes to the side. Elspeth moved her hand over a raspberry tart instead. Honoria nodded, so Elspeth picked it up and transferred it to her plate. The whole exchange took place in less than three seconds.
“Your future,” Melinda added.
“It seems to us as though you are in an indelicate situation,” Vivian went on. She helped herself to the lemon tart, then took two more. “And by that I mean the unfortunate circumstances in which you came to Haskell.”
“Yes,” Melinda said, taking a lemon tart and a raspberry one. “Of course, we understand that even a lady of your breeding and…and fortune, I’m sure, can fall on hard times. I suppose Hurst Home was a necessary evil.”
“As was your marriage to that reprobate, Athos Strong.” Vivian bit into her lemon tart as she finished. Her face scrunched in shock.
“What does my marriage have to do with anything?”
Trying her best not to look at Honoria—she would have burst into laughter for sure if they accidentally caught each other’s eyes—she took a delicate bite of her raspberry tart. Melinda bit into her lemon one at the same time and made the same puckered, disgusted face as Vivian. Sensing the game, Elspeth proceeded to eat the rest of her tart as deliberately and politely as she could. Wincing and grimacing, Vivian and Melinda followed her lead, consuming their entire tarts. Honoria hid her expression behind her teacup. What had been put into the lemon tarts?
“Your marriage,” Vivian began, but coughed. She snatched up her teacup and drained half of it in one gulp. She pursed her lips and shook her head, then took a breath. “Your marriage is an impediment that someone of your standing should not have to be saddled with.”
“See?” Rance leaned back with a smug grin, crossing his arms.
“You have to get a divorce,” Bebe blurted. She reached for a lemon tart, took a huge bite, then spit it out onto her plate. “Eew! What’s wrong with that? It tastes like…it tastes like anise.”
“Maria!” Vivian shouted at the door to the house. “Get your incompetent hide out here and take these disgusting tarts with you. What is wrong with you, you useless, immigrant scum?”
The back door opened, but instead of the servant from before, Mrs. Lyon stepped onto the porch. Ivy and Heather followed behind her. They were dressed in school clothes, their hair in perfect braids down their backs. Each wore expressions that were far too meek to be real.
“Girls.” Elspeth jumped to her feet, rushing around the table to hug each of the twins.
Ivy and Heather hugged her enthusiastically, but then stepped back, hands clasped in front of them, and bobbed cute curtsies.
“We asked Mrs. Lyon if we could come down to help with tea,” Ivy said, all innocence and sweetness in her hazel eyes—eyes very much like Athos’s…when he was up to something.
“Yes,” Heather agreed, turning to Vivian. “We’ve been ever so impressed with your kindness and hospitality, and we want nothing more than to help you out.”
“I think it should be stated that I am against this,” Mrs. Lyon said. She marched around to the empty chair at the table and sat. “You can pour my tea.”
Elspeth balled her hands into fists, wanting nothing more than to throttle the woman.
“Yes, ma’am.” Heather bobbed another curtsy, then rushed to find the teapot and pour a perfect cup of tea for Mrs. Lyon.
“Would you like cream and sugar?” Ivy asked with impeccable manners.
Mrs. Lyon smirked as though she was single-handedly responsible for the complete turn-around in the girls’ attitudes. “Yes.”
“Please, allow me.” Ivy hurried to pour cream and sugar into Mrs. Lyon’s cup.
The Bonneville sisters—all but Honoria—watched with wide eyes and mouths that sagged open.
“Well, those two have been kind of nice,” Bebe admitted as Elspeth edged back to her seat. “They were only a few years behind me in school.”
“Speaking of which.” Elspeth pulled her chair into the table and sent piercing glances around the table to the sisters and Mrs. Lyon. “Why aren’t the older children in school right now? As I understand it, they weren’t in attendance yesterday as well.”
The sisters sniffed, looking baffled and a little worried.
“It’s the end of the school year anyhow,” Melinda excused them. “No one does anything at the end of the school year.”
“I was supposed to take a test,” one of the boys shouted from inside the house.
Mrs. Lyon slammed her teacup down, chipping the saucer. “Who let them out of their room this time?” she hollered at the open back door. “I simply don’t understand how the lock on that door keeps coming undone.”
Thumping footsteps and giggles followed.
Elspeth arched an eyebrow at Mrs. Lyon. “I wonder what Judge Moss will have to say about the children’s lack of school attendance this week. Especially considering, as I understand it, they had very good attendance while living with their father.”
“And you know, Ivy and Heather are really quite tame,” Honoria added, just above a whisper.
&n
bsp; “Shut up, Honoria,” Vivian snapped.
“Viv, is that how you talk to your sister?” Rance asked.
Everyone at the table seemed surprised to remember he was there. Vivian flushed pink and scowled. A moment later, she laughed. “Oh, Rance.”
“If the older girls are well-behaved, it’s got to be the influence we’ve had on them,” Melinda said. She reached for the lemon tart on her plate, remembered the disaster of before, then carefully picked up the raspberry tart. She nibbled on the corner, and when it didn’t produce any outrageous effects, bit into it.
“Yes, indeed,” Elspeth agreed. Her heart raced as she tried to figure out how much to push things now or whether to wait until they were all in front of a judge to spring the trap. “Perhaps they should stay here even after the judge makes his pronouncement.”
Mrs. Lyon snorted in derision. Rance curled his lip in a sneer. But to Elspeth’s surprise, neither Vivian nor Melinda nor Bebe shouted out against the idea.
“I suppose young people can be shaped and molded,” Vivian said. She picked up another tart from her plate, then grunted and put it down again. “Where is that idiot Maria? These tarts are poisoned.”
“I’ll take care of that for you, Miss Bonneville.” Ivy rushed forward and removed Vivian’s plate with a flattering smile.
“I’ll get rid of this, and we’ll fetch you something else,” Heather said, reaching in to take the platter from the center of the table.
As soon as they had disappeared inside, Bebe said, “You know, those two always were nice. And Hubert isn’t so bad either.” She blushed and failed to hide a smile. “He’s only two years younger than me, you know, and he’s already sort of got a job at the train station.”
“Shut up, Honoria,” Vivian snapped. “I…I mean shut up, Bebe.”
Across the table, Honoria rolled her eyes.
Elspeth’s mouth twitched. She fell back on the best thing she knew to keep herself from laughing or giving up the game too soon. “We’ve had lovely weather since I arrived in Wyoming.”
“Oh yes,” Vivian rushed to agree. “Of course, the weather in Wyoming can be severe.”
“I like the summers,” Melinda added.
Just like that, they steered clear of anything dangerous or incendiary. The topic of the weather was followed by those of fashion, the upcoming centennial celebration, and Vivian’s impending wedding. For the time being, Elspeth considered that she had accomplished her mission. With just a little prodding, she was convinced they would end up supporting Athos in the courtroom, whether they knew they were doing it or not.
Chapter Ten
Picking up clothes and toys and scrubbing away stains was a thousand times easier than clearing up old memories. Athos bent to gather the twin ragdolls Natalie had sewn for Geneva and Millicent from the corner where he’d found them under an old tablecloth. He straightened and held up the dolls, smiling with bitter-sweetness. Natalie had been pregnant with Thomas when she sewed the dolls especially for Neva and Millie. The girls had only been three at the time, and when they were presented with the homespun dolls, they hadn’t been as excited about them as Natalie had hoped they would be. Her mother had just sent them expensive dolls with porcelain faces and hands from Hartford, and the tiny twins didn’t think anything their mother could make would compare. But then, there was no accounting for the toys that children took a special fancy to.
He hugged the two ragdolls, wishing he could hug their owners, and stepped across the remaining piles of toys, clothes, and books to nestle the dolls safely on Geneva’s and Millicent’s beds, beside the two fine, if faded, porcelain dolls.
“Don’t you worry, your mommies will be home soon.”
He took a step back from the beds and studied the picture the dolls made. Two different kinds, plain and fancy, store-bought and heartfelt. He laughed. If that wasn’t a metaphor for his marriage to Elspeth, he didn’t know what was.
He went back to work, sorting the flotsam and jetsam strewn around the room into specific piles, listening for Elspeth to come home. The house was bad enough without the children in it, but without Elspeth too it seemed like someone else’s house entirely. He wondered what she was doing right then, wondered if the Bonneville sisters would be as impressed with the sight of her as he had been when she stepped out that morning.
He paused in his work, arms filled with clothes he’d forgotten the girls owned because they hadn’t been put with the rest of the laundry for weeks. Elspeth had kissed him that morning. Bold as brass. She’d stepped right up to him when he was in the middle of a sentence and pressed her sweet lips to his. Even now, he was stunned to stillness at her action. She’d kissed him when she didn’t have to, her lithe body swaying toward his. What a joy that had been.
The door opened and shut downstairs, and Elspeth called out, “Athos? I’m home.”
Athos opened his eyes and took in a breath. He hadn’t realized he’d shut his eyes to begin with. Heat flooded his face and he laughed at himself. “I’m up here,” he replied. “But I’m about to come down.”
Arms bundled with dirty clothes, he headed out to the hall and down the steps. Elspeth stood in the front entryway, removing her stylish hat with gloved hands. His heart skipped a beat. She was the most beautiful and elegant woman he’d ever seen, and by some crazy twist of fate, he’d married her.
“How was it?” He asked, trying to keep his awed reaction to the sight of her and the scent of lavender that filled the hall as she hung her hat on a peg by the door and removed her riding coat.
“It was everything you would imagine it would be,” she answered, arching an eyebrow, barely able to contain a laugh. She only tried for a second before it came bursting out. As she tugged off her gloves, she said, “The sisters were horrible and conceited, as expected. All except Honoria, of course.”
“I hope some nice man sees that woman’s worth someday and whisks her away from her family,” Athos said. He nodded down the hall, indicating that he was on his way to take the pile of clothes in his arms to the downstairs washroom.
“Why didn’t you snap her up when you could?” Elspeth asked, following him.
“I…I never really thought about it. And now I wouldn’t dare think about it. I’m married to you, and you’re the only one for me.”
His words caught up with him a moment too late and he winced as he crossed through the doorway into the washroom. What a silly, sentimental thing to say, especially when they’d known each other for less than a week. Even if they were married. What would she think of h—
“That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” Her words were a soft hush.
He dropped his load of clothes into an empty laundry basket then slowly turned to her. Elspeth held her gloves in front of her, head tilted down, gazing at him through lowered lashes. Her cheeks were pink, and her lips formed a perfect, kissable line.
He froze in place, even though his blood pumped through him. His heart felt as though it was swelling until it was too big for his chest. Other things threatened to start swelling too. He wanted to march boldly up to her and take her in his arms, like a hero in a storybook, like a musketeer.
He waited too long.
“I met the Bonneville’s distant cousin, Rance Bonneville, while I was there,” Elspeth went on with a smirk. The spell was broken.
“Rance? Don’t think I’ve ever heard of him.” He cleared his throat and skirted past Elspeth and into the hall, heading back up to the bedrooms.
“He was the man standing on the porch at the end of everything on Sunday. Apparently Bonneville brought him in from Kentucky to be the foreman on his ranch.”
“Ah.” Athos nodded. “I know he needed someone. Travis Montrose was going to take the job last year, but things fell through.”
“Yes, well, if you ask me—or rather, if you ask Cousin Rance—he’s there to manage more than just the ranch.” She followed him upstairs, slipping into their bedroom for a moment to put away her gloves, then
joining him in Geneva and Millicent’s room.
“How so?”
Elspeth’s lips twitched into a giggling grin. “He’s engaged to Vivian Bonneville.”
Although he was headed to the pile of toys in the corner to start putting them away, he stopped at the announcement and spun to face Elspeth. “No!”
“Yes.” Elspeth laughed, crossing to join him near the pile and bending to gather some toys. “The wedding will be next month, apparently.”
“Rex Bonneville actually found someone to marry Vivian.” Athos shook his head. He contemplated the idea for a moment, then shook his head again and went to work putting away toys.
“The best part—or so Vivian kept insisting—is that she won’t even need to change her name. Rance is Rance Bonneville, and after marriage, Vivian will still be Vivian Bonneville.”
“I’m sure she will be,” Athos laughed. “I’m not sure whether to pity poor Cousin Rance or to applaud him for his efforts.”
Elspeth stepped over a stack of books to arrange a handful of doll furniture and clothes on the shelf beside one window. “Well, before you decide to make friends with Rance Bonneville, you should probably know that he suggested quite insistently to me that I should seek a divorce and marry him instead.”
“What?” Athos fumbled the book he had bent to pick up. It slapped onto the floor with a bang. He’d kill the man first chance he got. That is, unless Elspeth actually wanted to divorce him and marry someone else.
A cold knot formed in the pit of his stomach.
Elspeth turned away from the shelf and bent for more toys, but paused at the sight of his face. “Don’t worry.” She rushed to reassure him. “I wouldn’t dream of divorcing you for any man, let alone Cousin Rance. And you don’t need to plot revenge for the insult. After what I saw, I think Vivian will be punishment enough.”
She chuckled. The sound put him at ease by the slightest bit. Not enough to shake the moment of terror at the very suggestion she could walk away from him. Of course, he’d let her if she really wanted to, but…but he absolutely didn’t want her to.
