ToLoveaLady (30 page)

“So, Lady Thorndale, what do you think of our Texas-style holiday?” Mr. Simms wore his usual dark suit, though a red, white and blue boutonniere graced his lapel in a nod to the occasion.

“It’s very festive,” Cecily said. At that moment, one of the cannons roared, momentarily deafening her. She squealed and jumped back, and might have fallen if Charles had not steadied her.

“Don’t worry, it’s only black powder,” Simms’s smile never faltered.

Cecily straightened and blinked. A cloud of smoke still hung over the area where the soldiers had gathered; the acrid smell of burnt gunpowder stung her nose.
 

“Lady Cecily and I were just going to luncheon,” Charles said. “Won’t you join us?”

“That’s a splendid idea,” Simms said.

They made their way back to the buggy and found Gordon arranging a feast on a blanket in the shade. “Miss Simms and Mr. Simms will be joining us for lunch, Gordon,” Charles said.

“Very good, m’lord.” Looking dapper in shirt sleeves and striped waistcoat, Gordon directed them where to sit, then began to serve. “Mrs. Bridges has outdone herself today,” he remarked.
 

Indeed, after seeing the rare roast beef, fried chicken, sausages, biscuits, aspic salad, deviled eggs, pickles, chocolate cake, apples and cheese which Gordon withdrew from the hamper, Cecily wondered if there were any food left in the larder at the ranch house.
 

Gordon piled each plate with an arrangement of delicacies, then handed them round. When he gave Hattie her plate, she blushed again. Judging from the way she continued to watch Gordon as he made his way around the blanket, this time her heightened color did not arise from embarrassment.

Cecily maneuvered herself closer to the other woman. While the men fell into conversation about cattle prices and veterinary treatments, she leaned closer still. “Gordon is quite a handsome man, don’t you think?” she said.

Hattie’s cheeks grew pinker still and she struggled to choke down a bite of deviled egg. “I’m sure he’s not as handsome as Mr. Worthington,” she said at last, though she could not quite conceal the longing in her eyes as her gaze drifted once more toward the valet, who was at this very moment bent over, refilling Charles’s glass and offering a quite attractive view of his backside.

“Well, of course I think Charles is most handsome,” Cecily said. “But Gordon attracts his share of female attention, I assure you. Though I don’t believe he has an interest in anyone particular here in the states.”

Hattie’s gaze fell to her plate. She set it aside and brushed crumbs from her lap. “No doubt, he’s got a steady girl or a fiancé or a wife back in England.”

“He does not.”
 

“May I serve you ladies anything else?” Gordon bent over them, eyes filled with concern.

Cecily’s mother always scolded her impulsiveness, but surely there were advantages to thinking quickly, sometimes. “Miss Simms would like to stretch her legs a bit, Gordon. Would you be so kind as to escort her on a turn about the square?”

His puzzled look vanished as his eyes met Hattie’s. “I don’t know –” she began.

But Gordon had already taken her hand and helped her to her feet. Mr. Simms looked up, a question in his eyes. “Don’t worry, Gordon is just going to take Hattie for a walk to stretch her legs,” she said. “She was feeling a little uncomfortable, sitting so long on the ground.”

“That is, if I may, m’lord,” Gordon said.

Charles nodded. “Of course.”

Simms pulled a large watch from his pocket. “We’ll meet you on the steps of the Academy in fifteen minutes.”

A few minutes later, Cecily, Charles and Mr. Simms abandoned the remains of their luncheon and headed toward the Academy. The as-yet-unfinished building, fashioned of Texas granite the deep red of a sunset, rose three stories above the flat prairie, with a four- story cupola in the middle. A dozen tall windows glittered across its front with smaller windows flanking the double doors, which were thrown open to show a large hallway running the length of the building. A second set of doors opened at the back.
 

“This building has all the latest architectural features,” Simms said. He pointed toward the cupola. “That higher section in the center acts like a chimney, to draw the hot air out of the lower floors in the summer and vent it to the sky. With both sets of double doors and most of the windows thrown open, you get a nice cross-breeze. In the winter, you close everything up tight and two coal-burning furnaces keep everything nice and warm.”

As they watched, a pair of workmen unfurled a banner from the top of the cupola:
Fairweather Academy: Educating Our Future
. A cheer went up from the crowd as they read the proud words. Cecily joined in the applause, but she was busy scanning the gathering for a sight of Fifi and Estelle. They had driven over from their new house with Madame and had promised to meet her here promptly at one.

“Excuse me, Mr. Simms, what time is it?” she asked.

The banker checked his watch. “It is ten minutes after one, Lady Cecily.”

“Thank you.” She worried her lower lip between her teeth. Ten minutes late!
 
Her stomach was in knots, and she wondered if she’d embarrass herself further by losing her lunch.

“There they are now.” As if he’d been reading her thoughts, Charles pointed across the street, to the pair of brightly dressed women hurrying toward them. Cecily stared in dismay at her pupil’s outfits: Fifi wore a low-cut gown of eye-popping pink satin, while Estelle’s orange silk trimmed in black braid clung provocatively to every curve. As they moved through the crowds, heads swiveled in their direction as if pulled by a magnet.

“Sorry we’re late,” Fifi gasped as they halted at the bottom of the steps leading up to the Academy. “We aren’t settled in yet and nothing’s where it’s supposed to be.”

“How do we look?” Estelle smoothed her skirts and twitched an errant piece of braid into place.

Cecily kept her expression blank. “I thought we agreed you should dress conservatively,” she said.

“This is conservative compared to some dresses I own.” Fifi tugged at her neckline, which didn’t budge an inch.

“We got to thinking about that,” Estelle said. “At least this way, if we make a mistake, half the men won’t notice. They’ll be too busy trying to catch a glimpse of our bosoms.”

There was no time to send them home to change now. A small band comprised of trumpet, guitar and a battered cornet struck up a tune and Hattie and her father climbed the steps to the speaker’s platform. “Welcome, welcome!” Mr. Simms said, as the spectators fell silent. “Today is indeed a grand day for the citizens of Fairweather, a day when we celebrate the fact that we will no longer have to send our young people far away to receive a quality education.”

Applause drowned out his next words; he had to wait and start again. “I would like at this time to recognize some of the people who have been instrumental in making this dream a reality. First, my lovely daughter, Hattie, who first conceived the idea and has worked tirelessly to bring it about.”

More applause, and enthusiastic whistling from some of the cowboys. Hattie blushed and smiled. Cecily had never seen her look prettier.

“I’d also like to recognize one of our biggest benefactors, a man who, though here only a short time, has become an integral part of our community. I’ll ask you all now to welcome the future president of the board of the Fairweather Academy, Charles Worthington, Lord Silsbee.”

Charles looked startled, but quickly recovered and mounted the steps to join the Simms before the school’s doors. “It is indeed an honor to be here today,” he said. “I believe Mr. Simms exaggerates my role in bringing this project to fruition. It is really the workers like he and Miss Simms who deserve all the credit.” More applause shook the air.

Charles smiled and nodded. “And you should applaud yourselves as well,” he continued. “For you have done what other lesser communities have not; you have recognized the importance of education in securing your future.”

His voice, rich and mellifluous, soared over the crowd. He held them all, most especially Cecily, entranced, as he spoke of his future vision for the Academy and the community. Shoulders back, hands clutching his lapels, the sun glinting off his hair, he was the picture of a powerful statesman, the kind of man people looked up to and respected.

The man she had given her heart to; no matter how much she tried, she could not get it back. She didn’t know whether to celebrate or mourn the realization. On one hand, how many women found their one true love in life, yet how many had to suffer him turning away from her?

Charles spoke for ten minutes, and in that ten minutes, Cecily was not the only one who fell in love. When he was done, the crowd whistled and whooped. “Worthington for Senator!” one man shouted, and others roared their approval.

Still smiling, Charles descended the steps and rejoined Cecily. “You were wonderful!” she said.

He shrugged. “It was nothing.”

Gerald Adkins shoved toward him. “Good job, Worthington,” he said. “Maybe you ought to consider a run for state office.”

“You’re forgetting I’m still a British citizen,” Charles said.
 

Adkins looked disappointed. “I’d forgotten about that. Still, you’ve got a knack for politics. You ought to consider it.”

“I agree,” Cecily said. “You’ll take the House of Lords by storm when it’s time to assume your father’s seat.”

“If I take my father’s seat.”

Cecily didn’t have time to contemplate this strange comment. Hattie Simms was already introducing her and her pupils. “Among the many programs we hope to offer at the Academy is a program of adult education,” Hattie said. “This will allow older students to further themselves through classes to be offered in evening hours. To demonstrate the possibilities these classes offer, I’d like to introduce two pupils who have recently learned to read, thanks to Lady Cecily Thorndale.”

The applause was a white roar in Cecily’s ears as she mounted the steps, legs shaking, and took her place by Hattie. She’d meant to make a nice speech thanking everyone for their hospitality and praising her pupils, but words deserted her as she gazed out across the hundreds of people crowded around them. Heart pounding as though it might burst, she could only motion toward the other women. “Ladies and gentlemen, Fifi Simmons and Estelle Green,” she squeaked.

A shocked gasp rippled through the crowd as Fifi and Estelle took center stage. Estelle glared at the audience, while Fifi shrank back. Oh God, what had she been thinking, agreeing to do this? Cecily thought. She forced herself to take a deep breath. She had gotten Estelle and Fifi into this; she couldn’t abandon them now. With what she hoped was an encouraging smile, she nodded for them to begin.

They’d chosen to read a scene from
Romeo and Juliet
. The story had captured their imaginations, and the part of nurse and Juliet seemed tailor-made for their talents. Estelle played nurse to Fifi’s Juliet, putting their all into the teasing banter:

“Now, good sweet nurse, O Lord, why look’st thou sad?” Fifi, as Juliet read. “Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily. If good, thou shamest the music of sweet news by playing it to me with so sour a face.”

Estelle made a face that brought laughter from the crowd. “I am a-weary, give me leave awhile,” she read. “Fie! How my bones ache!
 
What a jaunt have I had.”

“I would thou had my bones, and I thy news,” Fifi read. “Nay, come, I pray thee, speak, good, good nurse, speak.”

“Jesu, what haste? Can you not stay awhile? Do you not see that I am out of breath?”

Hands on hips, Fifi looked thoroughly put-out. “How are thou out of breath, when thou hast breath to say to me that thou art out of breath? The excuse that thou dost make in this delay is longer than the tale thou dost excuse!”

More laughter from the crowd, and nods of approval from some. Joy rushed in to chase away the vise-like tension in Cecily’s chest. With growing confidence, the women continued:

“Here’s such a coil!” Fifi read. “Come, what says Romeo?”

“Have you got leave to go to shrift today?”

“I have.”

“Then hie you hence to Friar Lawrence’s cell. There stays a husband to make you wife.”

Estelle’s voice soared in velvet notes, while Fifi’s more delicate tone provided the perfect counterbalance. Their faces conveyed every nuance of emotion in the scene, and Cecily was sure she was not the only one in the crowd with a lump in her throat at the reading’s end.

“Hie you to church, I must another way,” Estelle declared. “To fetch a ladder, by which your love must climb a bird’s nest soon when it is dark.”

Fifi’s Juliet gathered her skirts as if to flee. “Hie to high fortune! Honest nurse, farewell.”

There was a moment of hesitation, then someone began to applaud, joined by others, and still others. “Who would have thought such a thing?” someone murmured.

“It looks like they’ve reformed for sure,” another said.

Cecily followed Fifi and her pupils down the steps. Whether or not Fifi and Estelle decided to give up working for Madame LeFleur remained to be seen. They had so far given no indication that they intended to leave. But reform had not been her goal in teaching them to read. Whether they continued in their present line of work mattered not; at least now, they had choices.