Her Wyoming Man (9 page)

Bess didn’t reach for them. “You shouldn’t be seen talkin’ to me. Your friends wouldn’t like it none.”

“I don’t care what they think. Now take these, please. I know you need them,” Ella said. “Please.”

Slowly Bess reached for the package. She stood clutching the bundle to her breast and stared at Ella for a long uncomfortable moment. Reaching into the small drawstring bag hanging from her forearm, she pulled out a coin and held it toward Ella.

“It’s a gift,” Ella said with a shake of her head.

Bess blinked, but she held Ella’s gaze for a long moment. Finally, she asked, “Why?”

“Because not everyone is like them,” Ella answered.

Something shifted behind Bess’s eyes.
Gratitude.

The emotion was painful for Ella to see. It was obvious that no one in town had treated Bess kindly in a long time. Obvious…and wrong. Ella turned and walked away.

Chapter Eleven

E
lla hadn’t been this nervous on her wedding day. Back then she hadn’t known how important it was to fit in and not make a poor impression for Nathan’s sake. She changed her dress three times, finally satisfied with her choice. The dress she deemed appropriate had a close-fitting midsection made of deep blue velvet, and the bodice had been designed to appear as though swags of pale aqua crepe de chine crisscrossed over her bosom. A full skirt of the same fabric had an overskirt adorned with gauze roses draping to a point in the front. Another rose perched on her left shoulder.

She wore a square sapphire on a silk ribbon around her neck and matching earbobs. Sheer gloves that matched the blue velvet came up over her elbows. Over her glove on her right hand, she wore a sapphire ring. She had fastened matching roses in her curled and upswept hair.

Ready now, Ella tiptoed into the nursery. Christopher’s and Robby’s eyes were closed, but Grace widened hers in admiration.

Ella tucked the covers up under her chin. “Good night, little one.”

Grace slipped her hand from under the covers to touch Ella’s earbob, and then gave her a shy smile.

Mrs. Shippen sat in the nearby rocker, waiting for Grace to fall asleep. She smiled and encouraged Ella to have a nice evening. Descending the stairs, Ella joined Nathan in the foyer. He studied her with what she hoped was appreciation.

“Is it inappropriate?” she asked.

He found his voice. “You are the most exquisite woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. No one will ever notice Phoebe’s stunning flower arrangements once you’ve arrived.”

“I want you to be proud of me.”

“I am the most fortunate man in all of Wyoming,” he told her. He glanced down. “I think your boot has come untied.”

“Oh, beans.” She leaned forward to look. “I tied them after I had my gloves on.”

“Allow me.” He bent to one knee in his dashing black suit and motioned for her to give him her foot.

She raised her hem and complied. The bronze kid boot extended five inches above her ankle and was open down the front, with only silk lacing holding it on her foot and leg. The smart heel was all the fashion rage when she’d ordered them. Nathan tied the sash with a secure bow and stood to offer her his arm. She unfolded the lace shawl she carried and he draped it around her shoulders.

She pointed. “There’s a hostess gift on the table.”

He picked up the wrapped package and tucked it under his arm. “It’s only a block, so I thought we’d walk,” he said. “Are you able?”

“Of course.”

“Sometimes ladies’ slippers have no soles, and the paving is brick all the way.”

“These boots have a sturdy sole for just that reason.” She was glad for the time to unwind, actually. She would enjoy the walk and the refreshing evening air. Nathan took her hand, and all she could think of was the rainy night she’d spent in his bed. She glanced upward. Not a cloud in the starry night sky.

At the Crandalls’ a servant took Ella’s shawl at the door and ushered them along a hall and through a wide open doorway into an enormous room already milling with guests.

“Phoebe Crandall, dear,” said the woman who rushed to greet them. “This is my husband, Richard.”

Richard took her hand and bent over it formally. “I heard Nathan had married a beauty, but I had no idea.”

Ella smiled politely. She didn’t like the way he looked at her. Not as much appreciative as leering. She withdrew her hand and took Nathan’s arm, handing Phoebe the gift at the same time. “A little something for you.”

“Thank you, dear.” She set the package on a table behind her, and Ella noticed the pile of gifts for the first time. “Help yourself to drinks along the side over there.”

Nathan led Ella farther into the room and pointed to the marble-topped liquor cabinet. “Would you like a drink?”

“Whatever you have.”

He poured deep red liquid into a glass and handed it to her. Nathan had been right about flowers. Every surface and even wall sconces overflowed with fragrant colorful blooms. Ella asked Nathan about each variety and he knew most of them. She couldn’t help thinking of Celeste and how pleased she’d been with the simple wildflowers Ella had picked for her.

“Hello, Ella.”

She turned from a floral display to recognize Lena. “I’ve been wondering how you were doing. I visited Celeste this week. She’s very happy with her rancher.”

“How nice for her.” Lena spared a thin smile, then cast a glance over her shoulder as though waiting for someone. A middle-aged gentleman joined her. He nodded at Nathan.

Nathan extended a hand. “Tom.”

The two men shook.

“This is my wife, Ella. Ella, Tom Bradbury.”

Ella exchanged pleasantries with the man under Lena’s watchful eye. “Are you enjoying our growing town?” he asked.

“It’s nice here,” she replied. “I like it already.”

“The theater will be finished by the end of summer,” he told her. “We’ll solicit operas and plays, and have nearly all the advantages of living East.”

“The theater has been Tom’s pet project,” Nathan informed her.

“We’re trying everything to attract more women and families,” the man replied. “Do you appreciate the opera?” he asked Ella. “Lena says she enjoys it.”

“I’ve never seen one.”

Lena met Ella’s gaze and held it as the men spoke.

“Will you excuse us for just a moment?” Tom asked. “I want Nathan to hear something from Leland Howard.” The two men walked away.

“Looks like you’ve landed on your feet,” Lena said once they were alone.

“Marrying Nathan, you mean? He’s an admirable man,” Ella replied. “Kind to his children and employees, and generous with his time and attention.”

“And of course
rich,
” Lena remarked.

At her dry tone, Ella glanced at her. “He’s well-off, yes.”

“I hope you’re using all of your resources to keep that man happy,” Lena said. “It would be a shame if he lost interest.”

Ella didn’t appreciate her remark, and she had no idea what provoked it. Lena’s animosity had no basis that she knew of. They’d lived under the same roof back in Dodge, eaten dinner at the same table, but had barely exchanged a dozen words until heading West with the group. Ella sipped from her glass, and Lena moved into the crowd.

Their hostess caught Ella’s eye and joined her. Phoebe raised her eyebrows. “I see you found a drink.”

“The sherry is good,” Ella told her.

“I take a sip or two myself now and then,” Phoebe said and then leaned forward. “But I wouldn’t let the other ladies see me doing it.”

Ella lowered her glass. “Is it unladylike?”

Phoebe tilted her head. “Some think it’s unbecoming.”

“Oh.” Ella looked for a spot to set her glass, and Phoebe took it from her and set it behind a potted fern. “Thank you. I’ve been concerned about making a mistake like that. I don’t want to reflect poorly on my husband.”

“You couldn’t reflect poorly if you tried,” Phoebe said with a sincere smile. “You’re far too lovely and well mannered.” She gestured to a doorway. “Would you like to see my latest project?”

Phoebe led her into a lavishly decorated room that held a piano, several upholstered chairs and an array of potted plants and artwork on wrought iron stands. Every surface was covered with fringed and lace scarves, ornate frames, small fabric boxes and cut glass bowls holding flower petals and leaves.

“This screen,” she told Ella, “is what I’ve been working on for weeks.”

The object was a hinged folding screen. Hundreds of colorful images of ladies and flowers had been affixed in a detailed collage. “I covered the chair seats over the winter.”

Ella noticed the needlepoint designs Phoebe referred to, as well as pillows adorned with intricately stitched flowers. She couldn’t imagine the time it had taken to do all this. “You made all of these?”

The woman nodded and drew Ella’s attention to an ornament made out of shells and broken bits of blue-and-white china. “I gave several of these for Christmas gifts last year.”

Ella wasn’t sure what it was, but she nodded. “How unique.”

“What do you work on in the evenings?” Phoebe asked.

Ella mostly busied herself with seducing her husband, but she was sure Phoebe didn’t want to hear about that. “I’m barely unpacked,” she replied.

“Well, of course.” Phoebe gestured to the screen again. “I have scraps and pictures left if you have a glue project in mind. What do you collect?”

Ella let her gaze touch on the bowls and baskets adorning surfaces. “A little of everything, much like you.”

“There you are!” Betsy Iverson came through the doorway with a swish of taffeta skirts. She stopped short and admired Phoebe’s folding screen. “It’s just lovely. How long has it taken you?”

“Since February.” Phoebe’s pride was obvious in the way she held her shoulders straight and tipped her head as though acknowledging a grand accomplishment.

Ella felt decidedly awkward and unknowledgeable about the things with which these women concerned themselves. Did Nathan expect her to be stitching chair seats and pasting pictures in every spare moment? He certainly didn’t expect her to do household chores, or perform sexual favors—what else remained?

“I’m afraid I’m still very new to being a wife.” Ella looked from Betsy to Phoebe. “May I defer to your wisdom and expertise to ask you a few questions?”

“Certainly,” Phoebe replied. “Have a seat. Betsy, join us, please.”

Ella settled herself on a chair. “What exactly are your duties in your households?”

The women were more than happy to oblige her by sharing their domestic responsibilities, which included overseeing the hired help, light cleaning, meal planning and dinner party preparations.

“The school where I grew up left me sorely unprepared,” Ella told them. “I have no idea how to do these things.”

“I can’t imagine why a girls’ academy would leave their young ladies in such a state. It shows a complete lack of foresight. You certainly must learn now that you’re a wife,” Betsy admonished her. “Your mission is to create a paradise of peace and purity. It’s the first duty of a wife to make home the most pleasant and happiest place on earth. We consult women’s journals for matters of fashion, etiquette, furnishings, needlework, motifs and table settings.”

“There are guidebooks, as well,” Phoebe told her. “I’ll loan you mine.” She gave Ella a long look. “Betsy’s right. It’s difficult to imagine a school for young ladies that didn’t teach the accomplishments necessary for home culture. I learned needlework and carried a workbag when I was but eleven years old.”

“Indeed, my education was sorely lacking,” Ella replied.

“What
are
your accomplishments, dear?” Betsy asked. “China painting?”

Ella’s heart sank.

“Musical talent?”

“Yes!” Ella said, jumping on the last. “I read and play music. I’ll be teaching the children as soon as the new piano arrives.”

The other women smiled and nodded at each other as though relieved they wouldn’t have to oust an uncouth guest from their presence.

“Other than that, I studied art and history and French.”

“You speak French?” Betsy asked.

Ella nodded. “Fluently.”

The women shared another look.

“I dare say you’ll be the only woman in Sweetwater with an accomplishment that refined,” Phoebe told her. “Minnie Oliver will be
green
with envy.”

“And yet,” Betsy said with a serious nod, “your home must be elegantly beautified. Unsightly unadorned bareness calls a woman’s character into question, and you mustn’t foist that indignity upon your husband.”

“Of course not,” Ella agreed. She glanced around, pained now by her ignorance. “I have no idea where to start.”

Betsy took a deep breath and released it. “We’ll help you.”

Ella gave her a grateful smile.

Phoebe gestured to the piano. “Why don’t you play for us?”

She had played for the guests at Madame Fairchild’s most evenings. She hadn’t imagined that playing for these people would be acceptable, but the women all looked at her with expectant smiles.

Nervous jitters erupted in her chest, but she moved to the piano bench.

Chapter Twelve

S
itting, Ella opened the heavy mahogany lid away from the keyboard. Phoebe owned an extraordinary instrument. Ella experienced a trill of pleasure just looking at it, and her fingers tingled with anticipation.

The hostess arranged several sheets of music so Ella could read the fronts. She didn’t recognize any, but she opened one titled “Silver Threads Among the Gold” and played. The women immediately sang along.

As the song finished and the women clapped, Ella tested a few B flat major chords, immediately recalling a concerto written by a German composer. It was as natural as breathing to flow into the piece. It had been weeks since she’d played, and immediately, she fell into the music, losing herself in the notes and the passion. It never failed to amaze her that the great composers had arranged chords and measures in such a remarkable fashion as to create breathtaking pieces.

Her first teacher had convinced Madame Fairchild that
Gabrielle
had surpassed his ability to teach her, and the woman had hired a man of Russian descent to instruct her for two whole years. The lessons and practice time had been Ella’s escape, and she’d soaked up every moment as a freedom to do something she enjoyed. After that, her punishment for not following Madame Fairchild’s strictest orders had been banishment from the music room.

Ella had always been obedient.

The last notes of the concerto faded away, and she took a deep breath. Collecting herself, she pressed her hands together and looked up.

Betsy had tears in her eyes. The other women appeared decidedly moved, as well. Clustered around them now were the rest of the party guests, who’d gathered unbeknownst to Ella as she played. Embarrassed by the attention, she blushed and found Nathan watching her with an astonished expression.

One or two at a time, the bystanders applauded, until everyone was clapping and nodding and giving her appreciative smiles.

“That was beautiful,” Mildred told her, and others agreed.

Blushing, Ella stood and made her way to Nathan. “I’d like a cup of punch.”

He led her to the other room and dipped a cup of cold liquid. “I had no idea you were so gifted.”

She thanked him and accepted the cup. “I told you I could play and teach.”

“But I had no idea,” he said again. “Many women play the piano, Ella. You are accomplished. I can’t even tell you how your music made me feel. As Mrs. Evans said, it was beautiful.”

For the first time, he’d truly seen her. Satisfaction flooded her being in a warm rush. She blinked hard to dispel the unaccustomed sting of tears. His appreciation for her musical ability meant more than a thousand compliments on her appearance. She was pleased to have made a positive impression on his friends, but Nathan’s high regard was all that actually mattered.

She drank punch and ate a few hors d’oeuvres, but the rest of the evening was a blur because of the emotion that had risen to the surface and now colored her every movement and thought.

During the walk home, Nathan entwined his fingers with hers and later kissed her tenderly as they stood in the dimly lit foyer. She’d only ever dreamed of a man looking at her the way Nathan did, with admiration and respect. She didn’t deserve either, but she wanted his esteem more than anything. For the first time she resented the necessity of her deception. She had no choice, however. She’d made a plan and followed it through, and without the lie, none of this would be hers. She had to live with the fabrication now. Somehow the ruse had to become her reality.

“Good night, Ella,” her husband said in a low voice and led her up the stairs. “Sleep well.”

Later, Ella couldn’t fall asleep for all the ideas and concerns whirling in her head. She got up, donned her silk robe and house slippers and lit lamps in the foyer and the parlor.

The surfaces were indeed bare of ornamentation, and there was nary a scrap of lace or a tassel in sight. She would soon be expected to entertain, and this home had to reflect good taste and refinement. It was imperative she create an atmosphere to reflect positively on her husband. What she chose to do now could have an impact on his nomination and election. She would not be a detriment.

Picking up one of the women’s journals that Phoebe had sent home with her, she skimmed pages, pausing to read advice that confirmed what she’d been told. “Woman should develop her artistic nature and give herself full scope in home adornment,” an expert advised. The items wives created were important symbols of domesticity and feminine nature.

“A woman occupied with sewing,” she read aloud, “while paying a call or sitting in front of the evening fire, presents a more captivating sight with her hands occupied by a bit of handiwork.”

Nathan would find her more captivating if she held a needle and thread. Ella closed the magazine and placed it on the divan beside her. Of course, a decent man expected a chaste and moral woman, one knowledgeable about homemaking and entertaining.

She wished it were morning, so she could go to town and get her arduous task underway. She was going to make herself appealing to Nathan if it took every bit of fortitude she possessed.

During the following week, Ella purchased supplies and ordered from the catalogs at the general store. Now, rather than ordering shoes and stockings and clothing, she ordered fringe scarves and lace, as well as small boxes and a folding screen to decorate. She set up a table at one end of Nathan’s study, and in the evenings, she worked on her various projects.

On Thursday she attended the choir rehearsal at church, and the other women welcomed her into their midst. One of the other girls who’d traveled to Sweetwater with their group attended, as well. Afterward when they met at Minnie Oliver’s for tea, Ella recognized Rita Thomas’s struggle to fit in.

Rita watched the others for her cues on how to prepare her tea and hold her china plate and cup. The poor girl’s hand trembled so harshly, tea sloshed over the rim of her cup and saucer and splashed on the arm of the chair.

Minnie went for a cloth and cleaning solvent, and Rita got tears in her eyes and set down her cup.

“It’s all right, dear,” Minnie told her. “No harm done, see?”

Rita nodded, but she excused herself and headed for the door.

The other women blinked in distress. Betsy looked to Ella. “I don’t mind talking to her, but perhaps since she’s your friend, you will be more of a comfort.”

Ella had only exchanged a handful of words with Rita before their trip to Wyoming, but she got up and made her way out to the porch.

Rita sat on a padded wicker chair, her hands twisted in her lap. She looked up with tears in her eyes as Ella approached. “I ruin everything I attempt.”

“The chair is fine. Anyone could have spilled a little tea.”

“You wouldn’t have.”

“Minnie feels badly that you’re upset.”

“I’m so nervous around these women,” she admitted. “I feel like a fraud every time they look at me or talk to me.”

“You’re not a fraud, Rita. You’re a respectable woman now. You belong here.”

Rita raised luminous brown eyes. “Do you feel as though you belong?”

“I’m determined to do whatever it takes to belong,” she replied. “This life is everything we ever wanted. And now it’s ours. Is your new husband a good man?”

Rita nodded and relaxed her features. “Yes. He’s a very good man.”

“Can you be happy with him?”

She gave Ella a watery smile. “Yes.”

Ella nodded. “Afternoon tea isn’t such a difficult task compared to Dodge, is it?”

“Not at all.” Rita took a handkerchief from her pocket and dried her eyes. “I just get so nervous around decent ladies. I feel like they can see right through me.”

“Well, they can’t. Put on your best smile and let’s have tea.” Ella got to her feet.

Rita linked her arm through Ella’s and they went back inside.

Minnie’s house was as effusively decorated as the Crandalls’. The walls and even the ceiling were papered with coordinating patterns and the drapes were held open with tasseled cords. Minnie displayed glass bottles and small portraits in oval frames on tables. She had a cabinet overflowing with heavy crystal stemware, and painted china plates hung in pleasing arrangements on the walls.

Ella studied the massive mantelpiece made of mirror and shelves that held china figurines. She hadn’t collected
near
enough bric-a-brac yet. “Rita, will you join me in a trip to the general store this afternoon?”

“Of course,” Rita replied, but she appeared surprised at the invitation.

Later, as they walked toward the main street, Ella asked, “Do you collect anything?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Have you seen the rooms full of things that these women own? I’ve studied, and a woman is expected to have all that. Anything less is uncouth.”

After first stopping at the bank, where Ella had set up an account upon her arrival, they visited three stores, making purchases and placing orders. When Rita hedged that she wasn’t comfortable spending her husband’s money on frippery, Ella asked her if she would mind spending Ansel Murdock’s money. Rita laughed and Ella paid for their purchases.

She arrived home to discover the piano had been delivered. To her amazement, it wasn’t an upright version, but a lovely black lacquered baby grand. It would be another day before someone came to tune it, so for now, she admired it and planned how she would arrange and decorate the room around it.

The following day, she made a trip back downtown to purchase tables and cabinets from the furniture maker. That night she asked Nathan if she could hire someone to help her rearrange furniture, and he agreed.

Nathan had no idea what had set his new wife to this project of redecorating their home, but if it made her happy, he was glad to see her at it. On Tuesday he entered the dining room for supper to discover a piece of furniture he didn’t recognize. An enormous mirror backed a massive sideboard with shelves down each side and across the top. Unfamiliar pieces of china and porcelain shone in the gaslight.

“Where did you acquire all of those dishes?” he asked as they ate supper.

“I ordered them. Do you like them?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

Two brass vases filled with dried grass stalks and tall peacock feathers sat on either side of the mirror. “The vases are unusual.”

“I bought a pair of blue-and-white porcelain vases, too, and I can’t make up my mind which I like more in here, these or the others. Tomorrow I’ll set out the others, so you can compare.”

Nathan glanced at Mrs. Shippen, and she met his eyes, but simply ate her supper without comment. He decided to do the same.

A few days later, he arrived home from work just as two young men were leaving. They greeted him politely and mopped sweat from their brows as they hurried down the stairs away from the house.

“Papa! Come look!” Christopher called from the far end of the entry hall.

Nathan hung his jacket on the newel post and hurried forward. The first thing he noticed was the fringed drapery hung across the doorway and fastened back to one side. The room that had been the sitting room had been transformed until he didn’t recognize it. The piano took up one corner, the area behind it filled with tall potted ferns on brass stands.

The furniture was grouped into small conversation areas, and half a dozen tables and new chairs had been added.

In the center of the room stood a round dark wood table with a base that resembled a harp. Several squat pedestals holding plaster busts topped the table. Two of the men he recognized as Chopin and Beethoven, and he assumed the others were composers, as well.

Wine-colored drapes swagged to each side of the windows, revealing panels of lace curtains. Every surface held collections of shells and ornate boxes. Grace stood transfixed watching a pair of china dancers spin inside an open music box.

His first inclination was to ask where it had all come from, but words escaped him, and his loss was probably for the best.

Ella straightened from showing Robby a bowl of marbles and approached Nathan with an expectant expression. “What do you think?”

“I—I hardly know what to think,” he replied truthfully, gathering his thoughts. “It’s so different.”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

She appeared so pleased with herself, and the attitude lit her lovely features and made her eyes twinkle. She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever set eyes on, and her smile could banish the clouds from a stormy sky. “I’m very surprised.”

He walked around the room, surveying each addition, and the obvious thought and expense that had gone into the furnishing and decorating. “You do have a flair,” he told her. He recognized the influence of their friends and neighbors. “I like it better than the Crandalls’.”

“You do?” In a spontaneous gesture, she leaned into him and titled her face upward.

He placed the backs of his fingers against her jaw and smiled down at her. “Yes, much better.”

She stood on tiptoes and he bent to give her a brief kiss. Back on her heels, she glanced at the children. “Let’s wash for supper, little ones.”

Grace took her hand, and Christopher followed her from the room. Robby raised both arms and chirped, “Up!”

Nathan swept him up and kissed his cheek. “What do you suppose we’re having for supper, little man?”

“Chicken.”

Nathan laughed and gave him a squeeze. All meat was chicken to Robby.

That evening after the children were tucked into bed, Nathan sat in his chair and observed Ella working on her folding screen project. “Where will that go?”

“The sitting room,” she replied.

As if one more thing would fit. He kept the thought to himself, as well as the fact that he owned a furniture store, and had checked today, learning nothing she’d purchased had come from there. He didn’t mind giving business to the other companies in town, though those owners probably thought it was odd that his wife had shopped in their stores. He’d never thought to tell her or mention it, so how could she have known? “I like all of the roses. And the cutouts of the ladies are colorful.”