Courting Susannah (9 page)

With that, he was gone.

Half an hour later, Maisie came in, cheeks reddened from the brisk autumn air. She'd walked Jasper to school, then gone downto the pier to buy fresh fish for the evening meal. She kicked the door shut behind her with one heel and set her marketingbasket on the counter.

Susannah had been reading—or attempting to read—but proper concentration had eluded her. Her mind kept straying to AubreyFairgrieve and the enigma he represented. He spoke so brusquely, when he spoke at all, and yet she'd seen him show uncommontenderness toward Victoria. He disliked his brother, and yet he was willing to suffer the presence of a virtual stranger inhis household, a woman he had not invited and could have turned away without being blamed.

“There'll be a carriage coming for me at ten,” she told her friend. “Can you look after Victoria while I'm gone?”

“Sure.” Maisie beamed, bending to pat the baby, who lay in a bassinet at Susannah's side, gurgling and kicking. “We're thebest of friends, aren't we, sweet'ums?”

“Tell me about Ethan,” Susannah urged. She was on her feet—the carriage would arrive in a short while, and she wanted to changeher clothes before venturing into the heart of Seattle—but curiosity restrained her.

Maisie was bustling about the kitchen, building up the fire in the cookstove, pumping water into the tea kettle, emptyingand rinsing out the coffee pot. She seemed, to Susannah, to be everywhere at once, moving and doing and being. “He's Mr. Fairgrieve'syounger brother, but then you knew that. Lives outside Seattle, on land of his own.”

“And his wife? What is she really like?”

Maisie laughed fondly. “He don't have one. He just likes to stir things up a little now and then. We've missed him aroundhere, Jasper and me, I mean.” Her expression became solemn. “It don't seem that Mr. Fairgrieve has, though. I don't believethey'd been in the same room, the pair of them, since Mrs. Fairgrieve's funeral, until dinner last night. And even on theday they buried that poor woman, there was some harsh words and some door slamming afore it was all over.”

The distant buzzing clang of the doorbell interrupted the discussion before Susannah could think of a way to extract moreinformation from Maisie. “I'll answer it,” Susannah said, because her friend was still flashing about the kitchen, movingwith a strange, hasty grace between one task and the next.

She had expected to find the carriage driver waiting on the porch when she peered through the glass oval in the front door,but instead Mr. Hollister was there, wearing a practical suit, a bowler hat, and a polite, slightly pensive smile.

Susannah admitted him. “Good morning, Mr. Hollister,” she said. “I'm afraid Mr. Fairgrieve is out—”

Hollister took the knob gently in hand and closed the door, removing his hat in almost the same smooth motion. “I'm not hereto see Fairgrieve,” he told her. Westerners, Susannah was fast learning, could be very frank, despite their stubborn propensityfor guarding their privacy. “Forgive me, Miss McKittrick. I shouldn't have come uninvited like this.”

Susannah was embarrassed for the man and touched his arm lightly, hoping to reassure him somehow. The face of the long caseclock dominating the entryway loomed behind his right shoulder, like a numbered moon, ticking away the time she'd allottedto putting on another dress and making sure her heavy hair would not come tumbling down around her shoulders the first timethe carriage struck a rut.

“Do come in,” she said, for the mores of the day afforded little other choice, and, besides, she liked Mr. Hoilister, forall that she knew almost nothing about him.

Hollister stood fast. “Oh, no, I can't stay,” he said. Color surged past his tight collar to pulse in his neck. “I was hopingthat—well—you might consent to join me for dinner one night soon. Tomorrow, for instance?”

Susannah was taken aback and not a little flattered. She had lived her life as a spinster and had never been invited to dance,let alone to go out in a gentleman's company. “Why, Mr. Hollister, I don't know what to say,” she confessed, placing one handto her chest.

He shifted his feet, almost imperceptibly. “Say yes,” he urged. “Unless I was mistaken in concluding that you are—unattached?”

Susannah caught her breath. “But I don't even know you.”

“I'm trying to remedy that,” he replied. His smile was
benign and wry and quite winning, and if he wasn't as compellingly handsome as Aubrey, well, that was probably a good thing.Like Ethan, Mr. Hollister had a charm entirely his own.

She smiled. Julia had always been the sought-after one. It felt good to be wanted, even desired. “Yes,” she said. “I mean,yes, I'll have dinner with you.”

He regarded her appreciatively for a long moment. “Splendid,” he said. “I'll come for you around seven o'clock, then.”

Susannah nodded, a little dazed. Her life had changed so quickly, from a dull procession of days to an adventure of sorts,and she would need a little time to adjust gracefully. “Seven o'clock,” she affirmed with another nod, and then Mr. Hollistertook his leave. Only after he'd gone did she realize that she did not even know what he did for a living.

Susannah stood in the entryway so long, pondering the turn her fortunes had taken, that she was barely ready when the carriagearrived, a sleek, imposing thing, shining in the fall sunlight.

Clad in one of her own dresses, over which she wore a blue woolen cape purloined from Julia's wardrobe, her hair plaited andpinned up into a bright coronet at her nape, Susannah allowed herself to be handed into the costly vehicle. The scent of someflowery cologne lingered amidst the smells of leather and cigar smoke, and she began to wonder, uncharitably, if this wasMrs. Parker's carriage, temporarily conscripted for the transport of an otherwise indigent and wholly self-appointed nurse.

She straightened her spine as the coach jostled and pitched over the rutted streets leading down one of Seattle's steep, raw-bonedhills, already feeling defensive. When the driver brought the team to a halt in front of an imposing structure with an elaboratebrick facade,
bearing the legend
A. Fairgrieve, Proprietor and Founder
in giant brass letters, she was downright uncomfortable.

She got out of the carriage without waiting for the driver to climb down from the box and open the door for her. She was nomore important than anyone in Aubrey's employ, and it wouldn't do for people to go treating her as though she were.

She could not help being aware of glances from passersby as she mounted the wooden steps to the sidewalk, crossed the splintery,weathered boards, and pushed open the door. A bell chimed overhead, in stalwart brass notes, and she paused on the thresholdfor a few seconds, assessing her surroundings and charting her course before shutting out the cool wind that swept uphillfrom the waters of the sound.

The store was even larger than it looked from outside, and there was so much merchandise that she was, for a moment, dazzled.Besides the inevitable picks and shovels—Julia had written that Aubrey owed his fortune mainly to the seemingly endless processionof miners streaming north in search of gold—there was a whole wall of fabric and ribbon, another of books and periodicals.The establishment offered patent medicines of all sorts, as well as farm equipment and tools, ready-made garments, boots andshoes, and a surprisingly comprehensive array of toys. The aromas of fine tobacco, rich coffee beans, and fresh tea filledthe air, along with a twinge of smoke from the large metal stove in one corner.

A clerk came forward immediately, smiling. “Miss McKittrick?” he inquired. “We've been expecting you. Please—come in.”

Mercifully, the spell was broken, and Susannah managed a faltering smile. She wanted desperately to appear confident, butin fact she had never been in such an emporium before. At St. Mary's, there had been no cause
and certainly no funds. Nantucket boasted only a few small shops, and islanders grew what vegetables they could, ate thefruits of the sea, and bartered for the goods they could not supply for themselves.

“I should like to look at baby things, please,” she said, squaring her shoulders a little and raising her chin.

The clerk smiled. “Indeed. Mr. Fairgrieve said you might want some personal items for yourself, as well. You are to selectwhatever you need—books, linens, toiletries, the like—without consideration of cost.”

Susannah lowered her eyes for an instant, absorbing the self-evident fact that Aubrey saw her as a pauper, then met the youngman's pleasant gaze again. “Thank you,” she said. “The baby things?”

He led her into the midst of a bewildering selection of tiny gowns, bonnets, booties, and blankets and left her to choosewhat was needed. She took her time picking out an extensive wardrobe for the child, including a beautifully made christeninggown of snowy white cotton and Irish lace. Where Julia's baby—and Aubrey's, she was sure—was concerned, she had no compunctionabout spending lavishly.

When the little one was properly outfitted—Susannah added a few items for Jasper before she was finished—she chose three muslincamisoles for herself, along with matching drawers and a petticoat. She was admiring the books, not quite daring to take onedown from the shelf and hold it in her hands, when another sudden rush of chilly air filled the store, heralded by the nowangry clamor of the bell over the door.

“Where is he?” a feminine voice demanded, imperious as a queen's.

Susannah, like the other customers and the clerks, turned to see a slender, dark-haired woman, dressed in green velvet fromhead to foot. Her garments were
wondrous, trimmed in gold braid and fitted precisely to her figure, and the fabric matched the color of her eyes precisely.She was, beyond a doubt, the loveliest creature Susannah had ever seen, for all that her manner and expression were venomous.

No one needed to tell her that this was Delphinia, Aubrey's mistress. A paramour. A kept woman. Susannah, impressed, couldnot help goggling a little.

“I said
where is he?”
Mrs. Parker cried. Except for the sounds of wood crumbling to embers inside the stove and the inevitable noises from thestreet, the store was quiet as a tomb.

Then there came the echo of boot heels on the stairs, and Aubrey appeared. His countenance suggested bleak annoyance, andhis face was like granite. Susannah wondered, with a sorrowing heart, if he had ever turned that soul-withering look uponJulia.

“Delphinia,” he said with a small inclination of his head. “We've settled everything there is to settle. We're through.” Hepaused. “I don't suppose it will do any good to tell you that this is neither the time nor the place for the sort of sceneyou clearly have in mind?”

The breathtaking creature raged toward him, like a small, scented storm. The air crackled around her, and Susannah lookedon in helpless fascination, feeling admiration for the other woman, as well as pity and a number of other, less easily identifiedthings into the bargain.

“How dare you?” Delphinia simmered, standing at the foot of the stairs and glaring up at her lover. Her temper made heat,but his anger was cold enough to freeze the rest of the room; all, including Susannah, stood unmoving, unspeaking, withoutbothering to pretend they weren't listening.

“We'll discuss this in private,” Aubrey said in a voice that probably wouldn't thaw before spring. With that,
he closed the distance between them, took Delphinia's arm, and “escorted” her up to the second floor. Only when a door slammed,probably that of his office, did the customers and clerks begin to stir, like so many statues coming to life in an enchantedgarden. There was much clearing of throats and straightening of neckties, and the old men gathered around the stove to whittleand gossip chuckled among themselves and reminisced in low tones. An angry discussion ensued upstairs, like distant cannonfire.

Susannah completed her shopping and made haste for the carriage, still waiting in the street. Very possibly, it had been thepresence of that coach that had drawn Delphinia's attention in the first place, and Susannah did not want the woman's furyto turn in her direction.

Upon her return to the Fairgrieve house, looming against an overcast sky like a stone fortress, Susannah had nothing to dobut find places for all her selections, since the baby was sound asleep. The task was a pleasant, homey one, and by the timeshe went downstairs for a cup of tea, she had forgotten the tempestuous scene at the general store.

Maisie was snoozing in her rocking chair, and Jasper was still at school.

Moving as quietly as she could, Susannah brewed a pot of orange pekoe, smiling softly to herself, and was on her way to themain parlor, which afforded a view of the mountains and the blue-gray waters, when the front door burst open and Aubrey blewin, like a great rush of wind. The door crashed shut behind him.

“Please be quiet,” Susannah said moderately. “Your daughter is asleep.”

Aubrey thrust a hand through his hair and emitted a heavy sigh. To Susannah's great surprise, he actually looked chagrined.“I'm sorry,” he said, amazing her further. There was a beleaguered expression in his eyes that
aroused a tenderness she did not wish to feel—was not
entitled
to feel. “You were there?” he asked briskly. It was plain that he was referring to that morning's drama and already knewthe answer.

Susannah held her tea cup with both hands, for the sake of steadiness. “Yes,” she said.

“It wasn't the way she made it sound.”

Opposed to the use of ardent spirits all her life, Susannah suddenly wished with all her heart that her cup contained whiskeyinstead of tea. She could have used some bracing up. “There's no need to explain, Mr. Fairgrieve. Not to me.”

“Aubrey, damn it,” came the growled response. “When you call me Mr. Fairgrieve like that, it makes me feel like my own grandfather.”

Susannah was bewildered—and secretly a little pleased—by this confession. She liked knowing that she could make this man feelsomething, anything. Was she turning into a loose woman?