The Time Heiress (14 page)

“Goodnight, Mrs. Reilly.” His mischievous smile returned.

“Goodnight,” she said taking back her hand with an admonishing, sidelong look. Before going inside, she stopped and watched him saunter down the steps and out through the gate. He tipped his hat to her; she nodded, then went in and shut the door.

As Cassandra wrote in her journal before bed, reliving on paper her afternoon with Mr. Evans, Nick’s words sprang to mind: I want you to promise that you’ll keep me in your heart and in your mind. That you won’t get distracted from our relationship by…whatever, the lure of the times, the people that you meet—

She shook her head to clear the words away, and her stomach churned. She had not had an appetite for supper, but just before bedtime had taken some toast and chamomile tea. She now took an anti-bacterial with the remainder of the tea, and it worked immediately. She snuffed her candles, opened the bedroom windows to let in the breeze, tied back the drapes of the bed, and climbed in between the crisp sheets. A scent of honeysuckle drifted through the open windows, and she easily fell into a deep sleep. Sometime later she woke. She wasn’t sure what had roused her and wondered what time it was. A clock bell in the distance told her that it was just now midnight. She closed her eyes and had just begun to slumber again when a voice outside the house woke her. She listened for a moment. Then all was quiet—probably someone passing on the street. Sleep came over her in earnest, and she was unconscious for awhile. A thump startled her awake. She lay listening, breathing, alert. Nothing. Then another thumping and a scuttling. She sat up on her elbows, straining to figure out what the noise could be. There was a scraping sound that she thought was coming from above. She listened, her heart beating faster. Another scrape and a bump, then silence. She decided it must be a raccoon or squirrel that had gotten into the attic so she flopped back down onto her pillow. She tried to stay alert, but as no more sounds disturbed her, she drifted back into sleep, not wakening again until well into morning.

One more night walking brought us to the next river—wider than the last. But Sam felt stronger after eating the fish, and some nuts, greens, and berries we found. We crossed the river the same way, me first on Sam’s back, carrying his clothes. The water was deeper and came to his chin. It was choppy and sometimes splashed up into his face or washed over his head. I felt so bad to be his burden, but he pressed on. He went back again to get Lill. I watched as they came slowly, holding my breath every time the water splashed over Sam’s head. Lill had her mouth clamped shut so as not to scream and was clinging to Sam for dear life. Suddenly he slipped and went down and Lill slid off his back. Her skirts pulled her down fast and while he came quickly back up, she was rapidly floating downstream, sinking all the while. Sam threw himself into the current, grabbing at the water to move faster toward his sister. I knew that if she could get close to the bank, her being a tall girl, she could stand. There was nothing I could do. I just stood there helpless, praying to God not to let my friends die then and there. Sam caught hold of Lill’s skirt, then caught her arm and pulled her head up out of the water. She was coughing and gasping. He lurched toward the shore and when they got to shallow water, she stood and they walked on out of the river. She flopped down on the sand, coughing up water. We saw a boat coming down the river, so we grabbed her up between us and hauled her behind some bushes where we all laid low as the boat passed. When we saw it was some rough-looking white men with guns, we clamped a hand over Lill’s mouth so they would not hear her coughing.

We fell asleep, wet and exhausted, there under the bushes, Sam and I pressed close to Lill to try to warm her through her soaked clothes. At nightfall, I caught us a few fish and we made a low, smoky fire. This river was pretty well traveled, so we cooked and ate back away from the bank in a stand of trees and bushes. We walked through the night, and before morning, came to a piece of water that made the rivers look like tiny streams. We knew this must be the Chesapeake. Boats sailed on it like mighty birds with great white wings, catching the wind and soaring with tremendous speed across the water. It was an amazing thing to behold—I had never seen anything like it.

Elijah had told us if we could find a boat to take us up the Chesapeake, we could get to Philadelphia a lot faster than by walking around it. But this was a problem. How would we find a boat? We had no money to pay our passage, and would surely be recognized as runaways.

From Caleb Stone’s narrative, as remembered by Dr. Cassandra Reilly

*****

When Cassandra went down for breakfast around nine, Miss Johnston, Miss Ketchum and Samuel were sitting at the table looking bleary. Samuel was silently shoveling food into his mouth, Miss Johnston was giving her eggs an uninterested appraisal, and Miss Ketchum was nodding over the morning paper. Evie had not yet appeared.

“Good morning,” Cassandra said brightly.

Miss Ketchum snapped awake, Miss Johnston forced a smile onto her face and applied herself to her food, while Samuel looked up as if he had just realized there were other people in the room. He reached over to take a section of the paper from his sister.

“How did you sleep, my dear?” inquired Miss Johnston before swallowing a bite of toast.

“Pretty well.”

“Did you hear the raccoons in the attic?” interrupted Miss Ketchum.

“Oh, is that what that was?” Cassandra replied. “Yes, I did hear something.”

“Samuel,” his sister said, “we must do something about those pesky creatures.”

“What?” Samuel asked without interest, still gazing at the paper.

“The raccoons!”

“Hmm? Oh, yes, I will take care of it after breakfast.”

Miss Johnston reached to pick up the silver coffee pitcher and knocked over the sugar bowl in the process.

“Oh, bother!” she exclaimed, and set to brushing the sugar off the table into her hand.

“But how do you get into the attic?” Cassandra asked, realizing she’d never seen a stairway or trapdoor.

Just then, Evie entered the room, dressed for the day.

“Oh, Miss Bay!” exclaimed Miss Ketchum. “You are up. Will you have some breakfast? Anna Mae!” she called in the direction of the kitchen. “Miss Bay is up.”

“Just a minute!” the cooked snapped.

“It seems we all slept late,” remarked Cassandra, “I just woke up a little while ago myself.”

“Did we?” said Evie, reaching for the coffee.

“My dear, would you pour me some?” asked Miss Johnston, dumping her palm full of sugar back into the bowl. “I was just remarking to Mrs. Reilly that there were raccoons in the attic last night. I believe they kept me awake. Did you experience the same problem?”

“Yes, definitely,” Evie replied. “Though I thought maybe they were squirrels.”

“Too big for squirrels,” Samuel grumped.

Anna Mae emerged from the kitchen without her usual alacrity. She dropped one plate of fried eggs, grits, bacon, and biscuits in front of Evie and one in front of Cassandra and returned to the kitchen with a distracted look on her face.

Evie dove into her breakfast. Miss Johnston and Miss Ketchum began to plan their day as was their habit around the breakfast table. Cassandra ate her food, listening with interest.

Samuel finally rose. “Very well then, let’s see about those raccoons.”

When Cassandra finished eating, she excused herself and went to the piano in the parlor. After a while, Miss Johnston and Miss Ketchum came and sat, doing their needlework as they listened to the music, but Evie did not come and join them.

At almost the exact same time that he had appeared the day before, Mr. Evans walked into the room dressed in a tuxedo with tails, top hat in hand, and tiptoed over to a chair. As Cassandra’s eyes followed him to his seat, she noticed the two women had dozed off. When she finished her piece, he applauded loudly and startled the ladies awake. Cassandra looked around at him and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, Mr. Evans,” said Miss Johnston, “I did not know you had come in!”

“Forgive me for intruding on your repose, ladies.”

Miss Ketchum straightened up in the chair and smoothed her hair.

“I have tickets to a matinee performance at the opera,” he said to them, “and I was hoping to find someone to go with me. A friend gave them to me because he was going out of town. Unfortunately, I have only two; is anyone game?”

Miss Ketchum and Miss Johnston leapt to their feet.

“We promised we would help Samuel decide on the placement of some rosebushes today, and look how we have let the morning slip away!” Miss Ketchum said to her friend. “We are being slothful! So much to do, yet we allowed ourselves to succumb to Mrs. Reilly’s heavenly music. We must not indulge ourselves any longer today with entertainment. Mr. Evans, I think Mrs. Reilly is the perfect candidate for the opera. Do you not agree, Cass?”

“Oh certainly,” replied Miss Johnston. “You must go, Mrs. Reilly.”

“Perhaps Evie would like to go,” said Cassandra, beginning to feel like a date was being arranged.

“Oh, I doubt it,” said Miss Ketchum, hurriedly. “I think she was still feeling ill this morning.”

Cassandra considered this for a moment. On the one hand, she was starting to feel uneasy about spending so much time alone with Mr. Evans. On the other, her curiosity to see an opera performed during that era was irresistible.

“Do come, Mrs. Reilly,” Mr. Evans pressed. “As a musician, it will be a great opportunity for you. These tickets are hard to come by. They are performing Verdi’s newest opera,
La Traviata
, at Castle Garden with the great Marietta Alboni. It has been sold out for weeks. I am most lucky to be in possession of these two excellent seats.”

Cassandra’s heart beat faster at the thought of seeing Verdi’s famous opera as it was performed in its first run ever in New York with a singer of great renown; she could not bear to miss it, but she felt guilty about Evie foregoing such a wonderful opportunity. “Let me go and speak to Miss Bay,” she finally said. “I do not want to leave her alone if she is still not well.”

“I would not worry about her, Mrs. Reilly,” said Miss Johnston, “she has two excellent caretakers right here.”

“But you will be in the garden.”

“Oh pish,” said Miss Ketchum. “There are two of us. We can handle whatever needs to be done.”

“Well, let me go see her,” said Cassandra.

“Hurry, Mrs. Reilly,” urged Mr. Evans. “The performance starts at two o’clock, and it is past noon now. We want to arrive early, if possible, to comfortably secure our seats!”

“Certainly,” she replied, as she rustled out of the room. She looked around the house, and finally found Evie in her room, her clothes spread out on the bed. She was standing and looking at them, deep in thought.

“Evie,” she called quietly as she peeked through the door.

“Hi, Cassie,” Evie replied.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, nothing, just trying to decide if I should get another dress.”

“Really? We only have two and a half weeks left here.”

“That is true. I just hate wearing things over and over.”

“Well, I would hardly say you are wearing things over and over. Some things you have only worn once.”

Evie continued to gaze at the dresses.

“Anyway,” continued Cassandra, “Mr. Evans has come by with two tickets to the opera. He wants me to go, but I thought I would give you the chance. You did not get to go out yesterday, and I am sure you would love to see it.”

Evie suddenly plopped down on top of the clothes. “Actually, I am still not feeling quite up to snuff. And then I did not sleep well last night—”

“Well, then let me stay here with you, and Mr. Evans can find someone else to go with him.”

“No, no. I would never forgive myself if you missed the opportunity of seeing an opera in this time. I would not dream of having you stay here. I have plenty of people to look after me. Please go on. You can tell me all about it afterward.”

“Evie, are you really not feeling well, or are you just trying to get rid of me?”

“What? No! I just…well, honestly, I just want some time with our little family here. I would so much rather be with them than out and about. You, on the other hand, as a historian, enjoy seeing all there is to see and taking it all in while you can. Let that be your focus, let this be mine. We will compare notes when all is said and done. I just do not want you to miss out on anything because of me.”

“Very well.”

“Anyway, do not be late coming home tonight,” Evie said rising from the bed and going to her. “Jeremiah Junior is coming over to meet us, and I know you will want to be here. He is bringing his violin to play for us.”

“Oh, my goodness! Your ninth-great-grandfather! I cannot wait to meet him! Miss Johnston says he looks like Ben.”

“Yes,” said Evie. “So prepare yourself. It will be interesting.”

“Very well. I guess I do not feel so bad about going out, then. But I want to ask you something. Do you think it is improper for me to spend so much time with Mr. Evans?”

“Not if you do not
do
anything improper,” said Evie with a wink.

“I would not!”

“Then go on, and do not worry about me.” She went back to looking at the dresses on the bed.

Cassandra went quickly to change. She chose the pale yellow gown with the pink roses that she wore the night she and Evie went to Delmonico’s, thinking that although it was daytime, the off-the shoulder neckline would be proper for the opera. She grabbed her light shawl, quickly donned her evening slippers, high gloves, and bag, and smoothed her hair. Finally, she added the earrings that she’d bought at Tiffany’s.

She walked into the parlor about twenty minutes after she’d left Mr. Evans there. He rose and gaped at her in astonishment.

“Mrs. Reilly!”

“Is it too much for daytime? Should I change?”

“Oh, no,” he replied. “Oh, God, no. You are…exquisite.”

She felt herself blush deeply.

“I am sorry,” he said. “I should not speak with such honesty. I forget sometimes how to behave in polite society.”

She laughed. He seemed to know how to put her at ease.

“Samuel has called for the carriage. Shall we go?” He offered her his arm and they went out into the mild afternoon. Cassandra recognized the coachman as the same fellow who had brought her and Evie to Fifteenth Street on Monday. He tipped his hat with a jolly grin.

“Beautiful day, Carter, is it not?” remarked Mr. Evans.

“Could not be better,” the coachman agreed. Mr. Evans helped Cassandra in, and they drove all the way to the southern-most tip of Manhattan. When they arrived, they stepped out of the coach onto State Street, continued on across the small park known as the Battery, and joined the well-dressed throngs as they crossed a wooden bridge to the entrance of Castle Garden theater, a former fort that was situated on a small island about a hundred feet from shore.

Cassandra was dazzled by the well-heeled crowd, and grateful she had dressed up. Jewels glittered in the sunlight, silks and satins rustled, and perfume filled the air. She realized that people were noticing her also, as they made their way through the crowd, and more than once, she thought she saw someone whisper and point in her direction.