Flora's Wish (58 page)

Flora nodded, unable to disagree. “Well, I cede the victory to you, Winny. I've been convinced just this afternoon that there are adventures outside of Brimmfield to be had, and I intend to find them.”

“Good for you.” His face went pensive. “Flora, I owe you an apology.”

“No, honestly, you do not.”

“Let me do this. I've made poor decisions in my life. Many of them. Some have only harmed me, but others have harmed people for whom I care deeply.” He paused to touch the edge of the desk. “Violet shall hear this of me as well, but I beg your forgiveness for the childish taunts that caused her to fall.” His unsteady gaze swung to meet hers. “Though I do not deserve it, might I have that forgiveness?”

She smiled. “Of course,” she said and meant it.

Relief washed over his features. “This is not in my nature, though I'm becoming quite adept at it. There's another thing. The shooting.” Again he paused, this time to worry his sleeve. “More ill-advised choices. I wish to plead love, but that sounds foolish.” He shrugged. “I wanted to impress someone I cared for deeply, but, well, the funds I needed were tied up in business ventures elsewhere. When her father offered a generous cash settlement for a portion of his business, how could I decline? To become a partner in the family firm and have the means to court the daughter as well?”

“Dora Lennart,” she said softly. “I understand, Winny. There's no need to go on—”

“But there is. I had no idea her father's businesses were in jeopardy. I was blinded by love and did not do my due diligence. Only when I began to ask questions did things get…ugly.”

“Yes, I would imagine so.”

“I never realized Martin Lennart would go to such extremes to see that I inherited all of this.” He shook his head. “That a person could be so focused on money as to risk losing everything, including his life, was a sobering realization. I will not be that sort of man. Should you want to remain at Brimmfield, Flora, it is your home and shall remain so. I give you my word.”

“But your debts.” She pressed her fingers to her mouth. “I'm sorry, but Mr. McMinn told me.”

He shrugged. “I'll manage. Dora and I are committed to coming through this together, and I am concentrating on that. Her mother and sister will need a man to guide them through this period of bereavement. I believe I am that man.”

“I'm very glad.”

He moved toward her, arms outstretched. “As am I,” he said as he embraced her. “But now I must bid you goodbye.”

“I see.” She stepped back. “You're leaving so soon?”

“I just came at Grandmama's request. Now back to the city and Dora.”

Flora bid Winny goodbye and then drifted upstairs to freshen up for dinner. When she arrived in the dining room expecting to find the chairs filled with the guests she'd greeted this morning, Flora found only Grandmama waiting.

“Violet's dining in her room tonight,” her grandmother said. “Apparently the afternoon tired her. I suspect, however, that her nurse is merely scheming to have some time with our girl to allow herself to believe the transformation. She is transformed, isn't she? It's just glorious.”

“It is. So, where are the men?” she asked as she took a seat on her grandmother's right.

“All gone, I'm afraid,” she said as she rang for the footmen.

“Gone?” she echoed. “Even Lucas?”

“Yes, your Mr. McMinn left as well.” She gave Flora a pointed look. “It was time.”

“Yes, I suppose it was,” she said though her heart was not in the statement. “I thought he might have said goodbye, considering…”

“Considering?” Grandmama shrugged. “You know how men are. Always in a hurry to handle their business. It seems to be a singular focus of some of them.”

Flora nodded mutely as the table quickly filled with the first course of a dinner she had no desire to eat. Hadn't she made the same accusation of Lucas just before the shooting?

Perhaps if they hadn't argued—and then kissed—Lucas McMinn would never have suffered the bullet wound that took not only the use of his arm but also his love for her. If the latter was ever there.

“You're woolgathering.”

Flora mustered a smile. “You sound like Violet.”

“Good.” Grandmama reached over to touch her sleeve. “I've spoken with her. I think an adventure is exactly what you need. Just tell me where you'd like to go and I'll arrange it.”

Where would she like to go? Somewhere with dizzying heights and no Pinkertons. Sacré-Coeur in Paris came to mind, though she doubted she could convince Violet to travel that far so soon. Perhaps next year. No, somewhere closer.

As the thought occurred, so did the beginnings of a true grin. “Actually, Grandmama, I do have a place in mind.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. May we go back to the Crescent Hotel? You, me, and Violet. Just the three of us.”

“The Crescent?” She lifted an iron-colored brow. “Yes, well, that sounds lovely, dear but…” Something stopped her, and suddenly her expression changed. “Of course we can. I'll arrange it immediately.”

“Grandmama, I saw Winny earlier. He said he came at your request.”

“Yes,” she said, her expression unreadable. “It was time for that too.”

“Time for what?”

“Enough questions, child. Let's go back to planning our visit for the Crescent and leave the topic of your cousin for another day, shall we?”

B
ecause arrangements on the scale Grandmama required took time, three full weeks passed before the Brimm women arrived on the familiar steps of the Crescent Hotel. They were given the same suite as before, this time fitted out with a third bed for Violet. To her chagrin, Daisy was bundled off to the maids' quarters, where she could only dote on her charge from a distance unless summoned.

“The elevator was such a wonderful convenience,” Violet said when they entered the suite. “Perhaps someday we'll have one at Brimmfield, Grandmama.”

Mrs. Brimm merely inclined her head and did not offer comment. However, she did exclaim when she saw a wrapped package on her bed. “Oh, my. It is here.”

“What is here?” Flora followed her grandmother into the bedchamber to watch her pulling a lovely feathered hat out to admire.

“Goodness, I don't think I've seen you so excited over a purchase before,” she said as her grandmother adjusted the hat in the mirror.

“Oh, how very wonderful,” she repeated. “I just cannot believe he would send such a wonderful gift.”

“He?” Flora looked askance. “Do you mean that fellow Monsieur Girard? Grandmama, do you have a suitor?

“Don't be ridiculous. I could have all the suitors I desire. I just don't want any right now.” She gestured to the card attached to the wrappings. “See for yourself.”

Flora picked up the tag and read it.
To the Belle of Brimmfield for sheltering a wounded Pinkerton. Lucas B. McMinn.
She couldn't help but notice it had been written by hand and hoped that it was Lucas's hand that had done the work. This must have been the hat he was working on.

Grandmama had it on her head and was fiddling with something. “Flora, what a marvelous invention. He's cleverly hidden a device inside so I can hear without using my trumpet.”

Before she could respond, she heard Violet call to her.

“Oh, Flora, do come and see!”

She hurried to the chamber she shared with her sister to see that she, too, had received a package. Wrapped in similar paper, this box was much bigger than a hatbox. “Has he sent you a garden rake or perhaps a pair of stilts?”

Flora regretted that comment as soon as the words left her mouth. As yet she could not tell how much of Violet's bravery in public was truly felt and how much was pure bravado.

“Even better,” her sister said, not offended at all as she pulled out what appeared to be an oddly shaped piece of lumber from the box. She set it aside as she removed a second one exactly like it. The third item inside was very obviously a lady's walking stick. “Come and see, Grandmama.”

The nerve. Lucas knew Violet would never walk. Why did he send something so cruel? And why hadn't he sent her anything? Flora stepped over toward her bed and discreetly checked to see if her gift had possibly fallen over the side.

She saw nothing beyond the ever-growing stack of invitations that overflowed on her bedside table. While the topmost envelope was new, the calligraphy marked it as yet another event Grandmama would force her to attend. She swept it aside and continued her search.

Flora eased down onto the bed to reach under the pillows. Perhaps it had slid out of sight

Nothing.

Just to be certain she threw back the blankets and swept her hand between the sheets.

“Flora, what are you doing?” Violet demanded.

Of course she couldn't admit to her reason, so Flora leaned back against the pillows and feigned exhaustion.

Immediately Violet set about reading the note, apparently a detailed set of instructions that Grandmama snatched away upon her arrival in the room. “How wonderful.”

“Wonderful,” Flora echoed as she noticed the tag and picked it up.

No longer a shrinking Violet. May you bloom wherever you choose to be planted and dance if you wish. Lucas B. McMinn

“What in the world possessed him to write something like—”

Flora's breath caught. Violet. She was…standing. Leaning heavily on the walking stick, to be sure, but all the same standing.

The tag fell from her fingers as she tried to make sense of what she very plainly saw. “But how?”

Violet lifted her skirt to show the wooden contraptions buckled to her legs.

“Oh, honey.” Flora rose to approach her sister with care. “It's a miracle.”

The sound of sniffling caused Flora to turn around. There she spied her very dignified grandmother, feathered hat still in place, with tears falling. Not once could she ever recall her grandmother weeping. Ever.

“Darling,” Grandmama said. “I'm speechless. Just…” She moved closer to Violet but seemed afraid to touch her. “Just speechless,” she said as Violet leaned into her arms. Flora joined them and, for a moment, all was well and right in the world.

And then Violet began to wobble.

“Easy there,” Flora said as she helped her sister sit on the bed. “It's been years since you stood. You're going to have to build your strength.”

“But you're in the right place for it,” Grandmama declared. “I'll just phone my physician here, and we'll get you settled into a program that will do the trick.”

“A program?” Violet looked doubtful.

“Of course. Taking the waters, perhaps some sort of exercise to strengthen your muscles.” She paused. “If you'll agree to it, that is.”

Violet seemed to think a moment. “Yes. I believe I would like to give it a try.”

“Excellent.” Grandmama went off humming, and a moment later she was urging the hotel operator to ring the doctor.