Courting Susannah (24 page)

Maisie looked mystified by the question. “Why, what you've always done, I reckon,” she said. She drew a deep, quivering breath to fortify her courage and let it out in a loud rush. “Well, guess it's time to play fancy,” she said with happy resignation.

Susannah squeezed Maisie's hands briefly. “I've never had a friend like you,” she said, and it was true. Even Julia, she realized, had never cared a tenth as much about her feelings as this bluff, good-hearted housekeeper did. “I'm so grateful.”

Maisie reddened with what must have been a profound embarrassment. “You hurry down there, now,” she blustered, opening the door with her free hand and gesturing for Susannah to precede her into the hallway. “Mr. Fairgrieve is lookin' to show you off, and he cuts a fine figure in his own right when he's had some spit and polish, I can tell you. Why, the two of you will set this here town back on its heels.”

Susannah followed Maisie's earlier lead and drew a
deep breath, let it out slowly, then repeated the process. She didn't feel much calmer in the end, but she came to terms with the fact that a combination of challenges awaited her and resolved to meet them as bravely as she could.

Squaring her shoulders and tilting her chin upward a notch, she swept past Maisie and along the corridor, the silken skirts of her gown rustling like leaves in a soft breeze as she moved. At the head of the stairs, the swell of conversation and the first, faint strains of the orchestra rose to meet and surround her.

For a moment, she couldn't breathe.

“Go,” she heard Maisie whisper somewhere behind her. “Show 'em. Show 'em all. And him, too.”

Susannah rested a hand on the banister and took the first step, then a second, then a third. Momentum sustained her through the rest of the descent, although it seemed to take a lifetime with all those people staring up at her. She saw appraisal and suspicion in the eyes of the women, admiration and, yes, desire in those of the men. She thought she might choke on the panic and prayed she wouldn't be called upon to speak before she'd managed to acclimate herself.

Aubrey was waiting at the foot of the stairs, and he offered his arm the instant she was beside him. “My late wife's closest friend,” he said, and though he was addressing the crowd gathered in the foyer, he was looking at her. “May I present Miss Susannah McKittrick?”

There were murmurs, desultory handshakes, more curious looks. Susannah recognized various members of the Benevolence Society and figured if Aubrey hadn't been holding on to her, she would have turned and dashed back up the stairs in terror. Nothing in her quiet, simple life at St. Mary's or subsequently on Nantucket
had prepared her for so demanding an occasion, and she felt like a swimmer being borne out to sea by a powerful current.

“Breathe,” Aubrey urged in a whisper as they entered the ballroom and immediately took the floor. The music seemed to throb behind some barrier, muffled as it was by Susannah's heartbeat.

She took a great gulp of air. Around them, other couples rode the swell of notes from the small orchestra. “I don't belong here,” she said.

Miraculously, Aubrey heard her over the din of music and conversation. “But you do,” he countered. “You are the loveliest woman in the room.”

She was breathless and told herself it was the exercise that caused this affliction, not the strange, sweet madness Aubrey had stirred within her. “You are a flatterer,” she accused.

He laughed. “On the contrary,” he replied, “I never say anything I don't mean, and I have no propensity whatsoever for flattery.”

She had no answer at the ready. Out of the corner of her eye, Susannah caught sight of Mrs. Parker, saw the angry glare on that classically beautiful face. What an odd thing it was, she reflected, that
she,
Susannah McKittrick, should be dancing with the most attractive man in the room, while a woman like Delphinia stood idly on the edge of the festivities. An instant later, Susannah saw Maisie come through a doorway in her wonderful green dress and felt encouraged.

“I plan to announce our marriage tonight,” Aubrey said. “Will you humiliate me with a public refusal?”

Susannah's knees turned to water; she stiffened them instantly. The room, filled with noise and candlelight, brightly colored gowns, and the glitter of jewels, became a blur. The music hid itself once again behind a pounding
pulse. Her own. “Surely you aren't serious. I've told you—”

“I want you, Susannah. I need you. And I will teach you to want and need me in return.”

She heard the words so clearly that she feared all the guests must have done so, too. “You have a great deal of confidence in your own prowess,” she said. It was a brazen statement, and she wasn't entirely sure what it meant, but it served a purpose. Aubrey was silent.

All too soon, however, the grin was back, in the company of an insufferable attitude of self-assurance. His hazel eyes glittered with mischief and something Susannah was not quite able—or quite ready—to identify. “One day soon, Susannah,” he said, “you will share that confidence.”

She might have slapped him if they hadn't been in the center of a crowded room with half of Seattle looking on. If she hadn't wanted so much, so conversely, to surrender to him in every respect.

The music stopped, and she was spared the necessity of an answer, because Mr. Zacharias, God bless him, appeared at her elbow straight away, asking for the next dance. At the first strains of the next piece, she and the lively older man went spinning away from Aubrey.

“I'm so glad to see you,” she told her favorite student, and she was in earnest.

He laughed. “Why's that? You looked like you swallered the moon whilst you were dancin' with Fairgrieve. And he was happy as a bear cub dunked in honey.”

She couldn't explain that she'd been afraid, minutes before, not of Aubrey but of herself. Her feelings were vast and unfamiliar, and they threatened to overwhelm her good judgment. “He's going to ask me to marry him,” she told him, leaning close to speak into his ear.

“Lucky feller,” Mr. Zacharias said. “You gonna say yes?”

She wanted desperately to accept Aubrey's proposal, even though she knew it was an empty one. She yearned to share his bed and his life, to bear and rear his children—not just Victoria, whom she already loved as deeply as she would ever love a babe of her own, but half a dozen more besides. What did that say about her? “I don't know what to do,” she admitted.

“Then I reckon you ought to bide your time. Till you come to such a place as to be real clear-minded on things.”

Her feelings were all too clear, but that was too personal a thing to discuss with Mr. Zacharias or anyone else, except perhaps Maisie or the minister, Johnstone. She bit her lower lip and shook her head once, in frustration rather than denial.

“You sure do look pretty tonight,” Zacharias said. His eyes were twinkling, and Susannah wondered how soon it would be proper to introduce him to Maisie. The two of them would make a fine pair, in her opinion. It made her smile to think of Maisie living in the grandeur of that house a few streets away, never wanting for anything again, as long as she might live.

Maybe in the spring, she decided, when the sap was flowing again, even in older trees, weathered by time and hardship.

The next dance was taken by Ethan, who looked splendid in his Sunday clothes. He took her hand when the waltz ended and led her out of the hot press of celebrants and into the shadowy parlor, where it was cooler.

“Sit down,” he said, guiding her to a settee. “You look ready to swoon.”

She took a seat, grateful for a chance to catch her breath. She leaned back and closed her eyes, humming softly to herself. When she looked again, Ethan had
fetched each of them a cup of punch from the refreshment table just inside the ballroom.

“Have you any idea how you've changed things around here?” he asked before drawing up a nearby chair and sitting down. He took a sip of punch while awaiting her answer.

Susannah, taken aback by the question, held her own cup carefully, lest she spill the contents onto her silken skirts. “I don't understand what you mean.”

“I think you do,” Ethan said in a quiet voice. “That ballroom's been closed up like a tomb since the trouble started between Aubrey and Julia. He never gave two hoots in hell about parties, his own or anybody else's. Now, all of a sudden, he's entertaining half of Seattle and keeping an eye on who you dance with.”

Susannah had made a point of not looking to see whom
Aubrey
was dancing with. If Delphinia was waltzing around the ballroom in his arms, she didn't want to know it. “I'm sure he'll keep himself amused,” she said lightly.

Ethan's face was in shadow, but she saw his eyebrows rise. “What does that mean?”

She sighed, took another sip from her cup before answering. The taste of the punch was tangy-sweet on her tongue. “Delphinia Parker is here,” she said. “Surely you noticed her.”

“Ah,” Ethan said.

Susannah sat up a little straighten “Now it's my turn to ask,” she said. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing. I just think it's interesting that you're jealous of Delphinia.”

“I'm not jealous. Don't be preposterous.”

“I'm merely making an observation. A blind man could see that you feel something for my brother. Why are you pretending you don't?”

She set the cup aside, with a hand that trembled slightly, and lowered her head. “Is it so obvious?” she asked.

“Maybe not to everybody,” Ethan answered. “But I know my brother, and I'm beginning to form some opinions about you, too.”

“Such as?” It was safer asking questions. She could hide behind them—for a while, at least.

“Beneath that piano-teaching maiden-aunt facade of yours, you're a very passionate woman. You like waltzing until you're breathless. You like being kissed, and wearing your hair all soft and loose like that. Am I right?”

Susannah's cheeks burned. “You're rude, that's what you are.”

He chuckled. “In case you think I'm about to misbehave, relax. Aubrey has his sights set on you, and, whatever he believes, I'm not about to step over a line like that. I just think you need somebody to talk to, that's all.”

She was silent a long time, weighing the matter. Behind her, in the ballroom, the music was spritely and a little too loud. She wondered if Aubrey was smoking in the conservatory with a handful of other men or squiring some woman around the dance floor. Let it be anyone, she thought, besides his former mistress. “How do I know I can trust you?” she asked at long last.

He didn't answer directly; he simply leaned forward in his chair, bracing his elbows on his knees, the glass of punch still in hand. “What do you want most in this life, Susannah? What makes you toss and turn at night?”

She swallowed. It was clear enough what he meant, though the temptation to pretend she didn't understand was strong. “A family,” she confessed in a soft, bereft voice. “A husband and children.”

“If Aubrey wants to marry you—and I know he does—what are you waiting for?”

Susannah scraped her upper lip with her teeth. “He doesn't love me.”

“Love,” Ethan repeated, and frowned, sitting back now, pondering the word. “I had that once. Love, I mean. We took too long getting together, and I lost her. You know what, Susannah? If I could go back, I'd marry her right away, no matter what society had to say about it. If she didn't love me back, I'd still take a chance. I'd squeeze all the happiness I could out of every moment.”

She felt a chill weave itself along the length of her spine. Oddly enough, it had not occurred to her until that very second that Aubrey was mortal, that he could die, like anyone else. Suppose there was an accident, or he fell ill, and perished or simply went away, as Ethan's Su Lin had done?

“He doesn't love me,” she said again, but softly. Brokenly.

“He'll learn to, if he doesn't already. Don't let him go without giving it a lot of thought first, Susannah. He's a rare man, my brother. A good one, too.”

Susannah felt tears spring to her eyes and was very glad of the dim light in the parlor. She could neither help nor hinder the slight quaver in her voice, however. “He was unfaithful to Julia. Why should I believe he wouldn't betray me in the same way?”

“Aubrey built and furnished this house for Julia, before he even met her. He went back east especially to find her. She was happy for a few months after they came out here, but then she changed. She did everything she could to torture him. He can be forgiven, I think, for seeking a little comfort somewhere else.” He watched her in silence for a little while, and it didn't seem that he expected an answer. A good thing, since Susannah couldn't have spoken just then to save her life. “The hell of it is,” Ethan went on, “I think he was
supposed to find you when he went looking for a wife, not her.”

Susannah had a handkerchief folded beneath the cuff of her right sleeve. She pulled it out, wadded it into a tight ball, and pressed it to her mouth. “That's crazy. How could he be looking for someone he didn't know?”

“He wasn't,” Ethan said easily. “He was looking for somebody who was sensible and pretty and good clear through. That's you, Susannah.”

She sniffled. “Julia was good,” she protested.

“Maybe,” he said. “She wasn't the same woman you remember, though, once she'd been here awhile.”

“But why?” Susannah asked. “Something specific must have happened. Do you have any idea what it was?”

Ethan shook his head. “Despite what she would have had Aubrey think, Julia and I weren't close. Fact is, we had sharp words once or twice, she and I. I guess that's why she wanted to give the impression that we'd been lovers. She knew Aubrey would hate me if he thought I'd been with her, and who could blame him? A man ought to be able to trust his own brother, if not his wife. When you think about it, it was damned clever—she got back at me and drove Aubrey straight out of his head, all in one masterful stroke.”