Defiant Rose (38 page)

“And now this.” Rosemary waved a little angel cutout. “I swear that fashionable women must be imbeciles, or else they’re treated as such.”

“Rose, you wanted to try and be a proper lady,” Clara reminded her. “It was you who had a change of heart and wanted to fit in here. Bah! If it was up to me, we’d be on the first train back to the circus. Where are they now?”

“Nebraska. They’re heading south and wintering for a few months. Griggs promised to write and let me know every step of the way. Lord, there’s so much to do this time of year. The animals have to be fed well— I wonder if they remembered that. And Elsa has to rest after the birth of the cubs. I hope Leonardo doesn’t push her too hard. And the dogs need to be run every day, and we have to come up with a new publicity campaign for next year, and the posters have be repainted…”

“Hush, now,” Clara said firmly. “Everything will be just fine. You are having a baby yourself, remember? The last thing the wee one needs is to have a mother who’s worrying herself sick.”

Rosemary nodded, then yawned as she cut out a spray of violets. They were in the parlor, and the room seemed suffocating as always. Glancing at the clock, Rosemary counted the hours until Michael would be home. They’d only been here a few days, but so far, the routine had been surprisingly dull. Chocolate in the morning for breakfast…apparently, fashionable ladies always slept late, as Rosemary discovered when she wandered the house. Then one dressed, went about some errands, all of which Catherine Wharton took care of, then some luncheon, a quiet afternoon spent tatting, sewing, or some other acceptable occupation, then tea and calling. Rosemary had little knowledge as to what went on during these calls, for she hadn’t accompanied Catherine as of yet, and in truth, she wasn’t eager to find out. Then came supper, coffee before the fire, bed, and the next day it began all over again.

Rosemary chafed at the inoccupation. Used to a vigorous and physical life, the luxury of too much relaxation provided the opposing result. She felt like Elsa, caged in gilt. She couldn’t even confide in Michael, for lately he was preoccupied with setting his business right. Having been a manager herself, she knew what that involved and didn’t want to add to his distraction.

But she was lonely and feeling useless. The circus had been a constant challenge, both from her own performances, and from the sheer art of running a show. The change from one lifestyle to the other was too drastic, and she missed the troupe much more than she’d ever imagined.

“Yes, James, what is it?” Catherine glided into the room at the sound of a bell. The butler appeared with a silver tray, bearing a delicately printed card.

“The Misses Caldwalders are here to see you. Will you have them?” Impeccable as always, James merely displayed the card and waited for a response.

Catherine glanced at Clara and Rosemary. Rose was seated on the love seat, her feet drawn up beneath her, her hair pulled back casually and devoid of any flowers, hats, or artifice. Although her gown was in good taste, she had it tucked beneath her as if it was of little account. Shredded scrap surrounded her as she cut without interest and pasted her figures haphazardly into the book, obviously bored with the task.

Clara was another matter entirely. Seated on the floor just behind Rose, she was busily laying out her cards and sighing and squeaking as she recognized one pattern or another. Her hair was wildly askew like brown milkweed, and her pointed features seemed even sharper as she held up the strange cards, then placed them onto the carpet.

“I think we shall not be home today,” Catherine said softly, staring at the odd fortune-teller.

“I shall give them your regrets.” James started to leave, then stopped at the edge of the room. “I do believe, however, that this is the second time they’ve called.”

Catherine’s lips tightened, and she sighed audibly. Not receiving a caller once was a social gaffe; twice was an outright slander. And the Caldwalders were very prominent, one of Philadelphia’s sixty families. No matter how rich, Catherine couldn’t afford to slight these women. And Michael was, at one time, practically engaged to Melissa. She could only wonder what the younger Caldwalder would think of his new wife.

“You are right, James. Bring them in. Clara, would you mind taking a seat?”

The older woman scowled, then picked up her cards and retired to the corner table. Rosemary glanced at her mother-in-law in surprise, then indicated the door.

“Would you prefer if we go?”

“No, not at all.” Catherine approached her, forcing a smile. “I am certain that news of your arrival has begun to spread. If you don’t mind, I would prefer to introduce you quietly to society, perhaps a few people at a time. I can help you, Rosemary, if you’ll let me.”

Rosemary frowned, uncertain of what to make of all this. Yet Catherine seemed sincere. Perhaps she had decided to make the best of the situation since she couldn’t change it. That seemed the most obvious conclusion, especially for the sake of her sons. If there was one thing that Rose didn’t doubt, it was the depth of Catherine’s feelings for her children.

James escorted the two women into the room while Catherine greeted them effusively, giving each a peck on the cheek. The older Miss Caldwalder was evidently a maiden aunt, her rotund figure clad in blue silk and her white hair pulled back in an old-fashioned bun. She peered sharply around the room through silver spectacles, her lips pursed in disapproval.

Her younger companion was also beautifully gowned in yellow satin trimmed with lace and flowers. Fingerless gloves of black netting adorned her white hands, while a hat piled high with bows and flowers graced her head. Self-possessed and obviously pampered, the two women stared while Catherine turned to make the introductions.

“Ladies, I want you to meet my new daughter-in-law, Rosemary, and her maiden aunt Clara. Rosemary, this is Alice Caldwalder and her niece Melissa.”

“Charmed, I’m sure.” Alice placed a cool kiss on Rosemary’s cheek, then stepped back for a moment as if to inspect her. “My, but you are pretty. We’ve heard tell of you from some of the ladies in town. Apparently, they saw you and Michael shopping.” Alice gave Catherine a knowing glance. “I cannot imagine why you haven’t had a party yet, or some way of introducing this lovely creature to society.”

“Humph.” Clara scowled, turning over a card while Catherine laughed nervously and ordered tea.

“Actually, I do have something planned. But Michael is so busy with his work that it is taking some time to arrange.”

Melissa laughed lightly, accepting a cup of tea with a gracious smile. “Michael never changes. His work always came first. It was that way when I knew him, and I don’t imagine that he’s changed much. What do you think?” She looked questioningly at Rosemary, who shrugged.

“I think he works hard, but that’s part of business. You have to work hard to stay ahead of the competition. Even in the show—”

“What she means is that Michael may be preoccupied, but he always finds time for what’s important,” Catherine said meaningfully.

Rosemary glanced from one woman to the other in confusion. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but she had the distinct impression that Melissa was trying to give her a subtle put-down, and that Catherine, of all people, was trying to protect her. Curiously she gazed at the young woman, who seemed suddenly less composed.

“I agree. That is why he is so successful.” Alice Caldwalder sipped her tea, then helped herself to one of the lemon cakes. “I was saying that to the Ladies’ Auxiliary Club just the other day. Michael is a keen man with a mind for business. None of this nonsense about social reform. Michael is a man who knows how to turn a dollar. It is a quality that I’ve always admired. Don’t you, dear?”

“Not particularly.” Rosemary grinned, aware of Melissa’s shocked glance. “That’s actually how I met him. It wasn’t until after the lion got loose that he—”

“Rosemary, would you mind pouring me another cup?” Catherine thrust the teacup before her, leaving Rose no choice but to comply.

However, Melissa smiled, her sharp eyes discerning everything. “Please don’t interrupt. I would really love to hear how you met Michael. Wouldn’t you, Auntie?”

Alice nodded, sinking back into her chair with a satisfied expression that Rosemary recognized. It was the same look that the clowns got when they were setting someone up for a practical joke. Catherine gave her a pleading glance, then sat still.

Rosemary sighed, struggling with her own nature. The mischievous side of her would have dearly loved to tell the truth and set these women on edge, but that would upset Catherine. The pride in her rebelled that the truth would create gossip, which, she had already reasoned, was the real motivation behind the visit. She would play right into their hands if she followed her instincts. Rosemary grinned to herself. She’d had to play more complicated parts than this. For Michael’s sake and that of the baby, she’d have to proceed with caution.

“Michael and I were introduced through a friend of the family. Mr. Atwater, in fact. I believe you know him?”

Melissa nodded, crestfallen, and Alice hid her disappointment. Catherine looked so relieved that Rosemary felt sorry for her.

“That’s exactly right. Percy has always taken an interest in the boys, as you both know. Evidently he thought Rosemary and Michael would have…some things in common.”

“I don’t believe I know your family,” Melissa said, disgruntled. “But you needn’t worry. Since you are Michael’s wife, we will see that you meet all the important people.”

“Bah!” Clara scowled, turning over another card. The two women’s attention was drawn to the odd figure seated in the corner, then Melissa’s eyes widened as a tarot card fluttered to the floor, depicting a man lying facedown with several knives in his back.

“My God, are those really…fortune-telling cards?” Melissa blessed herself while Catherine turned white. Not even James could distract the two women with a fresh pot of tea as the old gypsy cackled.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

C
ATHERINE LOOKED AS IF SHE WOULD FAINT
. Melissa and Alice stood up, gaping at the sight of the colorful cards.

“They’re tarot, all right,” Clara said gleefully, placing them facedown on the table. “I’m putting them into a Celtic Cross. I wish I had me crystal here, and I’d get a better read.”

“Can you really…I mean, do those cards tell you everything?” Melissa choked, while Alice huffed indignantly.

“They most certainly do not! Pagan beliefs and sorcery,” Alice said with a frown. “I would only wonder where your aunt would have learned such things.”

“I learned from the old country, and I can answer me own questions,” Clara snorted, then turned over a card. “Who is W.P.?”

Melissa’s mouth parted in shock, then she turned toward her aunt. “Did you…I mean, is there any way she could have known?”

“Not in the slightest.” Alice frowned while Catherine wrung her hands frantically. After putting aside her teacup, the elderly aunt approached Clara and stared at her quizzically. “What do you see about Wilfred Parker?”

“Only that he’s secretly engaged to your niece.” Clara laughed, turning over another card. “Ah, but he had money problems! It is well that you choose to reacquaint yourselves with Mrs. Wharton. You may have need of banking funds someday, if she pursues this course.”

“How dare you!” Melissa said, outraged. “Does it also say that I was once friends with Mr. Wharton? And that it should have been me—”

“Melissa!” Alice cut off her niece, sending her a look of censure that made the young woman instantly silent. “What else does it show?”

Catherine stared at Alice with amazement while Clara turned over more cards. “They show a spirit close to you, that of a young man. He must have died in his early twenties.” Clara held up a card with a knight seated on a horse, and her face grew soft and mystical. “It is a love card, dearie. A man who once loved you.”

The older woman choked, and Catherine stepped between them, gesturing to Clara. “I think that’s enough parlor tricks for today. We’re upsetting the ladies. Perhaps another time…”

“No, please.” Alice paused beside the table and picked up the card. “I know who you are referring to. My God, after all this time, can it be?” She gazed from Clara to Rosemary, her eyes misted, then back to the gypsy. “You must come and have a seance at my home. I know all the ladies will want to attend. I’ll begin sending out invitations at once.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Catherine said cautiously. “Rosemary has yet to meet many of these people, and I want her to make a good impression.”

“She’ll make the best, I promise you.”

Catherine stared in shock as the normally reserved Alice Caldwalder hugged her exuberantly, then turned to Rose. “Please allow her to come and join us. Why, with the new spiritualism and interest in the occult, I guarantee you will be all the rage. And I must speak to my Thomas…I mean, have a seance, just this once. Please do not deny me.”

Catherine shrugged. “It’s really up to Clara. I can’t come that day, I’m already engaged….”

“Would you, please?” Alice turned to Clara. “I will pay you for your time. And I’m sure the other ladies will want engagements. And…” Alice added conspiratorially, “you will be helping to launch your niece. No one will be able to resist the gathering if we are to conduct a real seance. Rosemary will meet all of the right people, under the best of circumstance.”