by Carolyn Bond
“Oh, yes, of course. You really scared me there.” He coughed under his fist.
“I’m terribly sorry to scare you.” The she hesitated and added, “Mr. Steel, it seems you had another reaction besides fear. I...” she stumbled on her words, wanting desperately to affirm what she thought he felt.
“Please! Please accept my sincere apology, Miss Addison. My behavior is unforgivable. I will endeavor to keep a distance between us so as not to, not to…” He glanced at her once and then turned away in obvious pained grief.
Unsure what to think and wanting to free him from his guilt, “Certainly, I don’t hold it against you. I, uh, don’t want you to avoid me.”
“Thank you, but I think its best. Now,” he straightened and held his arm out again, “Let’s get inside before you get chilled.”
She took his arm and let him lead her through a path under the trees to the lodge. A chill was the last thing she worried about. It had been in the 90s before the storm and even now couldn’t be any less than 80. Even so, it could have been ten degrees and she would have melted snow with the heat radiating from her skin. Every hair on her body stood on end with attention. She was certain her face had to be a scarlet blush. She had never been kissed like that in her life. She wanted so much to stop him now and pull his mouth to hers again. As her heart thudded to a normal rhythm, her head cleared its fog. The rain slowed as the storm was passing by. She was left with a confusing jumble of memories of the last half hour and a pain in her heart that ached a little too familiar.
He ensured she made it safely to her lodge room and ducked away before she could say a word. She closed the door and leaned against it. Her mind reeled. She tried to push away the pain that threatened to creep into her heart. The old familiar pain of rejection. She had kept it away for so long by hiding herself away. Now here it was again. With stretching and contorting, she managed to undo the buttons down her back and slip out of her wet shirt waist and long skirt. The fabric clung to wet skin and resisted being pulled away. Only the sheer weight from being water-logged managed to pull it to the floor and off of her. She stepped out of the pile of skirt and slid the bloomer underwear off her and lifted the slip over her head. Hooking her thumbs into her stockings, she slid one and then the other off onto the floor. The bar of soap wrapped in its delicate paper bounced on the wood floor. She picked it up and set it on the vanity.
The air on her skin felt wonderful. She sat on a woven grass stool at the vanity table naked and began the process of brushing out her damp matt of hair. At last, she sat staring at her face in the vanity mirror. She wondered how she looked through his eyes. She puckered her lips and recomposed herself as if in a slight faint, head thrown back and peeking at herself in the mirror through half closed eyes. After deciding she must have looked like an idiot, she left out a “pfft!” and picked up the soap.
The label read,
Lady Clara’s Fine Soap
For Cleansing Away All that Ails You
“Guess what, Lady Clara? What ails me seems to have followed me even to the 19th century.”
She crawled into bed naked and had fitful dreams of storms chasing her.
***
Malcolm needed air. There was no way he could sleep anytime soon. His mind was reeling with elation and grief at war with each other. How could he have lost himself like that? But on the other hand, what man could have resisted her? Damnation! he cursed in his head! What was a proper lady doing out there in the dark alone anyway? Senseless woman! And then nearly getting struck by lightning. That’s what happens to women given to hysterical notions to wander around in thunderstorms.
He sat in a rocking chair and rocked furiously. Then he stopped and leaned forward gulping air. He sat back again and ran his hand through his dark waves of hair. She had gotten under his skin and now he was having to fight it. How could he have let her in? Suddenly still in his chair, he gazed off into the dark night. In his mind, he could see her face. She reached up and caressed his cheek and he nuzzled his face in her soft palm, kissing her silky fingertips.
He shook his head to clear away the vision. She was more than a pretty face. He had seen hundreds of pretty faces. Society matrons had paraded their daughters before him like cattle at auction. They were all lovely. Most anyway. Loveliness had been nice to look at but never pulled his heart. It was as easy to turn away from the parade of eligible young ladies as it would be to turn away from a field of flowers.
He had to anyway. He had envisioned their expression when they found out what came along as part of the marital bargain. He couldn’t bear that. He couldn’t bear seeing their disgust, not for something so much a part of him. He grimaced at the idea of what sharing his secret would mean.
Part of him asked what if, though. What if Everleigh was different? She was, he could see that. She seemed so free. Not stifled like so many women he knew. What if she truly did not recoil in revulsion? He slammed the door on this thought and closed his eyes. He would have to shut her out. He hammered down the lid to the box in his head that held all his desire for her. He was stronger than any emotion. He was no weakling.
He pulled out thoughts of forging ahead with the railroad. He could feel the wind in his hair as he leaned out of an engine car. He thought of the billows of white steam escaping to the heavens. He could feel the power under his feet as the train ate up the track propelling them into the future. Progress was his work for this country. That was much more important than fantasies of a woman. He had chosen his lot and now he had to make it work.
***
The next morning, a maid for the hotel brought her an unusual outfit.
“It’s a Turkish dress, ma’am. You wear it in the cave so you don’t trip on your skirt. You wear your stockings underneath to cover your legs.”
“Oh, ok! Thanks!”
The maid left with her armload of Turkish dresses to deliver to the other ladies in the party. Everleigh closed the door and held up the odd garment. It look like a giant version of what you might put on a baby. Poufy billows of fabric for the torso and gathered on each leg with a band at the knee. She was certain she would look like a marshmallow with black legs. The image in her head made her chuckle.
She pulled her thick black stockings up.
“Man, how I would love to just wear a pair of shorts.”
But then she remembered how cold it was down in the cave and decided the stockings would probably be useful.
Then she stepped into the unbuttoned opening at the neck and pulled the giant romper up over her shoulders. She buttoned the front and turned to look at herself in the vanity mirror.
Bleh! Hideous!
She sat on the stool and slipped her feet in her short, black leather boots. With a final check of her hair to make sure it was pinned securely, she turned to go downstairs.
A buffet board was set out with toast and coffee. Mr. Bishop told them to be prepared to leave for the cave in just a few minutes. She looked around and saw Suzanne and her husband on a couch by the large rock hearth drinking coffee. She sat opposite them in a chair.
“Everleigh, love! I worried about you last night. You’d gone out for air and then we had that dreadful storm. You didn’t answer when I knocked on your door.” She gave her a little knowing eye.
“Uh, yeah, I had gone for a little walk and got rained on, but no big deal.”
“Big deal? You say the strangest things, child. Is that normal lingo now in Charleston?”
“Oh, oops! Sorry. I guess so. I meant that it wasn’t too bad.”
She looked at her questioningly, and then added, “Have you seen Mr. Steel this morning, Edward?”
Everleigh felt the reddening of her cheeks betraying her. There was no way to stop it.
“What darling?” Mr. Clark had not been paying any attention to them. “Mr. Steel, did you say? Yes, he was up getting coffee when I came down here. The first guest for breakfast, I daresay.”
“Hm,” was all Suzanne said as she continued to eye her.<
br />
“Suzanne, whatever are you looking at? Am I not dressed correctly?” Everleigh had had enough of her insinuating stare.
Suzanne pursed her lips and turned her chin away and said, “No dear. In fact you look perfectly rosy this morning. You’re probably the only one that looks like a beauty in these get ups.”
Everleigh smiled enjoying being complimented for once in her life. Mr. Bransford called them all to the porch. He gave us each a lantern and before picking up a woven basket with refreshments. Before long, the small assembly paraded across the meadow.
As they passed the rock, Everleigh cast her eyes down, flashes of the night before coming to mind. She looked around but didn’t see Mr. Steel. Apparently he was skipping the cave tour.
At the edge of the trees, they came to a trail with a gradual downward slope. Everleigh superimposed in her mind the bridge that would connect the two hills. The lodge and restaurant would be to the left and visitor center on the right. She imagined a forest ranger in his or her green uniform and official-looking hat leading the way. The ground would be a smooth wide asphalt path instead of a narrow dirt path with poison ivy threatening to get your ankles. The ghosts of the future colored her descent into the forest.
Eventually they came to a gaping hole of rock. No concrete staircase that would be built to code sometime in the future. Foliage grew right up to where the sun no longer cast its life-giving rays. A steady stream of water cascaded from a place at the top. There was no light inside. It could very well have been a hole to the center of the earth.
Mr. Bransford went to each person one by one and lit their lantern with a small torch of rolled leaves. He told them to stay together and not wander off alone. If they got lost, just sit and wait. Don’t try to find a way out. You would likely just go deeper in the cave and be harder to find. He reassured everyone that they would check their numbers frequently so if someone did go missing, they would know right away.
One by one they passed through the mouth of the cave down the slippery rocks. Everleigh was privately praising whoever put in the paved steps in the future and wished for them now. From her recollection she was only half way down to the cave floor and she already had mud on her stockings and hands.
Mr. Bransford was exceedingly patient, stopping several times to talk about the cave and what he had found in it. It was a slow process getting the group, small as it was, all into the cave.
Soon they were all inside the dry dusty mouth. She could no longer see the light of day and beyond Mr. Bishop it was black as pitch. Fear gripped her at the wildness of it. How could it have seemed so safe and benign in the modern age? She really had felt no fear at all following the ranger inside. The cave had been well lit and fascinating. Now, it was still shrouding its secrets.
They made it to the great dome room. Their lanterns did illuminate most of the room but she could not see back into the corners. She marveled at how brave Mr. Bishop must have been as a boy to explore in here.
Without the nice pavers and handrails, it was strenuous to get through the tour. They had to climb over boulders and squeeze around rock walls. The traversed a scary bridge over the bottomless pit and wound around the path in Fat Man’s Misery. They went down to the underground river and Mr. Bransford used a net to scoop up the blind fish swimming in it to show them. They sat down and had a refreshment and then continued until they finally made their way back to the great dome room.
They climbed up out of the mouth of the cave, slipping on mud and loose rocks. Everleigh felt exhausted. She imagined Suzanne must have felt far worse in her older body. She thought about how a normal 20-year-old would have no idea what it felt like to move in an older body.
Back at the meadow, the group was happy to see tables and chairs set up under the trees and a buffet table with pitchers of lemonade, congealed salad, and cold sandwiches. Everleigh felt completely refreshed with the soft, albeit humid, breeze tickling her neck. She did wonder what happened to Mr. Steel. Had he really taken it so hard that he was staying away from her? She hated to think that.
Eventually, feeling renewed from the cool luncheon, they all ambled into the hotel to change and get ready for the trip home. As she was packing her bag, she heard the whistle of the train as it chugged into the meadow up to a small platform for boarding. She peered out her window. The wavy imperfect glass distorted the landscape but she could make out the broad shoulders and dark hair of Mr. Steel as he jumped into the engine car.
So he hadn’t disappeared from thin air.
Her heart leapt a beat and felt as though it stuck in her throat. With a mind of its own, her hand slide up her neck and touched the spot where his fiery hot kiss had melted into her. She could almost still feel the warmth of his breath on her. She felt that visceral pull again like a magnet drawing her to him. As though the same tug, the invisible cord between them had been drawn, he turned on the step of the engine and looked at her window. It was too far and the glass too imperfect for her to see his expression.
For a brief moment, she selfishly enjoyed the connection. She could almost feel his lips on her ear whispering for her.
A knock on the door jolted her back to reality.
“Come in.”
“It’s me, dear. Are you ready? Can I help with anything? This has been such a fascinating excursion. The study of the earth, so much science! I say, we will have things to think about and discuss for weeks now.”
Suzanne prattled on and Everleigh turned back to the window. He was gone now. He must have gone inside the engine.
“Whatever are you looking at, my dear? We must get going.” Then as though reading her mind, “You poor dear. I suspected as much. You are falling for our friend, the heartbreaker.”
Everleigh jerked around at this. What could she mean, heartbreaker?
“I told you, sweet child, he is a confirmed bachelor. No maiden has made head way with him. Ever. It’s like he is immune to any ways of femininity. Down right off, if you ask me. I was actually hoping maybe you had made a dent in his armor last night. I was sure something had gone on.”
Everleigh’s eyebrows shot up and a blotchy rose hue crept across her chest.
“Oh come, come. No need to pretend with me. I can see how you look at him. I was hoping with your looks that maybe he would finally let go of his iron resolve to never marry.”
“His resolve? He doesn’t want to marry?” said Everleigh choking on the words.
Suzanne got up and took her hand. Her expression of motherly sympathy seemed sincere.
“No, honey, he’s never actually said as much, but it has puzzled many a mother and daughter. Some have speculated that maybe he had been a widower. He has only lived in Versailles for two years. He moved here when his aunt and uncle passed from consumption. He took over their estate. If I had to guess, I would say he is about 34. He would have been old enough to lose a wife. Heartbreaking as that could be, I can’t see how a vigorous young man like that could give up on women forever.”
“Do you really think that’s it?”
“I’m not sure.” She pulled the curtain back to see the view for herself. “I know he keeps to himself. No one has been out to his estate since his aunt and uncle’s funeral. Some people say he is hiding something, but I think that is just tongue wagging.”
“Suzanne, you remember the other day, when his carriage broke down?”
“Yes, sure I do.”
“He said he was going to check his fields, but I watched him through the back window as we pulled away. He didn’t. He went straight back to his house.”
Suzanne puckered her lips thinking. “Ah, that doesn’t mean anything. Maybe he changed his mind or something.”
“I suppose.” Everleigh puzzled over the mystery of Mr. Steel.
“But right now we will miss the train if we don’t get downstairs. Let’s go.”
Everleigh smiled at her friend. She hadn’t had a good friend since college. Most of her friends were busy with families now and didn’t understan
d her carefree lifestyle.
***
After he took her to her room, Malcolm had paced the porch until nearly dawn. Never before had a woman captivated him like she did. Even the very scent of her wet skin mingled with the scent of rain and earth cut him to the core. Every time he would push her from his mind and resolve to just stay away from her, the memory of her scent would invade his mind. A soft rain shower fell just as the sky turned to midnight blue before dawn. The soft smell of rain and flowers wafted through his lungs and reminded him of her again. That’s when he knew, his heart was imprinting with her face. He may have to stay out of town on work or not leave his estate, but he would wait until she was gone from the Versailles Inn and couched safely at her aunts. Surely in no time, another man would sweep her off her feet and make her a missus and that would be that.
That seemed so logical but even the thought of another man with his lips on hers made him clench his fists until his knuckles went white. Feeling utterly defeated by his own heart and knowing that for the sake of another, he must be strong. This was about more than just him.
He went inside and saw that the hotel staff was already setting out coffee. He poured a cup and nodded to Mr. Clark on his way upstairs. In his room, even the coffee left a bitter taste. He shucked his shirt and trousers and climbed into bed.
Bright sunlight hot across his face woke him from the dead sleep. The hotel was quiet except for the tinkling of dishes downstairs. He determined the staff must be setting up for lunch. It was much too bright for breakfast. He crawled out of bed and held his head. The pain of being away from her was leaving an aching hole in him.
How am I going to do this, Lord?
He washed and shaved and got dressed. He packed his bag and heard distant voices outside. At the window he watched the group of visitors slowly drag across the meadow. There she was, muddy and gorgeous. His eyes fell on her and would not let go. He could make out the scandalous shape of her calves and ankles as the black stockings contrasted with the bright green grass.
