Hidden in a Whisper (36 page)

“He doesn't have to know that I'm penniless,” she said, stifling a yawn.

For several hours she slept, dreaming of life in a big city with a lovely house of her own and a bevy of servants to wait on her every need. She was exhausted from the night before—exhausted, too, from having to carefully consider her problem from every angle.

Faith appeared shortly after one o'clock, waking Ivy with her noisy movements around the room. After allowing the girl to change out of her uniform, Ivy ordered her to spend the day elsewhere and Faith quickly complied. There was no way Ivy wanted the addlebrained girl interfering with her plans. When Faith was present, Ivy found it hard to think with any clarity for all the questions the girl threw at her.

After Faith departed, Ivy got out of bed and began to systematically pace the room, pausing only long enough to grab up her hairbrush. Stroking her long blond hair, Ivy considered the gravity of her 226 situation.

She grimaced as she thought of the scene in the dining room. It wasn't that it hadn't gone her way, because in truth it had seemed to leave everyone in a sympathetic mood toward her. Still, she saw the way Braeden looked at her. There was no compassion, no feeling except anger. He would fight her on this if it took everything in his power. And if she did manage to force him to the altar, he would despise her for the rest of her life, and maybe even punish her by remaining in Morita or moving them to some equally horrid little community. Perhaps she could find a way to somehow sweeten the matter for him. Perhaps there was a way to entice him to see things in a new light, to make him see that this would be monetarily beneficial to him in the long run. But remembering her aunt's rejection, Ivy knew that wouldn't be possible. Then a thought came to mind. Maybe she could contact her aunt's lawyer. Perhaps she could work out an arrangement with him that would benefit them both if he would be willing to change the will. It could work! There wasn't anyone in the world who couldn't be bought. Hadn't her aunt taught her that by explaining her deal with the fire inspector?

She put down the hairbrush and went to her window. Directly outside her room were the stables. She'd be able to see and hear when Braeden returned, and when he did return, she would be waiting.

She'd force him to talk to her, to make plans for their future. If he didn't show up with Rachel, she might even lie and tell him that Rachel had returned only long enough to confront Ivy and relinquish any hold she had on Braeden. The thought held some intrigue for Ivy. Maybe she could talk Reg into helping her once again. Maybe with the knowl-edge that Rachel was gone for good, Braeden would give up holding out for her and marry Ivy.

But Ivy was smart enough to realize the empty promise of that thought and of all the others she'd had. Braeden would rot in jail before he married her. Especially now. Especially after her public humiliation of him.

Muttering a curse, Ivy dropped her hold on the curtain and moved back to sit on the bed. There had to be an answer to the problem, a way to fix the situation. Maybe she could force Braeden to marry her by enlisting the help of Fred Harvey. Perhaps Mr. Harvey could offer him a job elsewhere if he promised to treat Ivy with respect and love. She thought of the thin, well-dressed man and decided it was surely worth consideration. Fred Harvey seemed to run his affairs in a completely honorable manner. He would surely not desire a scandal for this, his newest of resorts. Perhaps Braeden, in turn, would value his job more than making Ivy pay for coming between him and Rachel.

The idea seemed plausible in Ivy's mind.

The wind picked up outside, causing Ivy to return to the window. Clouds were moving overhead, shadowing the land below. Ivy knew from her three years of living in Morita that this was a sure sign of a storm. Perhaps it would drive the searchers back sooner than expected. After all, it was now afternoon, and they wouldn't want to get caught out in the weather and the darkness.

I still have no set plan
, she thought.
I must decide what is to be done in order to be prepared when he returns
.

She glanced at the clock. It wasn't yet two. Perhaps she should seek out Mr. Harvey and discuss the situation with him. She could better tell from his reaction how to handle Braeden when he returned.

Slipping out of her room, Ivy ignored the chattering girls in the parlor and quickly entered the kitchen. Seeing Reginald working at the far end, she decided to question him on the matter of Rachel before going to Fred Harvey. It was always possible that he would have a better idea how to carry out her plans. After all, he'd come through admirably for her the night before.

“Mr. Worthington,” she spoke softly. “Might I have a moment of your time?”

Reg eyed her suspiciously for a moment, then nodded. “What is it?”

“I thought perhaps you could offer me some counsel.”

“You've never seemed to need advice from anyone before now,” Reg replied, rather disinterested.

“It would benefit us both if you would give me just a few moments of your time,” Ivy insisted.

“And how do you suppose that?” he asked, finally stopping to give her his full attention.

“You seem more than a little interested in making a financial profit from your days at Casa Grande,” Ivy stated, loudly enough so only Reg could hear. After having Reg explain his understanding of her involvement with the attempt on Rachel's life, Ivy had sent her own spies out to learn anything they could about Reg. It appeared he had more than one job at Casa Grande.

His expression never changed as he considered her words. “I'm sure I don't know what you mean, but if you are of a mind to seek my opinion—or as you say, counsel—then be my guest.”

She smiled, feeling rather herself again as the control clearly passed to her hand. “I wondered that you were not out looking for Miss Taylor. After all, I know of your affection for her. Is this lack of interest because you already know of her whereabouts?” She hoped to completely throw him off base by suggesting something so out of line that he would forget her earlier words. She wasn't ready yet to tell him what she knew about his actions and hoped to use her knowledge as a final trump card should the occasion necessitate.

Reg remained stoic. “I wondered that you were not home mourning the loss of your aunt. Is it because you feel nothing in her passing?

Unless, of course, what you feel is relief.”

Ivy tried not to react to his piercing gaze. “That's nonsense. There's nothing I can do there. Aunt Esmeralda is in the hands of the mortician.”

“So it is with Rachel. There is nothing I can do to aid her search. My job requires me here, and Mr. Parker seems completely capable.”

“But you don't want
him
to find her, do you?” Ivy questioned quietly, glancing over her shoulder to make certain no one else overheard. “After all, if he finds her, he might well convince her that what she saw was completely my fault.”

“Which, of course, it was,” Reginald replied. He gave his sauce a quick stir, then moved down the line to where he had arranged several platters. This put even more distance between the conspirators and the other kitchen staff members.

“Look, all I want is for Braeden to return so that I can discuss this matter with him in private. I figure once we do that, he'll come around to seeing things my way.”

Reg smiled. “Oh, you think so?”

“And you do not?” Ivy questioned.

Focusing on the filleted chicken breasts, Reg shrugged. “All things are possible, or so they say. I simply believe you have given Mr. Parker an even more urgent desire to solidify his relationship with Miss Taylor. He is a desperate man at this point. And, Miss Brooks, desperation makes men do what they ordinarily wouldn't even consider.”

“You talk as one who knows,” Ivy said, eyeing him suspiciously.

Reginald smiled patiently. “I know a great many things, as you are well aware. My suggestion to you is to bide your time and your tongue. In Rachel's absence there are bound to be opportunities to speak to Mr. Parker, and in doing so, perhaps you can win him over to your way of thinking.”

Ivy nodded. “Maybe. If Rachel isn't around to interfere, maybe I can convince him to—” “Settle for you?” Reg asked with a sly grin.

Ivy felt her face flush. “No one settles for me. I chose Mr. Parker, and he'll soon see the merit in my choice. Otherwise, he'll find himself unemployed with no hope of ever securing another job on the Santa Fe.”

She stormed off through the kitchen and out across the dining room, ignoring the soft comments of condolences people offered. Her only thought was to formulate a plan before Braeden returned from his search.

The wind picked up, blowing bits of sand and grit, stinging Braeden's eyes. He'd managed to pull up the bandana from his neck and tie it around his face, but it did little to help shield his eyes.

“We go back,” Tomas shouted above the wind. Lightning flashed in the distance, followed by a rumbling of thunder that unnerved the horses. As they danced around and pawed at the earth, Tomas added, “Storms here very bad.”

Braeden realized his search was hopeless. “All right, let's go.”

Frustration and misery coursed through his body. He felt as though he were deserting Rachel by returning to the resort. She was out there somewhere. But where? Urging their horses to pick up speed, Braeden couldn't help but issue another prayer for her safety. He felt so completely helpless, and the misery of it all left him defeated and drained of energy.

Back at the resort, Tomas took the horses and led them to the stable just as the first drops of rain started to fall.

“Braeden!” Jeffery called out as he came from the stable leading his horse. “I wondered if you'd make it back before the storm hit. Any luck?”

“No,” Braeden replied, shaking his head. “You?”

“Nothing. No tracks—no sign of anyone having passed through in days.”

“Same for us,” Braeden said, his heart overwhelmed with grief. “I wish I knew where she was. I'm afraid for her.”

Jeffery patted him on the back. “We'll have to keep praying. Look, I need to get home before this storm gets ugly. I'll ride over again tomorrow morning and we can try some different places.”

“Thanks for your help. By the way,” Braeden said, remembering Jeffery's injury, “how's the head?”

Jeffery shrugged. “Feels like I have an army marching through it, but I'd endure worse if it meant getting Rachel back safely. She's a good friend.” He mounted his horse and secured the reins. “At this point, we have no choice but to wait it out. I know it would be foolish to say don't worry, because I know that this will be on my mind until it's settled. Still, try to get some rest. You look worse than I feel.”

Braeden nodded, not at all enthused by the idea. He waited to go inside until Jeffery had left. With slow, heavy steps he mounted the stairs to Casa Grande, turned, then stared out past the fountains and circular drive, down across the lawn to the falls and powerhouse. Although he couldn't see the falls from where he stood, he could hear them and see the fine mist that rose up. The rain began coming down lightly at first, gradually increasing until he could scarcely see past the fountain. Lightning pierced the sky with light and thunder shook the ground as the storm came closer.

“Rachel, where are you!” Braeden yelled out against the fury of the storm. And even though the wind blew the rain up across the porch, drenching Braeden in the process, he felt a grave reluctance to go inside. It was as if by doing so, he was somehow further separating himself from Rachel.

Ivy watched as Braeden came wearily through the lobby door. Because he'd grown dusty from his ride, muddy rivulets were streaming down the side of his face and down his neck and arms. Still, he was handsome. He took off his hat and shook the water from it, then moved across the lobby to the front desk. Ivy watched him speak momentarily to the clerk, but the man only shook his head.
No doubt he's asking about her
, Ivy thought. Moving quietly from her vantage point just inside the empty dining room, Ivy waited until Braeden slipped behind the front desk to go into his office. He closed the door and Ivy hurried to approach the clerk.

“Mr. Worthington asked if you could come quickly to the kitchen. He only needs your help for a moment, and I'll watch the front desk while you're away,” she told the man. She needed to get rid of him in order to gain entry into Braeden's office without interference.

The man looked at her for a moment. “What does he want with me?”

“He needs your help moving something. It'll just take a minute.”

The man sighed and nodded. “Very well.” He raised the gate to the front desk, then eyed Ivy rather sternly. “If someone needs help, just keep them here until I get back.”

She smiled and nodded. “I promise I won't do anything more.”