Catch Me If You Can (15 page)

“Yes, fine.” Miette sat back in her seat and looked the other way with a sulky expression. Both men were now staring at Eleanor. Frank had finally become aware something was amiss. Eleanor was yet to speak.

“That would be…delightful,” she managed to say, in a weak voice, trying to sound as polite as possible.

Without batting an eyelid, Rivers turned and collected the invitation from Frank’s hand, whereupon Frank leapt into the carriage and banged the roof with his cane. He’d no sooner got in than Miette moved over to him, snatched open his coat pocket and pulled out the sheaf of invitations he’d tucked there.

“Frank,” she declared. “How many of these invitations have you been giving out and to whom?”  She confiscated the sheaf of invitations and stashed them into her muff.

He chuckled. “A few business friends, ‘Ettie, nothing for you to worry your little head about.”

Miette murmured grumpily in response, and the big man tucked his arm around her, which soon had her smiling again.

As the carriage set off, Eleanor watched Rivers’ face before it faded into the crowd. There was a trace of humor in his expression. He was almost out of view when he waved in greeting. A rush of relief flared up inside her. Perhaps he could forgive her for her rudeness after all. She put her hand up against the glass, returning his gesture, as he disappeared out from view.

She rested back in the seat again. A warm tick commenced in the pit of her belly. She hadn’t compromised her plans, but she was going to see him again. It had worked out rather well. She smiled down at her gloved hands. It seemed that she could begin to get over her embarrassment after all.

What was it that he’d said to her back in Oaklands, about their paths being destined to cross? It seemed that he was right. In fact, she anticipated the forthcoming ball much more since this latest turn of events. When the carriage hauled out of the dockyards and onto the streets of New York, she focused on the view outside, filled with anticipation.

The city was chaotic and the buildings ostentatious. The buildings were tall and built right up against one another, as if every inch of the city was the best place to be. She looked at the scenery with awe. What an exciting place. Miette had told Eleanor of Frank’s many property developments in New York, and the thriving building company he’d established. As they passed through the city he pointed out some of the developments his workers had built.

Frank and Miette’s home was a most magnificent building, designed in a Baroque style, with an impressive facade covered in tall ornate windows. It was massive, with many floors, but joined to other buildings of a similar style and Eleanor marveled at the density of the buildings in the city. The carriage swept round to the back of the building and up a narrow alleyway to approach the rear entrance, where a large conservatory stood at the head of the courtyard and stables lined the neatly cobbled quadrangle. When she descended from the carriage, it occurred to Eleanor how much she’d missed the experience of riding on horseback during the days she was confined to the ship.

A gaggle of servants hovered around when Miette entered the hallway and she issued instructions to them immediately, as if she’d stepped out of the door for her morning visits and had only been gone a few hours.

Eleanor looked at the impressive marble staircase that led up from the hall. It had wrought iron railings and rose up through the whole building in symmetrical oblong sweeps, until it reached a glass ceiling high up, which filled the hallway with muted light from above. Two massive oak benches, facing each other and flanked by huge carved griffins, furnished the hallway itself. Everything was large and rather grandiose.

Miette waved her on and led Eleanor into a salon situated at the front of the house, several of the entourage of servants following. Eleanor walked over to the window to look out on the bustle of the street scene.

Miette ordered coffee and patisseries. Later, as she sat tearing at the light sponge of a lemon magdalene with her delicate teeth, Miette told Eleanor a little more about the party that was planned for New Year’s Eve. “A masquerade ball, I thought would be fun, with masks and lots of lovely people behind them, such as Ari.”

Eleanor smiled nervously, it was clear that her friend had some scheme underway, involving herself and Ari. She kept mentioning it, and with such determination. Eleanor was beginning to feel a mite manipulated. She didn’t want to ask outright. It was often impossible to get a straight answer from her friend. Besides, every mention of the party now brought Rivers to the forefront of her mind. She tried to muster a suitable yet non-committal reply.

“If it’s to be a costume ball then I shall have to find something to wear.” 

“Oh, tsk, don’t worry. I’ve something in mind already, something of mine.” 

Eleanor looked at her with surprise “You are willing to sacrifice another dress after I ruined the beautiful lace gown?” 

Miette laughed. “That was well worth the sacrifice and will easily be fixed. This will fit you.” She eyed her friend’s figure as if imagining the combination of gown and wearer.

Frank joined them. “Miss Craven, I understand from Miette’s letters that you are planning to travel on quite soon.”

“Eleanor, please. Yes, I intend to go west as soon as the snow eases off.” 

“Oh, Frank, you must talk her out of it. It’s not a suitable thing for a lady to do,” Miette simpered at her husband. He gave a deep belly chuckle.

“It has been done before, my dear. Many of the brave explorers who trekked across the land have been women.”

Miette’s mouth pursed, she was clearly annoyed because her husband hadn’t supported her.

He stood and walked over to one of the bookshelves that lined the walls. “I’ve some accounts here, one from 1846, the story of two sisters who went prospecting for gold. Ha! Dressed in men’s clothing, they reported most of the time they were readily accepted as two young men, even when others knew that was patently not the case.” 

He walked along the shelf, his fingertips tracing the titles. Miette raised her shoulders in a shrug and sipped her coffee. He slipped a thin volume out from the shelf and walked back to them, handing it to Eleanor.

“I read such accounts with interest, when I myself hoped to go west in search of discovery.”

Eleanor looked up in enquiry.

“Oh I never did. After the hunting and trapping set me up financially, I decided to concentrate on city life instead.” 

“With a great deal of success, I understand.”

He smiled. “Yes, some success. One often wonders how different life would have been if one had followed the other path.” 

Miette gave an exasperated sigh, frustrated at the way the conversation was going. She stood. “Come, Eleanor, I’ll show you the gown you’ll be wearing tomorrow.”

Frank gestured to Eleanor, indicating that she should take the book with her.

Eleanor tucked the book under her arm and followed her friend, giving Frank a grateful smile. He bowed his head graciously, not at all ruffled at Miette’s interruption or the sudden departure.
He must have come to terms with his wife’s willfulness, as well as her waywardness
, Eleanor reflected. What a strange marriage it was. Not at all like anything she would hope for, if she ever married. Not that she had any intention of doing so in the near future, she quickly reminded herself.

Chapter Twelve

The Hunter Revealed

“You’ve done well for yourself, Frank.”

“More luck than good judgment,” Frank responded thoughtfully.

It was New Year’s Eve and Rivers had arrived at the O’Neill house early in order to gain Frank’s assistance in keeping a watch on Eleanor. If she made a move to leave, he wanted to know immediately. While they chatted, Rivers perused the books in the parlor. Frank was more of a literary man than he’d realized. “I don’t believe you.”

Frank gave a wry laugh. “I never realized it would expand so quickly. Bit of a gamble to begin with.”

“Isn’t everything?”

Frank nodded. “True enough.”

“When we split that final take,” Rivers said, “you were toying with investing in the building trade. Look at you now.” He gestured around the luxurious parlor. He’d traveled to Europe on his share, in order to extend his knowledge about the grape and establish himself as the foremost experts on the vine available for hire in California. That was in his blood, though. Frank’s venture was the real gamble.

“I got lucky, like I said. Bit off more than I could chew at first, then happened on an idea. The build was an indoor marketplace. I needed funds, so I set about selling stalls to individual traders before they were done.” He shook his head. “It was a close call. I put sweat and blood into that project, toiling alongside workers I’d hired on the promise of wages from investment money I hadn’t secured. It was ham-fisted, much like myself, but it worked out well enough in the end.”

Rivers smiled. Frank had been such a wild rogue. It was hard to reconcile that with the more settled man he encountered now. Rivers looked down at his host’s party costume with a rather dubious expression. The magnificent flounces on the French Cavalier’s costume made Frank look as if he was stuffed into an armchair all together too small for his large frame. While he’d listened and thought about what Rivers was saying, he’d slowly turned a spectacular plumed velvet hat with his fingertips, his elbows quite fixed within the confines of the chair.

“Do you miss your hunting days?” Frank asked, a glint in his eye.

Rivers sensed Frank wanted to reminisce. “Sometimes. You?”

He nodded. “I’d trade all of this for the scent of the spruce trees, the call of the wild, the eager howls of the dog team and the satisfaction of bringing in a haul of pelts.”

“I confess I enjoyed the hunt more than the capture.”

“Aye, but you were hunting men with their own guns, guns that could be turned on you.” He laughed heartily.

“It was a means to an end. Dollars. Freedom. A new life. It worked for a while.”

“That it did.” Frank observed him silently for a moment. “And now your hunting skills are focused on a certain young lady instead?”

“They are. I’m charged with escorting her by her aunt.”

“You’re not interested in the filly for yourself?”  the Irishman asked teasingly. “She’s a mighty attractive young lassie.” 

“That doesn’t enter into it.” It was very far from the truth. He felt possessive about Eleanor, to say the least, but caution was needed. Frank could be loose-lipped and he decided the fewer details discussed the better.

Frank chortled. “Surely you’ve not lost your touch with the ladies? As I recall you were never short of a woman with whom to wile away a few hours of your time.”

Rivers smiled. It was imperative he convince Frank of the seriousness of his concerns and gain the complicity of Eleanor’s host. He didn’t need to be reminded of past misdemeanors. “Eleanor is my responsibility.” 

Frank shook his head and sighed deeply. “Women are a mighty heavy responsibility at times.” 

Rivers didn’t envy the particular responsibility Frank O’Neill had saddled himself with. As stubborn as she was, Eleanor’s more endearing characteristics made her infinitely more desirable than the petulant, demanding wife of his old compatriot. Eleanor’s stubbornness was born of a wild streak, one that he fully intended to harness. Miette’s was pure ego. Frank was clearly enamored with the coquette though, Rivers noted, when he caught the faraway look in Frank’s eyes.

“I’d like you to let me know immediately should you become aware of her plans to leave. My employer wants me to escort her but she doesn’t want to be escorted. You see my dilemma. I’m quite sure the wayward young woman has every intention of giving me the slip.”  Rivers paced up and down then drew to a halt in front of Frank’s armchair.

“Yes, I must admit, she’s already mentioned traveling on.” Frank looked up at Rivers thoughtfully. He shrugged, attempting to gesture at Rivers with the hat in his hand. “You’ve no costume. Miette won’t allow you to come in without one, If your plan is to track Miss Craven until she’s packed her bags, you’d better move quickly and find something to wear tonight.” 

With that he stood, his costume bursting out of the confined space of the chair as he did. He laughed mightily and clapped Rivers on the back. “Don’t worry your head. I’ll keep a watch on her.” He winked. “I’ll arrange for select servants receive a little extra in their wages. We’ll be fully aware of her actions and intentions. When it happens, I’ll be sure you’ll know your prey is about to let loose.” He chortled. “The hunt is on, eh?” 

Rivers grasped his old friend by the hand. “I knew I could rely on you,” he said. “Oh, and I did bring a costume. Nothing to compare with the flamboyance of yours, I’m afraid.” He indicated Frank’s outfit.

The Irish man shook his head. “Women!” He held out his arms so that Rivers could appreciate the full impact of the histrionic ensemble. “I ask you, have you ever seen such a ridiculous state of affairs to put a man in?”

Frank’s good nature was probably the only thing holding this oddly-matched pair together
, Rivers reflected, as they exited the parlor. If he ever married, he wanted it to be different.

* * *

Upstairs, Eleanor looked at herself in the mirror in her room. Rivers would be there in the house that evening. Rivers and Ari. She was dizzy with the thought of it. It didn’t help that Miette spoke constantly about Ari, and seemed to be hinting at some sort of a match between Eleanor and their fencing master.

When she reflected on how she’d felt when she’d been with Rivers, she was awash with desire to see him again. If she thought about the prospect of meeting Ari again, all these years later, the feeling was one of curiosity, tempered with fleeting memories – fleeting memories interrupted by long daydreams about Rivers.

She shook her head when she realized her mind had strayed again. How dare he occupy her thoughts so much? She ran her hands over the velvet bodice of the dress. It fitted her perfectly and the braided sash hung low on her hips.

“I told you it would fit,” Miette said, from behind her. “The seamstress made it too large, and it was made in London for comparison to the dress in the painting. I didn’t get around to having it altered, which was just as well for it looks good on you.” 

Miette had the dress copied from a painting done by an artist in England. The painting depicted Queen Guinevere awaiting her lover, and the style of the dress was medieval. Rich, green velvet fitted the torso and fell from the hip in heavy graceful lines. The plunged neck was edged with gold braid and heavily encrusted with precious stones of different colors. The sleeves spread out along her forearms and dipped well below her hands on the inside, to form two red lined points against the skirt of the gown. The gold braided sash outlined her hips and ended in a tassel near the hem.

“I still feel it’s too early for me to come out of my mourning clothes.”

“Oh, tsk. Your papa wasn’t a man of rules and he wouldn’t have wanted you to sit in corner feeling lonely, all dressed in black, when you should be looking to the New Year and better times ahead.”

“Yes, he did balk at society’s restrictions. I suppose it’s what’s in my heart that’s important, and I treasure his memory there. Thank you, Miette.”

Miette smiled and brushed Eleanor’s hair. “It must be flowing in waves, across your shoulders.” With glee in her voice she added, “Oh, it’s so perfect, perhaps it was you I saw in the painting, Eleanor?”  Her laughter surrounded them, her eyes flashing with secrets.

Miette herself was dressed as Cleopatra. Her copper hair was lifted up and arranged to fall around her face. The swathe of material she was cleverly bound in formed a gown of pale cream satin. Gold rings enclosed her upper arms and similar baubles hung from her ears.

“How will I know Ari, if everyone is going to be in costume and masks?” 

Miette looked at her friend’s reflection in the mirror as she teased her hair across her shoulders and down the back of the gown. “You must find him, Eleanor. We’ll know if your memory of him is still strong.” 

Something more than mischief flickered in her eyes.

Eleanor grew uncomfortable. What was her friend was up to?

Miette handed Eleanor her mask. “Come, we must hurry, the guests have been arriving for nearly an hour.”

The ballroom took up the whole of the first floor of the building. As the two women descended the stairs, Miette slipped a gold satin eye mask over her face and reminded Eleanor to do the same. Her mask was made of black lace and peaked out either side of her face.

At the entrance to the ballroom, Rivers stood by, an amused expression on his face while he watched the guests arrive. He was dressed in a uniform made of light grey cloth, blue collar and cuffs, with embellished buttons set down the high-collared jacket. He looked like a solider and Eleanor thought him most dashing in the costume, more handsome than ever. He turned to the two women as they approached and stood to attention, making no effort to hide the fact he’d been waiting for them to arrive.

Eleanor didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or pleased. She flushed. His gaze swept over her, trailing finally across the sash across her hip. It was as if he’d physically tugged the sash, so powerful was his stare. Her steps slowed as she descended, while Miette skipped down ahead of her.

“Where is your mask, Rivers... or should I say
Pierre
?”

He gave her a stern glance before looking back at Eleanor.

“Put it on, everyone must be in disguise.” 

At that point, Frank emerged from the ballroom, laughing and waving his mask in his hand, with an attitude that matched his cavalier costume.

“Oh! Men!” Miette declared, snatching the mask from his hand.

Eleanor had reached the last step. She and Rivers stared directly at one another. Rivers bowed low in front of her, his arm sweeping out to one side. The gesture surprised her and gave her courage. He straightened and reached for her hand, which he raised to his lips and kissed reverently while looking at her. Eleanor’s breath hitched. He was devastatingly handsome and the way he touched her suggested intimacy.
And why wouldn’t it? They had been lovers.
She smoldered.

“You look dazzling, Eleanor.”

“And you are most handsome, your costume becomes you.” Her eyelids lowered, overwhelmed as she was by the admiration he was bestowing upon her. He’d not let go her hand.

“Are you well?” There was concern in his voice.

“Yes, I am, thank you, are you?”

He nodded.

“I feel I owe you an apology.” She struggled to remember her carefully planned words.

“Hush, my sweet. It isn’t necessary.”

It seemed even more difficult while he was being gracious. “I was unnecessarily rude to you aboard ship when stating my position. I regret it deeply and apologize unreservedly.”

Rivers looked at her silently for a moment, as if he too were choosing his words cautiously. “I’m glad we are reconciled this evening. May I lead you in and claim the first dance? I promise not to make myself obtrusive tonight otherwise.”

She was about to reassure him that he needn’t worry, for she wanted to enjoy his company, when he reached into his pocket and pulled out a simple black eye mask and put it on. Then he took her hand, rested it on his arm and swept her through the doorway and into the ballroom.

Eleanor encountered a visual feast. The room had a huge arched ceiling decorated with murals of cupids among the clouds. She gazed around, marveling. The floor itself was scattered with bronze statues, ornately decorated screens and tropical plants.

They moved through the gaily-dressed crowd and Rivers led her into an anteroom to one side. It housed offerings of delicious morsels of food and bowls of punch.

“The champagne is reasonable,” Rivers said, and led her away from the punch. He picked up two glasses from a silver tray further down the table.

Eleanor took the glass and vowed to sip it slowly, for Miette had already plied her with the same frothy beverage while they dressed.

“It’s a coincidence, is it not, that we share the O’Neill’s as friends?” 

Eleanor spoke in order to break the trance that fell over her when they stood in close proximity, eyeing each other over their champagne glasses.

Rivers gave her a warm smile. “I consider it lucky chance, my sweet.”

Eleanor glanced away. Was it lucky chance regarding his duty toward her, or his desire to be intimate with her again? And what of the intimate terms in which he addressed her? Was it because they had been lovers, or because he wanted to wheedle his way into her company, to chaperone her? “Are you comfortable where you are lodging?”