Unseemly Ambition (4 page)

Concordia scurried down the hall and
rapped on the anteroom door. An anxious Sophia poked her head out.
“Is it time?” she whispered. “Thank goodness.”

Concordia grinned and gave her a
careful hug so as not to muss her dress. “You look beautiful,
dear.”

More than beautiful—radiant, she
thought, admiring the short-trained gown of elegant ivory satin
overlaid with antique lace. A simple circlet of pearls adorned
Sophia’s light hair, and she carried a bouquet of orange
blossoms.

With no father living, Sophia had
decided to keep the procession simple, with Concordia preceding the
bride as the organist played the Wedding March. Concordia was glad
she wasn’t the center of attention; it was a bit unnerving to have
so many eyes fixed upon her merely in passing. She concentrated on
not tripping over her hem.

As they got to the chancel
steps, Concordia caught a glimpse of a patchwork-colored tail
swishing behind a vase.
Oh dear.
Eli’s cat had decided to join the wedding party.
Wherever Eli was, the cat was sure to follow, Concordia knew. But
she had to admit, the creature had been the saving of the boy—and
herself—last year. She could only hope it wouldn’t wreak havoc
today.

The bride and groom hadn’t noticed.
Sophia only had eyes for Capshaw, who stopped shifting his long
legs to take in the sight of his bride. Concordia realized she had
rarely seen an out-and-out grin on the typically
somber-expressioned policeman. She felt as if she had intruded upon
a private moment between the two as she stood so close to
them.

Her throat prickled with a
mix of emotions: joy for her friends, awe at the union between
them, and uncertainty for herself. Would she ever feel that way
toward a man? She stole a sideways glance at David Bradley, sitting
in the front row between Sophia’s stepmother and sister. Or did
she
already
feel
that way? If so, was she willing to sacrifice her independence for
love?

As if aware of her gaze, David turned
to Concordia with softened eyes. Oh, this was trouble. The man was
getting ideas.

A loud
crash
made everyone turn to see Eli’s
cat bolting through the debris of flowers, water, and the ceramic
shards of what was once a large vase. With a final acrobatic leap,
balancing briefly upon the enormous hat of a shrieking lady, it
fled through a window.

Several men rushed forward to help as
the unflappable minister observed the event with nary an “oh my.”
Sophia had a gloved hand to her mouth, doing her best not to laugh.
Eli looked aghast, and Capshaw pulled him away from the
cleanup.

“
No matter, son,” he said,
keeping a firm grip on the boy’s shoulder. “Your place is here with
me. You’re my best man, remember?” Eli gulped and stood up
straighter.

Capshaw really has a way with the
child, Concordia thought. She wondered if he and Sophia might adopt
him. That was a happy ending she’d dearly love to see.

At last, the mess was cleaned up, the
vows were spoken, and the ceremony was over without further
incident.

Concordia stood to Sophia’s left in
the receiving line as the happy couple greeted their
well-wishers.

Soon David Bradley appeared at her
elbow, followed by several ladies Concordia recognized from the
settlement house. She made the required introductions.

“
Are you acquainted with
Mr. Bradley? He’s a childhood friend of the bride, and godfather to
Sophia’s little sister.”

The women nodded politely.

David gave a courtly bow. “Have you
found a replacement for Sophia?”

The ladies exchanged blank
looks.

“
Now that she’s a married
woman,” David added.

“
Oh, no, indeed, Mr.
Bradley,” one woman huffed. “Sophia is irreplaceable. We would be
lost without her.”

David’s brow wrinkled in confusion.
“But she has other responsibilities now: a husband, a home to
run...later, a family.”

Concordia plucked at the folds of her
gown to hide her irritation. Although she understood how
impractical it would be—absurd, even—for a married woman to have an
independent life outside of the home, it rankled that a lady would
be expected to abandon her former life like last year’s worn
jacket. Was any endeavor taken up during one’s single years simply
a way of marking time until a marriage proposal came
along?

“
Miss Wells?”

“
Hmm?”

“
What is your opinion of
Sophia working once she’s married?” the head of the settlement
house, Martha Newcombe, demanded.

David looked at her
expectantly.

Drat.

“
We-ell, I’d say it should
be decided between the couple,” Concordia said.

David waited for more. Concordia
turned away slightly, giving her attention solely to Miss
Newcombe.

“
We know she won’t be
living at the settlement house, naturally,” Miss Newcombe was
saying, “but Sophia has told me she intends to remain in charge of
the kindergarten program, make her usual rounds of the Colt factory
workers’ housing, and speak at the occasional suffrage
rally.”

Concordia glanced back at David.
Judging by his expression, he was either wincing at the thought of
suffrage rallies, or he’d caught a pebble in his shoe.

“
She certainly has a talent
for the work,” Concordia said, smoothing her skirts and looking
around.

And with that, David and the ladies
moved down the line to congratulate the Capshaws.

Her mother and Mr. Flynn—the man was
taller and leaner than Concordia had realized while he was sitting
down—came along next.

“
Concordia dear, your dress
is absolutely lovely,” Letitia Wells said, admiring the duchesse
satin of soft myrtle green, adorned with pale green tulle rosettes
at the sleeves.

Concordia smiled. “Thank you. Sophia
helped me pick it out.” And thank goodness for that. Rarely could
Concordia find a shade that suited her green eyes, unfashionable
red hair, and pale, freckled complexion. Fortunately, she didn’t
have much need of ball gowns and other fripperies at the
college.

Her mother nodded in approval. “So
much nicer than those plain skirts and horrid shirtwaists you
usually put on. And you’ve done your hair differently. You should
wear it that way all the time.” She turned to Mr. Flynn and
shuddered. “She inevitably has a pencil stuck through a
topknot.”

Concordia bit back a retort
and said instead, “Mother, why don’t you introduce me to Mr.
Flynn
before
informing him of my customary manner of dress and
comportment?”

Mr. Flynn laughed aloud. “Ah, Miss
Wells, ’tis grand to make your acquaintance at last. Robert Flynn,
at your service.” His voice had a melodic, Hibernian lilt that
Concordia found mesmerizing. He took her hand and made a gallant
bow over it. “Your ma’s after talking about you so much, I feel I
know you already.”

Mrs. Wells flushed. Concordia nodded
politely. “The pleasure is mine, Mr. Flynn. Have you lived in
Hartford very long?”

“
So I have, a number o’
years now,” Flynn answered. “‘Tis a fine town, though a shame it is
that I didn’t meet this lovely lady all the sooner.” He gazed
warmly at Letitia Wells, which made the woman blush more deeply and
shake her head.

“
You see how Mr. Flynn
turns on the Irish charm,” Mrs. Wells said in mock severity. “Don’t
encourage him.”

With a nod, Concordia’s mother and
Robert Flynn moved on to speak to the Capshaws.

The line had thinned as guests climbed
into carriages for the reception.

Mr. Flynn, now on the outside steps
conversing with Capshaw, turned his head abruptly toward the far
side of the street. Concordia, Sophia, and Capshaw followed his
glance.

A woman in her late twenties, standing
on the periphery of the crowd, was staring at them.

“
Do you know her, Robert?”
Mrs. Wells whispered to her companion.

Flynn turned away with a shrug. “I
cannot say she looks familiar. I suppose something about her caught
my eye.”

Concordia didn’t have to wonder at
that. The woman was ordinary enough in appearance, thin and
slightly-built, bundled in a shabby gray wool coat against the
February chill, but the intensity of her gaze made her stand out.
She interacted with no one, a still pebble in a stream of
people.

“
I don’t recognize her,
either,” Capshaw said.

Concordia felt a vague uneasiness as
she realized that the woman seemed to be staring at Eli in
particular. When the lady noticed the group was watching her,
however, she quickly turned on her heel and hurried
away.

“
Does
anyone
know her?” Sophia asked. She
stooped to point her out to Eli, but when they turned back, she was
out of sight.

“
How odd,” Capshaw
said.

Week 3, Instructor Calendar

February 1898

Concordia lingered at the Adams’ house
as the reception came to an end. After the other guests had left,
she went looking for Sophia. She found the new bride in the sitting
room. She was slumped upon a chaise, shoes tossed aside and
stockinged feet tucked under her. Concordia grinned at the
sight.

“
Getting a respite at
last?”

Sophia grimaced. “You have no idea how
my feet hurt. And I am tired of talking. Who knew these functions
could be so exhausting? I’d rather address a hostile auditorium of
people who think women have the intelligence of dairy cows than
chatter on with genteel society over punch bowls and cheese
plates.” She closed her eyes.

Concordia remembered the early demands
of her sister’s marriage. “You’d better get used to it,” she said
mildly.

Sophia opened her eyes briefly and
waved toward a chair. “You should sit, too. Your shoes don’t look
any more comfortable than mine.”

Concordia didn’t need a second
invitation. She set down the plates she’d collected and sank
gratefully into a padded chair. Neither spoke for a few
moments.

“
Have you seen Aaron?”
Sophia asked.

“
He and Eli are out looking
for the cat. The animal hasn’t been seen since it bolted from the
church.”

“
It’s as good an excuse as
any to get some fresh air, I suppose,” Sophia said.

Concordia nodded. Although fresh air
in mid-February was bound to be quite bracing, she knew young boys
could get restless at public functions. She noted the lengthening
shadows outside. “I hope they return soon.”

“
I know Eli’s attached to
the animal,” Sophia said, “but I’m not looking forward to sharing
quarters with it.”

Concordia sat up straighter. “You’ve
decided to adopt Eli? How wonderful!”

Sophia smiled. “Once we’re back from
New York, we’ll get the process started.”

“
The ladies at the
settlement house are under the impression that you’ll still be
working there,” Concordia said. “Is that true?”

Sophia nodded wearily.
“Aaron and I have had several discussions about it. I
must
continue my work.”
This was accompanied by that characteristically-stubborn tilt of
her head.

“
What did he have to say
to
that
?” Concordia
asked.

Sophia sighed. “It took a little
persuading, but he understands that my work is just as valuable as
his. He gets called out at all hours, investigating cases. Why
should I sit at home alone, of little utility, when I’m needed as
well?” She gestured toward the darkening windows. “Would you mind
drawing the curtains?”

Concordia crossed over to the windows,
lost in thought. Capshaw’s willingness to adapt to such an
unconventional arrangement was surprising to say the least. In the
two years Concordia had known the man, she’d lost track of the
number of times he would sigh, shake his head, and claim not to
understand the unorthodox ways of “college people.”

“
I hope he knows how to
cook his own supper,” Concordia said over her shoulder as she
tugged at the draperies.

She turned back from the window. “But
seriously, Sophie, how will you manage a child, a new marriage, and
your settlement work? That seems a formidable
challenge.”

“
Not that it’s any concern
of yours how I run my life,” Sophia answered tartly, “but Eli will
have his lessons along with Amelia, here at my stepmother’s house.
He can stay here whenever Aaron and I both have to be out. We’ve
found a brownstone a few blocks away that we can
afford.”

“
I see.” Concordia sat down
again.

The silence lengthened. The mantel
clock sounded unnaturally loud in the stillness.

“
I’m sorry,” Sophia
said.

“
I know, dear.”