by Bess McBride
“Wonderful!” he said. “So pleased to have you, my dear.”
His mother, displaying an inordinate amount of restraint, smiled.
“We are so pleased to have you, Miss Reed.”
“Thank you,” Sara murmured. “I know this is unexpected.”
“Not at all,” Matthew’s father said. “A lovely surprise.”
Matthew breathed a sigh of relief. His parents had behaved as well as he might have hoped, and although he knew they would have questions for him in private, they were prepared to treat his guest civilly.
“Where do you call home, Miss Reed?” his mother asked.
“Spokane,” she responded.
Mrs. Roe entered with a coffee service and set it on an oval mahogany table positioned between the sofas.
“I’ll pour, thank you, Mrs. Roe,” his mother said. “Miss Reed will be staying with us for a period of time, Mrs. Roe. Could you ask Lucy to make up a room for her?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Mrs. Roe said. “Right away.”
“Thank you.”
Mrs. Roe left the room after a quick glance in Sara’s direction.
“Coffee, Miss Reed?” Matthew’s mother asked.
“Yes, please. Call me Sara.”
“Of course. Thank you, Sara,” his mother said. She poured coffee for everyone and settled back.
Matthew pulled one of the easy chairs toward the sofa and positioned himself at Sara’s elbow. His mother noticed but said nothing.
“And what brings you to Seattle, Sara?” Matthew’s father asked.
Sara threw a hasty look in Matthew’s direction. He had not suggested a story they could agree on, because he did not want to lie to his parents. As he had told Sara earlier, lying was foreign to him.
“I met Sara in Kalispell, and she was traveling for pleasure. I convinced her of the beauty of the city, and she decided to see for herself.”
That everyone in the room narrowed their eyes when they looked at him told Matthew that his fabrication had not been particularly successful. Even Sara regarded him with a dubious expression. However, his parents were too well mannered to question him further in the presence of others.
“It is quite beautiful here, my dear,” his father said. “Quite beautiful. You will enjoy it.”
“Yes,” his mother agreed. “Seattle is beautiful, Sara, especially in the fall as the leaves change color.”
“I have never been to Kalispell,” Emily noted. “Did you have business there as well, Matthew?”
Matthew was not fooled by the innocent look on her face.
“Yes,” he replied briefly. He could not imagine such a thing, but he wished Emily would leave so he could speak more freely with his parents. To wish Emily gone was contrary to all his sorrow over the past few weeks. And even beyond that, as she had been his lifelong confidant. He felt as if he hardly knew himself at the moment.
He looked away from Emily’s face toward Sara, who watched him. She had been uncharacteristically silent since their arrival, and he could not blame her, but he missed the intimacy of their conversations. She regarded him now almost as if he were a stranger.
As if Emily could read his thoughts, she sighed, set her coffee cup down and rose.
“Well, I must go,” she said. “Mother is having some friends over for lunch, and she would like for me to be there. I will send the carriage back. Matthew, could you walk me to the door?”
Matthew threw a quick glance in Sara’s direction, then nodded.
“Yes, of course.”
He followed her out of the drawing room, hoping that Sara would be comfortable with his parents.
As they neared the front door, Emily turned to him.
“I know you are not telling the truth about Miss Reed, Matthew, and I assume that you will explain everything to me in your own time. We have always shared our secrets. I need to know something now though. Should I consider Miss Reed a rival for your affections?”
Matthew’s jaw slackened. Could he have heard right? His affections?
“I cannot pretend to understand what you are talking about, Emily,” he said in exasperation. “Did you not soundly reject me only two weeks ago?”
Her cheeks colored, and she blinked.
“Well, that was then! I needed more time to think. I still need time to think.”
Matthew’s heart jumped for a moment, then settled into a dull thud in his chest.
“If you could have told me then that you need time to think about my proposal instead of summarily rejecting me, I would have been spared a great deal of misery.”
Emily smiled brightly, her cheeks glowing.
“Oh, Matthew! Were you miserable? I am so sorry. I had just never thought of marrying you. I know our parents wished it, but I thought you felt the same way as I.”
“The same way as you? Apparently not,” Matthew said with a raised brow.
“That we were almost brother and sister,” she said. “But I have reflected more, and I begin to think we could do well together.”
“Do well together?” Matthew had thought the same thing at one time, but Emily’s words chafed him now. They sounded sterile, denoting a life of convenience and comfort, but rarely interesting and hardly complex.
“Yes, isn’t that what you want?”
Matthew thought of Sara, alone and trying to converse with his parents.
“I must return to the drawing room, Emily. You must do as you think best. If you wish to reconsider my proposal, then please do. I await your reply.”
Emily’s blue eyes widened, and her lips tightened with anger.
“If Miss Reed is more important to you than I am, Matthew, please do return to the drawing room! You can call on me when you are free. Good day!”
“Good day,” Matthew said, equally angry. He held the door open for Emily, and she flounced out toward the waiting carriage.
Chapter Eighteen
“I am so very sorry to hear about your mother, Sara,” Mrs. Webster said. “You are an orphan then?”
Sara assumed that was Mrs. Webster’s way of asking about her father. Since she was an adult, Sara hadn’t really thought of herself as an orphan.
“Yes, I suppose I am.”
“And you have no other family?”
Sara shook her head. “No.” The conversation had taken on a depressingly sympathetic tone, and she wanted to change it.
“What a lovely room,” she said, looking around.
Mrs. Webster smiled. “It is my favorite room in the house. I only allow my husband and son in here when we have guests. They have the library for their use.”
“That is quite true, my dear,” Mr. Webster said. “We are not allowed in here otherwise. A distinctly feminine room.”
Sara had liked him instantly. Although Matthew’s personality was probably more like his mother’s, polite but a bit reserved, she saw occasional glints of his father’s easygoing style. Certainly, Matthew shared his father’s handsome looks and wide smile.
She sipped her coffee, wondering what else she could safely say that wouldn’t arouse suspicion of her origins or elicit sympathetic glances for her “orphan” status.
Mrs. Webster was the picture of turn-of-the-century elegance in lavender satin and lace with an immaculate coif of still bright blonde hair. Mr. Webster, the image of what Matthew promised to be as an older man, matched his wife in style and grace. Unlike Matthew, he sported a broad, thick graying mustache, but his smile was as handsome as his son’s.
Matthew, however, was not smiling when he returned to the drawing room. His face was taut, his eyebrows drawn together in an expression of anger. She had only seen him that way on two occasions, and both were elicited by encounters with Mrs. Feeney. What had happened?
She would have to wait to ask Matthew, if she dared. It was likely something to do with Emily, and Sara wasn’t sure she wanted to know, nor did she think Matthew would want to discuss it with her.
“Is everything all right, Matthew?” his mothe
r asked.
“Yes, Mother, thank you.” Matthew retook his seat and picked up his coffee. He turned to stare at the fire as if ignoring them, which surprised Sara. His manners were usually so perfect.
He drew in a long audible breath and turned back to his parents and Sara.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I am certain you both have questions.”
“Perhaps we should not trouble Sara with family matters, Matthew,” his mother said, almost reprovingly.
“Nothing that cannot wait, son,” his father agreed.
“If I may speak frankly, Sara would probably be more comfortable if she knew what I had to say rather than wondering what was said out of her presence.”
“Oh, Matthew,” his mother protested with an uncertain look in Sara’s direction. His father straightened with an expression of interest.
Sara held her breath and waited to hear what Matthew had to say. She hoped he didn’t mention her time in jail.
Matthew held up a hand. “If you do not object, Sara?”
Wordlessly, she shook her head.
“I was less than forthright when I said I met Sara in Kalispell. I actually met her on the train to Chicago. She had fallen on hard times. She left the train in Kalispell, and I found myself worrying about her welfare. On my return trip to Seattle, I found her in Kalispell and discovered that her situation had worsened to such an untenable degree that she was in jeopardy. She is without family or friends. I convinced her to return to Seattle with me.”
Sara set her coffee down on the side table. Matthew’s version of events raised more questions than provided answers.
“I realize how mysterious that all sounds, and I promise I won’t trouble you for long,” she said to his parents. “I really won’t.”
“You won’t be any trouble at all, my dear. Any friend of Matthew’s is a friend of ours,” his father said with a broad smile.
“Yes, of course, Sara,” his mother replied. “We are only too happy to help. Matthew, I hope that Emily reminded you we are committed to the Williamses’ get-together tomorrow night for a small dinner and dance. I know they would love to have Sara as well. I will send them a note in the morning.”
“Oh, wait...” Sara began. “I don’t think—”
“Nonsense, my dear. Of course you must come. We cannot leave you here languishing in your room alone. It will be a good opportunity to introduce you to folks,” Mr. Webster said. He looked down at his pocket watch. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have some correspondence to attend to before lunch.” He rose, and Mrs. Webster rose when he did.
“I need to check with Sally about lunch,” she said. “I’ll see you to your room first, Sara.”
“Mrs. Roe and I can accompany Sara to her room, Mother. Go see about lunch.”
Mrs. Webster nodded.
“Yes, that will be fine.” They left the room, and Sara let out the breath she felt like she’d been holding since her arrival.
“That was awkward, but I don’t imagine there was any other way to handle it,” she said.
Matthew stood and held out a hand to help her rise from the couch.
“Yes, I know. I apologize most sincerely for embarrassing you.”
“Well, you didn’t embarrass me more than I’ve embarrassed myself, that’s for sure. I really do appreciate all you’re doing for me, Matthew. Your parents are great!”
“They are wonderful, aren’t they? My mother surprised me. I thought she might have more questions. Perhaps she does, and I have not yet heard them.”
“They’re very kind to take a stranger in.”
“Oddly, I do not feel as if you are a stranger, Sara.”
She smiled and asked the question uppermost in her mind.
“If you don’t mind my asking, did you and Emily have a fight?”
Matthew, on the point of guiding Sara from the room with a hand to her back, paused and turned toward her.
He nodded.
“I would not normally discuss such a matter, but over the past few days, given the unusual nature of our friendship, I feel we have achieved a certain familiarity, which allows me to confide in you.”
Sara nodded. She hadn’t been entirely honest with him, but he was aware of that and accepted it for now.
“It seems as if Emily has rethought my marriage proposal and is now willing to consider it.”
Sara’s heart dropped to somewhere far, far below her stomach.
“I knew it!” she muttered. “I knew she would. I couldn’t believe she would turn you down.”
Matthew blinked and reared his head at the vehemence of her words.
“I think I must take that as a compliment, Sara. Thank you! I have never known Emily to waver in any of her decisions. She thinks we would ‘do well together.’”
“Do well together?” Sara repeated. “What does that mean?” She understood the words, but she wondered what Emily meant specifically.
Matthew shrugged. “I suppose she means that we suit one another, since we have known each other most of our lives and share a common background.”
“Oh!” Sara said, inwardly wincing at the dull and uninteresting vision of Matthew’s future. He deserved so much more. He deserved a woman who loved him absolutely and completely, a woman who loved him with passion, not one who “suited” him.
“Congratulations,” she murmured, swallowing hard. “When do you plan on getting married?”
Matthew grimaced. “Emily has not yet made up her mind. I cannot very well withdraw the proposal, even if I wanted to.”
Sara’s head shot up.
“Do you want to?”
“I am not certain. Before now, I had never envisioned a future in which Emily was not my wife. However, the past few weeks gave me time to reflect, albeit at times morosely and piteously, as I mourned the loss of what I thought I desired.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
“I must await Emily’s decision.”
Sara wanted to influence him. She wanted to tell him that he shouldn’t have to wait for Emily to make up her mind. The woman had made it up once before, and she had turned him down. Ignore her change of heart! Take back the proposal! Forget about her!
But Sara pressed her lips together and kept her mouth shut. It wasn’t her place to interfere in Matthew’s life, and certainly not in the life of someone from another time.
“I do not suppose you have any words of wisdom to offer me?” Matthew asked with a small chuckle.
Sara shook her head. “I do, but I’ll keep them to myself. I’m not sure they’re particularly wise. I’ve never been in love, and I’m hardly an expert on matters of the heart.” Sara bit her tongue. Why on earth had she added the last sentence?
Matthew cocked his head and studied her face. Her cheeks heated, and she blinked.
“Still, I would be interested to hear your thoughts at some point, Sara. I wonder now if I have ever been in love before myself.”
Before Sara could reply, Mrs. Roe entered the room and announced that Sara’s room was ready. They escorted Sara up a curving, carpet-covered marble staircase to the second floor, and Mrs. Roe showed Sara to her room.
The bedroom clearly reflected Mrs. Webster’s touch—a palette of soft blue and rose with dark mahogany furniture. A huge four-poster bed with a satin rose coverlet dominated the room. Blue velvet curtains matched the blue brocade on several easy chairs set before a small marble fireplace. A dressing table and standing oval mirror hugged one wall next to a wardrobe. Her carpetbag rested in front of the wardrobe.
On arrival, her quick survey of the exquisitely graceful exterior of the large Queen Anne-style house had hinted at a luxurious interior, and that had proven true. The Websters seemed to have a lot of money.
“Lunch will be ready at half past twelve as usual, Mister Matthew,” Mrs. Roe said. “If there’s nothing else?”
“No, thank you, Mrs. Roe,” he said.
She turned away, and Matthew pointed to a connecting door. “There is a b
athroom through there.” He looked down at his pocket watch. “I hope you are hungry. Sally is the best cook in Seattle, in my opinion. Lunch will be served in a little over an hour. Hopefully, that will give you time to attend to your needs.”
Was it already 11:30? It seemed as if the train had just arrived.
“Thank you,” she said.
He eyed her for a moment.
“Is everything all right, Sara? I know you must feel very lost right now, given that you are in a strange city and a strange house, but you can always confide in me.”
“I’m fine,” she said with a nod. Matthew would never know how lost she felt at the moment. She had no idea how she’d traveled in time or why, and no idea how to get back. Looking at his handsome face, she had no idea what she would even go back to.
He hesitated as if choosing his next words carefully.
“Please do not disappear, Sara. It would be unsafe for you to vanish into a large city like Seattle, and not only would it distress my parents, it would distress me. Additionally, I believe you owe me a dance.”
Chapter Nineteen
Following lunch, Matthew offered to take Sara on a drive through the city.
“Oh, yes!” she breathed.
“What a wonderful idea, Matthew!” his mother said. “I am sure Sara will enjoy that.”
“I still have some correspondence to finish. Enjoy yourselves,” his father said with a broad smile as he left the dining room.
“Very well,” Matthew said with an equally broad smile. “I will wait by the front door while you go get your shawl and a hat.”
Matthew’s mother lingered in the dining room after Sara left in search of her outer garments. As Matthew stood to leave, his mother detained him with a hand on his arm.
“Matthew, dear, what are your plans for Sara? And I do not mean a drive around the city this afternoon. What do you propose to do with her?” She shook her head. “I do not like that wording, but I cannot think how else to ask the question.”
Matthew sighed heavily.
“I am not certain, Mother. I did not have time to tell you before I left, or perhaps I was too glum to do so, but I asked Emily to marry me the day before I left for Chicago.”
