Mrs. Smythe jolted as though a pincushion had stuck her. I watched her intently, wondering what she was thinking.
Colin spoke up, clearing his throat. “That’s my older brother Patrick. This is my baby sister, Clarissa. And this is my stepmama, ah, er, Mrs. Sullivan. Would you like something to eat, Richard?” He leaned over to the small sideboard, pulling out another dish and silverware. “Though of course, you’ve met Clarissa, right?” Colin continued.
Richard looked embarrassed. “I don’t want to impose.”
“It’s no imposition, tuck in.” He piled food onto Richard’s plate, handing it to him and forestalling any further protestations. I smiled at Colin’s thoughtfulness, as I doubted that Richard had yet had dinner.
“Richard, what brings you by?” Patrick spoke up, raising intense brown eyes to Richard.
Richard threw a questioning glance at me, and I demurely shook my head. He put down his silverware and cleared his throat. “Ah, well, I happened to be walking by the area where Miss Sullivan teaches today. She seemed to be having a bit of, er, a discussion, shall we say, with a gentleman. And she seemed none too pleased about it.”
“Rissa!” Patrick exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell us immediately?” His face had turned an ugly red, the way it always did when he was excited or angry.
“Please, I am fine. It was Cameron. I just spoke with him for a moment, asking him to leave me be,” I said. I gripped my hands together, hidden under the table.
“Clarissa,” Da said in a stern tone, “you will tell us this instant what was stated.”
At this, I blew out the breath I had been holding and tried to gather my thoughts. “He greeted me, commenting on the nice day, and called me ‘dear Clarissa.’ I instructed him that I was Miss Sullivan to him and that we had nothing further to discuss. We parted, and when I looked behind me to ensure he was not following me, I saw Mr. McLeod, whom I recognized from the visit to see after his brother’s welfare. He graciously escorted me home.”
Colin watched me with a shrewd intensity. “I know Cameron, and I know there was more to it than that, Rissa.”
I raised my chin and met his eyes. “There’s nothing more to tell.”
Richard joined the conversation, interjecting, “I came by this evening to check on Miss Sullivan’s health, Mr. Sullivan.”
I smiled briefly at Richard, as I had the impression he was trying to diffuse the tension in the room.
“Clarissa Sullivan, how could you not have told me about your encounter with Cameron this afternoon? As for dissuading him from speaking with you, I would think you would encourage such attention from an upstanding, wealthy young man who exhibits an interest in you,” Mrs. Smythe said. “It is the type of good news I would have enjoyed sharing with my dear friend.”
I stared at her confused as to why she would want me to see Cameron. “I did not wish to interrupt your tea with such news, Mrs., err, Sullivan.”
“Sean, this is what I am talking about! Your children do not care for me! They do not share things with me as they should as I am their stepmother. I spoke of it at length this afternoon with my dear friend, Mrs. Patricia Masterson. She understands my pain,” she nearly wailed, bringing a handkerchief up to her eyes.
At the name Masterson, I saw Richard jolt. He stopped eating, bent over his plate, fork partway to his mouth, staring with wide eyes first at Mrs. Smythe, then at me. I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head slightly. I glanced toward Mrs. Smythe and saw her watching Richard’s reaction to his aunt’s name.
Da looked at Mrs. Smythe. “Not now, dear.”
I hoped that I heard a touch of exasperation in his tone.
“I thank you, Mr. McLeod, for ensuring my daughter arrived home safely,” Da said gruffly.
I heaved a small sigh, hopeful that the worst was past.
Richard finished his meal and stood, taking his leave. “I thank you for a delicious meal and your generous hospitality.” He nodded to the table in general, and Colin escorted him to the door. I bit my lip, hoping my Mary had been successful in giving Richard my letter.
As Colin returned from the front hall, I was excusing myself from the dining room table. Colin’s furious voice prevented my departure. “Not so fast, Rissa. We know there’s more to that story than you’re telling us.”
“Colin,” I entreated, “there really isn’t any more to tell.” I felt about ninety years old as I collapsed into my chair. I had forgotten this feeling of exhaustion, although I remembered it well, having felt this way frequently after Cameron’s disappearance. I massaged my temples, determined to overcome the overwhelming sense of sadness that gripped me.
I closed my eyes, trying to gather my spinning thoughts. “I left school a little later than usual today. I had work that needed to be completed. As I left, pausing to enjoy the sunshine, Cameron spoke with me. He called me Rissa. He said he had been biding his time waiting to find a time to speak with me. When I asked him to leave me alone, he gripped my arm, demanding to know why I had changed so much. Why I was no longer vivacious.”
“You know he speaks lies, Rissa?” Colin asked. He waited until I nodded. “What does he want?” Colin fairly shouted. His eyes were lit with anger, and I could see how much control he exerted to hide the true extent of his ire.
“I don’t know, Colin. I really don’t. But I think he may want me back, as far-fetched as that seemed to me a few weeks ago,” I replied with a touch of bitterness in my voice.
“He treats you abominably and now thinks he can waltz back in as though everything is fine!” he nearly roared. “He has no idea what you lived through the past few years. You’ve finally begun to act like yourself again. He stole your spirit and your vivaciousness,” he hissed, breathing heavily.
I watched him, mouth agape, surprised and grateful at the depth of his feelings.
“I can’t stand the thought he might hurt you again. I just can’t.” With that he stormed out of the room.
I rose to follow Colin, but when I reached the front hall, the front door vibrated from the force of Colin slamming it shut. I turned toward the stairs, pausing to study myself in the mirror. A subtle radiance emanated from my topaz-blue eyes, a joy from within that would not be contained. I studied my reflection, having expected to see despair, due to Cameron’s presence in my life again. At that moment, I understood the truth behind Colin’s words and knew I had no desire to see devastation looking back at me ever again from a mirror.
CHAPTER 21
THE NEXT MORNING, Colin escorted me to school. I had not slept well, my mind filled with fanciful thoughts and wayward dreams. I had even dreamed about being married to Cameron and the life we shared. In the dream, I lived in a small house, surrounded by fine objects, with maids and all of the material items I could want. No matter how many objects I had in the dream, I was always alone. The entire dream I searched for Cameron and something I had lost, something incredibly dear to me.
“Colin,” I asked as we trundled along on a trolley toward my school, “how well do you know Richard McLeod?”
“I’ve known him a few years,” Colin replied. “He works with Old Man Harris, and he is a quick learner. I think Da would still be tempted to hire him but wouldn’t want to offend Mr. Harris. Besides, Da’s not hiring right now.
“Richard was raised by his older brother, Gabriel. They have a younger brother, but I’ve never met him. Gabe’s the one you injured, right? He seems nice enough, though not as cheerful as Rich. More quiet.
“Richard only has good things to say about his older brother. Rich mentioned once he would have been lost had it not been for Gabe.” At this he carelessly shrugged his shoulder. “Richard was the smithy fighting the dandy, that story I was telling you about last night.” Colin smiled at me, winking. “Here you are, sis. Have a good day. Wait for Lucas, you hear? He’ll come to escort you home.”
I nodded my agreement, feeling foolish to need an escort. However, I had agreed to my family’s demands if it meant I could contin
ue to teach.
I wearily taught the lessons of the day, finding it difficult to focus on the reading, writing and arithmetic I needed to teach. The reading lesson of the day had been a poem by Longfellow about a smithy in McGuffey’s Fifth Eclectic Reader. Thankfully, due to Da and Colin and my knowledge of blacksmiths, I did not have to focus on the lesson and could allow my mind to wander.
I continued to speculate about Cameron’s reasons for returning. I could not fathom why Cameron would pursue me now. My mind was in turmoil, and my students could sense it. I longed to grant them an early release, but I struggled valiantly to finish the day.
I waited for Lucas in the schoolroom, patiently tidying. However, no one arrived, and I suspected that Lucas had forgotten or had become busy at the store. After waiting nearly an hour, I decided to go home. I gathered my belongings, squared my shoulders and emerged out onto the street. I surreptitiously glanced around, looking for Cameron, but did not see him. After a few steps I sensed someone following, and I spun to face whoever was behind me.
Gabriel took a quick step back, startled at my expression.
“I’m glad I didn’t arrive too late, Miss Clarissa,” Gabriel murmured, studying me with intense blue eyes, brows slightly wrinkled, black hair blowing in the soft breeze. “I thought I might escort you home.” He offered me his elbow and a soft smile.
My spirits rose as I smiled. “Yes, Mr. McLeod, that would be much appreciated. You received my letter?”
“Yes, I thank you,” he replied. “I must say I am more intrigued than satisfied after reading it. I had to badger most of the information out of Richard.”
“I was concerned that, if for some reason it didn’t reach you, others might read it,” I attempted to explain.
“It’s of no consequence now. We’re here together. Walking down the street on a pretty, sunny day.” He glanced at me with a small smile. “Would you care to enlighten me at all as to the story behind the ghost?”
I blew out a long breath, looking away from Gabriel. “We were to be married two years ago.” I glanced at him, and noted his intense gaze on my face. I hastily looked away again. “On our wedding day, he failed to show. I remember waiting in vain, in all of my finery, for him to arrive, and he never did. He never sent a letter or a reason why he did not come.” I lowered my head, feeling ashamed.
“What a fool,” Gabriel murmured, sounding almost lighthearted.
“Don’t you dare laugh at me,” I demanded in a cold voice, feeling my pleasure at our walk dissipate.
“Oh, now, I am sorry. You aren’t the fool. He is. I can’t imagine not showing up to a wedding day with…” Then his voice trailed off. He sounded almost wistful. He shook his head ruefully.
“With?” I asked.
“Let’s just say, a man knows when to run and when to stay. And he’s a fool, for not knowing the difference,” Gabriel said.
It was my turn to stare at him, trying to puzzle out his remark. As his eyes met mine, I saw longing and tenderness. I blushed, looking away. “Well, he’s back, and I don’t know what he wants.” My hand gripped his arm more tightly as panic set in.
“He wants you, of course. Men are rather simple, Miss Clarissa.” He smiled at me, flashing his dimple in his right cheek. “What does your family think?”
“They want me to stay as far away from him as possible. Which is fine, as I don’t relish being made to look a fool again.”
“Is it that you just don’t want to look a fool? Or is it that you no longer care for him?” he asked, studying me.
I did not answer him for a few moments. “I am tired of providing constant amusement for my family.”
“You still haven’t answered my original question. But I wouldn’t let a little teasing by your family prevent you from living your life,” Gabriel murmured.
As we continued our walk, I stumbled once on the trolley tracks. Gabriel gripped my arm to prevent me from falling.
“Miss,” Gabriel said, “you know it would be much safer for you if you didn’t walk everywhere.”
I recognized a rhetorical question, deciding not to answer it.
“You should consider taking streetcars whenever possible.”
“I like to walk,” I replied, as I jumped out of the way of a horse and buggy. Gabriel simply watched me, making me believe he did not agree with me, but that he would not argue.
We arrived at my home, and I could think of no way to prolong my time with him.
“We seem to have arrived, miss. I believe you have some thinking to do. I wish you a good day.”
“Wait, do you think you could walk me to my uncle’s? It’s only a little bit farther.”
“Of course, Miss Clarissa.” We turned from my house and headed toward Uncle Martin’s store.
“Mr. McLeod, I can’t remember if I have told you, but my father just remarried.” At this I had to clear my throat before continuing. “I call her by her first married name, Mrs. Smythe, though I have been told to call her Mrs. Sullivan. Anyway, she had tea at our house yesterday, with someone I believe you know well. A Mrs. Masterson?” I felt his body jerk, and he stopped short to stare at me.
“You had tea yesterday with Aunt Masterson?” Gabriel asked.
“Yes, and it was very unpleasant.”
“Well, most things to do with her are.” He continued to look at me as though trying to figure out a puzzle. Finally, he gave a small nod and turned to continue walking toward Russell’s. “Did she have anything of interest to say?”
“She had nothing complimentary to say about anyone except her own family,” I replied.
“Did she mention me or my brothers?”
“Yes, she did.”
“And?”
“It appears that you were always a trial to her, and she can’t imagine why you would want to be a carpenter rather than work in an office with her husband. She didn’t appear to like either of your brothers.”
“No, she can’t imagine I would want to be my own boss rather than work for her miserly husband. Working for a pittance.” He took a deep breath, then smiled at me. “I am sorry you had to have tea with her.”
“So am I. She managed to insult everyone in my family. The only person she seems to like is Mrs. Smythe, who she also insulted.” I waved away my thoughts on Mrs. Smythe. “However, I am curious about one thing. What argument did Richard and her son have? Colin also alluded to it last night before Richard joined us and again this morning while escorting me to school.”
At this, Gabriel laughed. “Oh, that’s a good tale. But one that should be told by Richard. He’s the storyteller of the family. Ask him next time you see him.” Gabriel continued to smile.
We arrived at Russell’s, and I turned to Gabriel to take my leave.
He looked at me intently, finally murmuring, “Don’t take too much time deciding what you want.” He then took my gloved hand, kissing my knuckles. “I bid you a good day, Miss Clarissa,” he whispered with a warm smile before turning and walking away.
CHAPTER 22
IT WAS A CRISP SATURDAY EVENING in late May, and earlier in April I had accepted an invitation from the Dickersons for a dinner party with Jonas and Savannah, which I now felt obligated to attend. The Dickersons were important members of Boston society and Jonas’ good friends. I was tempted to beg a headache, but, once an invitation had been accepted, only death was an acceptable excuse, or so Jonas said with a fiercely disapproving frown.
I entered the Dickersons’ house, trying not to feel overly awed by the elegant furnishings. The house was far grander than the simpler homes I was accustomed to, and I had to force myself not to gape in awe. It seemed as though I had entered a miniature palace.
The front hall was at least three times as large as our entryway, with a towering black walnut staircase at one end, each spindle elaborately carved. The rail formed an animal like paw as it met large newel posts at the landing in the front hall. An ornate lamp exuding a gentle light was mounted on top of the newel post in the
hallway. Upon glancing up the stairs toward the landing, I saw a beautiful stained-glass window featuring a Romanesque woman sitting in her bowery. I wished I could see the stained glass lit from behind on a sunny day, its kaleidoscope of colors cascading down onto the surroundings. The hardwood floors, polished to a high gleam where visible, were covered in plush green-and-black oriental rugs. The elaborate mahogany hall stand had enough coat pegs for at least ten coats, although we gave our wraps to a waiting maid.
“Miss Russell,” the hostess, Mrs. Dickerson, greeted us, delicately taking Savannah’s hand. “What a pleasure to see you again. I do hope you enjoy yourself tonight.” She turned toward me, an assessing glance taking in my appearance. I glanced down, thinking that my ice-blue satin evening dress, white gloves and matching shoes were quite stylish. I had even worn an extra petticoat and silk stockings.
“Mrs. Dickenson,” replied Savannah, with a small nod, “thank you for the invitation. I would like to introduce you to my cousin, Miss Clarissa Sullivan.” Mrs. Dickenson nodded her dismissal and departed to greet arriving guests.
Savannah hooked her arm through Jonas’s elbow, entering the formal parlor. I followed behind into the sumptuously large room, continuing to marvel at the molding, the gold-colored silk wallpaper, the thick cranberry-colored damask draperies, the grand piano in the corner. All flat surfaces were covered with different types of cloths, with red the dominant color. A prominently displayed bust of an imposing-looking man on a pedestal stood to one side, and an étagère of travel knickknacks hung on the wall near the piano. Scattered throughout were potted plants and ferns, lending an exotic feel.
After entering the room, I accepted a glass of wine and headed to a quiet corner. I felt lonely, noting I appeared to be the only unattached guest, so I decided to stand next to the marble bust to give myself the illusion of a companion. My goal for the evening was to be as unobtrusive as possible. Savannah hoped that by watching polite society interact, I would begin to learn how to better compose myself. Listening to the guests’ discussions throughout the room, all the mingling voices sounded mildly bored or authoritative; I had no desire to join any of their conversations.
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