Mercury's Rise (Silver Rush 04) (6 page)
Although her gaze was fixed upon Lewis, she caught sight of Susan who was shaking her head in a determined fashion. Inez could almost hear her wordless remonstration: this isn’t Leadville. You are not in your saloon. This is a different place, a different class, with different expectations.
It all began to close in on her. The present. The past.
The lingering aftertaste of the mineral water.
The heaviness of her skirts, soiled with Mr. Pace’s dried blood.
All that awaited, and all that went before.
It felt as if someone had yanked on her corset stays, tightening them to the point where she could no longer draw a full breath.
The sudden tightness gave her an idea. Placing the back of one hand to her forehead, she murmured, “Oh,” and swayed slightly.
“Mrs. Stannert?” Lewis sounded alarmed. “Are you ill?”
“Just…faint.”
Inez very quickly found herself hustled to the settee, pillows plumped around her, Susan’s arm about her shoulders. Lewis hovered before her, a vial of smelling salts hovering below her now stinging nostrils.
Alarmed that her bit of stagecraft had been so readily accepted, she held up a hand, fending off the salts. “Forgive me, please. The long day, the sudden shock of a warm room.”
“Madam?” It was Epperley, at her elbow, holding a goblet that, she was relieved to see, held an amber liquid that she knew well.
Inez accepted the brandy snifter and cradled the bowl between her hands. She swirled the trapped liquid gently to release the dark, smoky aroma and inhaled. Closing her eyes against the anxious faces, she lifted the glass and allowed the first taste to slip between her lips and down her throat. A dark and velvet heat spread down and out to her limbs. She sighed in contentment and release. Upon opening her eyes, she discovered everyone in the room looking at her anxiously, except Epperley, who seemed to be trying to hide a smile beneath his mustache.
Epperley said, “I say, looks like the brandy did the trick.”
She looked down at the empty snifter. “Forgive me. The trip, the travails, must have weakened me and sent me into this state. My apologies.”
She snuck a sideways glance at Lewis, to see if her explanation would do.
“It is quite understandable,” the hotelier assured her. “Such a shock. Do you have these spells regularly?”
It dawned on Inez that admitting to an occasional fainting spell might be the ticket to obtaining “something stronger” than the ghastly mineral water—say, the welcome medicinal draught of brandy—without censure during her stay.
Susan said, “No!” just as Inez said, “Yes!”
Lewis tsked-tsked and said to Epperley. “Perhaps a little more brandy, to be certain the chills have departed.”
Epperley picked up the empty snifter from the occasional table. “But of course, sir.” When Lewis turned his attention back to Inez, Epperley looked at Inez from behind his employer’s back, one eyebrow raised in question or perhaps amusement.
Inez said, “That would be wonderful.”
Epperley exited again.
“What about Mrs. Pace and the children?” Susan asked.
Lewis said, “She asked they be taken directly to her rooms.”
He hesitated, looking from Susan to Inez. “The town marshal will probably want to talk with you both about what happened in the coach. Dr. Prochazka is understandably concerned about what happened as well.”
“Is it really necessary?” Susan asked.
Mindful of more brandy in her future, Inez gave a mock shiver. Lewis ventured to pat her hand timidly. “We shall make it as painless as possible for you both and for Mrs. Pace. But, such unfortunate circumstances require a certain amount of inquiry. I’m certain it will add up to little. Mr. Pace was of an age that I’d not advise him to take such an arduous journey, and his wife—” He caught himself. “Well, I am no physician, I leave all that to Dr. Prochazka. However, I’ve seen my share of ailments and conditions here in Manitou over these past few years, and, I can assure you the climate of Manitou and the therapies of the good doctor are truly miraculous.”
He ventured another hand pat.
Inez wanted to whop him.
“We have had customers and clients come from all corners of the country and Europe, with complaints of consumption to colitis, hysteria to neurasthenia. They come through our doors, take the therapies and follow the doctor’s instructions, and recover.”
He stopped as Epperley returned and offered Inez another brandy, saying, “Should madame require anything further, I am at your service.”
Lewis added, “Epperley is my right-hand man. If there is anything that you need or something does not meet your satisfaction, do not hesitate to call on him or myself.”
The second glass did much to augment the benefits of the first. She had barely finished when the parlor door flew open. Inez looked around, expecting to see Epperley with yet another offer of more brandy.
Instead, hands clasped before her pale satin evening dress, eyes large and liquid in the dim parlor light…her sister.
Harmony.
Momentarily forgetting her role as invalid, Inez rose to her feet. Harmony’s face brightened. Inez held out her arms.
Has it truly been a year since I last saw her?
Harmony moved forward, evening shoes making no sound on the deep carpet.
The sisters embraced. Inez closed her eyes, feeling the slight frame of her sister solid and real within her arms.
“Mrs. Jonathan DuChamps. Let me look at you.” Inez pulled back to put Harmony out at arm’s length.
The first thing Inez marked was how pale Harmony was, nearly as pale as the antimacassar lace on the back of the settee. Far paler than she’d been the previous year. The second thing Inez became aware of was her sister’s youth: twenty-two, and three years married.
At thirty-one, Inez felt suddenly old.
Harmony’s smile seemed to bring light to the room, then her expression sobered. “I heard about your travels, and the Paces. We met them here at the hotel before they set out to Leadville. They have been at the Mountain Springs House most of the summer, so they told us, and were doing so much better in this climate and under the doctor’s care. Oh, poor Mrs. Pace, and the children. I cannot imagine.” She stopped, wiped a tear with one hand. A diamond bracelet sparkled at her wrist. “But that is not for us to talk of now.” She turned toward Susan, who was now standing. “Is this your traveling companion?”
“Mrs. DuChamps, may I present my dear friend from Leadville, Miss Carothers.” Inez, still holding her sister’s hand with her own, took Susan’s hand as well, drawing her forward to meet her sister. “Miss Carothers is a photographer. Only in the West, I’d imagine you’re thinking. Yet, talent finds a way, no matter where it resides, and Miss Carothers has considerable talent. She is also my dear friend and confidant in Leadville, and has been like a sister to me.”
Inez looked from one woman to the other and was struck by the resemblance. Both were of modest height, with dark hair and eyes. Harmony had even adopted a stylish frizz of curls bordering her forehead, much like Susan. They differed in their costume, Harmony’s elegant eveningwear and diamonds contrasting sharply with Susan’s plain, travel-worn clothes. But the most striking difference to Inez was in their skin tone. Susan’s face exhibited the rosy flush and darker hue of someone who, despite bonnets and parasols, was no stranger to the sun. By comparison, Harmony’s pallor would have suited an alabaster statue.
Her sister’s paleness troubled Inez, putting her in mind of invalids lying under blankets and shivering despite fires roaring in the grates. Inez mentally shook off the grim vision.
Harmony took Susan’s free hand and said, “My sister’s letters mention you often. I look forward to getting to know you during this short time in Manitou.”
Susan smiled. “I look forward to that as well, Mrs. DuChamps. I will only be at the Mountain Springs House for tonight. After that, I’ll be staying at Mrs. Galbreaith’s Ohio House.” She glanced at Inez. “I should retire and leave you two to talk. Inez? You’ll be all right?”
Harmony looked a question at Inez.
“Fine, fine.” Inez said hastily. She added to Harmony, “A momentary faintness. Nothing serious. The travels and the strain, I suspect.”
After Susan said her goodnights and departed, the two sisters sat on the settee.
Harmony said, “The arrival of the carriage caused quite a stir among the staff. I had been expecting you, so was more sensitive to their whisperings than others who were in the music room. A tragedy. Those poor children, and Mrs. Pace.”
“Sad indeed.”
Harmony hesitated, then said, “I have much I need to talk to you about, but it can wait until tomorrow.”
“As I have with you.” The weight of Mark’s return sat like a mountain upon Inez’s thoughts.
The mantel clock began chiming. Inez glanced at the time: midnight. “I should be retiring. But, I’d like to see William first.”
“Of course!” Harmony paused. “He’s sleeping, but we could wake him.”
“No need,” Inez said. “I just want to see him.”
A discreet knock at the door and Lewis entered, key in hand. “Mrs. Stannert, your luggage is in your room, and the warming stove is stoked. Feeling better, I hope?” His eyebrows raised to his nonexistent hairline.
“Much.” Inez stood, moved to the coat rack, and gingerly folded her cloak over one arm. “I shall need these cleaned.”
“We have an excellent laundress on staff. She’s a seamstress as well. If you have anything that needs repairing or cleaning during your stay, she is quick and reliable.” Lewis ushered them out of the parlor. “Mrs. Stannert, your room is on the second floor, not far from the DuChamps quarters. May I?” He made as if to escort the women up the stairs.
“No need.” Inez took the key from him. “Thank you for your attention.”
“We hope your stay here will only improve, after such a taxing beginning.”
They mounted the stairs pausing on the landing before the looming statue of Hermes. The second-floor hallway branched to left and right, their lengths punctuated by widely spaced doors facing the front of the hotel. Harmony said, “Our rooms are to the right. Yours is a short way on the left.”
She headed down the right branch, Inez close behind her. She stopped outside a room, extracted a key from her sleeve, and set a finger to her lips. “The nanny sleeps in the same room as William. I’ll go in first, and wake her, so she doesn’t startle.”
Inez laced her hands together, willing the trembling to stop. William was just beyond the door. After all the waiting, the moment felt unreal.
Harmony opened the door, leaving it ajar, and moved inside. Moonlight from the far window cast deep shadows about the large and airy room. She leaned over a cot by the window and rocked the shoulder of the person sleeping there. A figure sat up, long hair, nightcap askew. Murmurs back and forth. Harmony turned and beckoned at Inez.
Inez slipped inside and walked toward the bed.
The nanny, Inez saw, was almost a child herself. Fifteen, she guessed, at the most.
Harmony pointed to one side of the room. Inez moved to the small bed and gazed, at last, upon her son.
For a horrible moment, it was as if she gazed upon an unknown child. When last she’d seen him, he had been an infant of eight months. Now, a few months shy of two years old, he lay on his back, arms thrown out, pudgy hands slightly curled. The face was at the same time familiar and not. Sorrow, guilt pulled at her, making it hard to breathe.
More than that, what struck her to her heart was the well-worn calico stuffed dog tucked under the blanket beside him. Faded, repaired with black thread, with only one shoe-button eye, it was the same dog Inez had placed in his arms the previous August. The small comfort, the one link to his life in Leadville that she had bestowed on him when she’d kissed him good-bye a year ago.
I have missed so much. First step. First word. Moments that photographs and letters cannot bring fully to life. Will he remember? Will he remember me?
She had not intended to touch him, but she couldn’t stop herself. She laid an open hand lightly, as if cupping a fluffy dandelion, atop his head. His soft brown hair tickled, and she could feel his warmth against her palm. William stirred slightly, fingers of one hand clenching and relaxing. Inez heard the nanny hiss with an intake of breath behind her.
Inez tore herself away and returned to the nanny’s bedside.
Harmony put an arm around Inez’s waist. “You’ll see him more tomorrow,” she whispered. “When he’s awake, you’ll see what a wonderful, bright child he has become. Your son.”
Inez nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.
The sisters turned to the door, but not before Inez caught the nanny’s expression. Inez would have expected to read annoyance in her features—annoyance at nearly awakening William, annoyance at disturbing her sleep.
But she did not expect the naked emotion, painted by moonlight with such clear intensity upon the nanny’s face.
Hate.
Inez woke to the voice of the rushing creek and morning light fighting its way through the muslin curtains. She turned on her side, facing the window.