Refining Fire (18 page)

Mr. Welby doffed his top hat and gloves, handing them to an awaiting attendant. Next he offered her aunt one arm and bid her take the other. Abrianna had no desire to be paraded around, but Mr. Welby seemed to find associate after associate who was enthralled to make her acquaintance.

“My, but you are quite the lucky man, Welby. I do believe you have the two loveliest women in all of God's creation to accompany you. You should be ashamed of keeping them to yourself.”

“Ah, but that is my good fortune and your loss,” Mr. Welby told the man with a laugh. “Are you here alone?”

“Goodness, no. I was dragged here by my wife and daughter-
in-law. My son had the good sense to be previously engaged with a business meeting. One that I'm sure involves cards.” The men chuckled.

Mr. Welby turned to Abrianna and Aunt Poisie. “Let me present Miss Poisie Holmes and Miss Abrianna Cunningham.” The ladies gave a brief curtsy. “This is Arthur Delecort.”

“Of the New York Delecorts,” the man added. “I am most happy to make your acquaintance, ladies.”

What Abrianna could only describe as a herd of other friends and associates came to pay their respects before ushers called for everyone to take their seats. Abrianna found herself seated between Welby and her aunt without delay. She had to allow that Mr. Welby smelled quite nice.

“I do hope you are enjoying the evening as much as I,” he whispered against her ear.

Abrianna wanted again to rebuke him, but to do so would cause a scene, and the play was already starting. Instead, she shot him a glare. He smiled. No doubt he knew exactly what he was doing. Apparently this was how he thought he would woo her into love. How silly.

The play was one with which she was well familiar.
The Merchant of Venice.
The cast performed it admirably, and Abrianna honestly found herself sorry when the play concluded. Welby had behaved himself throughout the evening and only once, when he stretched his leg and accidentally, or not so accidentally, pressed too close, did Abrianna find fault with him.

However, there wasn't time to worry over that matter, either. Mr. Welby reclaimed his hat and gloves, and just as quickly as they were brought to the theatre, they were whisked away to a late supper.

“I thought we might try a new place called Danover's,” Mr. Welby said. “It promises the most elegant dining.”

“I did hear about that restaurant,” Aunt Poisie answered.

“Yes, it's been open just a short time. I've heard the food is exceptional, due to a renowned French chef who prides himself on being the best in all of America.”

“I find that boasting often leads one to disappointment,” Aunt Poisie replied. “Boasting is hardly necessary if one truly is the best, for word will surely travel about, based on the experiences of those involved.”

“That makes good sense, Miss Poisie. You are both a handsome and knowledgeable woman.”

“Why thank you, Mr. Welby.” She giggled and patted Abrianna's arm. “Isn't he charming?”

Goodness, but now he was sweet-talking Aunt Poisie. What next? Abrianna forced a smile. “He is.”

Encouraged by Mr. Welby's praise, Aunt Poisie continued the conversation by telling him that she had sampled excellent French cuisine once while in Philadelphia. “I thought it strange to have a French restaurant in the City of Liberty, but it was quite perfect.”

Abrianna relaxed a bit. Aunt Poisie continued to take charge of the conversation, giving Abrianna time to think. She was anxious for Kolbein and Mr. Welby to draw up the contracts. Kolbein said he wanted to handle the matter carefully, which Abrianna interpreted as meaning it wouldn't happen overnight. Still, she didn't want to have to bear these outings with Mr. Welby if there wasn't something to be done in return for the poor.

They reached the restaurant nearly ten minutes later. Welby alighted the carriage quickly and then assisted Aunt Poisie with such grace and gentility that the woman actually gave him a brief curtsy. It would seem Welby had won her over. Just then, however, Aunt Poisie spied a display in the lighted restaurant window and moved to better inspect it.

Welby reached up for Abrianna, and she allowed him to take her gloved hand. “You are an abominable rascal, I must say.”

He looked at her in shock. “Me? What have I done?”

She rolled her eyes and said nothing. If her aunt didn't mind his attention, why should she?

The golden glow of burning lights outside the building beckoned them, while the ornate appeal of the building and lovely arched windows suggested an evening of lavish indulgence. Aunt Poisie hurried back to join them.

“There is a wondrous display of desserts in that window. I must say it will be difficult to choose.”

“Then why bother?” Mr. Welby replied. “I shall order them all, and you may sample to your heart's content.”

Aunt Poisie again giggled like a schoolgirl. “You are much too kind, Mr. Welby.”

Abrianna couldn't help but wonder how much money he would spend on this evening. All just to impress them. Surely the money could be better spent on the poor. He was a man of means and as such no doubt had more than enough money to do both, but still Abrianna felt it wasteful. That feeling continued as they were escorted into the restaurant and seated at a beautifully arranged table.

The lovely damask tablecloths were immediately approved by Aunt Poisie, as were the swan-shaped napkins and elegant silverware. All twenty pieces per person. Abrianna counted eight knives, eight forks, three spoons, including a delicate and tiny salt spoon, as well as a butter pick. And that was just what was set before them. No doubt there would be other pieces to come. Goodness, but it would be a tiresome task to wash all of that silver.

In addition to this were a bevy of fine gold-rimmed white china plates, four crystal goblets of varying sizes, and a beautiful flower arrangement set in a crystal bowl atop a beveled mirror. The latter reflected the light from the beautiful crystal chandeliers.

The service was impeccable. They were given a small finger bowl of warm water to refresh their hands. The steward then handed them a fresh napkin on which to dry them. He removed this and returned with a single card menu of a prearranged supper.

“This will do nicely,” Mr. Welby declared, and the man went quickly to work to see them served. Welby offered her a smile. “I do hope you are enjoying the evening. I am trying very hard to impress you.”

“I can see that. There truly is no need, however. This is far from my normal fare, and if you knew me very well, you would know that I am more content with a quiet evening than one full of fanfare.”

He smiled. “I would like to imagine quiet evenings with you.” He looked to Aunt Poisie. “I hope that was not too bold a statement to make.”

She seemed to consider it for a moment and then shook her head. “I think it acceptable. Although, the hour of the evening would be important.”

Abrianna wanted to giggle at the look on Mr. Welby's face. He seemed perplexed at the comment but said nothing.

The first course, a fine foie gras on toasted bread, was served instead of oysters, given it was not the right month for such things. This, Aunt Poisie announced with great authority. Never a fan of foie gras, Abrianna gave the pretense of tasting it but then set it aside. If Mr. Welby noticed, he said nothing, having downed his with seeming pleasure.

Next they were served a creamed onion soup, then came a consommé. The meal quickly continued with additional courses and more conversation.

Mr. Welby was good to include Aunt Poisie, but Abrianna could see that the older woman was growing tired and spoke less and less, leaving the discussion to the young while she focused on her meal.

“I hope you realize how happy you've made me. Especially in light of our contract not yet being finalized. It shows that you have faith in me.”

“I suppose it does, although I really have no reason to. Still, it seemed to be unavoidable. I wanted to say no to the invitation, given that the ball is just next Friday, but I was afraid you might think me unwilling to keep my word. However, if you knew me, you would know I'm a woman of my word.”

He smiled. “And a good many words. Although that doesn't trouble me in the least. I am glad you are a woman of information and opinion. I think society has disregarded the intelligence of the fairer sex for far too long. You, Miss Cunningham, and your aunt, have proven to me that women can be most enlightening.”

She tried not to take encouragement at his declaration, but he did seem sincere. “I'm afraid my aunts have long thought my willingness to speak out most inappropriate. But honestly, I see no reason to remain silent with my thoughts. Especially if the thought pertains to an ongoing discussion. Why shouldn't a woman be able to speak her mind?”

“Indeed. Any man who tells you otherwise is, in my opinion, a fool.”

“I wish Pastor Walker could hear you say that.” She hadn't meant to bring the man up in conversation. In fact, she had hoped to forget about him altogether. It was bad enough that the elders and deacons still had done nothing to remove him from the church, but given he had until the end of August for his trial period, she supposed there was little to be done.

“Why do you worry yourself with what he thinks?”

Abrianna shrugged. “I suppose I shouldn't. Wade tells me that constantly. But it bothers me that anyone should judge me so inaccurately. Had I been faulted for speaking too much or running on the street or even singing off-key, I would have
accepted such criticism graciously. God knows I do not sing well, and if you need a wife that does so, you should end this courtship here and now.” She gave him no chance to answer but continued. “But the man faults me for answering the call of God. He tells me I have no place in ministries of any kind. I cannot abide that judgment.”

“Well, he is simply wrong,” Mr. Welby said with a warm smile. He lifted his wine goblet. “I suggest we drink to an evening free from such burdensome thoughts. Instead, let us reflect on brighter and more promising things, such as our courtship.”

“I do not drink liquors of any kind, but I will toast such a thing with water, if I might.”

“But of course,” he said. “I want you to be comfortable. I want you to be yourself.”

The very thought that Mr. Welby would say such a thing gave Abrianna hope that perhaps they could make a go of the courtship. He was wealthy and willing to help in her endeavors and ministries, and his kindness and gentility proved him to be a gentleman. Perhaps the things Wade had heard about him were wrongly said. After all, people did lie about others, and it was easy enough to make incorrect judgments. Hadn't Pastor Walker misjudged her?

S
unday afternoon Militine and Thane walked hand in hand around the grounds of the Madison Bridal School. Their new closeness offered Militine a comfort she'd never known. Since their mutual disclosures of the past, she'd had no more nightmares. She wasn't foolish or even hopeful enough to believe they wouldn't come on occasion, but for now it was enough. More than that, she knew Thane was a completely different man from the men she'd been exposed to at the trading post. He cared about her well-being and wanted to protect her from the ugliness of the world.

“You're awfully quiet,” he said in a hushed voice.

She smiled and squeezed his hand. “I'm still in disbelief. I keep expecting to wake up and find this is just a dream.”

“It's no dream. This is our new life—together. Or very nearly. How long do you suppose we must court before Mrs. Madison will approve our marriage?”

She looked at him for a moment and shook her head. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

“Haven't I made clear my intentions?”

“It might be nice to be asked. It seems most all of my life no one cared about what I wanted. No one ever asked.”

“Then let me be the first.” He knelt in the grass and took hold of both of her hands. “Militine Scott, will you marry me and be my love forever?”

She burst into tears with unexpected emotion. She had never thought it possible that she could have such happiness in her future. “Yes. I will marry you . . . and be your love forever.”

He rose and touched her wet cheek. “Don't cry.”

She smiled. “They are tears of joy and a few of surprise that something so wonderful could happen to me.”

“I feel some of that same surprise.” He glanced toward the house. “So you will marry me right away?”

This made her laugh. “The sooner the better.”

“Then I must speak with Mrs. Madison. It seems to me these bridal balls are held for just such a purpose. Would you mind so terribly if we were to marry next Friday night at the ball?”

She shook her head. “I would like that very much.”

For a moment he looked as if he'd changed his mind. “You do know that I haven't much to my name. I have a very small apartment that I lease. I have little of value and cannot promise you I will ever be a man of comfortable means.”

“I don't care. I've never had anything. Not even love. Now I have that, and it makes me feel rich. I can do a great many things and am not afraid to work. If you aren't ashamed of having a wife who holds employment, I shall be more than happy to seek a position. Then, perhaps if your apartment is too small, we might get something a little larger. However, I cannot imagine a small space uncomfortable if I'm sharing it with you.”

He pulled her close and Militine glanced toward the house. “You'll get a severe reprimand if Mrs. Madison or the others catch sight of you holding me like this.”

“It would be worth that and more.” He pressed her lips with a kiss that she thought might be nothing more than a brief peck.
Instead, he pulled her closer and held her tighter, kissing her until she felt light-headed from lack of breath. When he released her, she could see he was just as affected by the kiss as she.

“I'll go . . . now . . . and talk to Mrs. Madison,” he said, the words seeming to stick in his throat.

“I'll come with you. That way there will be no mistaking whether I am in agreement.” Militine began to walk away and then looked back over her shoulder. “Because I am definitely in agreement. As far as I'm concerned, Friday cannot come soon enough.”

“I have to say that I'm much obliged to being invited to share tea with all of you. I'm just sorry I didn't have anything fitting to wear.” James Cunningham attempted to brush some dirt from his well-worn suit coat, casting a glance at Wade's immaculate coat.

“You have no need to apologize,” Aunt Miriam said, looking down her long straight nose at him. She had once been a schoolteacher and knew how to take command. “We are enjoying a casual afternoon, and there is no need to concern yourself.”

Abrianna picked at the folds of her pale blue muslin dress. How very awkward the entire affair was to her. She knew this man as Mr. Bowes. She'd offered him food and encouragement, never even suspecting that he could be more to her than one of her charity cases.

They were sitting on the front porch of the bridal school sipping the tea that Aunt Poisie had served before joining the group. The entire purpose of the visit was to determine whether this man was who he said he was, but something inside told Abrianna it was all true. She could see something in his eyes that reminded her of her own reflection. Was it real, or was she just imagining it, hoping that her deepest desires had been
answered at least in part? For, of course, her mother could never be returned to her.

Abrianna watched her father handle the cup and saucer with discomfort. It was clear to her that he was out of his element, and the fine china only served to drive home that point. At the food house they had mugs for the men to use. Perhaps she should offer to trade his cup and saucer for one just now.

“Miss . . . Abrianna,” he said, turning his attention to her, “I am very sorry for the start I gave you. It was wrong of me not to break the news in a more gentle fashion. I'm afraid, however, when I heard that man being so rude to you, I couldn't . . .” He fell silent. His face paled just a bit as he pointed to the small seed pearl pin she was wearing at the neck of her lacy bodice.

“I gave that pin to your mother.” He shook his head. “I never thought to see it again.” The shock seemed to wear off, and he smiled. “I worked for over six months doing odd jobs and extra hours at the lumber camp just so I could afford to give her something special for our anniversary.”

Abrianna couldn't stop the flow of tears that came. He truly was her father. It wasn't a cruel joke or a case of mistaken identity. Wade reached over and gave her arm a squeeze. She looked at him and smiled. Only he knew how much this meant to her. She hadn't even discussed this with her aunts, for fear of hurting their feelings. They had been such dears to adopt and raise her, and in spite of their often trying to thwart her plans, Abrianna knew how much they loved her. But this man
was
her father. Her own flesh and blood.

“I didn't mean to make you cry, sweetheart.” Her father extended a rather dirty handkerchief.

Abrianna didn't give it a second thought. She took the cloth and dabbed at her cheeks. “I can scarcely believe this has happened.”

“Well, now that it has, and we know for certain you are who you claim to be,” Aunt Miriam began, “what is to come of it?”

The man looked to her aunts and then back to Abrianna. “I don't know. I guess that depends on Abrianna. I don't want anything from her, if that's what you're thinking. I just wanted to see her again, to know her. She takes after her mother in size. But I'm afraid that red hair comes from my side of the family. Her grandmother had the same red curls.

“Goodness, at least we now know where that came from,” Aunt Poisie declared as if an important mystery were finally resolved. “We have pondered that red hair for many years, and at times it has quite vexed us.”

“It's true,” Aunt Selma added. “We knew her mother had curls, but of course she was not a redhead, and she said nothing of your hair.”

He reached up to touch his thinning gray-brown hair. “What's left of it is the same color as my pa's. There's a bit of curl to it, or at least there used to be. My ma and pa were always glad I took after him, but I secretly wished I had red hair like my mother. She was a real beauty, and Abrianna looks a lot like her.”

Hearing her father call her a beauty like her grandmother caused a strange sense of pride to rise up in Abrianna. There had been some people who had told her she was pretty, but she'd never believed them. Hearing her father speak of his mother, however, allowed her to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, there were those who could appreciate her type of beauty. As Mr. Welby had mentioned regarding art, she could very well be someone's Rembrandt or Monet.

They talked for over an hour before Aunt Miriam finally stood. Abrianna's father rose immediately, as did Wade. They were men of great respect, and Aunt Miriam had a commanding presence.

“Mr. Cunningham, I cannot see you returning to whatever
dockside home you have managed to find. I would like, with the approval of my sister and dear friend, to offer you the room in the carriage house. We have not yet taken a groomsman, and you would be most welcome to the space.”

“I could handle your horses for you,” he offered. “Earn my keep.”

“We haven't any as of yet,” Aunt Selma explained. “We do have a large omnibus ordered. Mr. Ackerman is making it for us.”

“Rather slowly, due to helping Abrianna every day but Sunday at the food house,” Wade explained. “I hope to have it to them by the end of the week, maybe sooner.”

“We thought to wait on getting a team of horses until we actually had the wagon for them to pull,” Aunt Miriam explained.

“I used to be a good judge of horseflesh. Perhaps you'd allow me to help you pick out a team,” Abrianna's father told the ladies.

“Why don't we retire indoors and discuss it? I'm afraid the warmth of the day is leaving me rather uncomfortable. We have a parlor that maintains a very cool temperature, even on days like this.” Aunt Miriam looked to Aunt Poisie and Aunt Selma. “Shall we?”

“Indeed, Sister. I was about to succumb to the vapors myself.” Aunt Poisie stood and bobbed a smile in Wade's direction. “You are more than welcome to join us.” She looked quickly to her sister, as if suddenly concerned she had overstepped her bounds.

“Of course you are welcome.”

“I think I'll just sit here a bit longer with Abrianna,” Wade replied. “But thank you for the offer.”

The older folks departed for the coolness of the parlor, and Abrianna took the opportunity to let out a sigh. “Can you believe it? It's like something out of a novel. I could never have hoped that my father was alive after all this time.”

“It is a wonder, to be sure.”

“Goodness, I know nothing about his likes and dislikes. I don't know where he grew up or spent his boyhood years. I don't know if he likes white bread or dark. I don't have any indication if he expects me to call him Papa or go on with Mr. Bowes. Oh, surely he wouldn't expect that, do you think?” She looked at Wade but gave him no chance to answer.

“I must say these last few weeks have had my head spinning. The ordeal with Pastor Walker caused me such grief and the courtship of Mr. Welby left me positively questioning everything I'd known up until now and then comes my father.” She shook her head. “I don't believe I could stand for any more surprises.”

“Speaking of Mr. Welby,” Wade said in a cautious tone, “I understand you two had an outing the other night.”

She nodded, uncertain if that was disapproval in his tone. She knew he had misgivings about Mr. Welby. She'd had plenty herself. He had behaved like a gentleman, at least for the most part, on their outing, and so she was determined not to speak against him.

“He escorted Aunt Poisie and me to the theatre and then to a late supper at a very fine restaurant—the name escapes me now.” She struggled to remember, but the name wouldn't come. “It was all a lot of stuff and nonsense, and I couldn't help thinking the money could have been much better spent in helping the poor. However, it was a lovely evening, and Mr. Welby was a perfect escort.”

“You do know that he has been known for a great many underhanded dealings around town, don't you? I mean, I have tried to mention some of my concerns to you prior to this.”

“I remember, but I don't want to misjudge him. Those stories could be false, and even if they are true, perhaps he has changed in the last year.”

Wade's eyes narrowed. “Do you have feelings for him?”