Waiting for Spring (10 page)

Her heart filled with warmth, Charlotte settled back in the pew and waited for the minister to begin his sermon.

“Today we will be considering Proverbs 12:19.”

In an instant, the warmth fled, replaced by a cold that penetrated more deeply than the frigid outside air. This had been one of Papa's favorite verses, and he had used it as the basis for at least one sermon at each of the churches he'd served.

“‘The lip of truth shall be established for ever: but a lying tongue is but for a moment.'” Though the minister was intoning the words, Charlotte heard her father's voice. “Do you believe, as some do, that this verse condones lying, by saying it lasts only a moment?” Papa had demanded one Sunday. “That is false reasoning. Our God loves truth. He abhors lies. As God's children, we must live our lives based on truth. Only truth.”

Charlotte closed her eyes and tried not to shudder. Both Papa and Mama had taught her the importance of truth. What would they think if they knew what she had done? More importantly, what did God think? She knew the answer.

 6 

M
en!” Miriam pretended to pout as she pronounced the word. “They don't understand anything. They think just because they decide to do something, we'll be thrilled. They don't know what's involved in getting ready.” She accepted the cup of coffee Charlotte offered after settling in one of the gilded chairs that Barrett had refused when he'd visited Élan. Miriam's voice was little less than a wail as she continued. “I know there isn't enough time for you to make me a new gown, but Mama's adamant that I can't wear the green silk again. What am I going to do? I can't refuse Barrett's invitation.”

Charlotte had anticipated this conversation ever since she'd left church on Sunday. When the service had ended, Barrett and Harrison had insisted on accompanying her back to her house, and as they'd crossed Ferguson Street, Barrett had announced that he wanted to have a dinner to introduce Harrison to his friends. “I hope you and Mrs. Amos will be my guests.” Charlotte, still reeling from the sermon and the
knowledge that her deception had to stop, had nodded. It was only afterward that she had realized Miriam would also be invited, and she would want a new gown.

“I would tell you that Barrett won't remember what you wore to the symphony,” Charlotte said as she poured herself a cup of coffee and took the other chair, “but that would be a lie. Most men don't notice much about women's clothing. Barrett's different.”

As Miriam nodded, Charlotte said, “There's only one answer. We have to make your green gown look like a new one. Here's what I thought I'd do.” She handed Miriam the sketch she'd made the previous night. “It's the same dress with a few changes. I'll use the fabric in the overskirt to make long sleeves and a fichu, and I'll add a new overskirt of lemon yellow. It won't be as elaborate as the original, which means it'll be more suited for dinner.” Charlotte looked at her friend. “What do you think?”

A smile as broad as the prairie was her answer. “Oh, Charlotte, it'll be beautiful. You're a genius.”

Charlotte shook her head. “Hardly a genius. While I was growing up, my family didn't have much money, so I learned how to make simple changes that would make an old dress look almost new.”

“I still say you're a genius.” Miriam flung her arms around Charlotte and hugged her. “I'm so glad you're my friend.”

“I never thought I'd have another chance to wear this gown.” Gwen settled back in the carriage, her smile radiant. Unlike Miriam, she felt no need for a new dress and was delighted to have another occasion to wear her blue silk. “I still can't believe we were invited.”

“I don't think Barrett knows too many unmarried women,” Charlotte had told Gwen when the official invitation arrived. “He probably wanted to balance the numbers.” She was certain Messieurs Duncan and Eberhardt would be there, along with Harrison. That meant Barrett had needed to find at least three single women in addition to Miriam.

According to Miriam, there would be fifteen guests, including four married couples, one of which was her parents. “I won't tell Mama that you've been invited, but I'll make certain she has her smelling salts.” Though both Charlotte and Miriam knew that Mrs. Taggert was unlikely to be pleased by the presence of someone she considered little more than a servant, Charlotte did not regret having accepted the invitation, for it brought Gwen great pleasure.

“I don't care what the reason was,” Gwen said, her face rosy with happiness. “I'm just glad we're going. And in this beautiful carriage too.” Ever the gentleman, Barrett had insisted on sending his carriage for Charlotte and Gwen. Though it was only six days since the October 24 snowstorm and most of the snow had melted, Barrett had declared that the women must not walk the two and a half blocks from their home to his. “Mr. Bradley would be horrified,” he had told Charlotte. And though Charlotte suspected the butler's disapproval was a figment of Barrett's imagination, she had agreed. Even though she'd taken long walks both at home in Vermont and at Fort Laramie, it was one thing to stroll during the daylight, quite another to walk at night in an evening gown. That was why she had hired a carriage the night she and Gwen had gone to the opera house.

“Oh, my.” Though she'd been silent as they covered the short distance from the carriage to the double front doors,
Gwen let out a deep sigh as they entered Barrett's house. Charlotte understood the feeling. The imposing foyer with its parquet floor was as large as the room she and David shared, and yet it served as nothing more than an entry hall. To the right, she saw a spacious parlor, to the left an elegant dining room. Finely woven carpets, intricately carved mahogany furniture, and crystal chandeliers left no doubt that this was the residence of a wealthy man. Charlotte had known that from the exterior, and yet seeing the inside of Barrett's home made her realize the width of the gulf that separated them.

“This way, madam.” The heavyset man who had taken their cloaks directed Charlotte and Gwen toward the parlor. They stood in the doorway for a moment before anyone noticed their presence. Charlotte wasn't surprised, for although there were little more than a dozen people, all of them seemed engrossed in their conversations.

Mr. Duncan spotted them first and, disengaging himself from Miriam's parents, hurried toward the doorway. “I'm glad you could come.” The direction of his smile left no doubt that he was speaking to Gwen. “I asked Barrett to seat you next to me at dinner. I want to continue the conversation we began at the opera house.”

For all the attention he paid to her, Charlotte might have been invisible. It wasn't the first time she had been ignored, but though it was undeniably rude, that wasn't what bothered her. She could slough off uncouth behavior. What bothered her was that she couldn't pinpoint the cause of her uneasiness. All she knew was that she felt uncomfortable around Warren Duncan. Perhaps it was foolish, for he seemed the personification of courtesy when he was with Gwen, but Charlotte could not dismiss her concerns.

She left Gwen and Mr. Duncan conversing in the doorway and moved toward a cluster of chairs, intending to sit there until dinner was served. But before she was halfway across the room, Barrett appeared at her side.

“I'm sorry I wasn't able to greet you when you arrived.” As he had been the night at the opera, he was dressed in formal clothing. It was not difficult to imagine this man walking the halls of Congress and helping to lead the nation.

Barrett wrinkled his nose and spoke softly. “This is my first dinner party, and I'm still learning.” When Charlotte raised a questioning eyebrow, he explained. “Richard and Warren have told me it's time I started entertaining, and Harrison's visit seemed like a good excuse.” Barrett nodded almost imperceptibly toward the man who had taken Charlotte's cape. “Mr. Bradley is in his element. You wouldn't know he started life as a gold miner, would you?”

Charlotte studied Barrett's butler. “I can picture him as a miner.” He had the well-developed arms and shoulders of a man who had wielded a pick and ax for many years, though the somewhat haughty expression he had adopted would not have fared well in a mine shaft.

Barrett appeared startled. “What gave him away?”

“His shoulders. They're even more muscular than yours.” Charlotte felt a flush rise to her cheeks. Mama would have been appalled if she'd heard Charlotte's remark. It was positively unseemly to have noticed Barrett's musculature, far worse to have admitted it.

Barrett must not have noticed her discomfort, for his voice was even as he said, “I hope you won't tell anyone about Mr. Bradley's past. I doubt he'd want that to become common knowledge.”

Relieved that her faux pas had gone undetected, Charlotte nodded. “I'm good at keeping secrets, but I am curious. How did he learn to be a butler?”

“He claims he read a book.” Barrett looked around the room, as if assuring himself that his other guests were occupied. Miriam and a young woman Charlotte did not recognize were deep in conversation with Harrison Landry and Richard Eberhardt, while the elder Taggerts appeared to be entertaining one of the city's prominent bankers and his wife. Smiling, Barrett added, “It's amazing what you can find in books, isn't it?”

Though she read few books now other than those devoted to fashion, Charlotte nodded. “When I was a child, I was ill for a long time and had to spend my days in bed. Books were my best friends then. They helped me pass the time while Abigail and Elizabeth were at school. Unfortunately, since David was born, I haven't had much time to read.”

“But surely you read to him. Or is he old enough to read to himself?”

Charlotte tried not to frown at the thoughts that Barrett's innocent question had provoked. “He's only one,” she said, forcing herself to smile as Miriam and Richard Eberhardt approached. She would not tell Barrett that David would be unable to read, even if he were ten. She wouldn't burden him with her worries, for David was her responsibility, no one else's.

As Richard asked Charlotte her opinion of Barrett's political aspirations, Charlotte heard Barrett address Miriam. “Have I told you how attractive you are in that new gown?” From the corner of her eye, Charlotte saw Miriam smile. She smiled in return.

Charlotte was still smiling as dinner began. The food was delicious, and the guests congenial. Warren Duncan had indeed prevailed on Barrett for the seating arrangement, for Gwen was on his right, seemingly so entranced by whatever he was saying that she paid virtually no attention to the man on her right.

For her part, seated between Harrison and Miriam's father, Charlotte enjoyed the contrast between the two men's conversation. Harrison was outspoken, while Mr. Taggert couched his words carefully. They differed on many subjects, yet both were united in their belief that Barrett should become one of Wyoming's first senators.

“Of course,” Harrison said with a twist to his lips, “you need to achieve statehood first.”

“And Barrett needs to take a wife.” Mr. Taggert nodded toward the head of the table where his daughter was seated on Barrett's right. “I think he might have someone in mind.”

As if she sensed her father's regard, Miriam tipped her head to one side and gave Barrett a smile that could only be described as radiant. They made a striking couple, Barrett so dark, Miriam so blonde. Charlotte could picture them standing together, waving at voters, then nodding graciously when Barrett was sworn in as senator. She could hear the crowds crying out in adulation, “Mr. and Mrs. Landry.” Everyone would smile. Why, then, couldn't Charlotte muster one? Marriage was what Miriam wanted and what Barrett needed. It was foolish, absolutely, positively foolish, that the thought made Charlotte feel empty inside.