Thursday's Child (Out of Time #5) (6 page)

Catherine's eyes narrowed. “The current state of inequality is neither just for women nor advantageous for men,” Catherine said. “Surely, a man of your towering intellect can see the wisdom in that.”

The jolly fat man's face fell and the undercurrent of laughter from the people around him stopped instantly. “You're trying to insult me.”

“I'm not trying; I'm succeeding. Although, there's not much to it,” she added with a shrug.

Elizabeth loved her gumption, but the fat man was less than amused. He took a menacing step forward. Simon mirrored his movement.

“I warned you once,” the fat man said, “and you come back. I won't warn you again. You stay away from my girls and away from my place. You understand?”

Catherine didn't flinch. She kept her chin up and eyes fixed on his. “This is the future, sir. You cannot stop progress.” She held up the hand holding the raft of flyers.

The man swung his arm and knocked the papers out of her hand. They were instantly caught on the breeze and fluttered into the street.

“That's what I think of your progress.”

Catherine turned and started to gather her papers. She scurried after them as they danced over the dirt street.

The next few seconds happened in a blur. Before Elizabeth understood why, Simon ran from her side. “Look out!” he cried.

Elizabeth turned in time to see the fast approaching wagon, but too late to do anything about it. Catherine had bent down to pick up some of her papers and the heel of her shoe became tangled in her petticoats. As she struggled to stand, the wagon, whose driver saw her too late and couldn't stop the heavy load in time, bore down on her with frightening speed.

Suddenly, Simon was at Catherine's side. The wagon was nearly there. Three thousand pounds of horse thundered toward them.

Simon grabbed her under the arms. Onlooking women gasped and men called out. Simon, holding tightly to Catherine, dove to the ground and disappeared from sight behind the horses and wagon. For a sickening moment, Elizabeth couldn't tell if they were safe or not. It wasn't until the heavy wagon fully passed that she saw them again. They were lying in a heap on the dirt road. Elizabeth felt the unstoppable rise of panic. Heart in her mouth, she ran to them.

Simon was already starting to extricate himself from the tangle of limbs when she arrived.

“Are you hurt?”

Simon looked up at her, and she could see the fear in his eyes. It had been too close, but he wasn't hurt. “I'm fine.”

He knelt and reached out to Catherine who rolled over, her eyes just as wild. “Good heavens,” she said.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded and looked down the street to where the wagon finally managed to stop at least another thirty feet down the road. The driver jumped off and ran back toward them, joining the growing crowd.

Catherine held out her hand and took Simon's offer of help. “I told my father these clothes might be the death of me, I just didn't realize I actually meant it.”

Elizabeth laughed nervously and Catherine joined in. “Thank you, sir,” she said, still short of breath. “That was very stupid of me and very brave of you.”

Brave, yes, Elizabeth thought, and crazy. Was that how Simon felt each time she leapt before she looked? She'd have to apologize for that later.

Simon smiled graciously and dusted off his pants leg and then bent down to pick up his hat. “You're sure you're not hurt?”

Catherine blew out a long breath. “Just my pride.” Her eyes darted over Simon's shoulder and then looked to the sky for strength. “Of course.”

Elizabeth followed her gaze and saw a black man, Abraham, the house slave from Cypress Hill, pull his horse to a stop from a full gallop and dismounted. “Are you all right Miss Catherine?”

“I'm fine,” Catherine said. “I suppose father sent you to spy on me.”

Abraham's worry, which seemed to be truly genuine, subsided and was replaced with mild amusement. “Now, Miss Catherine you know he only ask me to come because he worry about you.”

Catherine pursed her lips. “You worry about me more than he does.”

Abraham smiled, almost shyly. “We both do and you find new ways to give us cause every single day.”

Maybe it was because Elizabeth's senses were heightened with still pulsing adrenaline, but she saw that there was something more than mistress and slave between the two. There was an ease she didn't expect and what appeared to be genuine friendship.

Catherine held out her arms. “As you can see, I'm perfectly fine.” Abraham glanced down at the wagon and arched an eyebrow. “Well, I am thanks to… I'm sorry, I don't even know your name.”

Simon smiled again and bowed slightly at the waist. “Simon Cross and my wife, Elizabeth. We met your father earlier today.”

“And you came away unscathed!”

“We called this morning hoping to speak with you about your work at the orphanage,” Elizabeth said. “And heard you might be here and hoped to catch you.”

Catherine grinned. “And that you did. I am most grateful to you.”

“Perhaps you can spare us some time to discuss your work, when you're feeling up to it,” Elizabeth said.

“I can do better than that. Unless you have another engagement, you must come to Cypress Hill for dinner this evening. We're having a small party and I'm sure father would be even more displeased with me than usual if I didn't ask you as a small measure of gratitude.”

A party with the Colonel and his wealthy friends would be the perfect place to start their investigation into the man at the cemetery. Things were looking up. “We'd be delighted.”

Chapter Six

Like an old-fashioned valet service, two grooms stood at the curb in front of Cypress Hill waiting for carriages and buggies to arrive. One of them held the horse as the other offered a white-gloved hand to Elizabeth and helped her out of the buggy.

“Don't let Catherine bait you into conversations about women's rights,” Simon said. “We need to make friends, not enemies tonight.”

Elizabeth didn't like it, but knew he was right and took his offered arm and let him escort her up the path. The front door opened at their arrival and they stepped into the enormous, arched entry hall. The maple wood floors were covered with long runners and Doric columns that mimicked those out front stood on either side of large arches. Dozens of candles and wall sconces made it feel more warm and welcoming than Elizabeth feared it would be.

She liked Catherine. What was not to like? She was a rebel suffragette in the Deep South. She risked life and limb to help spread the word and had a tongue as sharp as her wit.

Catherine's father was a different matter. He was old school, like one-room-schoolhouse old school. Elizabeth tried not to judge, no matter how easy it might be. She'd spent enough time in other periods to know that the world of 1850 was born of what had come before. Many modern sensibilities weren't even a glimmer in anyone's eye.

The same house slave they'd seen earlier in the day took their hats and gloves and disappeared again.

“Hello,” Catherine said holding out her hand to Elizabeth and coming to greet them at the door. She squeezed Elizabeth's hand. “I'm so glad you could come.”

She seemed inordinately pleased. Not that Elizabeth and Simon weren't scintillating guests, but Elizabeth had a feeling there was something more at work here.

“Thank you for inviting us. I'm afraid we don't know many people in town,” Simon said oozing charm from every English pore.

Catherine waved to her father who excused himself from other guests down the hall and joined them by the entry. He shook Simon's hand and gave Elizabeth a modest nod of the head. “My daughter tells me I owe you a debt.”

Simon smiled, but didn't deny it. Smart cookie, Elizabeth thought. Put that one in your pocket for later.

“We're honored to be here and have a chance to enjoy your beautiful home. The hotel is adequate, but we are a bit weary of traveling.”

The Colonel nodded and grunted in agreement. “Long campaign.”

“Yes.”

The silence lingered until the Colonel grunted again and said, “Bourbon?”

“Thank you,” Simon said and the Colonel led him away.

Elizabeth's instinct to follow was cut off at the pass by Catherine's arm slipping through hers. “He'll be all right. I think your husband can handle dear old papa. Let me introduce you around and then we can eavesdrop for what scandalous things they're saying about me.”

Catherine led Elizabeth into a large, ornate parlor where a half-dozen guests mingled. Opulent didn't begin to describe the room. A six-foot-tall intricate gold-framed mirror hung over a large marble fireplace. Deep maroon damask curtains draped gracefully over ten-foot high windows with gold-colored, detailed cornices.

Through the open pocket doors Elizabeth saw Simon and the Colonel in the adjoining parlor. They were busy drinking their bourbon and deep in discussion with another man.

“There you are, Eli,” Catherine said, pulling Elizabeth's attention back. They approached a tall good-looking man in his late-twenties. He had warm brown eyes and an easy smile. And, unlike the others in the room, who all smiled as Catherine entered, Eli's smile appeared genuine.

“Cat,” he said in greeting as he excused himself from another couple. “I'm so glad to see you in one piece. I heard that you were nearly killed today.”

“Nearly. I was thrown out of a brothel on Water Street,” she said in challenge and then added, “Run by a large fat man. I think you know the one.”

Eli coughed, and although he was trying to hide a smile, his eyes darted nervously to Elizabeth. “Cat.”

“Oh, it's all right,” Catherine said. “She was there.” And then added in response to his raised eyebrows, “Outside and on unrelated business.”

Eli bowed his head. “Mister Elijah Harper, at your service.”

“Don't get too excited,” Catherine warned in a friendly way. “Elizabeth, this incorrigible flirt is a dear friend and fellow troublemaker. Elijah, this is Mrs. Cross.”

Eli's face fell into a boyish pout. “Oh,” and then it brightened. “Widow?”

Catherine slapped his arm and Elizabeth couldn't help but laugh. “No, but please call me Elizabeth.”

Eli took her hand and kissed it with a flourish. “Our dear Cat here has a penchant for trouble, Elizabeth. I'd be careful, if I were you.”

“Some have said the same about me,” Elizabeth said.

Eli arched an eyebrow in appreciation.

“Oh, my dear,” a woman said from behind. “We just heard about Mr. Archer. Mr. Goode and I are just shocked. That's all, just shocked to our core. We heard his mother isn't sick at all and they
chose
not to come after your father was so kind to them. It's akin to standing you up at the altar. You must be shattered.”

Catherine took Mrs. Goode's hand and patted it sympathetically. “Oh, my dear Mrs. Goode. I would rather be dragged through a briar patch in nothing but my bloomers than be married to a man like Stanley Archer.”

Mrs. Goode spluttered in shock and fluttered about helplessly. “You shouldn't say such things.”

“And yet I do,” Catherine said with a sweet smile. It was all Elizabeth could do to not laugh out loud.

Mrs. Goode forced a confused smile and wandered off. So, Mr. Archer, nee of this morning, was more upset than Elizabeth had thought, and had been there for something more than just a casual visit.

“Come meet my brother and his wife,” Eli said. “If your reputation is going to survive, you'll need something to counteract this one,” he said with a nod toward Catherine.

The three of them joined Eli's brother and sister-in-law. James was a slightly shorter, much more tightly wound version of Eli. His clothes were impeccable. From his neatly trimmed mustache to the shine on his boots, everything spoke of a man in control of his environment. If Central Casting needed a Southern Belle, they couldn't do better than his wife, Rose Harper. She was so composed and gracious Elizabeth felt like an elephant seal by comparison.

Despite Rose's conservative clothes and hairstyle and its strict middle part and severe control, she had a natural, easy grace about her. It helped that she was downright stunning as well, with strawberry blonde hair, pale porcelain skin, and hazel eyes the color of amber.

Rose smiled kindly at them as they joined their group. “We heard about your accident, Catherine.”

Catherine arched her eyebrows, an amused smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “My exploits do travel, don't they?”

James frowned and tugged at his ear. It was clear he didn't approve of Catherine's exploits any more than her father did, but Catherine didn't seem the least bit bothered by his grumbly show of disapproval.

Rose glanced up at her husband, then turned to Catherine and said with genuine affection, “We're just pleased you weren't injured. You shouldn't go to those sorts of places alone.”

“She shouldn't go at all,” James said unable or unwilling to curb his tongue.

Catherine's eyes narrowed. “Traveling alone can be perilous. Perhaps next time, I should ask to be escorted by one of the many men I know who frequent those sorts of places. I'm sure I'd be much safer in the company of someone like Judge Crane.”

James's scowl deepened and Rose blushed. Eli didn't bother to hold back his laugh, but that merely won him a set of daggers from James.

In the brief silence that followed, the temperature in the room plummeted. Elizabeth tried a quick change of subject. “My husband and I were hoping to speak to Miss Stanton about her work at the orphanage. I understand from Mrs. Nolan that you and Mrs. Harper have been quite generous in your support.”

“Yes,” James said, thawing slightly as he warmed to the subject. “We're quite happy to help such a worthy cause. Mrs. Nolan does a fine job.”

“The children are well cared for,” Catherine said. “But nothing takes the place of family, no matter how fractured it might be at times.”

“We heard about the girl who passed away recently,” Elizabeth said. “Mary Stewart, I think. Her mother abandoned her?”

Rose brought her hand to her throat, and shook her head. “Can you imagine?” she said. “To leave a child…”