by Holly Bush
* * *
ADAM STOOD on the landing of the second floor of Paradise as workmen pushed and pulled a massive desk up the staircase. Thank goodness Mother had installed a grand wide one during one of the many additions that were made to the house or they would have never gotten it to the second floor.
“Here, down here,” he said and pointed, leading the workers toward Olivia’s old bedroom. He’d had all the furniture removed to the attics and the walls painted a pale gray. The rug had been dragged outside and beaten and the floors polished. Jenny had hung new white draperies at the two long windows that over looked the back patios and woods. Adam stood there now as the desk was fitted between them, looking out at what he thought was one of the best views of the Paradise property. He was looking forward to surprising Emmaline.
The desk he’d had shipped from Washington with a matching wooden chair, along with an overstuffed dark red armchair that now sat beside the fireplace. A woodworker from Winchester had built bookshelves that covered the opposite wall from floor to ceiling. He hoped she would like it. He’d watched her that day at Clair House looking at the desk in her room, knowing that it had meant something to her. Symbolized something significant. He realized now that he’d been hurt that she’d not come to him that day.
He thanked the workmen and looked around the room. He’d decided not to add anything to the desk or mantel or bookshelves. He wanted Emmaline to make it her own in her own way. He looked up from his musing when Jenny knocked at the open door. She was smiling broadly.
“Mr. Adam? A letter has come for you.”
“A letter? You can put it on my desk, Jenny. Thank you.”
“Oh.” She looked at the envelope in her hand. “Please let us know how Mrs. Gentry is doing.”
He walked to her. “From my mother, you say.” He reached for the letter.
“No, Mr. Adam. From your wife.”
He held it in his hand until he was sure Jenny had gone. He sat down on the red chair and pulled out the paper.
* * *
MY DEAREST HUSBAND Adam
So far away in Winchester,
Wondering what has happened to his madam
* * *
SHE’S WRITING PRETTY words of poetry
And composing themes for novels
Wondering if her husband will appreciate her coquetry
* * *
SHE’S BEEN a poor letter writer
And he’s been fine
She’ll have to say she’s sorry to make her heart lighter.
* * *
ADAM,
As you can read above I will never find a magazine or publisher for my poetry as I attempt to apologize to you for not replying to all of your letters. At first, I was stewing in my own anger and then so much time had gone by that I just did not know how to begin. My friend Violet convinced me that poetry was just the thing, but she has given up on my verses after two evenings of trying to help me. She said I was really spectacularly bad at it and I agree.
I miss you.
I work very hard during the week at classes and have to study most evenings as many of the women here have their college degree in English or literature. But I love it here. I love being able to write even when I’m not sure how to begin or end an assignment. I have also been working very hard on my next novel. Mrs. Clair was right. This place can be inspirational.
I miss you.
I promise to write more often. Please tell my family and all of yours that I’m doing well and learning as much as I can while I have this wonderful opportunity. Tell Mabel that the cook here makes lemon cookies that are delicious but not quite as good as hers.
Your wife,
Emmaline
* * *
ADAM READ his letter and reread it. He grinned at the terrible poetry and rubbed his hand over his mouth, his eyes blinking rapidly. She was fine, and she missed him. He leaned back against the chair and closed his eyes. When had she become his everything? When had he resigned his heart to her keeping? Did he bear the blame for the mess they were in and had she stretched out her displeasure of him with her silence? Yes. Of course. But this was her olive branch.
CHAPTER 14
“I am so excited,” Madeline Clair said while seated at the dining room table one evening late November. “I can hardly contain myself!”
“What is it, dear?” her husband asked.
“Yes,” Ruth Morton asked from beside Emmaline. “Tell us, Mrs. Clair.”
“We have been invited to an evening at the Cassett home!”
Emmaline looked around the table; many of the other women were wide-eyed and all now talking at once. “Who are the Cassetts?” she asked Violet beside her.
“Oh, this is very exciting! Very exciting! Mr. Cassett is the president of the Pennsylvania Railroad and very wealthy! One of Philadelphia’s first families!” Violet turned her head to Mrs. Clair. “Ma’am? Will his sister be there?”
“I am told the artist, Mary Cassett, has recently arrived from Paris and will be attending! Oh, ladies! This will be crème de la crème of Philadelphia art society!”
Violet turned to Emmaline. “I must have new evening wear. I simply must. I don’t often make such a fuss over my appearance, but I must have a new gown.”
“I didn’t bring anything quite fancy enough, I don’t think, for this party,” Emmaline said.
“Then we shall go together to dress shops and have something made. Something lovely and special.”
“We shall,” Emmaline replied. “We will buy ourselves the fanciest dresses with the most lace, gewgaws, and ribbons there are to be had!”
* * *
DEAR HUSBAND,
I intend to be frivolous this week when I order a costly dress from Shelby’s, a very fancy, and expensive, dress shop in Philadelphia. All of us at Clair House have been invited to a party at the home of the owner of the Pennsylvania Railroad, a Mr. Cassett. His sister, Mary, an artist of some renown, as I am told, will be there and supposedly, all the fanciest folks in the art world. I’ve spent twenty-two dollars of the five hundred you deposited in my account, but this dress and the shoes and the other accessories will match that amount and more!
I’ve asked Mr. and Mrs. Clair if you would be able to attend with me and they have assured me that you would be welcome, as Mr. Clair is personal friends with Mr. Cassett’s longtime secretary. I’m hoping you will make the trip. The party is to be held on the second of December at six in the evening and I will attend with Violet if you cannot be convinced to come and will be wearing a lovely silk gown in lavender, the newest style, with bare shoulders and a rather low neckline. I am hoping you will consider visiting.
I miss you.
Your wife,
Emmaline
* * *
ADAM CHUCKLED. He’d received five letters from Emmaline, and this one sounded like those moments when she’d been at her most natural and confident and funny. Of course, he would go. He had no intentions of allowing a bunch of wealthy Philadelphia men to ogle his wife without being at her side. He went immediately to his desk to reply.
IT WAS A BRISK, rather cold, Saturday afternoon, and Adam was walking the short distance to Annie and Matt’s house, thinking of his trip the following weekend to see Emmaline for the first time in nearly three months. He felt as if he were twelve years old again and waiting impatiently for Christmas morning and all the good food and gifts and visiting that would be done. He could not stop himself from smiling at his response to his wife when he told her he would be very glad to accompany her and just as glad to help her remove that lavender gown when they arrived back at his hotel room after a party where he would most likely have to beat off all of her swains.
Matt and Annie had invited him and Livie and Jim to dinner, as his sister was uncomfortably large in her eighth month. Teddy ran to him when he arrived, and he picked up his nephew and carried him to the dinner table. He could smell roast chicken and was looking forward to having dinner with company rather than alon
e as he’d been doing. Livie and Jim came in shortly after him, bringing in another gust of chilly air. Matt poured him a glass of wine as Livie helped Ruth into her tall chair and Annie and Sally, their housekeeper, put dinner on the table.
“Who could that be?” Annie said when they heard pounding at the door.
Matt shrugged. “Somebody looking for a good meal, I suppose.”
But the door banged open before Sally could touch the knob. Nettie’s husband, John, burst into the foyer.
“Adam!” he shouted.
Adam handed Teddy to Annie, and all three men turned to John as he hurried into the dining room.
“Take the children into the kitchen, Sally,” Matt said, eyeing John’s serious face.
“What is it, John?” Olivia cried. “Has something happened to Nettie? To one of the children?”
He shook his head and looked at Adam. “No. Everyone in Winchester is fine.”
“What?” Adam asked. “What has happened?”
“I was in Brunsville a month ago making a delivery. I ran into Carter Nash that day and he asked about our family. I told him that everyone was fine and how excited we were for Nettie’s sister to be taken into a fancy school for writers in Philadelphia and about all her successes. I saw him again today when I dropped off something for his order. He told me that coincidentally his cousin Henry headed to Philadelphia yesterday.”
“Cousin Henry?” Jim asked.
John let out a held breath. “Nettie believes Henry was the one to get Emmaline in a family way last Christmastime when the three of us attended a party at Carter’s.”
The blood drained from Adam’s face and his heart beat loudly in his chest. “And he’s gone to Philadelphia?”
John nodded. “I rode straight away to Paradise to find out you were here at Matt’s. I asked Carter if he’d told Henry about Emmaline’s success and he said he had when he was with him at a family gathering. I think he’s gone there to find her.”
“Is it possible it’s a coincidence?” Annie asked.
“I don’t think so. Carter said that Henry had become agitated when he’d learned Emmaline had married Adam,” John said and swallowed. “He also said that Emmaline held a special place in his heart and that he was certain she returned his regard.”
“The first train out of Winchester won’t be until Monday morning,” Matt said.
“There’ll be one out of Frederick tomorrow, though,” Jim put in.
“That’s fifty miles more or less, and twelve hours to do it in,” John said, shaking his head.
Adam pulled on his coat. “York will get me there.”
“You’re not going alone, brother,” Matt told him.
“I’m leaving in thirty minutes. Be at Paradise by then if you’re coming.”
“I’m sorry, Adam. I should have never said anything to Carter,” John said. “Do you want me to come?”
“This isn’t your fault, and it looks as if you rode hell-bent for leather to get here. You’d best prepare our mother-in-law, and the rest of her family.” Adam strode out the door.
“Go, Jim,” Olivia said, hurriedly getting his coat. “What are you waiting for?”
“I can’t leave you so close to your time.”
Olivia began to cry. “You must go! I know you will regret it if you don’t. I’ll be fine, and John will watch out for me. Go!”
* * *
ADAM RAN HOME and changed into the heavy outdoor clothing he wore when working the horses in the winter. He pulled a long canvas coat over top of it all and checked his pistols and knife. He was in the barn talking to George about where he was going and saddling York when Jim and Matt arrived, looking much the same as he did.
“Jim will need a Morgan saddled for this trip, George. Matt has Chester,” Adam said calmly. He was forcing himself to think clearly. He couldn’t allow himself to become emotional or too excited. There was too much at stake and too many hours until he arrived in Philadelphia.
* * *
“ARE you able to walk with me this afternoon?” Emmaline asked Violet as she leaned against the doorway of her friend’s room Monday afternoon. “I definitely need to withdraw money before I pick up my dress at Shelby’s tomorrow.”
“Certainly. Maybe we can have lunch together first. I did so enjoy that when we went to the Bossler Tea Room. When does the bank close, Emmaline?”
“At three today. We can finish up our classes and be at the tea room by one.”
“Perfect!”
Emmaline spent the day thinking about the following weekend and seeing Adam for the first time in months. She couldn’t wait. She wanted to permanently remove all the memories of the day of her arrival at Clair House. She wanted new memories with him. She wanted to touch his arm and kiss his mouth. She wanted to spend a lazy Sunday morning with him in bed in his hotel room.
Finally, she and Violet left for the tea room after a particularly arduous morning of classes. She’d have to study late into the evening to make up for her afternoon out. They had just left the bank when a carriage pulled up near them. An older man climbed out.
“Miss Violet,” he said.
“Hodges? Whatever are you doing here?”
“Miss Violet. Your father is quite unwell. The doctor is with him now and your mother sent me to Clair House to pick you up.”
“Oh! Oh, dear! Father! I must hurry!” Violet’s face was pale and worried. She turned to Emmaline. “But we must see my friend back to Clair House.”
Emmaline shook her head. “No. That will be in the opposite direction of your home. You must go immediately. I only have a few short blocks to go. Hurry now, Violet.”
“I don’t know what to do,” she said.
“I do. You must go. Hodges? Take Miss Violet to her family right away.”
“I think that is the wisest course,” he said.
Violet hurried to the carriage and turned back to look at Emmaline. “You will go directly to Clair House?”
“Yes. Now go.”
Emmaline watched her friend climb in the carriage and turned into the winter wind for her walk home, glad at that moment to be solitary as she was at a point in her book that she could not decide what the heroine would do. The time it would take to walk the blocks back would be perfect to think it through. Once past the bank and other stores, there were few pedestrians out in the wintry weather and Emmaline pulled her coat tight around her, thankful that Adam had insisted that she buy one.
“Emmaline Somerset! What were the chances that we meet here in Philadelphia?”
Emmaline looked up, startled as she’d been walking into the wind with her chin on her chest. She looked blankly at a young man in front of her until her mind caught up with her eyes.
“Henry?”
“Yes, it’s me, Henry!”
He was smiling at her much like she remembered he’d done all that time ago on that fateful night. What a child he was, she thought to herself, compared to her husband.
“What are you doing in Philadelphia?”
“I am going into business. My partner has already established himself in shipping and he has begged me to come aboard with him, as he knows my skills and is paying handsomely for my expertise.”
Emmaline quietly harrumphed. “All the best to you then,” she said and started to walk past him.
He stepped neatly in front of her. “Oh, wait. Can’t we have a bite together, or even just some coffee? It’s been almost a year since we’ve seen each other.”
“You knew what town I was from, Henry. You never called, but that was for the best. I wouldn’t have received you anyway.”
He looked away then out to the street and then back to her. “I heard . . . I heard there were consequences to our kisses that night.”
“There were,” she said finally, feeling the weight of speaking to the father of that tiny child she’d lost. Would they have been able to form a family together had he known? Would she have been miserable? Most likely.
“Can we at le
ast speak for a few moments in a warmer place? My bag is just here in this doorway. Let me get it and we can find a bakery or restaurant.”
She followed behind him a step or two. “No, Henry. There is nothing to say.” She turned to walk away.
Henry grabbed her arm. “There is much to say.”
“Let me go!”
But before she could say another word, he hustled her through the door of the warehouse. “What are you doing?”
He pulled her along in the near pitch-dark as the door closed behind them. Cobwebs touched her face and hands and she tripped over something. His hand tightened on hers, dragging her forward in the still air, cold and musty.
“You must stop!” she said.
“No, I don’t think I will.” He pushed her back against the wall and latched his lips on hers.
“Stop!” she cried as she twisted and pulled away from him.
His free hand came up to hold her chin in place, digging into her neck. She tried to bring her knee up against him as Jim had shown her to do, but he had her tightly against the wall. It was at that moment that she gave way a bit to panic, that this man, this horrible boy, might have dangerous ideas about her and there was no one to rescue her. Just as Adam had predicted.
* * *
“WE MUST LOOK like Texas cowpokes or rustlers, the way we’re dressed, and the way everyone in this station is staring at us,” Matt said as he followed Adam down the busy street. “Not too many men carrying guns, either.”
“There’s a stable,” Jim said and pointed. “We’re going to have to get a wagon or some horses.”
Adam was trying desperately to manage his dread. They’d sat on the train, not moving, somewhere between Frederick and Philadelphia for nearly twelve hours while the tracks were cleared of several fallen trees, and there’d been damage to the engine, too. He’d nearly lost his mind, thinking about Emmaline alone, and had gotten off the train to walk the rest of the distance, until Matt caught him and steered him back on board.
