Then her mother noticed the other two passengers in the buggy. “And who might these two be?”
As Flora’s father explained the situation, the expression on her mother’s face darkened. Like the last thing she wanted under her roof were a miner and a child of unknown origin. But she nodded meekly when Flora’s father ended his explanation with a firm, “And they’ll be staying with us tonight.”
Something in Flora’s heart lightened when she heard her father take up for their friends. They still didn’t know what had become of Pierre’s father, and in all the turmoil of the day, it looked even less likely that they’d find answers soon.
They entered the house, and Agnes looked ready to pounce. But before Flora’s father could tell her to back down, Agnes rushed at Flora and put her arms around her.
“Dear child, you’re safe.” Then Agnes pulled away. “And wearing filthy rags. I’ll have a bath prepared for you straightaway.”
After one last squeeze, Agnes dashed off to the kitchen.
Her mother ushered them into the parlor. “Sit, sit. It will take some time to heat the water, and I’m sure in the meantime Agnes is preparing something for you all to eat.”
Then she turned to Flora’s father. “John...” The tender expression in her mother’s eyes surprised Flora. Though she knew her parents cared for each other, she hadn’t realized that they shared such a deep love.
“Everyone’s safe, Anna.” He looked back at his wife with an equally loving expression.
It was foolish to think such things so soon after a tragedy, but Flora hoped that someday she would have a love like that.
Pierre climbed into Flora’s lap as soon as she was seated. She held him close to her, murmuring words of comfort in French.
He cuddled up against her, and before Flora knew it, the little boy was asleep.
Her parents were speaking in a low tone, and Flora couldn’t make out their words. She looked over at George, who was uncomfortably perched on one of the chairs. Though he’d said he came from a good family, he probably wasn’t used to being surrounded by such finery.
“Please, make yourself comfortable,” Flora told him, trying to smile and be a good hostess, but she found herself too exhausted to make more effort than that.
Before George could answer, Agnes bustled in, carrying a tray filled with sandwiches and a pot of tea.
“Eat up, everyone. Miss Flora’s bath is almost ready, then we’ll get the rest of you cleaned up.”
Agnes gave George a disapproving glance. Had it been up to her, she probably wouldn’t have let him sit on the furniture, but with everyone else as filthy as he, it would have been hard to make the argument. Despite the fatigue that seemed to make even the slightest movement impossible, a tiny smile twitched at the corners of Flora’s mouth at the thought of Agnes’s dilemma.
“Let me take the boy,” Agnes said gently. “I’ll put him to bed.”
Flora let her pick up the sleeping child. “Put him in my bed, please. He sleeps with me because, otherwise, he has terrible nightmares.”
With the same frustrated set to her lips as she’d had at the idea of George ruining the furniture, Agnes nodded. The one good thing in this terrible situation, if there was one to be found, was that neither Agnes nor Flora’s mother were likely to go against Flora’s wishes for the time being.
They ate quickly and in silence. Though Flora would have initially argued that she was too tired to eat a bite, she devoured everything put in front of her. After her bath, she sat by the fire in the kitchen, trying to stay awake long enough for her mother and Agnes to dry her hair.
The few times Flora allowed her eyes to flutter open, she caught sight of tears rolling down her mother’s cheeks.
Had her mother known just how close Flora had come to being the one dead or in the hospital, those tears would have been worse. For the first time, Flora was grateful it hadn’t been her. Her poor mother had already suffered so much because of Flora.
But as Flora turned to say something to her mother, her mother patted her on the cheek and said gently, “Rest. I’m going to help Agnes put more bricks in your bed.” After her mother left, Flora closed her eyes and could hear the faint sound of George and her father arguing.
“You’ve got to put an end to this farce, George. You’re a Bellingham, with the power to make things right.”
Flora stilled. George, a Bellingham? As in the Bellinghams who owned the Pudgy Boy Mine?
But that meant George was... Flora closed her eyes. Pudgy Bellingham. The little boy everyone in their circle in Denver had teased for being so fat. She’d forgotten his real name had been George. She supposed people didn’t call him Pudgy anymore; after all, it had been more than ten years, fifteen at least, since Flora had seen him.
Why had he lied to her?
A sour taste filled Flora’s mouth as her stomach rolled around. She’d been so cruel to him when they were children. The other kids called him Pudgy because Flora had given him that nickname. He’d called her Big Mouth Flora, the brat who couldn’t keep a secret.
Despite all the wonderful and encouraging things George had said to her, he must still think her that same brat. He had to have known that the reason she was spending time working in the mission was as punishment for her gossiping ways.
“Flora, dear, are you all right?”
She could feel her mother’s gaze on her, and when she opened her eyes, she saw the concern filling her mother’s face.
Had she heard what Flora’s father had told George?
Would it even signify to her that the man who’d been introduced to her as a miner was, in fact, the child of an old family friend?
Flora shook her head slowly. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”
“Yes,” Agnes said, wrapping a shawl tightly around Flora. “We must get you to bed. I sponged that boy down as best as I could. Him sharing a bed with you—it’s not right, I say, but I won’t be going against your wishes.”
Flora tried to smile, knowing she’d been right about Agnes’s feelings, but the pain in her heart dragged the corners of her lips down.
Despite everything between Flora and George, he hadn’t trusted her. Of all the people in the world, he should have been able to trust her. What must he have thought, as they discussed the impossibility of a romance between them? He must have known that her family would heartily approve of such a match.
But he’d dissuaded her. Just as her father had. Knowing exactly who George was.
The backs of her eyes stung with tears. After all the crying she’d done today, surely there wasn’t anything left. It was as though the last ounce of everything she had in her had to be wrung out.
A woman had died. Her friend might still very well do so. And countless others were injured. And now, the one person who’d given her the courage to believe that she might be more worthy than she ever thought possible had betrayed her in the worst way.
If her father and George had known all along that all the reasons for Flora not to be with George didn’t exist, and they’d kept that from her, reminding her not to let her heart get involved, clearly it meant that George didn’t share her regard—or wasn’t available. Or, worse, knowing who she was, didn’t trust her. But they’d given all those warnings too late. Her heart had already become irrevocably entwined with his, and now...
Flora shook her head as her mother and Agnes led her into the hall. They passed her father’s study, where she saw George talking with her father and Will Lawson, one of the town’s deputies. George glanced her way briefly, and her heart ached.
“You scoundrel,” she whispered.
* * *
George thought he was hearing things when Flora went by, guarded by her mother and the housekeeper. The two older women seemed more concerned with keeping George from catching a glimpse of F
lora in her nightclothes. But as his eyes met hers, he knew he’d heard correctly.
Despite her body looking completely broken with fatigue, Flora’s eyes flashed fire and anger.
“Flora?” He took a step toward her, but Agnes glared at him.
“You stay where you are. And that’s Miss Montgomery to you. I’ll have no improprieties in my household. Our girl been through enough without the likes of you to make it worse. Avert your eyes like a gentleman. If you know what one is.”
George forced his gaze back to John. “I’m sorry, sir. I meant no disrespect toward your daughter.”
“Everyone’s just tired, George. Pay Agnes no mind. It’s been a difficult day for everyone.”
John suddenly looked even more weary than he had a few short moments ago. The women continued down the hall, and as footsteps sounded on the stairs, George knew they’d taken Flora to bed.
“We don’t know who’s behind all of this,” George said, continuing the conversation where they’d left off before Flora had come into the hall. “The culprits think they’re safe, because George Bellingham is off studying at Harvard, living it up and unaware of what’s going on. If I reveal my true identity, they’re going to be more cautious, and we’ll lose the element of surprise.”
Will Lawson, one of the deputies assigned to investigate the case, nodded. “True. The question is, why would they take such a risk in harming innocent people?”
George had spent the entire ride to town alternating between praying for the injured, particularly Ellen, and asking himself that same question.
“I don’t know. Unless it really was an accident.”
“No.” John shook his head. “There’s no way an accidental explosion could have happened in that spot. But...” The older man sank into his chair. “Flora.” He ran his hand over his face. “She’s been working there. What if she was the intended victim?”
“I won’t believe it,” George said. “Who would want to kill Flora? People are upset with her, yes, but no one would go to such lengths as to do such a thing.”
Looking as though he’d aged forty years in the past few hours, John turned his gaze back to George. “But they would hurt her to get to me.”
“What enemies do you have?” Will asked, opening his notebook.
“Plenty.” John’s expression didn’t waver. “But I think the answer is not so much about my enemies as it is about the fact that I’ve been looking into the mine. I’ve been pushing too hard to be merely an interested buyer. What if the accident was designed to harm Flora to distract me from asking questions? They had to have known that if Flora had been injured or killed, I’d be too consumed with that to pursue my interest in the mine.”
George shook his head. “Why not kill you, then? Or me, for that matter? We’re the ones stirring up trouble, not Flora.”
Anguish filled John’s face, like he knew the answer, and it wasn’t one any of them wanted to hear. “It’s how Ross used to operate. A man isn’t afraid for himself so much as his family. What if the explosion was an accident in the sense that it wasn’t meant to kill Flora, but to send a message to me that if I pursued this purchase, she’d be hurt?”
Will crossed the room to stand next to John. “Who is Ross?”
“Ross Eldridge,” John said, turning to George. “I know you said he was dead, but what about his son? Could he be working the same angle his father did?”
Despite the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, George shook his head. “I can’t even imagine it. Arthur was young when his father died, so how would he know how his father operated? Besides, Arthur loves Julia. He dotes on her. Why would he force her to live in such reduced circumstances as she is now?”
Recalling the differences in the record books he’d seen, George frowned. “It doesn’t make sense for Arthur to be involved. Based on the discrepancies in the payroll I saw, whoever’s behind this has to be pocketing a small fortune, probably more, given that I only had a brief glance.”
He looked back at the other men, feeling slightly relieved that his sister’s husband couldn’t be involved. “Arthur never refuses Julia a thing, but in her last letter, she talked about how she was upset that she was going to have to remake some of her gowns because they couldn’t afford new this year. If he was stealing that kind of money, he’d be able to buy her new gowns.”
“Could your sister be involved?” Will asked, his voice gentle, but full of enough accusation to sting.
“Julia knows nothing about the family business. Our father used to joke that the only thing she knew of finance was how to spend money.”
George smiled as he remembered how defensive Julia used to get when their father teased her. Though she was younger than Flora, and the girls had never known each other, he’d always thought Flora and Julia could be friends. They had many of the same interests, and like Flora, people often underestimated Julia’s compassion and intelligence.
The other men chuckled, and for a moment, the air didn’t seem so heavy with death and destruction.
A quick glance out the window was all George needed to remember. From the Montgomerys’ study, George had a clear view of the mountain where the mine sat.
“It’s going to be extremely expensive to repair the damage,” George said, turning back to Will and John. “Wouldn’t it be foolhardy to cause such destruction when there’s no way we can pay for it?”
George hadn’t thought much about what it would all cost, not until now. The memory of the rocks and debris that would have to be cleared filled his head, making it ache. The loss, in terms of lives and people injured, was bad enough. Fortunately, as far as he knew, only one woman had been killed, but several more people were injured, and it all seemed to be too much.
To have to put a price on top of it...
“We’re ruined,” George told the other two men. “I honestly see no way out of this. Even with what we know of the money being stolen, it’s not enough to make it worthwhile for Arthur to be involved.”
He looked around the room, admiring the gleaming bookcases and fine furniture that had most likely been imported. Their home in Denver featured similar decor. All expensive, and it now seemed like a waste of money with what they were facing. “I can’t see us being able to keep anything. Arthur told me that the mine was the only thing keeping us solvent. That’s why I felt compelled to come here, even though he told me not to. I thought that if I could fix the things that were going wrong at the mine, that would ease the other problems.”
George sat on the high-backed chair that reminded him of the one in his father’s study. If only his father was here to give him wisdom about how to handle the situation.
“Your father had one just like it,” John said, coming around and sitting in a nearby chair. “We thought they symbolized the success we hoped to achieve.”
“It still sits in his study.” George shook his head. “What once was his study, I suppose. Arthur has taken it over now.”
“I understand your father recently passed away,” Will said, joining them. “What happened?”
With a sigh, George turned to the other man. “It was a carriage accident a few months ago. Apparently, they were going too fast and the carriage overturned. My father was killed instantly, and my mother is still recovering from her injuries. They aren’t sure if she’ll ever walk again.”
One more worry to add to George’s plate. The doctors were so expensive. He’d already been concerned about how they were going to continue providing for her care, but now it seemed all the more impossible.
If there was any blessing to be had for his not becoming involved with Flora, it was knowing that at least she would not have to sort through the damage to his family. To suffer as they all would. Still, he couldn’t forget the way she’d looked at him, as though she despised him more completely than any human being was capable
of.
He shook his head. One more thing he had no ability to make right.
“Your father was going too fast with your mother in the carriage?” John asked.
George turned his head. “Yes. Why?”
“Has Honoria changed that much? She was terrified of high speeds. I can’t see her allowing your father to go so fast as to make a carriage overturn.”
The sick feeling in George’s stomach returned. John was right. It hadn’t made sense when George had been told of the accident, but then, nothing about the accident had made sense. How could it, when his father was dead?
“I was at school,” George said, trying to shake the suspicion that John had planted in his head. A suspicion he didn’t like at all. “All I know is what I was told.”
“Who told you?” Will asked.
“I got a telegram from Arthur. He said not to come home. But how could I stay at school when my father had died? I came on the next train. Arthur met me and told me of the details.”
Will made a noise in the back of his throat, and George looked at him.
“Why didn’t they want you there?”
George took a deep breath as he thought about his father. “My father was so proud that he’d had the ability to send his son to a place like Harvard. No one in his family had gone to college, let alone somewhere as wonderful as that. Everyone thought it important that I continue with my father’s wishes.
“They don’t know I didn’t go back,” George said. “I have a friend there covering for me, just in case, but so far, they seem to think I’m still there. I know they want me to honor my father’s legacy, but to me, it honors him more if I do what I can to save it. Otherwise, what’s the point of a degree I can’t use?”
John put his hand on George’s shoulder. “I know your father and I had a falling-out years ago, but for what it’s worth, I believe you did the right thing, and he would be very proud of you.”
George would have liked to say that he thought so, too, but at this point, he didn’t even care about making his father proud. An innocent woman had died, and others had been injured. His family stood to lose everything. And though all the things they had were nice, honestly, what George cared about the most was making sure his mother would be taken care of and that Julia and her family had what they needed. Yes, Arthur could provide for them, but Julia was his baby sister, and George felt responsible for her.
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