The Arrangement (The Witches of Cleopatra Hill Book 10) Page 7

  “It is a lovely day,” Emma said, her tone all politeness. “Perfect for a morning walk.”

  “Yes, it is,” Lorena agreed. She knew their conversation would remain confined to such superficial topics until Bridget had come and gone with the tea. Well used to this sort of game, she went on, “I had worried that there would be frost, but if there was any, it was gone by the time I left the hotel.”

  “Our weather teases us at this time of year. One day it can be so fine that you think summer has returned, and the next day, a storm will blow in and give the peaks a fresh coating of snow.”

  At that moment, Bridget entered the room, bearing a tray laden with a tea set of fine bone china. She set it down on the low table that separated the two settees and sent an expectant look at her mistress.

  “Thank you, Bridget,” Emma said. “I will pour.”

  “Of course, ma’am.” She bobbed a curtsey and went out, leaving the two women alone.

  Emma picked up the teapot and poured fragrant tea into Lorena’s cup, then did the same for hers. “Cream? Sugar?”

  “One cube, please.”

  A single sugar cube was deposited as requested. Then Emma set down the silver tongs and raised an eyebrow. “Mrs. Simms, may I assume that you are here to speak with me about my brother?”

  Clearly, Mrs. Garnett believed in getting to the heart of the matter. Lorena picked up her teacup but did not drink, as she could tell the tea was still far too hot. Perhaps she should have asked for some cream after all, even though she usually did not care much for it. “I suppose you think me terribly presumptuous.”

  Emma’s shoulders lifted. She poured some cream into her own tea and stirred it, but left the cup sitting on its saucer. “I’m not sure what to think, Mrs. Simms. But I do believe I should hear your side of the story.”

  “So am I to assume that you have already heard your brother’s side of things?”

  A tiny smile, one that barely lifted the corners of Emma’s mouth. “Not precisely. Jeremiah is not the sort for confessions, even to me. But he is my brother. I can make an educated guess.”

  Lorena wasn’t sure whether that was better or worse. No, of course she did not want Jeremiah Wilcox to be the kind of man who would run and tell all his secrets to someone else, even if that person happened to be a sibling. On the other hand, she was not sure if she liked the idea of his sister possessing the sort of perspicacity to be able to guess those things for herself.

  Best to play the innocent, the wronged party. After all, that wasn’t even a lie. Jeremiah had approached her, had initiated every contact. And then when that contact became too close for comfort, he had pushed her away.

  “Perhaps I am being terribly forward,” she said, deciding then that it was best for her to be as honest as she could. She had no doubt that Emma Garnett was all too capable of detecting a lie. “And I am sure there are those who would tell me to mind my own business, that as a stranger only passing through town, I do not have the right to make such inquiries. But I must confess that I am having a difficult time trying to understand why Mr. Wilcox would approach me as he has, only to rebuff me without provocation a short time later.”

  A silence. Emma finally reached to take up her teacup, then sipped at the liquid inside. Her next words rather startled Lorena. “What do you know of my brother, Mrs. Simms?”

  “Only what he has told me,” Lorena replied. “And perhaps something of the town’s gossip. I know of his wives. I know that your family is involved in the lumber business, and in ranching, and that you have been here in Flagstaff longer than most of its current residents. But there is nothing in any of that information which would help to explain his behavior.”

  “Not even those four wives?” Emma’s tone was so mild that the question could have almost meant anything. “One might think that a man in such a position would be rather gun shy.”

  “Perhaps. But if that were the case, then why show an interest at all? He could have kept me safely at arm’s length during my time here, and then I would have been gone on the next train. Forgive me, but none of this makes a great deal of sense.”

  “I suppose it would not.” A lift of her shoulders, and Emma went on, “My brother has had to…guard himself…for several years. You should congratulate yourself that you were able to attract such attention from him, even if he thought better of it in the end.”

  “Better of it”? Lorena’s hackles went up at Emma’s words, but she told herself to stay calm, to make sure that the other woman could have no idea how much her comment had raised her ire. Luckily, Lorena had had plenty of practice with such artifice in the salons and ballrooms of New York’s upper crust, and had learned to present a placid and serene appearance to the world, no matter what emotions might be roiling underneath.

  “I fear you misunderstand me,” Lorena said, speaking with little intonation in her voice, so she might sound as unruffled as possible. “I certainly did not come here to Flagstaff in search of conquest, and so I see no need to ‘congratulate’ myself on anything.”

  “Why did you come to our town?” Emma returned, her tone equally dispassionate. “That is, most first-class passengers see no need to alight here, let alone stay over for a few days. They continue to California without involving themselves in our lives at all.”

  From that remark, Lorena guessed that Emma was wishing that she had done as all those other travelers had, and ignored Flagstaff as a rustic way post on the route to San Francisco’s far more sophisticated attractions. At least that way Mrs. Garnett’s brother could have remained untroubled by any attractive strangers descending upon him.

  But while Lorena had certainly possessed no thought of such a connection when she disembarked here, she would not allow herself to harbor any guilt over what had passed between Jeremiah and herself. Still in that same light, dispassionate tone, she replied, “I had only thought to see the autumn scenery, which I had been told was quite remarkable. I assure you, Mrs. Garnett — if I were actively pursuing a new husband, I would not be doing it here in Flagstaff.”

  Far from appearing startled by this remark, Emma only smiled, then said, “No, I suppose you would not. It is clear that you are a woman of the world, and accustomed to life’s finer things, most of which cannot be easily found in our frontier town. Indeed, I am sure there are many who wonder why you have remained a widow for as long as you have.”

  Damn it. The duration of her widowhood was not the sort of information anyone here in town should have possessed, but clearly Emma Garnett knew something of Lorena’s history, if not all of its tragic circumstances. No doubt Josie had been gossiping again. She was a good girl, but she did have a tendency toward a loose tongue, especially if she was trying to impress someone. The bartender at the Hotel San Francisco did have a very handsome mustache, and a pair of flashing dark eyes. Josie had probably not even realized everything she was divulging whilst attempting to flirt with such an attractive specimen.

  “Perhaps,” Lorena said mildly, forced once more to tamp down her anger, lest it betray her. “It is a difficult thing, to move past the death of a husband — particularly when his death came alongside the loss of the family we had hoped to start.”

  At once Emma’s brows drew together, and some of the bloom left her cheeks. “Oh, Mrs. Simms, I am so very sorry.”

  “It has been five years. I have learned to live with my losses. But you can understand why I have chosen to live alone. I would not be much of a bargain as a wife, not when I am no longer able to give a man the family he of course would desire.” Although, as she had said, Lorena had had a number of years to come to terms with the loss of her husband, of the child she’d been carrying, it hurt no less to think of what would forever be deprived her. Really, she should not have spoken of such things at all to Emma Garnett, except that something in the other woman’s expression, the clear compassion in her eyes, had made Lorena utter confessions she would otherwise have kept to herself.

  Once again Emma murmured,
“I am so very sorry.”

  “It is nothing I can change. But you can rest assured that I had no ulterior motives when I came here to Flagstaff. And I would not have approached you now, except that I am not used to such contradictory behavior, and I had to wonder if it was something I had done to make your brother rebuff me in such a fashion.”

  “No, it is nothing like that, I assure you,” Emma said, but now she appeared almost distracted, as if her thoughts had begun to move in a direction Lorena could not quite understand. “My brother can be a complicated man. Please do not think this has anything to do with you.”

  Those words should have been reassuring, but Lorena did not find herself all that comforted. Yes, Emma had told her that this was everything to do with Jeremiah and nothing to do with her, but that did not go any further toward solving the mystery of why he had turned away from her in the first place.

  She also had the impression that Emma would say no more, would never betray her brother’s confidences. Coming here had been a mistake — doubly so because now Lorena had revealed secrets of her own, secrets that should have remained hidden. Even if Jeremiah had begun to second-guess his behavior, of course he would stay away now. It was one thing to think that perhaps an older gentleman with a large family of his own would not care so much about her particular flaw, but for someone in the prime of life, with only the one son…no, Jeremiah would certainly not want her once he learned that she was unable to bear any more children.

  Without realizing she had planned to do so, Lorena got to her feet and said, “Then thank you very much for seeing me, Mrs. Garnett. I do hope you will forgive my intrusion. I will be on the westbound train tomorrow.”

  “Mrs. Simms — ”

  But Lorena did not wish to remain and hear any excuses, or worse, empty platitudes about her condition. She bowed her head and hurried out of the room, knowing that it was quite rude for her to leave in such a way, without waiting for Emma to summon the maid to show her out. In that moment, however, Lorena knew she could not bear to be there a moment longer. Luckily, the house was not so large that she did not remember the way to the front door, and she slipped out, boots clattering on the wooden porch steps as she made her escape.

  All she could hope now was that no passerby would see the tears that had begun to stain her cheeks.

  7

  A note waited for him on his desk when Jeremiah entered the house. For a second or two, he wondered how it could have gotten there, but as soon as he recognized his sister’s handwriting, he guessed that she must have sent the note over with Bridget, who had handed it over to Millie, his maid.

  The note was very short — only seven words.

  Come see me when you get home.

  What that was about, he didn’t know. Perhaps she wanted to utter a few more home truths about the foolishness of his involvement with Lorena Simms, but he was certainly in no mood for such a thing. He had suffered enough losses that he knew the sting would begin to subside with time. However, right now, the pain was still fresh enough. He did not want to talk about Lorena.

  On the other hand, he knew he could not ignore his sister’s request. To do so would be inexcusably rude. Besides, she was his truest ally in their family — both Nathan and Edmund had made it clear that they thought his feud with Samuel had gone on for long enough, especially when one considered that no true harm had come of Samuel’s interference with Eliza Prewitt/Danica Wilcox and Robert Rowe. The last thing Jeremiah needed was to make an enemy of his sister as well.

  So he did not bother to remove his hat, but instead picked up the note, folded it, and put it in his pocket. Then he went out the back way, through the yard with its frost-yellowed grass and the gate that connected the two properties, and on into Emma’s kitchen.

  To his relief, she was alone. She often sent the cook out for supplies in the early afternoon, after they’d decided on that evening’s menu. For all he knew, Emma had planned for him to come over at this time, since it was also the same hour of the afternoon that he generally returned home from going over the books at the office.

  “Jeremiah,” she said, her tone casual enough. However, something about her posture seemed to indicate an attitude of barely checked excitement.

  “Emma,” he responded. “I got your note.”

  “Good.” She had been standing at the large oak table that also served as a chopping block, a recipe book open before her, but she shut the book, then said in an off-hand sort of way, “Lorena Simms came to see me this morning.”

  “She what?” Usually Jeremiah would not allow himself to respond in such an undignified fashion, but he was already rather on edge. Tone somewhat more moderated, he continued, “Whatever for?”

  “To ask me about you, of course.” Emma’s mouth quirked. “Rather bold of her, I must admit. I can tell she’s a woman used to getting her own way. In most things, at any rate,” she added with a sudden change of expression, the amused glint leaving her eyes.

  “And what did you tell her?”

  “Nothing of any import, Jeremiah, so there is no need for you to glower at me in such a fashion. However, she told me something that might be of some interest to you.”

  “Indeed?”

  For a moment, Emma did not reply. She had put on a crisp white apron over her wool gown, no doubt in preparation for helping with that evening’s meal. Now her fingers played with a corner of the apron, a nervous gesture quite unlike her. “I knew that she was widowed,” Emma said at length. “I did not know that she lost the child she was carrying at the same time she lost her husband.”

  Jeremiah’s heart wrenched at hearing this news, but he made sure he did not react in any way that his sister could see, and possibly comment on. Yes, a terrible loss, but one that could be overcome in time. “That is…unfortunate,” he said, his tone neutral. “But I am not sure why it should make a difference to me.”

  “Because it seems now she can no longer bear a child at all,” Emma replied softly. “I know we are still not entirely certain as to how Nizhoni’s curse works, but you lost Letty and Charlotte when they were both with child. But if you were with someone like Lorena Simms, a woman who cannot carry a child at all, because of her accident, then….”

  Emma let her words trail off there, but it was enough. At once, Jeremiah’s mind filled with possibilities. Yes, it was a sad truth that his last two wives had been pregnant when they were struck down. Nizhoni’s wrath reaching from beyond the grave, making sure that no wife of the Wilcox primus could give him another child when he already had an heir.

  But if he was with a woman who was not his wife, who was safe from ever conceiving….

  She would never consent to such a thing, he thought then, some of his newfound hope dying. Lorena Simms is a woman of honor, a widow with standing in both New York and San Francisco. She is certainly not the kind of woman who would agree to sleep with a man who was not her husband.

  Never mind that she had kissed him with such wild passion, had pressed her body up against his as if she cared little for such niceties. A kiss was one thing; further intimacies, something else altogether.

  When he spoke, his voice sounded strangled even to him. “Are you saying I should propose such a liaison with Lorena Simms? Did she give you the impression of being the kind of loose woman who would be open to such a proposition?”

  “No, she did not,” Emma said calmly. “In fact, I am relieved to see you offended on her behalf.”

  “So what is the point of this conversation?”

  “The point is that perhaps you should allow her to make that decision for herself. For I have no doubt that Mrs. Simms is a very honorable woman. But…”

  “But what?”

  Emma sent him a sad smile. “But I also think she is a very lonely woman.”

  Josie had packed most of her things, leaving out only the wine-colored traveling dress for tomorrow, and of course Lorena’s nightclothes. Once again Lorena had decided to eat alone in her room. That way, she could a
void the hotel’s restaurant, avoid the memory of sitting there with Jeremiah, of watching the shifting expressions on his mobile features and thinking what a very handsome man he was.

  Oh, it was foolish to be so obsessed with him, just as it was foolish of her to have blurted out the truth of her situation to Emma Garnett. Yes, the woman had appeared sympathetic, but she couldn’t understand. Not really. She would never be truly on her own, even if her husband should happen to die before she did. She would still have her children. She would not be left unmoored in this world, adrift.

  Alone.

  Just as Lorena set that evening’s menu down on the bureau, wishing she could be somewhat more tempted by the chicken fricassee or cockaleekie soup on offer that day, Josie entered the room, her expression a mixture of awe and excitement. In her hand she held a piece of paper.

  “Goodness, Josie,” Lorena remarked with some acid. “You do look positively set upon. Did that bartender say something inappropriate to you?”

  “No, ma’am,” Josie replied at once, indignation clear in her voice. “Mr. Shoemaker is a perfect gentleman. No, it’s just — it’s just that Mr. Jeremiah Wilcox approached me in the lobby and gave me this note. He said I had to bring it to you posthaste. So here I am.”

  At the mention of Jeremiah Wilcox, Lorena’s heart dropped somewhere to the vicinity of her feet. She had just enough courage left to hide herself away here for the night, then slip out in the morning. If she didn’t have to see him, hear his voice, then perhaps she could leave town without making an utter fool of herself.