Home Before Sundown

by Tinnean

  “You can put me down now, Tom.”

  “If I must.” He set her carefully on her feet, and watched as she looked around.

  The cottage came furnished, but the furniture was still under covers and would need to be dusted. The floors also needed to be swept and the windows washed. He hadn’t expected them to move in so soon, otherwise he’d have had a cleaning woman come in to prepare their home.

  “Papa, is the loft for me?”

  “Yes, George.” He grinned as his son clambered up the ladder. They could hear him exploring the space that would be his.

  Olivia, though, was very quiet.

  “What do you think, Olivia?”

  She turned to him, so pale he thought she might faint as she had the night before. Her lower lip trembled.

  “Cariña, what’s wrong?”

  “Oh, Tom, I have no idea where to start. You’re going to be so disappointed in me. I can’t cook, I can’t keep house, I won’t even be able to help George with his schoolwork.” She buried her face in her hands.

  “Surely you attended school.” As much as Don Jorge felt schooling wasn’t necessary for girls, he hadn’t objected very strenuously when Analeigh had asked to take lessons with Father Felipe. Or so his wife had told him.

  “Of course I did, but you don’t understand. Father sent me to a finishing school—Miss Buchannan’s School for Young Ladies. It’s the finest in the city. I can devise a menu for an elaborate meal for my cook to prepare. I know how to plan a ball, how to write invitations to it and dress for it. I know the proper etiquette for paying calls on ladies who have a higher position in society than me or how to greet those who have a lower position. I can tell the servants what rooms of the house need cleaning, what linens need to be replaced. But beyond that, I’m useless.”

  “That’s quite a lot to deal with.” He remembered how Analeigh had acted as her father’s hostess. It had taken a lot of work.

  “But that’s not what will be important in the life I’ll share with you.” She frowned at him. “You’re going to be so sorry you married me.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and drew her into his embrace. “Never, Olivia. Do you hear me? I can rustle up a decent meal—”

  “But you have to work. I should have a good dinner waiting for you when you come home.”

  “You can learn how to cook.”

  “How? I can’t cook over an open fire like you or George.”

  His son must have told her about the nights they’d spent on the trail.

  “We’ll go talk to the priest who runs the Church of the Beloved Apostle.” Tom wanted his wife to become familiar with their neighbors and the neighborhood. “I’m sure he’ll be able to recommend a woman who can help you.”

  “But—”

  “You’re going to have a baby, and you’ll need that help.”

  “I’d forgotten about the baby. Tom, please don’t tell Georgie. He’ll think so poorly of me.”

  “He’s my son. He won’t.”

  “But—”

  “And if he does, I’ll tan his hide until he sees the right of it.”

  “The right of what?” When had George come down from the loft? “Why am I getting my hide tanned?”

  “George, we’re going to have a baby.”

  His eyes lit up. “A baby sister? I’m finally going to have a baby sister?” He hugged Olivia. “I’m so happy.”

  “It might be a little boy,” Tom reminded him.

  “No, it will be a girl. When?”

  “In about seven months.”

  “That long?” He sighed. “Well, I reckon we can’t rush these things.”

  Tom bit back a grin. “No, I reckon we can’t.”

  Chapter 13

  Olivia St. Claire had been a very sheltered child who spent most of her time in the playroom or in the lovely garden behind the house where she lived, and spent even more time there after Mother died. She had no friends, even among the neighboring children. The servants liked her and treated her well, but they were servants, and Father had fired one of the maids who’d seemed to become too fond of her.

  He’d confined Olivia to her room for a week, and when she’d finally been permitted to join him for dinner, it was to discover that Aunt Hester had moved in to run the household.

  She’d been terrified the morning she woke up to find her nightgown covered in blood. Her screams had brought the servants as well as Aunt Hester, who’d taken one look and sent the servants away.

  “Hush your carrying on,” she’d scolded.

  “But…but I’m bleeding to death!”

  “Nonsense. You’ve become a young lady.”

  Olivia stared at her in confusion. “Haven’t I always been a young lady?”

  Aunt Hester gave a huff and shook her head. “Stupid child. Never mind about that. From this day forward, you are never to be alone with a man.”

  “What about Father? He isn’t going to be pleased if I—”

  “Are you talking back to me?”

  “No, Aunt Hester. But—”

  “Of course I’m not including your father or your brother. Now pay attention. Once you’re married, you’ll belong to your husband. He’ll teach you everything you need to know about…” Aunt Hester turned as red as the blood that stained Olivia’s nightgown and waved her hands. “About things.”

  Olivia was so confused she wanted to cry, but there was something she desperately needed to know about. “What do I do about this?” She held up the skirt of her nightgown.

  “You’ll spend the time in your room until this stops. I’ll give you something to absorb the blood.”

  She hurried out of the room before Olivia could ask how long she was expected to stay in her room. In minutes, Aunt Hester was back.

  “Here. You’ll use these. You shouldn’t need them for more than a few days.” She placed an armful of cloths on Olivia’s bed, told her how to use them, and then left.

  Olivia sat there helplessly and wondered if her brother Lewis had also had to deal with something like this.

  * * * *

  Olivia hadn’t thought Aunt Hester liked her, but then she’d chanced to overhear a conversation between her father and his sister.

  She was passing Father’s study when she heard her name.

  “You must permit Olivia to attend school,” Aunt Hester said.

  That was Olivia’s fondest wish. Mother had taught her to read and write and tally sums, but there were so many more things she wanted to learn.

  “There’s no need for a woman to have an education.” Father sounded his usual impatient self.

  Aunt Hester sighed. “Julius, if you intend for her to make more than a tolerable match, she must know how to run a household.”

  “That’s what I brought you here for.”

  “I can only teach her so much. If she goes to a finishing school, she’ll also make the necessary connections that will secure an excellent marriage.”

  “By meeting those scatterbrained girls?”

  “Those scatterbrained girls have brothers.”

  That seemed to silence her father, which surprised Olivia, since in the normal course of things, nothing did.

  Finally he grunted, which apparently indicated his agreement, because Aunt Hester said, “I thought you’d see reason. Now, I’ve looked into the best schools available here in the City—I don’t imagine you want Olivia to go out of town—and I believe Miss Buchannan’s School for Young Ladies will be the ideal choice.”

  The rest of the conversation became inaudible, and she had to abandon her position outside the door when one of the maids approached.

  A few weeks later, Aunt Hester had a hansom cab summoned, and she rode with Olivia to the school.

  That was where Olivia eventually met Henrietta Beauchamp. They became friends, and she invited Olivia to visit her so they could practice serving refreshments while pretending to pay calls on the various society ladies.

  Olivia hesitated to mention it—she was cer
tain Father would never permit it—but he rubbed his hands together and murmured, “Of course. Of course.”

  Aunt Hester sat there with a complacent expression on her face.

  Olivia didn’t understand why until she met Henrietta’s charming older brother, Barron. Henrietta had asked him to join them, and when Barron had smiled at her, took her hand, and said he’d be delighted, she’d got a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  Barron was nothing like Lewis, who would have given Olivia an impatient scowl and refused. By the end of the visit, Olivia was in love with him.

  And she nearly swooned when Barron asked if he could call on her the next day to take her for a drive through Central Park.

  Father agreed, although he insisted she take a maid with her. As if Olivia would have refused that request. She would have done anything in order to see Barron again.

  He was so kind and attentive, nothing like Father or Lewis on those rare occasions when Lewis came home to visit them. While Barron still lived at home with Henrietta and their mother, Lewis had his own row house in Murray Hill.

  Olivia was certain she and Barron would be married, especially after Barron had pounced on her one afternoon when no one was home—which was strange. Father was always home at that time of day, but that morning at breakfast, he’d said something about business.

  What Barron did to her had hurt, but afterward, he’d cosseted and petted her and assured her it would get better. It hadn’t, but she remembered Aunt Hester’s conversation with her before she left to chaperone a cousin who was going to have a London Season.

  “You’ll have to accept the things your husband does so you can have children. That’s a woman’s purpose.”

  “What will my husband do to me?”

  Aunt Hester rolled her eyes and sighed, something she seemed to do frequently. “I’m sure Barron will be more than happy to show you.”

  Well, he had, and Olivia hadn’t enjoyed it, but she was willing to do whatever it took to make him happy.

  She thought it was worth the discomfort and whatever it was that ran down her legs after Barron pulled out of her. And it was, when he told Olivia he wanted her to meet his mother.

  Olivia bathed and put on her prettiest dress, and Barron came to pick her up.

  “You look lovely, dear,” he told her as he led her to his Phaeton with the bright blue spokes and velvet upholstery of the same color.

  “Do you think your mother will like me?”

  “Yes. I’ve spoken of nothing but you, and she’s been very anxious to meet you.”

  Olivia gave an excited bounce. “And once she gives us her blessing, you can ask Father for my hand.”

  That wasn’t the way it was usually done, but Barron had insisted, and Olivia was willing to do anything for him…for her beloved, she thought shyly.

  As it turned out, Barron was wrong. Mrs. Beauchamp was cool to her throughout the time they spent together.

  Finally, she peered down her nose at Olivia, gave a huff, then turned on her heel, but she paused before she left the room. “Barron. I wish to speak with you.”

  “I’ll join you shortly, Mother.”

  “You’ll join me now.”

  He gave Olivia a rueful grin and hurried after his mother.

  Henrietta sighed. “Don’t mind Mother. She was a Fairvale before she married Father, and she doesn’t let anyone forget it.”

  Shortly afterward, a servant came to the parlor where Olivia was trying to keep her nerves from overpowering her. “Beg pardon, miss. Mr. Beauchamp has sent word that he isn’t feeling well. The coachman will drive you home.”

  “Yes, of course. Henrietta…”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Olivia nodded. “Please tell Barron I’m sorry he’s unwell and that I hope to see him soon.”

  “Yes.” Henrietta looked away, but not before Olivia saw how pale she was.

  Olivia forced a smile and gathered her gloves and purse, and Henrietta escorted her to the front door.

  * * * *

  She waited patiently at home, but that was the last time she saw Barron.

  Father would be returning shortly, and when he realized Olivia no longer had a suitor, was no longer a virgin, he’d beat her and then confine her to her room for the rest of her life.

  So she wrote Barron a letter, begging him to meet her at Gramercy Park so they could be married.

  She sat and waited, but all she got in response was a letter from him saying he could no longer see her because his mother forbade it.

  What was she to do? Aunt Hester insisted and insisted she was never to be alone with a man. Olivia was ruined, absolutely ruined. She shivered, terrified.

  And then she heard a man call, “Cab, miss?”

  * * * *

  Now Olivia sat beside that man, who had just become her husband. According to what Aunt Hester had told her, she belonged to Tom Pettigrew now, and it was his responsibility to tell her about what went on between a man and a woman at night.

  Thanks to Barron, she already knew that—although Barron hadn’t done any speaking, and if it came to that, what he had done had occurred in the afternoon.

  The result was the babe she carried under her heart, and how hopeless was she not to have even realized that was the reason she’d been so sick?

  Tom didn’t seem to care that it was another man’s.

  No, not a man. Barron was nothing but a boy compared to Tom.

  Olivia glanced at the ring on her finger, woven by Tom’s son—her son—from the leaves of her wedding bouquet, then slid her hand through his arm and leaned her head against his shoulder. He smiled down at her and said something in Spanish, and she felt her heart swell to bursting.

  This man loved her. And perhaps in time she’d give him a son or daughter that would truly be his.

  Chapter 14

  “What should we have for dinner?” Tom asked. They’d finished a quick glance at the interior of the cottage—not that there was much to see with everything under covers—and he was even more pleased with it than when he’d first seen it. Now he was going to drive Olivia to the rectory of the Church of the Beloved Apostle to visit the priest who presided over the congregation.

  “I would love a duck dinner,” Olivia said, then looked puzzled. “That’s odd. I don’t usually care for duck, but suddenly I have such a desire for it.”

  “All right, then. George, you take the horses to the stable out back. After you have them settled, I want you to go to the butcher and buy a duck. And put it in the ice closet until we get home.” He’d made sure they had one in the small pantry off the kitchen.

  “Okay, Papa.”

  Tom leaned down and whispered in his ear, “After we’re gone, take the covers off the bed. Your mama will need to rest.”

  George looked as if he were about to explode with happiness. He nodded, and Tom straightened. Fortunately, Olivia had been intrigued by the carving on the wood mantel and wasn’t paying attention.

  Tom gave him some money for the duck. “Before you get to the butcher, I want you to stop at the grocer and set up an account. After that’s done, go on to the butcher and set up an account with him, too.”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  “Off you go.” They strolled out to the street where the horses and the mule were hitched, and he watched as George patted Sunrise and Nightfall and loosened their reins. The horses rubbed their heads against his chest, and George sent Tom a grin over his shoulder.

  “Okay, my pretty ones,” he said in Spanish. “Off we go to your new home.” And he led the horses around to the back of the cottage.

  “He’s so good with them,” Olivia murmured. “But aren’t you afraid they’ll hurt him?”

  “He’s a good horseman—he’s been riding since he wasn’t much bigger than that mutt over there.” Tom pointed to one of the brown and black dogs that seemed to run loose in the neighborhood. “And Sunrise and Nightfall wouldn’t hurt him. Not to boast, but I trained them well.”r />
  Olivia smiled up at him. “That’s not boasting if you’re as good as you say.”

  “I am.” Tom helped his bride—His bride he thought proudly—into the dogcart, and they drove off to the rectory.

  It wasn’t too distant from their cottage, but they hadn’t gone far before Olivia began fussing with her gloves, and he wondered if she was going to be sick again.

  Instead, she murmured, “I don’t even have any calling cards.”

  “That’s all right. You’ll need new ones with your new name on them.”

  She blushed. “I will, won’t I? Oh, Tom, I promise I’ll do my best.”

  “I know you will.” That was all any of them could do.

  They’d arrived at the rectory, and he brought Sancho Panza to a halt and hopped out of the dogcart. Once he had the mule hitched to the lawn jockey, he went around and helped Olivia from the cart.

  She wrapped her fingers around his arm, suddenly a lady of society and not a young woman devastated by her lover’s betrayal. Tom rested his hand on hers, and they strolled up the walk and climbed the stairs to the front porch.

  Tom knocked firmly, and in seconds a woman opened the door. She was a bit taller than Olivia and wore a slightly shabby dress. A kerchief confined her hair, and a smudge of dust crossed her reddened cheek.

  “Good afternoon. How may I help you?” She had a pleasant speaking voice.

  Before Tom could say anything, Olivia spoke. “Good afternoon. I’m Mrs. Thomas Pettigrew, and this is my husband. We’ve just moved into your lovely neighborhood and wanted to become members of this congregation.”

  “I’m Jane Thompson. My husband Edward is the rector of Beloved Apostle.” She tugged off her kerchief and smoothed back her hair, which was a sunny strawberry blonde. “Forgive me. It’s cleaning day, and I’m afraid I look a sight. But please, come in! Edward,” she called. “We have visitors! If you’ll come this way?” She led them to an airy parlor.

  “What a lovely room,” Olivia said. “All this light makes it so bright and cheery.”