Maybe, she thought, she should have arranged to meet Harmony last winter or spring, so the time away from her son would have been shorter. Maybe she should have gone east to them, instead of waiting until they were able to come west.
She rolled to the other side, annoyed by the squeak of the inner-spring mattress. The latest, greatest in sleeping comfort, so said the advertisements. One night, and she was longing to return to her fainting couch in her room at the Silver Queen Saloon. She wondered if she had, perhaps, been played for a sucker in choosing the Mountain Springs House over, say, the Cliff House, which also touted that it had all the latest comforts of hotel and resort life in the Rockies.
Inez had read the articles, pamphlets, and advertisements about the various Manitou hotels while in Leadville and considered the options carefully. The enthusiastic flow of words about the Mountain Springs House and its elegant accommodations, first-class dining, stupendous gardens, and up-to-date accoutrements had swept her up and carried her along. Descriptions of its proximity to the medicinal springs and the natural wonders of Pike’s Peak, the Garden of the Gods, Rainbow Falls, and various canyons had painted visions of peace and, well, harmony. All of this and more had compelled her to suggest Manitou and the Mountain Springs House as the location for their meeting.
She turned onto her back, inducing another squeal from the springs, and laced her hands behind her head, staring up at white painted ceiling boards. The name of the creek that had pushed her from sleep finally surfaced in her mind, emerging from the welter of descriptive prose she had scanned: Fountain Creek.
A knock at her door brought her bolt up to sitting.
“Inez?” Harmony’s voice came soft through the panels. “Are you awake?”
“Yes. Give me a moment.” Inez hastened to the dressing screen, and grabbed the dressing gown she’d thrown over the top late last night before retiring. She threw it on and cracked open the door, revealing Harmony wearing a faint smile and a walking suit.
“We are scheduled for the last breakfast sitting,” Harmony said. She glanced down the hall, somewhat nervously, then back at Inez. “Let’s take a private stroll on the second floor veranda before going down.”
“Is William awake?”
“Long since. The nannies and children dine early in The Ordinary. That’s the dining room where the children and their nannies often take their meals. Lily and William are out on their morning constitutional with the other children.”
“You should have awakened me then.” Inez couldn’t help it: disappointment sharpened her words into an accusation.
“Forgive me, dear sister.” Harmony sounded sympathetic but not particularly contrite. “I know you’re anxious to see your son, but there are things we need to talk about first. You will see him soon, I promise.”
Inez tried to curb her impatience. An hour more or less was a small space of time compared to the months they had been apart. “Give me fifteen minutes,” she said, calculating how fast she could slip into her day wear.
“I’ll be in my room.” Harmony shed her straw boater, and smoothed her hair, turning away.
Inez closed the door and hurried into her undergarments, muttering as she adjusted her chemise and did up the front fastenings of her corset. She struggled into the tight-fitting cuirass bodice of her gray and cream striped ensemble, an outfit that, she hoped, would take her through the day until the more formal evening dining hour.
With a sigh, she rummaged around in one of her trunks, extracting the silver hairbrush and a handful of pins, and did the best she could to fashion a simple French twist from her shoulder-length hair. With a further sigh, she tipped open one of the hatboxes, which disgorged a straw boater kin to the one her sister had sported. Throwing a lightweight shawl over her shoulders, she glanced at her soiled travel clothes, draped over the rocking chair. She hoped the laundress would be able to resurrect them.
Inez exited the room, locked the door, and moved down the hall, running a finger along the walnut wainscoting. Harmony answered after one knock. Hooking her arm through Inez’s, she said, “We can take the air while I talk to you about a few things.”
“I have much to discuss with you as well.”
They went further down the hall and Harmony pushed open the door to the outside second-story veranda. “Nearly everyone’s gone for whatever adventures and constitutionals they have planned for the morning,” she explained. “I didn’t want to wake you early, given what happened yesterday and last night. Poor Mr. Pace, may he rest in peace.” She paused and added in a low voice, “I cannot imagine how it will be for Kirsten Pace, raising all those children without a father.”
Inez had nearly forgotten, and wondered how she could have put the whole episode so completely out of mind. “Do you know the family?”
Harmony nodded. “Kirsten is a lovely woman and a devoted mother and wife. My husband Jonathan—you’ll meet him at breakfast—became fast friends with Mr. Pace. They shared many of the same interests. Their nanny and our Lily spent much time together, so the children were frequently in your son’s company. The little girl absolutely adores him.”
“Speaking of William, will he be back soon?”
“Oh yes. After our breakfast.”
Recalling the naked hostility in Lily’s stare, Inez asked, “About Lily. Is she good with William? Where did she come from? She’s not the woman you had in Denver last year, when you took William back with you.”
“Oh,
that
woman.” The three words dripped disapproval. “I walked into the nursery one day, and caught her drinking. With your son right there! I let her go on the spot, of course.”
Inez hmmed, nonplussed by Harmony’s intense reaction, then realized mere hmming wouldn’t do at all under the circumstances. “Of course,” she echoed. “You were very right to do so.”
A memory of the taste of brandy from the previous night flashed across Inez’s mind, firing a desire for more. The sharpness of the longing shocked her, until she recollected that it was now late in the morning and that her breakfast routine at the saloon consisted of a first cup of coffee, black, followed by a second augmented with a small splash of brandy or one of the finer whiskies she kept in her private reserve. Inez shook her head to banish the thought and brushed one hand along the porch railing as if checking for dust.
It was dusty.
“So,” Inez continued, “you hired Lily to take her place? She seems young.”
Harmony stopped midstep and faced to Inez. “Lily Harrigan has been in our employ for two years as a domestic.” Her words speeded up, and then came out in a nervous rush. “First as a between maid, then as a nursery maid once your son came to live with us. When we let
that woman
go, well, Lily is wonderful with William, even though she is young. She’s never given me any reason to disapprove of her conduct.”
Harmony faced forward again and jerked back into rapid motion, her chin set with what Inez recognized as a stubborn jut uncomfortably reminiscent of their father. She continued, “Lily obeys, is agreeable, patient, takes her responsibilities seriously, and loves your son to a fault. She has no family to speak of, thus no distractions from her primary duty—taking care of William. I took her in as an act of charity, and it has worked out very well to date.” Her tone had become increasingly aggrieved, as if she sensed Inez disapproved of her choice.
Inez hastened, “If Miss Harrigan has your trust, dear sister, then she has mine. I did not mean to gainsay you.”
I will take this Lily’s measure silently, since Harmony seems so intent on defending her.
With a stifled sigh, Inez squinted out at the scenery. Beyond the hotel’s gravel drive, the dusty red road fronted Fountain Creek, which was crowded on both banks by brush and scrub oak. A picturesque wooden bridge crossed the creek, and dirt paths beyond wound through dry grasses interrupted by large boulders and a rustic pavilion or two. People clustered about two rocky areas around what Inez surmised must be the vaunted springs. Raising her gaze across the little valley yielded a view of foothills, covered with yet more dry grass and scrub brush, with no Pike’s Peak in sight.
Inez placed her hands on the railing and leaned to the left, to see past their hotel. Another grand establishment, twin of the Mountain Springs House, was situated some distance away beyond a small dirt road. From what she had read, Inez felt certain that it was the Cliff House. There was very little else to see, aside from the main road meandering away to the southeast. Her initial impressions of Manitou were not living up to its reputation.
To change the subject to something less charged than the nursemaid, she pulled the pamphlet out of her pocket that she had found in her room the previous night and read aloud to her sister. “Our magnificent lodgings are located within a few yards of those wonderful SPRINGS, the NAVAJO, MANITOU, COMMANCHE, AND SHOSHONE. The grandest scenery in the world surrounds it and the waters of the FOUNTAIN Creek flow nears its base.” She glanced at Harmony’s profile, still set in an uncompromising frown. “I hope you are not disappointed with Manitou, the scenery. It seems…”
Dry and dusty. Rather brown and withered.
“…a little less grand than all the writing made it out to be. It’s most certainly not quite what I envisioned when I read it was called the ‘Saratoga of the West.’ I do apologize if I have brought you all the way here to something not quite as charming as you might have expected. Perhaps we should have picked a different place to meet. Somewhere more civilized. Chicago or St. Louis, perhaps.”
Harmony’s set jaw relaxed. A smile tugged a dimple into one cheek, and then she actually laughed, a full and unexpected sound of joy. “It’s wonderful here, Inez. The air is clean, I can actually draw a breath without coughing.” She set one hand on Inez’s sleeve. “The hotel’s physician, Dr. Prochazka, has me on a regimen of walking every morning and every evening. Our little party, William included, has explored some lovely canyons, and the waterfalls are magnificent.”
A slight squeak of door-hinges and the clattering close of a screen door, followed by a rapid, heavy tread on the echoing veranda boards warned Inez that someone was behind and approaching rapidly.
Harmony’s gaze skimmed past Inez to take in the approaching person. Her features settled into the sort of polite-but-distantly-annoyed expression that put Inez in mind of her mother when a servant would dare to interrupt.
Inez turned, fully expecting to see a male figure bearing down upon them. Her ears had long become attuned to the sound of steps on Leadville’s boardwalks and the plank floors of the Silver Queen Saloon.
So, she was nonplussed to find the encroaching personage was a woman. A large woman, true. Nearly Inez’s height, but with a touch more girth. Nondescript, in a gray, no-nonsense dress covered with an enveloping white apron. Eyes cast down as she rustled through what appeared to be a large picnic basket. Inez had an excellent view of the odd white cap, ruffles all around its edges, that sat atop dark hair shot through with gray. The faint, musical clink of small glass objects reached Inez as the woman carefully picked through the basket.
“Good morning, Mrs. DuChamps,” she said in a low, mellifluous voice.
A voice on tiptoe: it was the first thing that sprang to Inez’s mind. The voice, almost a whisper, was a sharp contrast to the heavy tread on the porch.
“Good morning, Nurse Crowson. Is something amiss?”
“When I didn’t see you at the early breakfast sitting, I thought you might be feeling poorly. I came up to see how you were and to deliver these.” She held out her large square hand. Two brown bottles, tiny kin to those that had featured in the previous night’s catastrophe, nestled side-by-side across her palm.
Dismay jolted through Inez. She snatched the bottles from the nurse, exclaiming, “What are these?”
Harmony said quickly, “Nurse Crowson, this is my sister, Mrs. Stannert. She’s joined us for our stay here at Manitou.”
“I see.” There was nothing servile in those two cold words.
Inez looked up, bristling at the tone, preparing for a verbal battle. Crowson stared at her with the calm of a grazing ruminant. Her eyes were the flat brown of pebbles, worn smooth and featureless by fast-moving waters. Like pebbles, they showed not a flicker of emotion, gave nothing away about what might lie beneath their surfaces.
Harmony reached for the bottles. “These are just the daily doses prescribed by Dr. Prochazka. One is for William, the other is for myself.”
Inez turned the bottles over. There, written in a spidery hand on paper labels were the names Harmony DuChamps and William DuChamps.
William DuChamps?
The unexpected surname shot like an arrow through her heart.
Harmony took the bottles from Inez’s unresisting hand. “Thank you, Nurse.”
“What kind of tonic is William taking?” Inez’s maternal fears roared to the forefront, stopping all other thoughts.
Harmony looked at the nurse for help.
“The doctor adjusts each prescription according to the patient’s needs,” that smooth, low voice rolled over them. “I believe, for William, the base is cod-liver oil. Very beneficial to a child his age. As for the rest, you would need to ask Dr. Prochazka yourself. I’m not privy to all of his prescriptions and mixtures.”