Crown of Beauty Read online

  Catherine could see from the look on Arthur’s face that he had been the cause of their mother’s outburst minutes earlier, and between that and his concern for Josie, he was worse for wear just as his wife was. She tilted her head to indicate that she wanted to step out into the hall, and her brother stepped back, his eyes still focused on Josie. His worry seemed to dissipate the smallest bit, maybe since he could tell that Josie was asleep, and that she wasn’t alone.

  As soon as Catherine closed the door behind her quietly, Arthur pushed both of his hands through his hair and began to pace. She knew he was rather high-strung, but all the stress from the shelter and Josie’s problems, and now, with whatever he had dealt with from their mother, he was on a thin edge.

  “I tried to explain to Mother that we needed to move in with Josie’s mother for a little while, just until Josie got past this, this stage, and Mother had a fit. I am sure even the neighbors heard her. It was absurd, for her to react in such a way. She’s always pressed us to behave with decorum, so I didn’t expect it.”

  Catherine reached a hand out to him but he didn’t notice, his steps sharp and fast and his eyes cast downward.

  “I knew she would be upset, but I thought she might understand.”

  When he finally stopped moving, Catherine was horrified by the tears in his eyes.

  “She must have been happy about the baby, though, right?”

  He covered his face with his hands and Catherine was relieved that she couldn’t see his expression. She didn’t know why she was afraid to see him like this, as if he wasn’t in control of his emotions, but perhaps it was because she had come to look up to him so much. He had become a role model for her in so many ways, not the least of which was in his surety of direction, and the faith that seemed to make him so certain of it. Surely if his belief was strong he wouldn’t be so upset, would he? What did crying, and this helplessness that she saw so openly displayed on his face, say about that faith now?

  “She already knew, just as you said, and she was angry that we hadn’t told her before. She doesn’t see why Dr. Colt can’t treat Josie here, and honestly, I don’t think she was sick like this, so she doesn’t know what Josie is going through.”

  He shook his head and turned away from her, dropping his hands to his hips as he spoke.

  “I’m sorry, Catherine. I’m not ashamed of caring about my wife and my child, but I don’t mean to burden you with this. You have enough to deal with, as Mother has her own plans for you, plans that I know don’t please you.”

  What could she say? It was true, and he of all people knew what their mother was like, but she didn’t see how his own difficulties made hers worse.

  “I understand, and I don’t mind that you share your own troubles with me. I want to help if I can. I’ve been praying, but maybe not as much as I should. I just . . .”

  She didn’t want to say it, to ask how praying would help when he and Josie had been praying for so long, just as Josie grew worse and their mother was no kinder or more understanding towards the three of them. Arthur looked back at her, blinking questioning eyes as he waited for her to continue.

  “If you pray, but nothing changes, or it becomes worse, why should you pray at all? How can God be listening if you are so unhappy right now? I don’t know anyone with faith like yours and Josie’s, and no one who deserves better, so I don’t understand.”

  He nodded.

  “Josie has taught me so much. Patience, for one thing, as well as the knowledge that prayers are answered when and as God wishes them to be. What we pray for isn’t necessarily what is best for us, in God’s eyes, and waiting for His answers is hard. It’s never been more difficult for me.”

  Catherine watched him as he swallowed hard, and the tears in his eyes stood without falling. She could tell that he was holding back, but it was difficult. Josie deserved such devotion, she would never begrudge her that, but she couldn’t hope for that attention for herself. What kind of a man would ever be interested in her at all, never mind cry over her if she was sick? She crossed her arms over her chest and cupped her elbows in her hands, standing a little straighter, hoping she could be strong for her brother and Josie both.

  “I’m still not sure I understand, but I am happy to help both of you any way that I can. Sarah is, too.”

  For the first time during their conversation, he smiled, just the tiniest bit.

  “Thank you. They might quite a pair, the two of them like little girls in that big bed together. Do you think Sarah can look after her while I’m at the shelter for a few hours today?”

  Catherine nodded, her own smile growing.

  “Of course. I’ll speak with Cook about a tray for them, and maybe she has some ideas of what Josie could eat. Now that Mother knows, it won’t matter if everyone else does, too. Once I change, I’ll be ready to go.”

  “That would be fine,” Arthur turned away, his movements taking him back towards the stairs. He looked back before he began his descent.

  “I need to talk to Father for a few moments. He is, by the way, exceptionally thrilled about becoming a grandfather.”

  His face seemed a little more relaxed, and Catherine hoped that their talk had helped him in some way. She also hoped that she would see the mysterious blonde boy at the shelter today, and smiled to herself. Yesterday morning she had wanted nothing less than to go with her brother, and now, there was the promise of another day baking bread and cookies for thankful clients as well as this strange interest she had in someone she hadn’t even properly met.

  She heard Arthur’s voice, then her father’s, and waited a few moments as they both became faint before she followed her brother’s path down the stairs, considering what she would tell Cook about Josie and Sarah.

  Chapter Twelve

  When Will woke, he didn’t remember where he was and thought, perhaps, that he was in jail. Finally.

  Unlike most of his haunts, this one had a bed, no, a cot, but with a soft blanket that covered his body. It took a few moments for him to realize that his clothes were missing, and then he remembered. The storm, the rain - so much rain - and he was drowning. There were voices and someone was yelling, then men were dragging him along and there was warmth and the gentleness of a woman’s voice. The rustle of skirts and the damp pink face of a beautiful girl, about his age, maybe a little younger, and the surprise on her face as she realized that he was watching her.

  He opened his eyes now, his gaze flickering around the tiny room in search of her. Funny, he didn’t even know where he was or who any of the people who had saved him last night were, but his only focus was the girl. Maybe he had been hallucinating. No, he distinctly remembered the older woman who was attending him telling him that the girl would be back. He smiled to himself. He was in all kinds of trouble and here he was, thinking about a girl.

  Girls had chased him plenty for the past few years, and though he knew he was attractive, he also knew that his father’s fortune had a large part in their pursuit. He couldn’t remember a time when his fate wasn’t tied to the money, and now it wasn’t, through no fault of his own. His current situation, however, was entirely his own fault, but the events of last night had provided him with an out.

  Amnesia. He could claim, had already claimed, a memory loss. That would serve him well, and as long as no one came looking for him, he could begin again. The problem was how, and with what. He didn’t have any money, hadn’t had any for months now, but no one here knew that. No one knew who he or his family was, or what his father had done. Perhaps the people who had saved him, and those he was with now, could help him start over. His uncle couldn’t possibly miss him and the trouble he had caused, the besmirching of the family name that needed no more scandal after the suicide, and wouldn’t want him back. It would be a lie, but for good reason, and no one would be hurt.

  Will felt the smile fall from his face. If no one would be hurt, why did he feel bad about it? He really had no choice, did he?

  “You’re awake n
ow, finally.”

  He was startled from his thoughts by the curious but kindly voice he remembered from last night, and looked up to find her hovering at his side. She wore a clean apron and her graying hair was tightly pinned, but he smiled at the thought that come evening, her hair would be frizzy and the apron covered with flour. She must be the kitchen help, but someone who felt she could speak her mind, unlike many servants. What sort of establishment was this, anyway?

  “Oh, I can almost see that mind of yours working. Do you recall your name now?”

  He rolled his head from side to side, the motion making his head swim. He blinked and cringed, just as she reached out and touched the back of her hand to his forehead.

  “No fever, but after that soaking you must not feel quite yourself. At any rate, you might come to remember. We’ll have the good doctor take a look at you, and see when you can be up and about, doing your part.”

  His part? Of what?

  “You’re in good hands, but this is a temporary place until we can settle you somewhere else. Perhaps somewhere you can stay on for good. Do you remember what you did before? I can’t imagine that you needed to make your own way, not with that suit you were wearing.”

  His suit. She had been talking about his suit last night, just as she mentioned the girl.

  “And I’m sure you recall our Catherine. She’s new to us, just yesterday, but a fine helper with the baking. You’ll be pleased to know that she’ll be back today.”

  The woman sure could talk, but he was, as she rightly guessed, pleased at her final statement. Catherine. Yes, he did recall her name, as well as the frightened yet curious expression on her face when she discovered that he was staring at her, just before she bolted.

  “I know what that smile means. You’ll need to focus on getting better and moving forward. Mr. Arthur will be here soon as well, and he’ll be wanting to talk to you directly.”

  Mr. Arthur. He must be the owner of this house, Will thought.

  “He’s the operator of this shelter, and the bottom line here. He knows everyone in town and has a fine reputation, so he’s one to have on your side in all things.”

  She hadn’t even given him a chance to ask about Arthur, but answered his question all the same.

  “Surely you’ll remember something soon. I don’t think Mr. Arthur will think you’re above some good hard work, for he doesn’t think it of himself, and he comes from quality if anyone ever did.”

  Will pushed up onto his elbows and she shook her head, so he leaned back before she could press down on him. Her expression told him that she would have done just that if he hadn’t cooperated.

  “I’ll bring some tea and toast now, so don’t you move even a bit. Once Mr. Arthur says you’re fit, you’ll be up and doing as you’re told.”

  She turned away and bustled over to the door, which wasn’t that far from his cot. Doing as he was told? What was he, a child?

  When she looked back at him, there was bright smile on her face.

  “Do you hear that? Them’s the Davenports themselves now.”

  What in the world did that mean? Before he could ask, she was gone, and a few moments later he heard several voices all at once along with the clopping of hooves. He had no idea what or who this Arthur was, or Catherine, for that matter, but he couldn’t do anything anyway, so he sighed deeply just as his stomach began to growl. Food was the last thing on his mind as the face of the girl, Catherine, appeared beneath the lids of his closed eyes, like a moving picture before his vision. He had never been charmed by a girl before, and it was strange that a few moments in her presence could make him think on her again and again. Would she want to see him, considering that she ran away before he could speak to her yesterday, or was she just shy?

  “And here we are, Mr. Arthur. Our young mystery man is awake, and I was just about to bring him a breakfast tray. Shall I bring you some tea, too, sir?”

  Will turned his gaze to the doorway just as a man no older than he, in a very expensive suit and hat, stepped into the room, with the chatty woman close to his side. She was absolutely devoted to him, he could see, as she looked on him with open admiration.

  “No, thank you, Grace. I appreciate your consideration, but I’d like to speak with him while you prepare his meal. I’m sure he will be happy to be so well cared for.”

  The woman, Grace, smiled and bobbed a curtsy before walking away, paying no attention to Will, which felt strange after she had been so close and interested only moments before.

  Arthur was everything Will was not. Will could see it in the way he walked, the way he carried himself with poise that lacked pride or condescension. A shelter, Will thought, that’s what Grace had called this place, so what sort of person was this Arthur, who sheltered strangers who were dragged into the building soaking wet, strangers who claimed no memory, no money, no friends?

  “Hello, I’m Arthur Davenport. May I ask your name?”

  Arthur reached a hand out to him as he stood by the cot, and Will opened his mouth as he lifted his own hand out to grasp it.

  “Pleased to meet you, Arthur. I am sorry to admit that at the moment, I don’t recall my name.”

  Catherine couldn’t deny that she was indeed curious about the young man her brother had left her to meet, but she knew it wasn’t appropriate to follow Arthur or to express an interest at all. Her head was full of the events the morning had brought upon her already, and her thoughts turned again and again to poor Josie, as well as Sarah’s surprisingly gentle care of her. It wasn’t that Sarah wasn’t kind, she was just . . . self-centered. She always had been, with an eye for her own amusement, and it had made her rather popular with others in their age group. She threw caution to the wind more often than not, and while she didn’t look for trouble, it found her on occasion, but fortunately not to any dangerous ends. She would never purposely hurt anyone, but her general lack of awareness of anyone who wasn’t part of the fun was problematic and immature. Catherine smiled at the image of Sarah with her arm protectively around a sleeping Josie in Catherine’s bed only a couple of hours earlier, and wondered if Josie had managed to keep down any of the tea and toast Cook had thought might be fit for ‘the little missus.’ Apparently Cook had always had an affection for Josie, and had made a point of befriending her over the past three years. Catherine’s smile dimmed. Josie had been in their house almost every day for three years, and Catherine had paid her so little mind. She wasn’t sure that she had even noticed her, not really, until her mother began to yell about Arthur and a maid, and Arthur, who had just returned home and was like a stranger to her anyway, became absorbed in the idea of a shelter. This shelter, she thought as she looked around at the few people sitting in chairs, what looked like an unmarried older man nibbling on a sandwich, and a young couple with a little boy who looked away from her. The boy, however, showed no such deference, or perhaps it was shame.

  She had been looking at the way Arthur had turned, and the few moments since they had arrived wherein she had spent daydreaming were brought to a halt when she felt a small sticky hand in her own. She looked down to find the boy’s round smiling face gazing up at her and she couldn’t help but return his expression.

  “Oh, miss, I’m so sorry. David, come back here, now.”

  Catherine shook her head and looked from the child to the mother, who didn’t seem too much older than she was. Still, she looked tired and if Catherine wasn’t mistaken, there were traces of tears on her cheeks. What had brought them here, she wondered, but she would never ask. Arthur would speak with them soon, but until then, she could attend to whatever they needed.

  “He’s fine, ma’am. What a sweet face, you have, David. May I call you David?”

  The child blinked up at her, his smile unfaltering. She didn’t look away from him but spoke to his parents.

  “May I get you something to eat, or drink? I’m not in charge here, but I can help with anything you need while you wait to speak to the person who is.”

&nb
sp; When she didn’t get a reply, she pulled her gaze from David, which wasn’t easy. He was like a perfect little angel, and she felt something lift from her chest as she immersed herself in his smile, something stifling she hadn’t known was there. The husband has his arm around his young wife, who was shaking. What in the world had happened to this new little family, Catherine wondered, and why had God, who Arthur claimed loved everyone, let them suffer so?

  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I made some cookies yesterday, and perhaps David would help me eat one.”

  David squeezed her hand but still didn’t speak.

  “Yes, of course. Thank you so much. We’re just . . . overcome that there was someplace we could go, even for a little while.”

  Where had they been, Catherine wondered, knowing better than to voice her curiosity aloud. Maybe it was best to give them privacy for now, and take David into the kitchen, where Grace would surely be waiting for her. The two of them could fuss over him, which would be no hardship, and put one of the dozens of cookies they had baked yesterday to good use. Not that they weren’t almost gone already. She remembered now that Arthur had mentioned bringing some to the hospital at some point, perhaps this afternoon, and wondered if he expected her to deliver them.

  “I’ll just show the young gentleman our kitchen, and see if we can occupy him with a sugar cookie.”

  David’s mother had tucked her head into her husband’s shoulder, and he nodded at Catherine, unsmiling but acquiescent.