A Home for Her Heart (15 page)

“I’m sure
you
will be anyway. I might have to fight off anyone who stares too long.”

His words made her feel special and protected, and flirted with. He flashed her a smile as he helped her into the waiting hack and then took his own seat beside her.

“If we get finished in time, perhaps we can take a ride through Central Park on the way home.”

“I’d love it. I can’t remember the last time I’ve done that.” It must have been with a group for she’d had no suitors, and Mrs. Heaton was very strict about her girls being out after dark without an escort.

“With both of us taking notes and comparing them, I’m certain we’ll get out early. And we’ll have more information than we would have otherwise. I quite like working with you, Elizabeth.”

“We do make a good team, don’t we?”

“We do.”

His voice had turned husky and her heartbeat seemed to stop for a moment at the realization that they did indeed work well together and that John thought so, too.

The expression in his eyes had her pulse racing once again and she was reminded of that one brief kiss they’d shared. Not that it took much to remind her. A glance from John, a smile, just his presence seemed to be able to bring that thought to mind quite easily.

The hack pulled up to the Vanderbilt mansion and she gave herself a little shake. Thinking about kisses was not what she should be doing. They were here for their work and nothing more. Her thoughts seemed to get more carried away each time she was with John.

Just because he thought they made a good team and liked working with her didn’t mean anything more than what he’d said. She had to quit reading so much into his words. Or maybe it wasn’t what he said but what she longed for.
Oh, please Lord, help me to concentrate on the reason we are here tonight.

John helped her out of the hack at the entrance and they strolled to the front door, as several other guests were doing. After giving the doorman their credentials, he checked them against a list he had in front of him and let them in to the main hall, directing them to the ballroom where the benefit would be held.

The sheer size of the hall took Elizabeth’s breath away. Carved caryatids supported the marble mantelpiece, and she knew many of the paintings had to have come from Europe. The standing candelabras lent a warm glow to the hall and brought out the rich colors in the rugs.

“Whoa,” John whispered. “I’d heard it was something to see, but I wasn’t expecting this.”

“No, neither was I.” It put most other homes she’d been in to shame, and made her feel as if her worries about her family’s wealth were almost laughable. “I can’t imagine living in something like this. I don’t even know how to describe it.”

John chuckled. “Neither do I. And we’re both writers. One could get lost for days in here.”

They stopped at the doorway of the ballroom, which was even more magnificent than the hall, and John stood tall and straightened his tie. “I always feel a little intimidated coming into this kind of wealth.”

“This mansion would intimidate anyone coming into it for the first time. But you have no reason to feel that way. Many of these people inherited their wealth through no effort of their own. You are making your own way and, who knows, one day you might own your own paper.”

John laughed outright. “Now, that’s a thought I like. Actually it is a dream of mine, but I don’t lie awake worrying about it.”

“It could happen, you know.”

“Elizabeth, you are the most encouraging person I know. Thank you for boosting my confidence when I most need it. Which side of the room do you want to take?”

Elizabeth gazed out onto the crowd, trying to gage which side might be the safest to mingle in. But she recognized only a few faces and those people only knew her as a writer for the
Delineator.
“Either side is fine with me.”

“Then I’ll go to the right and you take the left. When we meet in the center, we’ll decide if we have enough information to share and if so, we’ll make an exit.”

He grinned at her and all she could think of was getting finished early enough so that they could have some time together. After all the talk about wealth, tonight might be the time to open up to John. If so, she prayed he’d take her news as graciously as Kathleen had. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Fifteen

E
lizabeth gave him a smile and took off, leaving John wondering if he were imagining the shadow that’d suddenly appeared behind her eyes. She always seemed self-assured, but was it possible she felt as out of place here as he did? He should have tried to boost her confidence as she had his.

Her words
had
bolstered him, and as he began to make his way around the crowd of people, he reminded himself that Elizabeth seemed to be proud that he was making his own way. If she felt that way, perhaps he should act as optimistic that he might own his own paper one day as she was. Or at the very least, that he was confident his editor wanted more stories from him and that he was working himself up at the
Tribune.
And doing his best at reporting on these events—even though it wasn’t the kind of thing he wanted to do, hadn’t hurt.

This particular event was a charity auction of some of the Vanderbilts’ paintings and John was exceedingly glad that he was there to cover it and not as someone expected to place a bid. He was sure it would take more than he made in several months or even a year to put up an opening bid.

He did recognize many people from covering other events and most greeted him as if he were one of them, but he knew it was only because they wanted their names in his article.

As the first item came up, he watched as the bidding started, and then accelerated, when two prominent men of wealth were left to try to outbid each other. That they were competitors couldn’t have been more obvious, but finally one gave it up and shrugged to his companions, letting the other man have the artwork at a price John couldn’t even fathom paying.

At least tonight was to benefit the poor and these people did do a lot of giving. Still, their pockets seemed lined with gold, and he knew they spent money even more lavishly on their own families and their wants and desires. And that they spent in order to impress each other. In their bidding, their attire and the carriages they arrived in—it was all about outdoing each other.

Everyone mingled and helped themselves to refreshments in between biddings. John circulated among them, listening for anything that might be news worthy. Mostly he heard how many of them would be leaving for their summer homes for the season. The Vanderbilts were very genial when they spotted him.

“I’m enjoying the articles you’ve been writing, Mr. Talbot,” Cornelius Vanderbilt II said. “You’re doing a very good job.”

“Thank you, sir. I’m hoping to do more.” John was a little surprised at how easy it was to talk to them. Mrs. Vanderbilt told him they’d be going to The Breakers for the rest of the season. He’d heard much about their summer place and would have liked the chance to compare the two houses. Could people really afford more than one home like this? And why would they want to?

He couldn’t really even imagine the kind of life they lived. As he went from one cluster of people to another, he overheard conversations about the newest designers in Europe and how much one woman had paid to have her drawing room redone. Another had no problem mentioning the amount she’d paid for the gown she had on.

Forget bidding on the art, the dress alone would set one back a mighty penny. And then...another man was talking about the trip he and his wife were taking to Europe. They’d be gone until the fall. Perhaps he had business dealings there. Many of these people had relatives still living in those countries, so there was that. At least that’s what he assumed. It might be nice to be so wealthy one could gallivant all over the world, but when one had places like this, why wouldn’t they just want to stay and enjoy the comforts of home?

He looked across the room to find Elizabeth speaking to one of the younger Vanderbilts. For having never met them, she seemed quite at ease, but then she always appeared that way, no matter whom she was with. He hoped she was getting some good tidbits from them.

Another item came up for bid and everyone quieted as the offering started on a painting that was so large, John knew it would only fit in a home like this.

The starting offer was more than the last item had gone for and he tried not to show his amazement as the bids continued to climb into four and then five figures. He couldn’t help but overhear one gentleman say to another that his wife had her eye on that painting. The man stuck with it until his wife had that painting and John couldn’t help but notice the smug look on her face as she looked at the wife of the last man who couldn’t, or wouldn’t, come up with the highest offer.

And he couldn’t help but be proud for the woman who would go home without the painting as she grabbed her husband’s arm and patted it. “You tried.”

Whether it was forced or natural, the smile she gave the woman who’d take the painting home that night was bright enough to have her turning away in a huff. Had it been worth that much money to be put in one’s place? Somehow he doubted it.

He quickly wrote down the winning couple’s name and the name of the painting they won before moving away and mingling with the crowd once more, working himself nearer to his and Elizabeth’s designated meeting place. After the next item, they could be on their way out of here.

* * *

One more item and she and John could meet up and go on that ride around Central Park. She was happy that this charity event was bringing in so much money—the wealthy who’d been invited to it could well afford it. But there was no doubt that many were here only because Cornelius Vanderbilt II had invited them. And if not for the need to have an event like this covered by the papers and her magazine, she knew that she and John would never have been allowed in.

But just as they liked to help the less fortunate, many of the wealthy were happy to let the world know when they did. Perhaps rightly so, but if at all possible, she’d rather do her good works anonymously.

She’d mingled with many of the younger set of the family who seemed to go to great lengths to get their own names to appear in the news. Elizabeth supposed she could see how a younger member of such a large and distinguished family might be afraid they’d get lost in the shadow of those who were regularly written about.

All it really did was reinforce her determination to be independent and not have to live that kind of life. She was so consumed by her thoughts she barely noticed when the next item came up for bid. She hoped John had taken notes, as it was over rather quickly. She looked around and saw him heading in her direction when suddenly she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Say, don’t I know you?”

Her heartbeat seemed to come to a standstill as she recognized the man as one she’d seen at more than one event in the past year. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Elizabeth Anderson and I write for the
Delineator.
”

“Oh...sorry. I took you for someone else.” He let go of her arm and Elizabeth sighed in relief. She wanted to laugh. Obviously, a woman who worked for a living wasn’t someone he’d have an association with. She couldn’t quite contain her chuckle as she turned to find John hurrying up to her.

“You looked upset a moment ago. Was that man bothering you?”

“He thought I was someone else. Did you get notes on that last bid? I hate to admit it, but I was woolgathering and I somehow missed it all.”

He held up his notebook and grinned. “I did. Come on. Let’s get out of here and I’ll tell you what it was on our drive through Central Park.”

Needing no further persuasion, she took the arm he held out and they made their way out of the room.

* * *

As the hack John procured took off from the Vanderbilt mansion, they turned to each other, smiled and sighed.

“I truly hope this is the last society function I have to cover,” John said, settling into the corner of the seat. “I know these people do help the poor and are very good to give some of their money to charity. But still, that home... I can’t understand why any family, even a large one, would need over a hundred rooms in a home.”

Neither did Elizabeth. But her home had several more rooms than it needed, too. Enough so that she felt very lonely when her father had been gone and it was just her and the housekeeper. She could remember hearing all manner of sounds at night and being afraid to go investigate.

Mrs. Harper had always reassured her it was just the house settling. Still, as a young girl, she remembered hiding under the covers when her father wasn’t in town.

When she grew older, she’d prayed for the Lord to calm her fears before going to sleep. But the loneliness never really went away. And her home was nowhere near the size of the Vanderbilt mansion. But it was big, and if tonight had done anything, it had reinforced the need to tell John who she really was.

“Elizabeth? You’re awfully quiet. Is anything wrong?”

“No, not really. There is just something I must tell you and I’m not sure how you’ll take it.”

“That sounds ominous.” He sat up a little straighter on the seat.

“It’s not really. It’s just something you don’t know about me and I—”

“You aren’t going to tell me you’re related to the Vanderbilts, are you?”

She couldn’t contain her giggle at that thought. “No. I’m not related to the Vanderbilts. But, I— John, there’s no other way to say it. I come from a wealthy family, too. Not nearly as wealthy at the Vanderbilts or Astors, but—”

He was quiet in his corner of the seat and she held her breath as she waited for his reaction. He looked out the window of the carriage and rubbed his chin.

Was he angry that she was only now revealing who she was?

“Ah, that explains it,” he finally said.

“Explains what?”

“Why you’ve always seemed different from the rest of us, why you seemed so comfortable talking to everyone at the Vanderbilts tonight. Why you seem to be comfortable in any situation.”

“I wasn’t all that comfortable tonight. I’ve just learned to hide my nervousness well. I don’t really know these people. I’m from Boston and...my real name is Elizabeth Anderson Reynolds. My father’s name is Edward and...”

John whistled. “You do come from a wealthy family. I’m familiar with that name. But if that’s the case, then why are you working for a living and living at Heaton House? Did you get cut out of the will?”

“I don’t know. If so, my father hasn’t told me. But he wasn’t happy with me for wanting to live here in New York City, so it’s possible.” He might as well know it all. “However, I do have an inheritance from my grandmother on my mother’s side of the family. That’s what made it possible for me to come here, to make a life of my own. Well, that and the fact that my father didn’t like me helping...” No. There was no need to make John think less of her father. “He worried about my going into some of the poorer sections of town and I like helping people. Anyway, he sent me to my aunt in hopes I’d learn what a lady of wealth should do with her time. But he forgot that I take after my mother and my aunt. My aunt understood my need to be independent and make my own way, and my desire to help others. She sympathized with me and with her help, Papa finally let me stay here.”

“I see.”

His tone was somber and Elizabeth’s chest was heavy. He sounded disappointed and she supposed she really couldn’t blame him.

“I wish you’d told me all this earlier. Why did you feel the need to—”

“I just wanted to be one of Mrs. Heaton’s boarders. I was afraid you’d all avoid me and I wanted so badly to fit in. And then I was afraid that once you found out, you’d all feel I’d somehow betrayed your trust in me. I’m so sorry...” Her voice broke and she turned her head to look out of the window so that John couldn’t see the tears in her eyes. She could hear movement and knew that he’d moved closer to her.

* * *

He’d heard the sincerity in her voice and he slid nearer to her, wanting to comfort her. “Elizabeth, there’s nothing to forgive. You don’t owe me any explanations. You’d fit in at Heaton House no matter what your name was. I do wish you’d let us know from the start, but I suppose I can understand why you didn’t.”

She hadn’t set out to mislead them. And he well understood not wanting people to know every little thing about you. He hadn’t told anyone about the humiliation he’d felt when his dreams had crashed around him. But this wasn’t an easy thing to accept—that Elizabeth was a wealthy woman. Even though she wanted to be like the rest of them, she wasn’t. She had that wealth to fall back on and she’d lived a very different kind of life. Would she want to go back to it eventually? And what if she longed for things a normal working fellow couldn’t give her?

“Then, are we still friends?”

Oh, what he felt for this woman was more than friendship. There was no denying it. But he had even more reason to distance himself from her now. It’d been hard enough to think he might have a chance with her before, but now—well, he’d vowed never to fall for another woman—especially a wealthy one. And even if he wanted to change his mind, she
was
wealthy and that presented a whole other set of problems. There was no way he could hope to—

“John?” She’d turned to him and he could see tears in her eyes, one escaping to run down her cheek.

He reached out to brush it away. “Oh, Elizabeth, of course we’re still friends. I hope we’ll always be friends.” With all that was in him, he hoped that. For that was all they ever could be now.

“So do I.”

Her eyes were sorrowful and he felt the need to reassure her again. He cupped her jaw in his hand and lowered his head. He kissed her on the cheek—as a friend might do—even though what he truly wished was to kiss her lips. He leaned his forehead against hers. “We’ll be friends for as long as you want us to be.”

That much he could promise. For he wanted this woman in his life and if friends was all they could be, so be it. The rest of the drive through central Park wasn’t quite what he’d dreamed it might be, but he was glad to be with Elizabeth.

“When are you going to tell the others?”

“As soon as I can. It’s been so hard these past few months, realizing I’d made things worse by not just saying who I was from the start. I became afraid someone would recognize me at one of the society functions we’ve covered or that I’ve helped my aunt with and—”