I studied the drawing, envisioning the furniture in my dining room—my imagined dining room—and felt pleasure at the thought of having such a grand piece. I tilted my head to one side, trying to find a way to improve upon the design. “I don’t know what I would add,” I admitted.
“It seems lovely to me,” Uncle Martin said.
Gabriel nodded, pleased with the design. “Well, it should be a pretty piece,” he agreed. “When do you need it?”
“Mid-June,” Uncle replied. “It’s a gift to my daughter and her new husband. I want it to be a secret,” he said. He turned to me, impressing upon me his last words.
I nodded my agreement.
“I should have just enough time to finish it, sir,” Gabriel said. “I thank you for your patronage,” he added. They shook hands, sealing the deal.
I wandered away again as they began to discuss the particulars of payment and cost. I looked at the workbench more closely, wondering how each tool was used. I picked up a few small pieces that appeared to be different types of chisels and imagined seeing Gabriel at work.
“I will not be able to continue to leave the store to come and see to the progress, Gabriel,” Uncle Martin said.
I turned to watch him study the basic drawing.
“However, it is very important that I am informed of the progress you are making and of any difficulties.” At this, he raised his head and shared a long glance with Gabriel.
Gabriel shook his head in disagreement. “I’m not sure how I will make a sideboard if I can’t speak with you, sir,” Gabriel said, sounding disgruntled. “I need to be able to discuss my progress with you.”
“Hmm…yes,” Uncle Martin agreed, appearing deep in thought. “Would you object with speaking with my niece, Miss Sullivan? She knows what Miss Russell and Mr. Montgomery like, and I have complete faith in her judgment. If possible, I would like you to meet with her once weekly to discuss your progress. Is that acceptable to you?”
“Well, Mr. Russell, I do not know realistically how it would work. I would not want to damage a young lady’s reputation by meeting with her regularly. Would it not be better that I meet with your son, the young Mr. Russell?” Gabriel nodded in my direction as he spoke.
I choked on a laugh, trying to imagine him working with Lucas.
Gabriel watched me with amused eyes, seeming to understand my unspoken sentiment.
“I have thought about this long and hard. Lucas will not do. I heard he was not as cordial as he should have been on Saturday,” Uncle Martin admitted, a grim line about his mouth. Gabriel’s eyebrows rose in surprise at Uncle Martin’s words, again looking toward me.
I met his inquisitive gaze with a noncommittal shrug.
“Therefore, I have thought of a solution. Clarissa had mentioned to me that she needs bookshelves for her schoolroom. I imagine something like that is very simple for a man of your talents. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. McLeod?”
Gabriel nodded with lips quirked and humor lighting his rich blue eyes.
I felt I could drown in those eyes, and hastily looked away.
“Therefore, it will be necessary for you to visit with her at her school, at my request, to create the bookshelves that she needs, and then you can give any updates needed. Is that satisfactory to you, Mr. McLeod?”
Gabriel again nodded but, after glancing at my glazed expression, replied, “I am fine with the arrangement as it means more work for me. However, I still do not believe it is proper for a workingman to visit her at her school. I would not want to risk her reputation as a teacher. Miss Sullivan, what do you think?” he asked me.
I straightened my shoulders, attempting to breathe through my tight corset. “I, ah, there would need to be at least one other person present when he visited,” I said. “Or there could be talk, Uncle. I can’t give the school board reason to suspect my character.” I looked toward my uncle.
“Yes, of course, Clarissa. I would wish no more scandal for you. I know the school board has stringent rules regarding the moral fiber of its teachers.” He paused for a moment clearing his throat, squinting while he thought. “That teacher friend of yours could act as a chaperone, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I suppose,” I said.
“Good. I will also speak with your principal, explain my plans for the new bookshelves, and that Mr. McLeod will be visiting your rooms for the sake of the project. If problems arise, we will meet them as they come,” Uncle Martin said.
I furrowed my brow, uncertain how well the plan would work, but nodded my agreement. I turned toward Gabriel, who again appeared to study me. He watched the emotions flitting across my face in apparent fascination, causing me to wish I had the ability to mask what I felt. “Mr. McLeod, when would you like to visit the school?” I asked.
“Is tomorrow too soon?”
“Oh.” My mind seemed to go blank. I needed to speak with Florence. “Why not the day after? When the children have left for home. That should be fine.”
He nodded his assent, turning his attention toward Uncle Martin.
“Well, then, we are agreed that you will make the sideboard and the bookshelves for the school. Can you assure me that you will have it ready in time?” Uncle Martin said, leveling a stern glance at Gabriel.
“The sideboard will be ready by your daughter’s wedding day. The bookshelves might not be finished until the start of next school year. I will want to put most of my energies into the creation of the sideboard.”
“Excellent. Clarissa will let you know where her school is,” Uncle Martin said.
When I remained silent for a few moments, Gabriel cleared his throat. “Ahem, miss, could you tell me where your school is?” Gabriel inquired gently.
“Oh, of course. It’s the Wells School on Blossom Street.”
“But that’s a school in the West End,” Gabriel said, sounding confused.
“Yes, it is,” I replied.
He simply smiled, seemingly pleased, and nodded in agreement. “Well then, it will be my pleasure to visit you there. It’s been some time since I’ve been to the West End.”
CHAPTER 6
THE BRIGHT SUN SHONE through the schoolroom window as I tidied the room, erasing some of the day’s lessons from the chalkboard. I turned expectantly when I heard steps at the door, my heart racing at the thought of seeing Gabriel again.
I exhaled loudly. “Florence! So good of you to come help me.” I smiled warmly, feeling foolish at the disappointment it was not Gabriel.
“Oh, yes. I wouldn’t want to miss this,” she said with a quick grin. She looked around the room, searching. “It is an exciting day when one of us has need for a chaperone.” Her voice was tinted with wistfulness before it turned serious. “You must be careful, Clarissa. You know Mr. Carney would like nothing better than to find fault with another one of us. I still can’t believe how they shamed Ursula.”
I grimaced at the thought of the principal, Mr. Carney, reporting our former colleague to the school board. “She told me that she never thought the school committee would fire her.”
“For immoral behavior,” Florence said with a shake of her head. “And all for being seen walking with a man not of her family. In the middle of the afternoon. Can you imagine? Now she is without work because she was deemed ‘of loose moral fiber.’”
“Even though my uncle spoke with Mr. Carney, I want to ensure they have no reason to reproach me. It’s why I wanted you here, Flo. I have no desire to be seen in the same way.” Florence and I shared a knowing nod of agreement.
“Let’s tidy your room for tomorrow as we wait,” Florence said as she moved toward the chalkboard. “I just finished mine. The girls were quite rambunctious today. Only wanting to be outside. I had half a mind to just let them go but knew there’d be repercussions.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me with her final word, causing me to laugh. She pushed a strand of black curly hair behind her ear that had escaped her tight bun.
“Do you remember what happened to Miss Lewis? I’d h
ate for us to suffer her punishment.” She shuddered at the thought.
I shook my head, thinking of poor Miss Lewis and her garnished wages for a few hours of freedom for the students.
“Oh, but we did have a fun time of it today,” Florence continued as she cleaned the chalkboard. “We painted and sewed and a few are learning to knit.”
I grimaced at the thought of attempting so many of the domestic arts in one day.
“Of course there are always accidents,” she said, wiping a hand down her skirts.
I looked toward her skirt and gasped, noting the dark green paint marring the pretty pink linen. Thankfully, there were no stains on her cream-colored shirt. “Florence! How will you get the paint out?”
“Oh, a little of this ’n’ that. And I’m sure someone at the Chinese laundry will have an idea,” she said, wiping at her skirt again. “I shouldn’t like my clothes so much. But I do. If only I could entice you to window-shop with me.”
“Oh, Florence, you are good medicine,” I said with a laugh.
“When is this man going to show up, so I can finally enjoy some of the sunshine myself?”
“Ahem,” a low voice said.
Florence and I twirled around toward the door, nearly tripping on our long skirts. I caught myself on one of the children’s desks, flushing with embarrassment to be seen in such an unladylike way again.
“Mr. McLeod!” I called out, straightening, though feeling short of breath. “Thank you for coming by.” I walked toward him extending my hand in greeting. He watched me intently, taking my hand in a firm yet gentle grip.
“Miss,” he replied. He looked pointedly over toward Florence, watching her with apparent fascination, before guarding his expression. Florence seemed rooted to the spot, watching him as though in a daze.
“Richard,” Florence whispered.
Gabriel’s eyes flashed before he hid his emotion. “No, ma’am,” he replied. “I’m Gabriel McLeod.” His voice sounded cold, clipped.
Florence nodded, then collapsed into a chair, looking as though she had seen a ghost. Her ashen color made me worry she would soon faint. Finally she looked up toward Gabriel and in a small voice said, “I’m Florence Butler.”
Gabriel nodded curtly, hiding any further recognition he may have had. “Nice to, ah…meet you, Miss Butler.” He glanced quickly around the room, hiding his features from us.
I had a few moments to study him. His strong hands gripped his hat as though in anger. His broad shoulders tensed under his dull off-white shirt and gray jacket, and he kicked at the foot of a student’s desk with a rough brown boot before turning to face me again.
I glanced toward Florence, but she still seemed overcome with shock. I itched to hear her story. Wiping my hands on a rag, I tried to clean them and prevent dirtying my crisp white blouse. After a few moments, I set down the rag and crossed my hands on my waist, covering a simple silver belt, and hoped no chalk would mar my pretty rose-colored skirt. I smiled nervously, welcoming Gabriel.
“I’m here about the sideboard and bookshelves, if you recall.” There was silent mirth in his eyes as he focused on me.
I nodded my assent. “I have thought about bookshelves for a long time. Ideally I would like to have glass-fronted ones to help keep out the dust, but those are too dear and impractical with children.” I paused, lost in imagining the ideal shelves in my mind. “Therefore I would like them to go from the floor to at least shoulder height. There are a lot of books here,” I said, pointing to a pile stacked against a far wall.
He nodded, taking in the space and dimensions at a glance. “I will need exact measurements. Have you given any thought to how you would like the bookshelves made?”
I had thought he would make all the shelves at a standard spacing and had not imagined he would customize the project for me. Gabriel took my silence to mean I did not understand his question.
“I can make them any height you would like, miss. For example, if you have tall books, I can make some higher for those, shorter for smaller books. I’d need you to tell me the proper dimensions and number of different types of shelves.” He was studying me again.
I felt like a simpleton, unable to form any coherent words when looking into his eyes. I nodded, glancing away, clearing my throat. “Oh, of course,” I replied, a small smile escaping. “How wonderful to be able to create whatever you want with your hands and knowledge!”
“Not everything, miss,” he replied. “Just what I can build out of wood. Richard’s the real magician in the family, conjuring what he likes out of bits of iron.”
I noted he watched Florence when he had said Richard’s name. However, Florence remained in a state of shock, sitting on a child’s chair, staring dully ahead. I had never seen my vivacious spinster friend act in such a way.
“I would recommend that they not be flush on the floor. Sometimes there is moisture there, and this could lead to wood and book rot. Therefore, I suggest the shelves start a few inches off the floor. Would that meet your expectations?”
“Yes, that sounds very good. Do you have any drawings of the bookshelves to show me?”
“Not yet, but I will soon. However, about the sideboard,” Gabriel said, pulling out a few pieces of paper, which were vastly improved sketches of the secret project. “This is an expansion of the drawing from the other day,” he said.
He had added detail to the front and sides, and I had a better perception of depth. “Oh, that is lovely.” I sighed. “Savannah will love it.”
“May I see it?” Florence called out as she rose from the child’s desk.
“Of course, Florence,” I answered, holding my arm out to draw her into our discussion. “This is the sideboard Mr. McLeod will make for my cousin Savannah.”
Florence silently studied the drawing, nodding a few times. “She is very fortunate, very fortunate, it seems,” Florence said in a small voice.
I detected a trace of bitterness in her tone.
Gabriel had watched Florence the entire time she examined the sketch, confusion and animosity playing across his features. “Well, Miss Butler,” he said, “it appears her family thinks she deserves it.” He turned away, dislike emanating off him.
Florence blanched, moving toward the chair behind my desk, collapsing into it.
“If it is all right with you, miss,” he said in a slightly warmer voice, “I’d like to take a few measurements.”
“Of course,” I replied, watching him and Florence in confusion.
Florence continued to look ashen and despondent. “Florence,” I whispered. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” she replied in a flat monotone. “Just fine.” She looked toward me with a lost look in her eyes.
I recognized this look. I had seen it enough times in the mirror the months after Cameron had disappeared. I moved toward her, gripping her hands.
“How much longer will you need to be here today, Mr. McLeod?” I asked, concern for Florence invading my sense of contentment at the time spent with him.
“If I could have a few minutes more to measure, miss, that would be helpful.”
“Of course,” I replied, turning toward Florence. Her color had returned, and she met my eyes with patent embarrassment. “Just a little longer, Florence, then we’ll be out in the sun!” I said. I looked around the room, trying to find something to keep us busy until Gabriel had finished, but we had already tidied the room.
Florence watched me as though understanding what I was looking for. “Why don’t you read to us, Clarissa, to pass the time?” she asked. “You have the loveliest reading voice.”
“Yes, I just went to the public library and was able to borrow The Red Badge of Courage. Would you like to hear it read?” It didn’t seem the type of book to raise one’s spirits, but the only other books I had were school primers.
“Yes. Why don’t you read out loud and entertain us all?” Florence said with a weak smile. She had settled in my comfortable chair behind my desk, and I didn’t have
the heart to ask her to move.
I went over to my bag and retrieved the book. My brothers had loved it, but I had not yet read it. I wasn’t sure I would enjoy reading a war story but thought I should try. I had nowhere to sit now, except for a student’s seat, so I reluctantly sat in one of those, with my knees next to my chin, feeling rather silly. However, as soon as I started reading, I lost all sense of self, as though becoming part of the story.
I read for the next half hour, slowly relaxing, enjoying the quiet, peaceful room and the sounds of Gabriel walking around my area, working as I read. After a while I realized that the sounds of working had abated and that I was reading to a rapt audience. I looked up to find Florence curled up in the chair, with her eyes closed, appearing contented. I glanced over to Gabriel to find him studying me unabashedly. I blushed but met his gaze, holding it for a long moment.
Finally Florence stirred, asking, “So, is that all for today then, Clarissa?” She sat up primly, watching Gabriel warily. She stood and righted her appearance, not looking at either of us.
As I realized the time and that I needed to return home, I closed the book reluctantly. “I’m sorry, but I need to go. I won’t be able to read anymore today. I, ah…” I was at a loss for words, unsure if he wanted me to read more to him.
He smiled fully for the first time, and I was startled anew by his handsomeness. “I greatly enjoyed your reading, miss. Maybe you could save that book for me, and we could keep reading it together?” His eyes twinkled a little.
“Of course, Mr. McLeod. If you like, the next time you come to the schoolhouse, I can read to you then. However, I can only keep the book out for er…fourteen days, so we will have to continue to make progress.”
He watched me intently. “I will come visit your school soon, miss.” His voice was a gentle, rich baritone, and it felt like a caress. I flushed, looking away, nodding my agreement. He bid Florence and then me a good day, and left quietly.
“Well, Clarissa,” Florence stated. “I am glad you found a competent carpenter.” A bitter grimace turned down her mouth. “Now I must return home.”
Banished Love Page 6
