Читать книгу Inherited: Unexpected Family - Gabrielle Meyer - Страница 12

Chapter Two

Elizabeth didn’t know what to expect, but she wasn’t prepared for the fine sitting room they entered.

Martha lit a tall lamp using a match from a box on the fireplace mantel and the room filled with a soft glow.

The walls were papered in tiny blue flowers and the trim was crafted of beautiful red oak. Two tall windows allowed the stars to be visible in the fading dusk, and a small fireplace sat empty on this warm night.

“The bedroom is over there.” Martha indicated a door on the right as she picked up a man’s shirt hanging over the edge of a wingback chair.

A cursory glance around the room indicated Mr. Allen was not tidy. A lone shoe peeked out from under a table, a pair of suspenders hung from a lamp and a journal lay open on a secretary with a few crumpled papers nearby.

“I’ll just grab Jude’s things and then you can get sett—”

“I’ll take care of my own things.” Jude walked through the open door and went to the secretary, where he snapped the book closed. With quick hands, he picked the discarded paper up off the desk and then went around the room gathering his personal items. Though he was tall, he moved about with surprising grace. His suit was pressed, his shoes shining and his hair combed into perfect submission. It was clear Mr. Allen liked his appearance in order—so why the disheveled room?

“I’ll get my things out of my bedchamber and be on my way,” he said as he entered the other room and closed the door.

“I’ll grab the clean linen while we wait for Jude. It’s just down the hall.” Martha bustled out of the sitting room, leaving Elizabeth alone with her sisters.

“I’m tired, Lizzie.” Rose laid her head against Elizabeth’s shoulder.

“We’ll be in bed in just a moment.” She swayed back and forth, holding her sister close while Grace went to the window and stared outside.

After a few minutes, Jude’s bedroom door opened and he held a small trunk on his shoulder. “Tell Martha I’ll sleep on one of the sofas in the ballroom parlor tonight.”

“I heard you well enough,” Martha said as she walked back in. “You go on now. I need to get that wee one in bed.”

Jude left the sitting room as Martha led the way into the bedroom. “How are you holding up, lovey?” she asked Elizabeth. “Clarence was a good man. Though he could be surly at times, to be sure, I’m still grieving our loss.”

Elizabeth allowed the first smile to warm her lips at Martha’s frank assessment. She remembered Papa in much the same way, though Mama had always tempered his bad moods with her gentle manner. “I’m doing much better now that I’m here.”

Martha nodded and patted Elizabeth’s hand as she guided her into the bedroom. “The three of you should fit comfortable-like in this room, though it might be a tight squeeze in that bed.” Martha set the clean linens on a bureau and clasped her hands together.

The room held a bed, a bureau, a rocking chair and a large green trunk that had belonged to Papa.

Martha noticed the trunk, too. “Jude was meaning to bring your pa’s things to the attic.” She went to the trunk and lifted the lid. “I think there will be a few things in here you’ll like to have.”

Elizabeth slowly followed her to the trunk, unsure if she could face more memories of her father. She had been angry and hurt when he left them, and then overwhelmed with the burden of her responsibilities. In her head, she wanted to believe she had forgiven him—but her heart wasn’t as certain.

Martha pulled out a daguerreotype and handed it to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth set Rose on her feet and ran her fingertip over the cool metal. “Mama.” It was the only picture they had of their mother, and Papa had brought it with him when he left. “I almost forgot what she looked like.”

Grace stood just inside the door, her detached gaze looking anywhere but at the picture.

“Mama?” Rose asked, tugging on the sleeve of Elizabeth’s dress. “Is that my mama?”

Elizabeth bent to show Rose the picture for the first time. The lantern light flickered over the image, making it appear lifelike.

“She looks like you.” Rose glanced up at Elizabeth. “She was pretty.”

“Grace and I look like Mama.” Elizabeth put her hand on Rose’s cheek. “You look more like Papa’s family.”

Martha had remained quiet as she watched them, but now she made a clicking noise with her tongue. “Poor dears. I’ll get this linen changed so you can go to sleep.”

Elizabeth helped her strip the bed and then put on the clean sheets. Andrew came into the sitting room with their luggage and soon they were all set for the night.

Martha looked around one more time and then said to Elizabeth, “If you need anything else, I’ll be in the kitchen at the back of the hotel until the ball is over.”

“Thank you.” Elizabeth closed the door of the suite behind her, then she returned to the bedroom and found Grace helping Rose unbutton her dress to change into a nightgown.

It was just Elizabeth and her sisters, alone again. She looked at both of them, feeling, as always, that she had somehow failed. “I had no idea Papa had a partner. It changes all my plans.”

Grace glanced up at her but didn’t say anything.

Elizabeth took a deep breath and put on a smile for Rose’s benefit. “I’ll trust God that it will work out just fine. He didn’t forsake us in Rockford and He won’t forsake us here, either.”

“Speak for yourself.” Grace pulled Rose’s dress off over her head. “The way I look at it, He didn’t do us any favors before and He won’t do us any favors now. We’re no better off than when we were in Rockford—at least there we had friends.” She went to Rose’s trunk and took out a nightgown, her movements quick and awkward.

It didn’t pay to argue with Grace when she was in this frame of mind. The friends Grace had in Rockford had been leading her in a direction Elizabeth didn’t want her to go, but Grace did not agree.

Instead of fighting, Elizabeth untied the ribbon under her chin and removed her bonnet with deliberate care. Rose watched her older sisters closely, and though Elizabeth could not control how Grace acted, she could control her own behavior.

Grace slipped Rose’s nightgown on over her head and began to unlace her boots. “What will we do?” she asked Elizabeth. “Will we stay?”

“Of course we’ll stay.” Elizabeth squatted down to help remove Rose’s boots. “This is our hotel and I plan to operate it to the best of my ability.”

“How?” Grace sat on the bed. “We might own half the business, but no man will allow you to have a say in how he runs his establishment.”

Elizabeth took off Rose’s stockings and turned down the bedcover. She motioned for Rose to climb in. Thoughts of her old employer, Mr. Brown, filled her with terrible memories. He owned the general store Elizabeth had worked at in Rockford, and he had come to depend on her for all aspects of the store’s operation. She had done everything from stocking the merchandise to managing the books, and he had never once given her credit. When someone complimented his store, he’d boasted about his business acumen.

The job had kept her and her sisters fed while Grace had finished school, and she found she had a natural knack for the work, but she had been forced to resist his advances from the first day. It had become harder and more wearisome with each passing month, especially when his wife assumed Elizabeth had been guilty of appalling things at the very end. Each time she said she was leaving, he would increase her pay and treat her better for a time. Truth be told, there were so few jobs available for a woman with her limited education, she couldn’t give up the work, no matter how difficult it was.

She had looked forward to doing as she pleased with the hotel business—but now she would be forced to bend to another man’s will. Would Mr. Allen be just as horrible to work with?

“There’s only one thing to be done,” Elizabeth said to Grace with more confidence than she felt. “We will need to raise enough money to buy Mr. Allen’s share of the hotel.”

Grace stopped working on her boots and looked up at Elizabeth. “Why would we want to do something like that? Why don’t we sell our share to Mr. Allen?”

“Mama and Papa spoke of owning a hotel for as long as I can remember, but they never had enough money to pursue the venture,” Elizabeth said. “We can’t give up on their dream now—especially when Papa wanted it this way.”

“Their dream?” Grace asked with sarcasm in her voice. “Or yours?”

“Of course it’s their dream. Don’t you care about their legacy?”

Grace scoffed. “I don’t give a fig about this hotel or Mama and Papa’s dreams. Papa abandoned us and I don’t owe him a thing.”

Elizabeth’s chest tightened and she wanted to cover Rose’s ears. It had been this way with Grace since their father left. Before Mama died, Grace had always been sweet and kind—a little mischievous, but never mean. The best thing for her would be to find a good husband, and the sooner the better. She needed to be settled in her own home and getting on with her life. She didn’t need to be saddled with their father’s hotel and a little sister. Those were Elizabeth’s responsibilities. She had forfeited her own happily-ever-after when she chose her family over James. What man would want her with all her responsibilities now? Isn’t that what James had said? She came with too many problems.

Her sisters deserved better, and she would do whatever she could to ensure their happiness. She would find Grace a good husband as soon as possible and provide for Rose to the best of her ability.

Elizabeth met Grace’s gaze and she knew her face revealed the depth of sadness she felt.

For a moment, it looked as if Grace might soften, but then she inhaled a breath and kicked off her second boot. “Do whatever you want. I don’t care.”

Rose looked up at Elizabeth, searching for reassurance. The unconditional love in her big brown eyes was the reminder Elizabeth needed to keep fighting for Grace, for her parents’ dream and for her own future.

Elizabeth winked at Rose and gave her a smile. “It’s time to sleep.”

“I forgot to say my prayers.” Rose climbed out of bed and knelt on the floor. She said her nightly prayers and then got back into bed.

Grace had put on her nightgown and sat beside Rose. “How will we raise enough money to buy Mr. Allen’s share? It could be thousands of dollars.”

“Maybe we can get a loan from the bank.” Elizabeth tucked the covers in around Rose. “Regardless, we’ll have to do extra work to pay for it. I’ll speak to Mr. Allen about all of that tomorrow. For now, get some sleep and don’t worry.”

Rose yawned. “I’m thirsty, Lizzie.”

Grace lifted the sheet and snuggled into the bed without looking at Elizabeth.

“I’ll get you something. But don’t leave this room,” Elizabeth said to Rose. “Stay here with Grace and I’ll come right back with something for you to drink.”

Rose nodded, a solemn promise in her trusting eyes.

Elizabeth kissed her forehead and left the bedroom through a door that led directly into the dark hallway. She stood for a moment, wondering where the kitchen might be. Martha had said it was at the back of the hotel.

She walked down the hall to where a swatch of light lit up the stairway at the end. The sound of laughter and music made her feet itch to dance. It had been years since she’d gone to a ball. James had not approved of dancing, and after he left, her name had become sullied by Mrs. Brown’s accusations, so no one had extended another invitation.

It would feel good to twist and twirl around a dance floor again, especially if she was in the arms of a competent dancer. For a fleeting moment, she thought of Mr. Allen’s strong form and graceful movements and wondered if he was any good at dancing, but the question soon faded when she remembered how much he irritated her.

Hopefully she could sneak in and out of the kitchen without being noticed.

She wasn’t in the mood to see him again tonight.

* * *

Jude stormed through the dining room and entered the kitchen. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm cinnamon bread wafted up to meet him. But even that didn’t improve his mood.

“What am I going to do with them?” he asked Martha as soon as the swinging door closed.

“I don’t imagine there’s anything you can do with them.” Martha lifted a steaming pan of bread from the oven. “They’re here to stay.”

Jude pulled out a stool and took a seat—but he couldn’t stay still, so he stood and shoved it back under the worktable. “They can’t stay here.”

The door opened and Violet entered. Her bright-red hair would make her stand out in a room—but it was the worldly set of her shoulders and the hardened look in her eyes that made people take a second glance. “Is the coffee ready?” she asked.

Martha nodded to the pot on the stove. “Just now. Bring me the empty one from the ballroom when you come back and I’ll get more going.”

Violet moved to the stove without another word. Though Jude had rescued her six weeks ago and had been nothing but kind, she still didn’t meet his gaze. She skirted around him like he might reach out and grab her—but he didn’t take it to heart. It was the same with almost all the women he’d liberated these past two years. They knew almost nothing about compassion and decency. For many, their only experience of men was abuse and neglect. He was the first man who’d respected them and treated them with care. It would take her some time to trust him.

Violet left the kitchen with the coffee and the door swung closed again.

“The way I see it,” Martha said, setting the loaf of cinnamon bread on the cooling rack near the window, “Clarence’s daughters own half this hotel and there’s nothing you can do to change that fact. God knows what He’s doing. He doesn’t make mistakes. Though we don’t understand some of His choices, He’s still sovereign and much smarter than the rest of us.”

Jude rubbed the back of his neck. He usually appreciated Martha’s wisdom and perspective, but at the moment, he’d rather she keep them to herself. “There has to be a way to get rid of them.”

“Ack!” Martha clicked her tongue. “Go on with you. Those women are in need of a home and this is all they have. They’re not that much different than the women you rescue.”

“There’s a world of difference between them—besides, this hotel can’t support all the women living here!” They could barely support Martha and Violet. “I need to find a way to get them to leave. I’m going to see Roald Hall tomorrow and find out if that letter has any legal value.”

“And what if it does?”

He didn’t want to contemplate the validity of the letter. How could he hide his rescue work if they ended up staying? Surely, once they met Violet, they’d start asking questions. What would happen when he brought in the next lady? And the next?

Frustration made him pace faster. “I don’t know why such pretty women aren’t married.”

Martha turned away from the window, her hands on her hips. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe they don’t want to be married?”

“Well they should—and soon. At least then they might give up on the idea of running a hotel.”

Martha took another pan of bread that had been cooling at the window and brought it to the worktable. She turned it onto a cutting board. “You probably won’t have to wait long. There’s nary a bride in this town that had to wait more than a fortnight to be engaged.”

Jude paused, the first glimmer of hope rising. “You’re right.”

“I usually am.”

“If I do a little matchmaking, I could probably have them engaged by the end of this week.”

Martha harrumphed. “If they had attended the ball, they would have had at least a dozen proposals tonight.”

It was true. So true, in fact, the men in town had placed an advertisement in several papers back East seeking brides. They had claimed there were a hundred eligible bachelors for every single woman. To his knowledge, no one had answered the ad—yet—but it only proved how desperate and lonely the men were in Little Falls.

He simply needed to introduce Elizabeth and Grace to the best husband candidates and they could be out of his way in no time.

“Martha, you’re a genius.”

The door opened slowly and Elizabeth Bell poked her head through the opening. She paused when she saw Jude.

For the first time since her arrival, he was happy to see her. Maybe he could still get her into that ballroom tonight and start the introductions. He moved forward and opened the door wider. “Come in.”

She took a tentative step over the threshold as she looked around the kitchen.

Martha wiped her hands on her apron. “What do you need, lovey? Are you hungry? There’s leftover roast beef and fresh cinnamon bread, right out of the oven.”

“Could I have a glass of water for Rose, please?”

“Water, you say?” Martha stood on tiptoe to reach one of the glasses. Her short stature was a constant irritant to her, so Jude reached over her head and grabbed a glass for her. “Thank you.” She straightened her shirtwaist. “How about some warm milk for the little one?”

“Milk would be even better.” Elizabeth’s voice hinted her relief. “She’s had none since we left Rockford a week ago.”

“Then milk it is. I’ll grab some in the cellar and be back in a jiffy.”

Martha exited the kitchen leaving Jude and Elizabeth alone.

She looked at him for a moment and he studied her, perplexed all over again by how Clarence could have such a beautiful daughter. But, more important, how could he convince her to go into the ballroom with him?

She looked away and played with the frayed cuff at her wrist.

“The ballroom is full tonight,” he said. “We have the best orchestra in the territory right here in Little Falls. They’ll play until midnight, at least, maybe longer if the dancers insist.”

“I imagine it’s good for business.”

“It is.” He smiled, trying to draw upon all the charm he’d mastered as a business owner. “Do you enjoy dancing, Miss Elizabeth?”

She lifted her blue-eyed gaze and blinked. “I do enjoy dancing, Mr. Allen.”

Her answer encouraged him. “Would you—?”

“Here we are.” Martha returned much sooner than he would have liked—or expected. “I left the milk on the shelf in the lean-to and thought I’d put it in the cellar later. Good thing I didn’t.” She placed a kettle on the stove. “The milk will be warm in a minute.”

“It isn’t necessary to heat the milk.” Elizabeth took a step toward Martha. “I can take it as it is. Rose won’t mind.”

“Nonsense. Everyone benefits from warm milk before bed.”

“If you enjoy dancing,” Jude said, “would you care to join the others in the ballroom?”

Elizabeth stared at him and Martha turned with the milk in one hand and the kettle in the other. “Look at the lady, Jude. She’s tuckered out.”

Martha wasn’t making this easy for him.

“I thought Miss Elizabeth might enjoy a little entertainment after her long journey.”

“Even if I would, my ball gown is tucked away in my trunk and in need of some updating.” Elizabeth touched her cuff once again. “It’s been years since I’ve gone to a ball.”

“All the more reason to go tonight.”

“I should be with my sisters.”

Martha tossed him a look of disapproval and then went back to the milk.

“They’ll soon be asleep.” Jude tried again. “You can stay for as little or as long as you’d like.”

Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder toward the door that would lead them to the ballroom, and she looked like she might concede—but then she shook her head. “Not tonight. I’ll need all the strength and mental clarity I can muster when we meet with the attorney and go over the books tomorrow. I’m sure there will be a hundred things we’ll need to discuss about the operation of the hotel.”

The thought of talking business with her made him crabby. What did she know of such things? “Fine.” He gave her a curt nod. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He walked past her and out the kitchen door. He might not get her into the ballroom tonight, but he’d be sure to invite every bachelor he knew to come by tomorrow.

He would marry Elizabeth Bell off to the first man who turned her head, and then he’d get on with the work that really mattered.