A Sensible Arrangement (8 page)

“I'm sure Mrs. Landry did state that. I'm sure it's written up in the rules somewhere, but that isn't how I prefer it. Frankly,
trying to keep up with all the rules is giving me a headache.” Marty allowed Alice to help her from the modest gown she'd worn that day. Thinking about this dress compared to the other things that had been ordered, Marty felt rather shoddy.

Slipping beneath the covers to ward off the chill of the room, Marty gave a sigh. “I've never been one for napping, but it seems this life is quite tiring.”

“It's the mountains, too, ma'am. If you don't mind my saying so.”

Marty closed her eyes. “Yes, Jake mentioned that. I should think now that I've been in Colorado for a few days, I should be adjusting. However, I'm beginning to wonder if I'll ever adjust.”

Jake sat across the beautifully set dining table in moody silence. Marty hadn't yet seen this side of him. He was obviously troubled about something, and she didn't know if it would be deemed appropriate to ask or whether she should remain silent. It seemed only natural that she would question him about his day. . . . Didn't all wives do that? She and Thomas always had.

After being served the soup, Marty picked up her spoon and dared a question. “You seem tired. Did you have a difficult day?”

“It's not important.” Jake attacked a piece of bread. “There are problems that I have to resolve, and you don't need to worry about it.”

“I wasn't worried,” she countered. “I simply noticed that you looked tired. I presumed the day had given you some problems. I'm happy to listen if you'd like to talk.”

He looked at her for a moment, his brow knit together as his frown deepened. “No. There's no reason to involve you.”

“But I want to be involved.”

Jake slammed his hand down, causing all of the dishes to rattle. “I said no!”

Marty straightened in defense. She wasn't used to being treated in a harsh manner. Up until now, this man she'd so quickly married had seemed quite lighthearted and easygoing.

With a sigh, Jake put down the bread and shook his head. “I'm sorry, Marty. I had no right to act that way. You're just showing concern for me and I shouldn't have snapped at you. Sometimes I open my mouth just wide enough to stick my boot in.”

She could see he was truly sorry. The expression on his face and his tone of voice made it clear that his reaction had been a surprise even to Jake. “I shouldn't have pried. My Thomas and I used to talk out our problems over supper. I learned that from my sister and her husband. I suppose it's an old habit.”

“My folks did much the same,” Jake admitted. “Supper was about the only time they saw each other for any length of time. Breakfast always seemed rushed so that we could get to work, and lunch was often elsewhere on the range.”

Marty nodded. “And while everyone was tired from a day of arduous tasks and difficult trials, supper gave us a time to sit back and review the good and bad of the choices we'd made.”

Jake smiled for the first time that evening. “Supper was always my favorite time.” He picked up his soup spoon. “I can remember my mother having the table set in beautiful china with a fine tablecloth. Father would admonish her, saying that such things should be used for special occasions.
But Mother said every time we came together as a family was a special occasion.”

“I never knew my mother and barely remember my father,” Marty told him. “However, my sister always tried to make us a comfortable home. She was more mother to me than sister. . . . Hannah gave up a great deal to care for my brother and me.”

“That's what family should do.”

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Marty asked.

“No, it was just me.”

Marty hoped that might be the start of a new conversation, but it wasn't. Before long, Jake was lost in his thoughts again, and Marty had no luck in drawing him back into a conversation.

“The dressmaker said she would come next week for my first fitting.” She waited until the new kitchen assistant, Willa, served the main course of roasted game hen before continuing. “The gown she suggested for the Valentine's ball is quite lovely. I'm sure I've never had anything so grand.”

“Hmm,” Jake murmured without even looking up. He cut into the meat and continued to eat in silence.

“It's going to be a lovely color—a sort of rose. A dark, pinkish rose. There will be white fur trimming the gown.” She knew he wasn't listening, so she reverted to a childhood habit that she'd used on Hannah when she wouldn't give Marty her full attention.

“Then Mrs. Davies suggested we turn snakes loose in the music room.”

“Whatever you decide is fine,” Jake said.

“I suppose they are smaller than bears and won't make as much mess.”

Jake looked at her for a moment, and Marty was certain he would call her comment into question. But instead he gave a sigh and got to his feet. “I'm sorry to be such poor company. I think I'll make an early night of it.”

Marty watched him leave the room. His meal was barely touched. Whatever troubled him had robbed him of his appetite as well as his personable mood. Perhaps he'd be more willing to explain in the morning.

“But what if he isn't?” She frowned. She really knew nothing about this man. Anyone could put up a pretense for a few days—but what if this was the way Jacob Wythe generally acted? What if she'd married a man of unpredictable moods?

It was only then that the full impact of her decision to leave Texas and marry a stranger hit her. He had seemed nice enough in his letters and even the time they'd shared here thus far had been pleasant. Still, what if he were unstable? That kind of thought had never come to mind until now.

“Perhaps I've been most foolish.”

As the days slipped into February, Marty saw less and less of Jake. When she did see him, he was quite resigned but not harsh. His duties at the bank often kept him there late into the evening, and Marty found it necessary to find ways to busy herself. She read through the Jane Austen volumes her sister had given her at Christmas, then ventured into the library to see what other tomes might hold her attention. If this was to be her life, at least it was peaceful.

Mrs. Davies had come and gone many times since her first appointment. She had arrived for fittings and to get Marty's approval on materials, but otherwise had not delivered a single item. She promised, however, that the rose and ermine gown would be ready in time for the Morgans' party, and that was truly all Marty cared about. But not as most women might. Marty wasn't concerned with looking beautiful or being held in high regard for her taste in fashion. She just wanted to please Jake and not cause him any problems with this elite circle of friends. Thankfully, Alice had been true to her word and had learned her duties quickly.

Marty patted her artfully styled hair and smiled. Hiring
Alice had proven to be one of the wisest choices Marty had ever made. It made Marty happy, too, just knowing that they could somehow extend assistance to the daughter of George Chesterfield. Although neither she nor Jake had ever known the man, they were in a way benefiting from his demise. It seemed appropriate that they should help Alice in return.

Truly, Marty's only complaint was the boredom. The days here in Denver seemed longer than any Marty had ever known in Texas. At the ranch there had always been something to work at—cooking, cleaning, caring for the animals, gardening. Here, there was always someone else to do the work.

Mrs. Landry suggested she get started in remaking the house into her own style, but Marty thought it suited her well enough. For reasons she couldn't explain, there was a feeling of the temporary in this place. Perhaps it was Jake's admission that he didn't care for the place and that he would prefer to live a simpler life. Perhaps now that they were married, Mr. Morgan would understand if they decided to sell this house in lieu of another.

Mrs. Landry suggested various outings, but Marty found the cold difficult to get used to. There'd been no more snow, so the town looked all gray and brown—with little to entice her outdoors. There was also no occasion to entertain or receive guests—she didn't know anyone. The fact that no one had come to present themselves made her feel like an outcast. Mrs. Landry, however, was quick to explain that most people were waiting to be introduced to her at the party or in church. She'd managed to avoid the latter for a second time the previous Sunday, but that would unfortunately not be a luxury she could oft repeat.

“You're expected to show yourself as a respectful, godly woman,” Mrs. Landry had told her. “Whether you agree with the sentiments of the pastor or not, you need to be present in the pew.”

“I have no interest in church,” she'd replied. “God and I have an agreement. I stay out of His way, and He stays out of mine.”

She could still see the look of surprise on Mrs. Landry's face. She hadn't argued with Marty, but her disapproval had been evident.

Since it was Saturday, Marty presumed that Jake would be free of bank business, but she hadn't seen or heard from him so far. Not that she really expected to, given his recent moodiness. She hadn't bothered to go down for breakfast, telling Alice that she wanted to just linger in bed for a time. Much to her chagrin, Alice took this to mean she wanted breakfast in bed. The young girl showed up with a tray shortly thereafter, and Marty didn't have the heart to refuse her efforts.

“If you're finished with breakfast, I will take your tray,” Alice said, entering the room.

Marty smiled at the young woman. “Thank you. I truly hadn't meant for you to do this, but it proved to be rather enjoyable.”

“Mrs. Landry said it's quite routine for a married woman to take her breakfast in bed. I'm happy to bring it up for you every day.”

“Goodness, no,” Marty declared, pushing back her covers after Alice took the tray. “Eating in bed is for invalids and the sick, neither of which applies to me. I was just being a bit lazy today. It seemed colder and since I had no plans, I thought this to be as good a place as any to remain.”

Alice headed for the door. “I'll be right back to help you dress and arrange your hair.”

She was gone before Marty could say another word. Walking to the window, Marty could see that it was snowing. In fact, it had apparently been snowing for some time because the grounds were covered in a blanket of white. The snow cheered her, somehow, and she couldn't help but touch her hand to the frosty glass and smile. What a difference from her home in Texas.

Alice returned in short order and went into the dressing room. Marty followed after a moment and found the seventeen-year-old busy arranging hairpins on the vanity. She looked up and pointed to the brass rail, where Marty noted her dark blue gown was ready to be donned.

“I'll be glad when Mrs. Davies gets me some additional petticoats. I have a feeling I won't be very warm in this today.”

“I'll keep the fire built up in your room, if you'd like,” Alice said, helping Marty to disrobe.

“That's probably a good idea. I have no plans to leave the house. It doesn't even look safe to do so.”

“The roads do get very slick at times. Sometimes there are accidents with the carriages.”

Marty slipped into a shift and allowed Alice to help her with the corset. “I'm sure people take a great many falls, as well. I remember once in Texas when I lost my footing on an icy path.”

“I've never been to Texas,” Alice commented. “Is it pretty there?”

“Not to my way of thinking. I was glad to leave it. It's mostly range and farmland, with some of the hottest temperatures you could ever want. The summer days feel damp, even when a drought has split the dusty earth.”

“How can that be?”

“The air blows in from the Gulf. It combines with the heat, making you feel as though you're being steamed alive.”

Alice continued to dress Marty. “Denver can get very hot in the summer, but it doesn't feel like that. It's hot and dry here. Sometimes the sun just feels like it's sitting right over your shoulder. My skin burns if I'm not careful.”

She did up the back of the gown and moved to the vanity. “Shall I do your hair now, or would you rather attend to your stockings and shoes?”

“Let's do the hair,” Marty said, pulling the ribbon from her long blond braid.

Alice picked up the brush as Marty took a seat at the vanity. Once settled, Marty gave herself over to Alice's gentle care. For someone who'd never trained as a lady's maid, she certainly managed Marty's needs well.

“Alice, when I interviewed you for this position, you said you were alone in the world. Might I ask about your mother?”

“She died a few years ago—my younger brother, too.”

“How did it happen?”

“My father said they died in an epidemic.”

“Your father said?” Marty questioned. “Were they not with you when they passed?”

“No.”

Marty saw Alice's reflection in the vanity mirror. She looked sad, and yet there was something else. For a moment neither woman said a word.

I've overstepped my
bounds. I should never have brought up the subject
. Marty immediately tried to think of a way to change the topic of conversation.

“My mother died when I was born,” Marty offered, not
really knowing why. “My sister, Hannah, helped my father raise me and my brother, Andy. He's a little older than me. Hannah's the only mother I ever knew. Then our father died when I was just five. I never mentioned this before, but like your father—mine was murdered.”

Alice stopped in her preparations and met Marty's eyes in the mirror's reflection. “Truly?”

Marty nodded. “Yes, he had a business partner who was a very bad man. That man arranged to have my father killed. Though I was young, I keenly felt his loss.”

“My father was my whole world.” Alice began arranging Marty's hair once again. “I didn't really have any other people in my life. Your sister must be so special.”

“She is, but why do you say that?”

Alice shrugged. “She could have abandoned you and your brother—put you in an orphanage or given you over to strangers.”

The thought of Hannah's sacrifice caused Marty a moment of shame. She had lied to the only person in the world who had gone beyond duty to see Marty cared for and safe. Hannah probably wondered even now how Marty was doing, and Marty had been remiss in her communications.

“That reminds me that I need to write to her. I'm going to need some paper and ink. I can go out and purchase some in the future, but would you mind seeing if Mrs. Landry has some she can spare? After we finish here, of course.”

“Certainly.” Alice twisted Marty's thick hair atop her head and began pinning it in place. Once she'd finished, she stepped back to assess her work. “It's very simple. Would you prefer I do something more?”

“It's fine. As I said, I don't intend to go out today. Besides,
I seldom wore it much different in Texas. I often just braided it down the back and pinned it on my head. That usually kept all the wild strands in place.”

“You won't be allowed to be so simple once Mrs. Morgan gets ahold of you. At least that's what Mrs. Landry says.” Alice put her hand to her mouth. It was clear she hadn't meant to speak that information aloud.

“It's all right, Alice. As I've said before, I want you to feel free to say what you think needs saying. I want us to be friends.”

Alice relaxed. “I know, but I need this job. Mrs. Landry says that familiarity breeds contempt.”

“Well, she's not the first one to say that, nor will she be the last. Familiarity can also encourage love and trust. So I am going to keep my sights on those types of things.”

Alice smiled, and Marty glanced again at the scar on her face. The poor girl had suffered so much. The loss of her mother, her father's murder, her own injury . . . they were terrible burdens to carry. Still, the young woman maintained a sweet and gentle spirit.

“Thank you for being honest with me, Alice. Honesty doesn't come easy—I know.”

By late afternoon Marty had still seen nothing of Jake. Brighton had told her that Jake had gone out early that morning and hadn't left word as to when he'd return. Mrs. Landry berated the man for not having more information to give and the two launched into one of their debates on Brighton's responsibilities as he knew them versus what Mrs. Landry presumed them to be. Marty took that moment to escape and explore the house a bit more.

Finding herself at the kitchen, Marty looked around for some sign of Mrs. Standish or Willa. Neither seemed in residence, but then Marty caught the sound of voices coming from just off the far right of the room. Investigation proved that this was the pantry, and Mrs. Standish and Willa were busily taking inventory.

“Oh, Mrs. Wythe, ma'am. Did you need something?” Mrs. Standish questioned.

“No, I'm sorry for the interruption. I was just doing a bit of looking around. I hope you don't mind.”

“Not at all, ma'am.” Mrs. Standish looked most uncomfortable.

Marty gave her a smile. “I know sometimes women tend to be very possessive of their kitchens.”

This caused the older woman to smile in return. “I am at that, but I don't imagine you'll take up a skillet and start in.”

“You might be surprised. I did all my own cooking in Texas.”

“Well, you aren't in Texas anymore,” Mrs. Standish replied. “We'll have none of that here. You're a fine lady with an important husband. Folks will be looking to you for an example.”

Marty frowned and nodded. Why was it that this luxury and opulence was starting to feel more like a ball and chain? She'd never wanted to be seen as a standard for others, and the thought made her feel most uncomfortable.

She made her way to the back door, and only then did she notice how deep the snow had gotten. She'd had no idea it could accumulate so fast. They certainly had never seen snow like this in Texas—at least not in her part of Texas.

Fascination drew Marty from the safety and warmth of the house into the outdoor celebration of winter. Without
proper boots on her feet or a coat to ward off the cold, Marty immediately felt the chilled dampness. Even so, this didn't stop her moving out into the yard. She marveled like a child at the snow coming down around her. Never in her life had she seen such a wondrous thing. Reaching up, Marty caught multiple flakes. She laughed and kicked one foot at the white blanket. The snow felt wet and heavy.

Whirling around and around, Marty couldn't help but cast her worries to the wind and enjoy the simplicity of the moment. For the first time since coming to Colorado, she felt carefree and happy—truly happy. She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sky. The wet snowflakes fell against her skin. Without warning, a large amount of snow hit her arm.