The Confidential Life of Eugenia Cooper (19 page)

“You’re not asking,” she said. “I’m offering.”

Gennie tried not to be horrified that she was considering accepting a stranger’s charity. Mama would be horrified enough for the both of them. Slowly, she warmed to the idea, however. “You see, my trunk was left behind in New York, so I’ve only got the clothes I wore on the train.” She shook her head. “That’s not true. Those seem to have gone missing.”

“You poor dear.”

“And then Tova shopped for me.” Gennie paused. “Suffice it to say our tastes differ. I managed to find this in the dry goods store.”

“I see.” Anna waved her hand, and a liveried man jumped to attention. In a matter of minutes, Gennie found herself transported to the Finch home by way of the telegraph office, where Anna’s closet practically emptied itself at her feet.

“I couldn’t, honestly,” Gennie said as yet another lovely gown was offered up.

Anna turned, a silk Shantung wrap dangling from her right hand. “Oh goodness, I’ve done it again. I never intended to embarrass you.” She let the lovely garment fall to the floor. “I only meant to help. Forgive me. I tend to be a bit, well, overenthusiastic.”

Gennie retrieved the Shantung wrap and handed it back to Anna. “Truly, you are an answer to prayer. I’m waiting for a telegram from my friend in New York, and then hopefully I can pay you for some of the beautiful things you’ve offered.”

“Pay? Oh, pish posh. You’ll do nothing of the sort.” Anna waved away Gennie’s offer with a sweep of her hand. “I’m the youngest of five girls. Even though all my sisters are married, Papa’s still budgeting for five wardrobes every season.” She pointed to the room-sized closet that would have been a luxury even in Manhattan. “You see the results.”

“I do.” Gennie grinned. “And as your new friend, I’m happy to help you with this problem.”

Anna flopped down on the nearest chair, her grin slipping. “If only my other problem were so simple to repair.”

Gennie shrugged into a pink-striped dress very much like one she’d left hanging in her closet back home. “I’ll help if I can.”

“Oh, Gennie, I’m going to be totally honest with you.” Anna scooped up a ruffled and lace-covered ball gown and held it to her chest. Her fingers worried with the hemline, then abruptly stopped. “There’s no help for this. You see, I’m hopelessly in love with Daniel Beck. When I found you standing outside the Windsor, I recognized you immediately. I’m ashamed to admit I thought to befriend you in order to get closer to him.”

“Anna,” Gennie said gently, “does he return this affection you have for him?”

Anna’s brown eyes glistened as they met Gennie’s gaze. “He barely notices I’m alive.”

A plan began to form, and it was all Gennie could do not to smile despite her new friend’s sad state. “Do you like children?” she asked, plotting her course.

“Oh yes. I love children.”

“Even if they are, at times, difficult?”

Her new friend smiled. “You’re referring to Charlotte.”

“I am.”

“I know she’s a challenge, but I wish you could have known her when she and her mother first came to live with Daniel. She was no bigger than a minute. Cook said she might have been five, though she looked much younger.”

Gennie’s interest piqued. “What happened to her mother?”

“Oh, that’s such a sad story.” Anna rose and walked to the window. True to her statement, Gennie could see the Beck house above the hedges. “I never knew for sure, but Mr. Beck’s housekeeper told our cook that Mrs. Beck had been living in England but came to Denver to take the air.”

“Take the air?”

Anna turned and nodded. “It is believed the Colorado air has curative properties. Charlotte’s mother was quite ill when she arrived here, and she lasted less than a year. Daniel was devastated.”

“She went back to England?”

“No,” Anna said, her voice cracking. “She died. Charlotte had only just met her father, and suddenly he was all she had. Well, him and Elias. Soon after, I believe, they brought Tova and Isak in to help.”

“That poor child.” It went a long way toward explaining why Charlotte was so difficult, a motherless child in a strange land. “That sort of trauma must be hard to overcome.”

“For both of them, I’m sure,” Anna said. “I’ve always wondered how it must have felt for Daniel when a long-lost wife and a child he didn’t know he had suddenly arrived on his doorstep. Cook says he had no idea Georgiana was with child when he left England. Something about a mysterious falling out between him and his father and brother.”

“Really?” Gennie longed to ask more but held her tongue.

Anna nodded, then gestured to the door. “I’ll have Thames drop off a trunk full of clothing with Tova in the morning. The others you can put in this satchel.” Anna lifted a small traveling case from beneath a pile of clothing in the corner of her closet and handed it to Gennie. “For now, I should get you back to the Becks. I’m sure they’re wondering where you went.” She shook her head. “Wait, of course they’re not. You were at the Windsor and changed your mind about attending the performance. They’ll likely not expect you for another hour or so.”

“All the better to surprise them,” Gennie said with an enthusiasm she did not feel.

Truthfully, she was not looking forward to the confrontation with Charlotte’s absent father, but Anna seemed quite anxious to pay a visit to the Beck home. So much so that she had the driver drop them at the curb in front of the Beck home on his way back to the Windsor rather than spend the extra few minutes it would take to walk.

It might have been amusing had Anna’s excitement not turned to abject terror the moment her well-shod foot landed on Beck turf. “You go ahead,” she said, thrusting Gennie toward the massive front doors. “I’ve changed my mind.”

Gennie linked arms with the reluctant neighbor and urged her forward. Anna took three steps, then froze.

“Come on, Anna.”

Stricken, the Finch woman could only shake her head. When she finally found her voice, she’d managed to worry herself into a panic. “I’m not good at this. I want to be, but I’m not.”

“Good at what?” Gennie patted her new friend on the shoulder. “I don’t understand.”

“Well, of course you don’t,” Anna said with vehemence. “It’s likely you’ve never been in love with a man like Daniel Beck. Oh, Gennie, I
know you work for him and probably are immune to his charms, but I swear every time I come near him, I turn into a puddle and start saying the most idiotic things.” She paused to take a long breath. “I’m hopeless. That’s the long and short of it. Have you ever felt like that? Unable to speak anything but nonsense while your heart’s doing this silly fluttering and your mind’s gone totally blank?”

Gennie thought of the man she’d met only briefly at Fisher’s. “Yes,” she said, “I think I know exactly what you mean.”

And then that very man opened the door of Daniel Beck’s house.

The trouble Mae dreamed up was nothing compared to the wind blowing away everything that wasn’t nailed down outside the cave. The sky went from gray to black to green, and balls of ice pelted the ground and rolled inside, confusing poor Lucky into thinking someone was aiming at her.

The fair female knew a fire might prove disastrous, so she remained in the dim light and waited. She might have been there until the sun shone again, for she could have happily slept once more even with the threat of marriageable dreams, and in fact had settled down for just that, when the hordes were released.

Bats.

The last person Daniel expected to find standing on his doorstep was Blue Eyes herself. George must have given her his address. He smiled. He owed old George a substantial tip the next time he traded at Fisher’s.

“Well, look who’s here,” he said. Then he spied Anna Finch. “And look who else is here.” His voice faltered a bit before he found it again. “Please, both of you, do come in.”

“It’s terribly late,” Anna said, “and I’m sure we’re imposing.” Her soft brown eyes darted toward the blonde, then back to Daniel. “Well, I am, anyway.”

Instead of wasting time trying to decipher the Finch woman’s statement, Daniel allowed his attention to fall on Blue Eyes. He had no name for her. As he offered her his arm to lead her inside, he made what
he hoped would be an offhand comment. “I’m sorry, but I’m at a loss, Miss…”

“Cooper,” Anna supplied from where she still held the door frame. “Really, Mr. Beck. Her name is Eugenia Cooper, and she’s named after the wife of Napoleon III. Stop teasing us.”

Miss Cooper seemed as much at a loss as he. She’d been easily led to the parlor, but would she remain? She looked ready to flee at a moment’s notice. Unlike Anna, who never seemed comfortable around him, she just seemed confused. Or perhaps she was wary of him for some unknown reason.

He was generally good at reading people, but Eugenia Cooper stumped him. At Fisher’s she’d shown more than adequate interest, but here she seemed as though she’d changed her mind. Still, she’d convinced his neighbor to accompany her on a late-evening social call. That alone spoke volumes.

If only he could figure out what it said.

“Really, Anna,” Blue Eyes said, seeming flustered, “it’s just Gennie.”

“Just Gennie.” Daniel offered a place on the settee to the blonde, then watched while she settled there. “Gennie is a lovely name.”

“It suffices,” she said stiffly.

“But I wonder,” he said slowly, “whether you’ve had your Wild West adventure yet, Gennie.”

“No, actually, not yet.” She glanced at Anna, who still stood frozen at the front door. “But it’s going to happen very soon. I can feel it. Do come and join us, Anna.”

“Yes, do join us,” Daniel said as he straightened and made for the chair nearest the settee, then watched Anna wedge herself between them.

For all her awkwardness, Anna Finch was a nice enough young woman who might be a great beauty should she learn to relax. Other than her insistence on openly pursuing him and her inability to complete
an intelligible sentence in his presence, she was decent company. She’d certainly earned his respect a few years ago, when she befriended a grieving Charlotte and allowed the little girl to tag along to tea parties and other innocuous events.

If only his daughter still wished to play the part of a well-heeled debutante. He’d hoped the new Miss McTaggart could accomplish this, but the combination of the letter and tonight’s bathing fiasco had dashed all chances of such a thing.

But he’d not think of the irritating woman likely hiding in her room and praying his ire would pass. He’d been about ready to fire her through the door, when this vision of loveliness landed on his doorstep. The Lord had presented him with a rare and lovely gift in the form of Eugenia Cooper, and he’d not miss a moment of getting to know her.

“So,” Daniel said as casually as he could manage, “what brings you here tonight?”

Anna’s giggle surprised him. “Don’t you recall mentioning you’d be spending an evening with your daughter playing charades?”

“She’s upstairs, asleep.” He shrugged. “I did hope to spend the evening with her, as I’ll likely not be in Denver long, but she was exhausted and fell asleep in the middle of dinner.” He tempered his words. “I blame the torturous scrubbing she endured this afternoon.”

“Torturous scrubbing?” Miss Cooper let out an inelegant snort that stunned and delighted him in equal measure. “I hardly think a bath will ruin a child. What do you think, Anna?”

“A bath?” Miss Finch sought his gaze and seemed to be attempting to formulate a response. “Yes, well, I’m for them, of course. I do enjoy a bath, though I’ve been known to stay too long in the water and cause my skin to prune up.”

“Is that so?” Daniel replied, trying not to smile. “It must be something of a problem for you, Miss Finch.”

“Oh, it is,” she said. “Why, you’d be surprised that even my toes are affected.”

That was not an image he cared to have in his mind. Gennie Cooper’s wide blue eyes, however, were quite another matter. “So, Miss Cooper, are you thus afflicted as well?”

“Afflicted?” She leaned toward him. “Actually, I find bath time to be the best hour of the day. I do love a hot bath, and if rose bath salts are available, I partake liberally. And daily. Always torturously scrubbing every inch of me. And,” she added, seemingly to torture him, “I wash and comb my hair. Daily. Torturously. Without fail.”