Grave Consequences (Grand Tour Series #2) (20 page)

I lifted my chin, startled. Because it made me feel settled, truly settled among them, for the first time, even if it wasn’t all perfect.

~William~

With every story Cora told, Will fell a little more in love with her. They stayed at that kitchen table until dawn lit the sky, eating her delectable meatloaf and mashed potatoes with dark gravy. Listening spellbound to her stories of wading into waist-high snows, a rope tied around her, to tend to the animals. Hoeing trenches in the soil until her hands blistered and bled. Helping her father break a mustang and breaking her arm and clavicle instead. “We never could make that horse take a saddle,” she said with a regretful smile.

Lil and Vivian’s mouths fell open so far that Will idly considered tossing bits of bread in them. The rest were equally intrigued, speaking only to ask her another question. It was as if they were afraid that Cora would remember her place and clam up again, when they wanted to know more. Hugh continued to look at her as though she were an exotic animal he’d like to capture and keep as a pet. Felix had nothing but respect in his eyes. Likely the Kensingtons and Morgans had never met anyone who had worked as hard as Cora had in life other than servants, and they had never stopped them to ask what their lives were like.

Art, too, asked question after question, keeping the stories going and retrieving his Kodak so he could take her photograph by the stove.

“Honestly, Art, why would you want a photograph of me in the kitchen when you’ve taken so many of us out and about? Among all the fine landmarks we’ve seen? And look at me. I’m a mess,” she said, touching the messy knot of hair on her head.

“You’re as beautiful as ever,” he said, already finding her in the viewer. “Charming. Pick up that wooden spoon, would you?”

“We’re resorting to props now?” she asked with a wry grin.

“It’s part of the story, don’t you think?” he said, clicking the button attached to a wire. He straightened and wound the film. “One more?”

But then the cook came in for a cup of morning coffee, in a fresh dress and clean apron. When she spied what had happened to her kitchen, she cried,
“Qu’est-ce que c’est que ça? Qu’est-ce qui s’est passé ici? Pourquoi est-ce que tu n’es pas venu me chercher?” What is this? What has happened here? Why did you not come and fetch me?
The cook turned on them then, fury in her eyes. “Out! Out!” she said in English. Sharing surreptitious glances, they hurriedly slunk out of the kitchen as if they were young children caught with their hands in the cookie jar. It mattered not that they were paying to rent the mansion. The kitchen was clearly her domain, and they’d entered uninvited.

Cora paused beside Will in the doorway and looked back. “Ask her if I would be permitted to stay and help clean up, would you?”

Will hesitated as the woman grumbled, carrying the pot of dried-up mashed potatoes to the sink.
“S’il vous plait, est-ce que nous pouvons aider à nettoyer?”

“Non! Out! Out!”

Will lifted his brows and hurried out and down the hall. The others were saying their good nights at the stairs and separating, all likely recognizing their weariness and the late hour. Will reached in his pocket for his watch and groaned. It was five in the morning. They had only a few hours before they were to board a train north, likely all bleary-eyed and grumbling.

But he wouldn’t have traded it for anything. To eat Cora’s food. To hear her stories. To see how she captured her siblings and their friends just by living her life well. He itched to grab her hand and pull her into an empty room and kiss her. To hold her and hope for the chance at forever. He had a vision of a small city apartment, and Cora making her meatloaf—just big enough for two.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

~Cora~

We boarded the train a few hours later, all of us with dark shadows beneath our eyes from our late night. I wished I could sit beside Will. That we were traveling alone—just the two of us. I daydreamed about him putting his arm around me, and me nestling in to doze. But instead, I pivoted on my heel and sat where I knew I’d be expected—beside Vivian, across from the girls—feeling his eyes following my every move.

All the men and I were on alert, searching each face, ready for our enemies this time around if they dared to come near again.

“I must admit,” Vivian said, “your meal last night was exactly what I craved. It tasted of…America.”

“It did,” I returned with a smile. “Thank you for joining me.”

“I haven’t stepped inside a kitchen since I was but a bit of a girl,” she confessed in a whisper, “tended by my governess.”

“Never?” I asked, trying to determine if she was joking. But she was serious. “What would you do if your cook took ill? Or you found yourself alone, without aid?”

Vivian laughed. “Well, I suppose I’d simply have to survive on what I could until another cook could be found.”

I stared at her a moment. Even after these weeks together, these children of privilege could at times take my very breath away with their assumptions. So much they took for granted. “Or I could teach you how to cook a few items so that you might never find yourself at a complete loss.”

There was conflict in her eyes. Part of her clearly wanted to accept my offer; part of her clearly thought it was preposterous.

“Consider it, Vivian,” I said, before she could say no. “I think you’d make a decent cook.” She was certainly particular enough.…

“I’d like a lesson!” Nell said, her round cheeks ruddy with excitement.

“As would I!” Lil said.

“Good,” I said, as the train whistle blew and, a moment later, the train began to move out of the station. “At least I have two students. Where shall we hold our lesson? Switzerland? Austria? Or Italy?” I grinned, thinking about what was ahead of us yet, and feeling as privileged and audacious as Vivian for once. What a gift this trip was. How wide my world had become in the space of a few short weeks.

I closed my eyes, thinking through all we’d seen, all we’d experienced…and again and again, my thoughts came to rest on Will. Will in Montana. On board the
Olympic
. Dancing with him in England. Crossing the Channel, the wind in his hair…

On and on again, my memories of him went through my mind, like Arthur’s photographs, until I at last gave in to sleep.

I awakened hours later as we neared Lyon. Vivian had fallen asleep too, as had the girls across from us. Vivian yawned and stretched, both of us feeling a bit awkward when we realized we’d been dozing for so long. But then we realized the men had done the same. The night before had taxed us all. There was an odd intimacy in it that I equally chafed against and wanted to embrace. I stared out at the passing farms, a man driving a wagon piled high with hay. Did I want to be a part of this family and their friends…or not? More and more, I found connection and ties with them. But was that a good or bad thing?

And if I settled in more deeply with them, where did that leave me and my parents? I stared out the window, thinking of Mama and Papa, cascading between concern for my papa and his health—especially after seeing Stuart alive and well one day and then gone the next—and what I had to admit as anger that lingered still toward my mama. She’d lied to me for so long about who I was…which I understood in a certain measure, and not at all in the next. When we were reunited, there’d be much to discuss.

I stared out the window and thought about that some more. How much of my reluctance to return home and face my parents’ duplicity drove my desire to stay on this tour? And how much did my mad desire to stay near Will keep me from dissolving in fear that we hadn’t left our kidnappers behind in Nîmes for good? Was I even in my right mind? And yet, and yet…for the first time in a long while I felt steady. Strong. More myself.
Me
again, somehow.

Will rose and stood in the aisle, supporting himself by holding onto the nearest seat as the train car continued to lurch and sway. He waited until he had our attention. “We’re approaching Lyon,” he pronounced it the French way, as
lee-uh
, which I found exceptionally attractive, “a venerable old city with, yet again, Roman roots. As we travel I suspect you are beginning to get a sense of the scope of the Roman Empire. At one time it stretched all the way from Britain across Europe, from southern Egypt to the Middle East.

“Lyon was a natural trade city situated on the banks of not one but two rivers, and, like Paris, she is divided into separate
arrondissements
, or neighborhoods. The city has the modest remains of a Roman theater, but nothing as grand as what we saw in Nîmes or what we’ll see ahead of us in Italia. But this city was the starting point of all central Roman roads throughout Roman Gaul.”

“Enough with the history, William,” Hugh called. “Are there cabarets?”

Will cast him a warning look and went on. “Lyon is famous for her
cathedral
,” he emphasized the word, “the lovely St. John, known as St. Jean here, with medieval bones; the sprawling park—the largest in any city in France; and the Lumière brothers, who’ve made such advancements in film.…” Will continued his tour lecture as we drew near, speaking of another cathedral situated high on a hill, of the fact that the Roman emperor Caracalla once resided here, and of the funicular railway in Lyon—the world’s first—that we would ride tomorrow. But as he spoke, I kept waiting for him to meet my gaze, feeling a thrill run down my arms each time he did, no matter how briefly.

Will closed the hotel door quietly and was surprised to find me in the hall, waiting. “Cora!” he said, half smiling. His eyes shifted down the empty hall.

“It’s all right,” I said, giving him a conspiratorial grin. “Everyone is changing for supper.”

“Good.” He crossed his arms as if he didn’t trust himself not to touch me. Leaning against the wall, he stared at me as if he wanted to memorize every inch of my face. “Cora, are you well? I mean, since the attack in Nîmes, I’ve so longed to—”

“I’m fine, Will. Truly.”

“When I think of what might’ve happened had Art not come along…”

“But he did. It’s okay. And perhaps now they will give up pursuit of us and move on.”

“Or become more determined than ever. Promise me you’ll take great care to stay with the rest of the group.”

“I promise.”

“Because if anything happened to you…” he whispered, leaning so close to me I could feel his breath in my hair. “After losing my uncle…Cora, I—”

I leaned back and searched his eyes with mine, hanging on his words, and then abruptly straightened, belatedly seeing Andrew and Vivian reach the top of the stairs and turn in our direction. They came down the hall toward us, arm in arm, and I wished for the hundredth time that Will and I could do the same.

“What news, William? Did you make arrangements for supper?” Andrew asked.

“Indeed. They’re expecting us about eight. I’d advise you to take advantage of our afternoon respite and catch up on some of the rest we lost last night.”

I reluctantly parted ways from Will with Vivian, having no tangible excuse to linger, and we chatted about what we planned to wear that night. It seemed surreal, my sister inquiring about which dress I might don, when two months ago she could barely tolerate being in the same room with me. But try as I might, all I could think about was Will and seeing him again.