Mary’s expression altered to a sad sort of sobriety. “Chris, you never have to worry about what I’ll think. Frankly, if remembering those things causes you pain, then I’d just as soon you forget. I think you know I’ve come to care for you.”
Chris felt a tightening in his chest. “I do know that. I just hope you won’t regret it.”
She shook her head. “How could I ever regret knowing you—caring about you? We’re friends, Chris, and I hope we always will be, if not . . .” She fell silent as the carriage came to a stop.
Chris wondered what she might have said if their journey had been just a little longer. Would she have declared her love for him? Did he want her to? It had been a long time since he’d felt loved, and that had come only from his grandmother. He had never allowed himself to fall in love because of his past, but now it seemed his heart had other ideas. He had a feeling that wherever Mary went, his heart would go also.
That evening, long after everyone else had retired, Chris and Wes sat reading newspapers in front of a large fireplace in the Adler library. Chris yawned and put the paper aside at about the same time Wes put his paper down.
“It seems everyone else has gone to bed. I suppose we should too,” Wes commented. “Tomorrow’s a performance day.”
“Before you go, I wonder if I might talk to you about something.”
Wesley eased back in his leather chair. “Of course. What did you have in mind?”
Chris steepled his fingers and rested his elbows on the cushioned arms of the chair. “I care very deeply for Mary.”
“I think we can all see that,” Wes replied, grinning.
“The thing is . . . I haven’t been completely open with her about my past. In particular things that my father and brothers did that earned them a terrible reputation.”
“Why should Mary care about that?”
“Well, even if God doesn’t hold me to blame for the sins of my father, many in human form do. Not only that, but I think I also fear I’ll turn out to be just like him and my brothers. After all, I have quite a temper. I’ve just learned to keep it under control.”
“Which, I’m guessing, is more than your father did.”
“True.”
Wes shrugged. “Then I would also guess that you’re at least one step ahead of him. You care about controlling your temper and work to get along with folks. Your father didn’t care about such things, and it got him in trouble. At least I’m guessin’ it did.”
“You’re right again.”
“So just the fact that you have similar traits doesn’t mean you’re going to end up being like him. God can transform people with the worst of pasts. It’s about the heart and what condition you want it to be in.”
“But it’s not just my heart I’m thinking about.”
Wes stretched his legs. “I’m not a betting man, but if I were, I’d bet that Mary would never care about such things. All the time I’ve known her, Mary Reichert has never been pretentious or shallow in her feelings.”
“No. I’ve never known her to be that way either. In fact, she doesn’t even pretend when it comes to God. She’s honest about not having all the answers. Her faith has always been more connected to her grandparents, like mine was to my grandmother. I suppose we both have a long way to go where God is concerned.”
“You just need to take it step by step,” Wes replied. “First you need to believe in Jesus as the Son of God—your Savior. Can you do that? Can you accept that you’re a sinner and, without Jesus to intercede, you’re bound for hell?”
“Yes. I really don’t have a problem accepting that,” Chris admitted. “But I just don’t see why He cares about me.”
“Well, maybe, just for the moment,” Wes said, smiling, “don’t think about what He’s thinking and just concentrate on what you know. You need Him.”
Chris sighed and nodded slowly. “I need Him.”
seventeen
As they readied for that night’s performance, Mary couldn’t help but think back on the day before and the time she’d spent with Chris. He seemed to have enjoyed the day just as much as she had, and yet there was still that point where he always pulled away. Always guarded his heart from her.
Mary pried open a crate of glass orbs. Uncertain they could get them in England, Oliver and Jason had purchased extra before coming abroad. Still, with all the competitions Adler had hosted, they were running low. Mary had pointed this out and asked Jason and Henry Adler to see about getting more balls, but so far she’d heard nothing about it.
She put aside the crate lid and began to retrieve the balls, stacking them in their newsprint wrappings on the table. Each ball had been individually wrapped and carefully packed in straw. The crates were then handled with the utmost care, and usually the orbs arrived unbroken. Still, it was imperative to handle each one delicately.
She had special trays to hold them after they were unwrapped. The trays had cushioned bottoms with silk lining and individual compartments for each ball. There were three trays, and each held twenty orbs. This was what she used for each show unless something else was requested by the Adlers or Oliver Brookstone. Given their low supply, Mary had suggested she do more with vegetables and fruit. These had a nice way of exploding on impact, depending on the load she used, and always impressed the audience—which was, after all, the goal of each act.
After she’d removed all the orbs from the crate, Mary reached for the first ball in her stack and began to unwrap it. It had survived the transatlantic crossing without so much as a crack. The second and third orbs had as well. The fourth had a minor crack, but Mary felt certain she could make it work for one of her tricks.
As she reached for the fifth ball, the word Williams on the newspaper caught her eye. She couldn’t help but smile. She’d been praying, just as Lizzy had suggested, and asking God what He had in mind for her where Chris was concerned. She hadn’t planned to come back to the show and fall in love, but then, she hadn’t planned on Chris being part of their tour. Now, as she considered the future and whether or not she’d remain with the show, her heart couldn’t keep from considering Christopher Williams as well.
With a sigh, Mary freed the ball from the newsprint, then spread the paper open to see what the article was about. The title read Williams Gang Put to Death.
Mary frowned and scanned the short announcement.
Friday, the first of March, the infamous Williams Gang was hanged in a public execution in Baltimore, Maryland. The gang, consisting of father and three sons, was responsible for killing two penitentiary guards during an escape in the spring of 1900. The gang was serving time for having robbed several banks in and around the Washington, D.C., area, the oldest crime occurring in 1880.
Feeling as if her knees might give out, Mary found a bench and sat down with the newspaper. She didn’t need Chris to tell her this was his family. She felt certain of it—sickened by it.
Hiram Williams and his sons Luke, Tom, and Ray were serving twenty-year sentences for bank robbery when they made their escape from prison on the evening of April 23rd, 1900. The men had acquired knives and stabbed two guards to death as they made their way from the penitentiary. They waylaid a passerby and forced him to drive them from the area. He later escaped unharmed and was able to tell the authorities the make and model of his automobile so that police could be on the lookout.
The four men were apprehended trying to steal a boat. They were returned to prison and brought to trial for the murder of penitentiary guards Martin Jones and Buford Daily. All four convicts were found guilty and sentenced to death by public hanging. That sentence was carried out without interference or prejudice. The men were not survived by family. The county will be responsible for burial.
Mary reread the article two more times before she could fully comprehend it. Despite the line about the criminals having no family, she was certain this was the horrible secret Chris was trying to keep hidden.
She forgot about her work and carefully tore the art
icle from the paper, leaving the bulk of crumpled paper behind. Then she went to find Lizzy. Maybe she could help Mary figure out how to handle this.
Lizzy and Ella were making practice runs for the evening performance. Lizzy did a run showing Ella one of her drags, then returned and waited for Ella to mimic it. Once the blonde had executed the trick exactly, Lizzy applauded.
“That was perfect, Ella. I couldn’t have done it better.” Lizzy noticed Mary and rode over. “Hi, Mary. What can I do for you?” she asked, sliding off Thoreau’s back.
Mary handed her the newspaper. “I think . . . I feel certain that this article is about Chris’s father and brothers.”
Lizzy scanned the story and then looked up with a puzzled expression. “Williams is a very common name, Mary. Why do you think these people are related to Chris?”
“He’s told me before that his father and brothers were no good. He was much younger than his brothers, and when he was six and his mother died, they were unable to keep him. That’s when he came to London to live with his grandmother. He never said anything about them robbing banks, but it just all fits together.”
Ella joined them. “What fits together?”
Lizzy looked to Mary for permission to share the article. Mary nodded, and as Lizzy handed Ella the paper, Mary explained, “I found this when I was unwrapping the glass orbs. It was in a crate we purchased from the glass factory just outside of Washington, D.C. I found this article, and I feel confident that it’s Chris Williams’s father and brothers they’re talking about.”
Ella read the paper then handed it back to Mary. “That seems an awful far reach.”
“No. It’s not. I can’t explain it, but Chris told me his father and brothers were all that were left of his family when his mother died. Chris couldn’t bring himself to tell me what was so terrible that his father and brothers had done or why he didn’t want to talk about them. He did tell me he lived near Washington, D.C., in Maryland, however.” Mary drew a deep breath and tried to calm her racing heart. “I’ve been praying and praying about this, begging God to help me understand and to know how I can help. I just know in my heart that this is where God has led me.”
“All right, all right.” Lizzy put her arm around Mary. “Even if this is true and it is Chris’s family . . . he’s certainly not to blame.”
“I know that. I just . . . I need to know what to do.”
Lizzy and Ella exchanged a look and shook their heads. “Do about what?”
“The fact that I know about this. He’s been careful to keep all of this hidden from us. But now that I know—”
“You don’t know that this is his father and brothers,” Lizzy interrupted. “You can’t just go off the assumption.”
Mary folded the paper and pushed it into her skirt pocket. “I know you think I’m wrong, and I understand why. But I’ve been praying so long about this. Chris is so burdened by his past, and now I feel like God has shown me why.”
“Then God needs to show you how to deal with it,” Ella said with a shrug. “I agree with Lizzy. You can’t be sure it’s anything at all related to Chris unless you ask him outright.”
“We’ll all pray about it, Mary, but I suggest for now you say nothing. I think it might cause unnecessary pain for Chris if it’s false, and if it’s true . . . well, he obviously doesn’t want us to know about it.”
“But I thought the truth was always better,” Mary declared. “You told me yourself that Jesus said the truth would set us free. I want that freedom for Chris. He deserves it.”
“Truth is always best,” Lizzy replied. “I’m not asking you to be false or speak lies. I’m simply suggesting that you pray fervently about what to do. I feel confident God will open the door to the truth in this. You need to trust Him, Mary. Trust Him and don’t try to force this to come to light.”
They were right. Mary knew that, and although she longed to go to Chris and tell him that she knew the truth and that it didn’t matter, she knew there was no easy way to do that without causing him pain.
“I suppose it won’t hurt to pray about it.” Mary put her hand in her pocket and wrapped her fingers around the article. She knew it was only her imagination, but she could have sworn the paper felt hot.
Jason waited patiently as his valet finished brushing the back of his suit coat.
“Will that be all, sir?”
“Yes. Thank you, Westcott.”
Once the servant had gone, Jason walked to the window and looked down on the lawns below. It had rained all day, and his mood was as gray as the skies. Lizzy was never free of her companions, and he hadn’t found a single opportunity to speak to her privately about what he’d done. Worse still, his father seemed to know what had happened. He hadn’t come right out and said anything about it, but there was something in his attitude that suggested he knew Jason had caused problems, and he wasn’t happy.
His father was eternally devoted to the Brookstone family, all because the brothers had saved his life on a hunting trip. Jason had listened to him sing their praises, knowing he could never do anything that would impress his father half as much. It was a curse to always be a disappointment to one’s father in the Adler family, and Jason was no exception.
Of course, he’d had his share of troubles. School had been difficult, and the only way he’d managed to get through was with a fair amount of creativity. His father had always given him a generous allowance, and often he’d had to part with that money in order to buy his grade. But it had been worth it. He had his education and his social standing, and now it was expected that he would take a wife and add to his father’s kingdom. If only Lizzy would cooperate.
Jason knew he was expected to marry someone above his own station. His father had even hinted at one of the distant relatives of Victoria, a homely young woman with little to offer except that her father held a title and vast lands. Jason’s father felt confident that by marrying the right woman, Jason could receive a title that would be ongoing—something he could pass down to his son. But Jason wanted Lizzy, and there was no title that would ever mean as much.
She was all he could think about, and now Wesley was here, keeping Jason from his rightful place at her side. He had considered using Phillip—perhaps threatening the young man’s well-being—but as of yet, Jason wasn’t sure how to create a situation that would force Wesley to choose between his brother and Lizzy. Worse still, Jason wasn’t certain which choice DeShazer would make.
He began to pace the room, trying to come up with a scheme that would make it so that Lizzy and the others had no choice. Jason didn’t like the idea of forcing Lizzy to wed him, but he felt absolutely confident that given time and solitude with him, she would see that his love was dearer than anything Wesley could give her.
The key was isolating her from the others. It hadn’t been enough just to get her away from DeShazer. He would have to separate her from her friends and even her uncle. And, of course, the show. She would have to be free of those obligations.
“I know she will love me as I love her. I know she will,” he muttered as he came to halt again in front of the window. “I just need the right opportunity. The right place.”
He caught sight of the clock. It was time to make his way downstairs to join the others. He wondered which of her ensembles Lizzy would be wearing. He had taken such delight in choosing her wardrobe. Just picturing her beautiful figure draped in creations he had chosen thrilled him like nothing else. He remembered fingering the materials and imagining them lying against her skin. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever known. Even in her performing clothes, she outshone all others.
He made his way downstairs and found everyone casually gathered in the large drawing room his mother called the Green Room. She had chosen varying tones of green to be the focus, accenting with bric-a-brac, expensive paintings, and a variety of lush materials to draw attention to her favorite color.
“Ah, Jason, I see you are finally here,” his father announced.
His father glanced toward the others. “If you are looking for Elizabeth and Wesley, they are sharing a meal with her uncle. I understand there were some things they wished to discuss in private.”
“It seems there would have been time enough for that later.” Jason’s mood darkened even more.
His father ushered him to a corner and spoke in a low voice. “I believe you’d do better by seeking another path, Jason.” He fixed Jason with a serious gaze. “I hear you’ve been rather rude toward Mr. DeShazer and the understanding he and Elizabeth have.”
“Understanding, indeed. He’s a country cowboy setting his sights above his station. Elizabeth feels sorry for him. It’s nothing more.”
“I was under the impression that their history suggests a great deal more. It would hardly be of use to you to insert yourself in the middle of their courtship. My intentions for you are vastly different, and meddling in their affair serves you no purpose.”
Jason narrowed his eyes. “I have my own intentions, Father. I’ve done as you called me to do in almost every situation. I have been the dutiful son, performing whatever task you put upon me, but do not think that extends to your choosing my bride.”
The older man was not in the least bit intimidated, and it caused Jason no end of frustration to watch him lean in and raise his index finger, as he often did to make a point. “I will choose your bride and vocation and anything else that I am of a mind to do. You have nothing but that which I have given you, and I can just as easily take it back. Leave Elizabeth alone and do nothing further to interfere in her relationships. Do you understand me?”
“And if I refuse?” Jason asked, already knowing the answer.
Wherever You Go Page 18
