California Romance (59 page)

S
IERRA
S
ONGBIRD
S
OARS

Ellie let the paper slip through her fingers to the rich Oriental rug. She had run the gamut of emotions while reading it. Joy. Excitement. Gratitude for the reporter’s kind words about her singing. The thrill of knowing God was using her to touch lives. But the comment about a wedding and church bells destroyed Ellie’s pleasure and filled her with disgust. She jumped from her chair and faced Beryl.

“Why did the reporter have to spoil all the nice things he said by hinting at a romance between Edward and me?” she cried. “It isn’t true, Miss Westfield. Edward is my friend, nothing more.”

Beryl’s eyes narrowed into cat’s eyes. “If that’s true, then why has he been making me a laughingstock by escorting you all over the city?”

“We always have a chaperone,” Ellie told her. “Maria or one of the other maids accompanies us.”

Beryl brushed her comment aside. “Even if I believed you, which I don’t, it doesn’t matter. My friends mock me because Edward is never available when I want him.” She drew herself up to her full height and glowered down at Ellie. “Edward has also begun to hint that perhaps we aren’t suited for one another. I pleased him well enough until you came.” Venom dripped from every word.

Snippets of a conversation from weeks earlier popped into Ellie’s mind:

“Well?” Beryl’s harsh voice sent the memory flying, but not before Ellie’s heart leaped. She’d come to like Edward—first because he reminded her of Josh, then for his dedication to helping her succeed. If he was having second thoughts about joining his life with Beryl, it was all to the good.

Ellie carefully hid her elation at the thought. “I have told you the truth, Miss Westfield. I have nothing more to say. Now will you please leave my room?”

Beryl’s face went chalk white. She raised one hand as if to strike. Then she said, “Watch your step. To quote that Bible you so piously hide behind while trying to worm your way in where you don’t belong, ‘Pride goeth before a fall.’”

“It’s actually ‘Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall,’” Ellie told her.

The unwelcome guest gave Ellie another scorching look and marched out. Shaken, Ellie sank back into her chair. “Lord, what am I doing here?”

“Trust Me.”

Ellie buried her face in her hands and cried out, “I do trust You, but it’s hard! I haven’t done anything to deserve such treatment.”

“Neither did My Son.”

The silent reminder poured healing into Ellie’s hurting heart. She continued to sit by the window and look out into the gray day, taking stock of her present life. At times, her St. Louis childhood seemed distant and unreal. Even her years on the Diamond S were gradually losing their luster when compared with the glory of rising from obscurity to being sought after. Only her love for her family and Joshua remained constant.

“I’ll enjoy it while it lasts,” she vowed. “Someday Joshua and I will be reunited. In the meantime, I’m saving money in case Tim needs it. Also, when the time comes, I won’t have to go to Joshua like a penniless beggar girl.”

Joy welled into Ellie’s throat and rippled out. “I’m also helping Josh, even though he doesn’t know it. Lord, thank You for making Mr. Stanhope so understanding. When I told him I wanted to send my tithe to Christ the Way Church anonymously he arranged it. I’m sure he never said a word to Mrs. Stanhope or Edward or they would have asked why I’d do such a thing.”

The solemn chime of a clock put an end to Ellie’s rejoicing. She’d be late for her music lesson if she didn’t hurry. She washed her hands and face, tidied her shining hair, and ran downstairs, carrying her hooded cloak. To her dismay, Beryl stood with Edward in the great hall. Her rigid stance showed she still burned with anger.

Edward looked up. “Beryl reminded me of an important engagement this afternoon, Ellie. She’s helping Mother with the arrangements for the benefit concert, and of course they need my expert advice. We’ll drop you off on the way, but I don’t know how long it will take. I’ve told our carriage driver to pick you up after your lesson. Sorry.”

“There’s no need to be sorry.” Ellie slipped into her cloak and followed them out to the carriage. She climbed in, being careful to leave the place beside Edward for Beryl. When they reached her music teacher’s studio, she stepped down and said, “Be careful. It looks like the fog is getting worse.”

“We will. I’ll see you at home later,” Edward called as they trotted away.

Ellie hurried inside, glad to get out of the penetrating moisture that threatened to soak through her heavy cloak. She greeted her teacher and the lesson began. Partway through, however, a message came. Her instructor read it and blanched.

“I have to leave, Miss Sterling. A dear friend has taken ill and needs me.”

“It’s all right,” Ellie assured him. “I can wait here. The Stanhope carriage will come for me at the regular time.”

He looked dubious but apologized again and left.

Ellie busied herself with straightening piles of music that lay askew, but soon tired of the task. Why stay in this empty studio when it was less than a mile from home? She had time to walk and be there long before the driver left to pick her up.

Once outside, she hesitated. “Don’t be foolish,” she told herself. “You can’t get lost between here and Nob Hill.” Ellie pulled the hood of her cloak over her hair, clutched its voluminous folds around her body against the encroaching cold, and confidently started up the street.

All too soon, the fog thickened. It changed to a drizzle. Its eerie
drip-drip
added to the chilling atmosphere. Ellie increased her pace, anxious to get out of the murk that swallowed up the street signs. A few blocks farther on, she murmured, “Better to wait in the studio than in this pea soup.” She shivered with cold and turned to retrace her steps. Her foot slipped on a pebble. Ellie tried to regain her balance, but fell, hitting her head on the cobblestone street.

Dizzy and disoriented, Ellie staggered to her feet and rubbed her throbbing head. She tried to remember whether she should be walking up the hill or down. Did it really matter? If she kept walking, she’d get somewhere. Yet each uncertain step brought new fear. Where
was
she?

She rounded a corner. Dim lights flickered through the fog curtain. Thank goodness! Light meant help lay just ahead. Ellie broke into a run. More lights appeared, still faint, but enough to show alleys on both sides of the street. Stairs led to second and third stories. Dark, shadowy forms huddled in gaping doorways. Muffled voices speaking a language Ellie didn’t understand floated through the fog.

She stopped short and peered through the gloom at a brightly colored banner with strange black symbols. Her heart hammered with fear. Confused by the fog, she had stumbled into Chinatown—the last place she should be alone with night coming on.

Yellow slave traders. The scourge of San Francisco. Opium dens. Children of Darkness. Many good people in Chinatown, but a stain on the city
.

Ellie’s stomach lurched. She turned to flee, but a heavy hand caught her by the shoulder. A disembodied voice gloated, “I’ve got you now. ’Tis about time.”

Ellie tried to wrench free. She could not. She tried to scream. Only a squeak came out of her constricted throat, so muffled by the fog no one except her captor would ever hear her.
Dear God, why didn’t I stay at the studio where I belonged?

T
he grip on Ellie’s shoulder tightened. The fog-hoarsened voice ordered, “Don’t try to fly, little birdie. You and your kind are for belongin’ in the paddy wagon, not on the streets.”

Your kind? Paddy wagon? What did he mean?
Ellie twisted around and peered into her captor’s face. She sagged with relief. Enough light shone on brass buttons marching down the burly figure’s chest to identify him. A policeman. The biggest, most forbidding policeman she’d ever seen. Surely he’d get her out of her predicament and back to the Stanhopes!

A none-too-gentle shake brought doubt hard on the heels of Ellie’s relief. “Is it the cat’s got your tongue?”

Ellie’s mind churned. Icy fear licked at her veins. Her body shook. What if this policeman with the iron grip was a devil in disguise? One of the police officers the Chinese smugglers bribed to wink at their dark deeds? Terror turned Ellie legs to overcooked spaghetti. Only the firm hold on her shoulder kept her from tumbling to the wet cobblestone street.

The policeman leaned down until his broad, scowling face was level with Ellie’s. He gave a muffled exclamation and released her, but caught her with both hands when she stumbled and nearly fell. “Miss Sterling? Faith and mercy, why are you for bein’ in such a place?”

The rich Irish voice dispelled fear, but Ellie tried twice before she could give a disjointed explanation. “The fog. I lost my way. Thank God you’re here!”

“I’ll also be for thankin’ God. Beggin’ your pardon, but with the hood over your head and you bein’ out on such a night I mistook you for…uh—” He broke off.

Ellie wrinkled her forehead. “How did you recognize me?”

The policeman’s brogue deepened. “Thanks to the
Chronicle
, everyone’s for knowin’ the Sierra Songbird. Come along, colleen. You’re safe with Clancy. I’ll for shure be havin’ you home shortly.”

Ellie had to run to keep up with her rescuer’s long strides that gobbled up the distance between Chinatown and Nob Hill. When Clancy delivered her to the Stanhope mansion, she impulsively said, “I didn’t know there were Irish guardian angels, but you were mine tonight.”

Clancy’s laugh rang out, warming Ellie in spite of the chill night. “I’ve niver been called an angel before, but I’m glad ’twas me who found you.” He scowled and became the grim policeman who had frightened her. “Don’t you be for runnin’ around alone at night,
mavourneen
. There are spalpeens in this city who would delight in clipping our songbird’s wings, cagin’ her, and holdin’ her for ransom.”

Ellie shuddered at his warning. “I promise.” She held out her hand, and Clancy engulfed it in his. “Will you come in?” she invited when the door swung open and Edward stepped out. She could see Mr. and Mrs. Stanhope standing in the hall behind him.

Clancy shook his head. “I’m on duty.” He raised his voice and called, “She’s for bein’ safe,” then respectfully touched his hat and vanished into the fog.

“Ellie? Where have you been? Why was that policeman with you?” Edward took her arm and led her into the hall. The heavy door closed behind them. Light from the chandelier in the great hall streamed down, a welcome contrast to the dark, miserable night lurking outside the mansion. It showed the worry lines etched in the three faces turned toward her.

Suddenly aware of her disheveled appearance, Ellie sensed her nerves starting to unravel. If she related the Chinatown incident now she’d be forced to run the gauntlet of horrified questions and relive her terror. She couldn’t handle it. Ellie bit her lips to hide their trembling. “My instructor had to leave early. I started to walk home but lost my way. A policeman found me and brought me home. Please excuse me. I need a hot bath and dry clothes.” She slid out of her sodden cloak and handed it to Maria, who had come into the hall with a concerned look on her pretty face.

“Go draw a bath for Miss Ellie,” Mrs. Stanhope told the maid.

“Sí.” Maria disappeared with the cloak. By the time Ellie slowly trudged upstairs, the Mexican girl had already poured a generous amount of fragrant bath salts in the claw-footed tub and stood waiting to take away Ellie’s wet clothing when she shed it.

“Gracias,” Ellie told her.

Maria’s eyes sparkled with fun. “Senorita, you look more like a robin with its feathers ruffled from a windstorm than our songbird!”

“I feel that way, too.” Ellie yawned.

“Do not fall asleep in the bath,” Maria warned. “Senora Stanhope says dinner will not be served until you come. Senor Marvin Stanhope is to be a guest.”

She whisked away, leaving Ellie to luxuriate in the scented water.