Steadfast Heart (18 page)

“It's late afternoon,” Miss Poisie corrected.

“But I still hope that you had a good day,” he replied.

Mrs. Madison patted her sister's arm. “What brings you to us today, Mr. Welby?”

“Well, of course, I came for the bake sale. I must say I've been pleased with the pies I've purchased in the past.”

“It's the lard,” Mrs. Gibson declared.

Poisie nodded and followed with her own comment. “We render our own.”

Mr. Welby seemed rather confused, but Wade found it amusing. The man had no idea what he was up against. The trio was quite formidable when they chose to be.

“When I saw you over here, I thought I might inquire as to whether you had come to a decision on my offer to buy your building.”

Mrs. Madison met his smiling face with a stern look. “I told you I would first have to speak with Mr. Fulcher on the
matter, as well as our attorney. While I've done the latter, Mr. Fulcher only returned yesterday. I will no doubt have to wait until Monday to see him.”

Wade saw Welby's jaw clench. He was clearly unhappy at the news. Why did he want that building so much? Was there something driving him besides the import business?

“I do apologize, ladies. My desire for a rapid conclusion to this business has to do with my receiving a rather large shipment of goods from China. I am quite desperate to find a place to house them.”

“But why is the Madison Building so important?” Wade interrupted. “Surely there are other buildings available to you—warehouses that can be leased.”

The older man was not pleased to have Wade's interference. Wade could see that much in the man's narrowing eyes as he turned. “I have my reasons. The location is perfectly located near my other holdings. It's close to the harbor, and I have it on good authority that the railroad will come through no more than a quarter mile away.”

“But that may not be for years, Mr. Welby,” Mrs. Madison said thoughtfully. “Therefore, I see no reason that you should rush into this decision. Surely there are other places you could store your imports in the meantime. Frankly, I need time to thoroughly consider it. And I need to speak to God on the matter.”

“And Mr. Fulcher,” Miss Poisie added.

Mrs. Madison nodded. “So you see, I am hardly in a place to give you an answer at this time.”

“Very well,” Welby said from clenched teeth. He squared his shoulders and smiled. “Since we cannot attend to that business, perhaps we might speak about my courtship of Abrianna.”

“She doesn't desire to court you,” Mrs. Gibson announced.

“Might I ask why?”

Mrs. Gibson looked to Poisie and then to Mrs. Madison. Upon the older woman's nod, she looked back to Welby. “She fears you are a Mugwump. She heard you mention that you were against the tariffs put in place by the Republicans. She was adamant that she couldn't love a Mugwump.”

Welby laughed heartily. It wasn't at all what Wade had expected, and from the look on the faces of the ladies, neither had they.

“I am no Mugwump,” Welby assured them. “I do protest the Republican tariffs, but as an import man I believe I'm entitled. In my business the evolution of government taxation has become a most desperate concern.”

Mrs. Gibson poked Miss Poisie with her elbow but said nothing. Mrs. Madison, however, rose and extended her hand. “Mr. Welby, you were quite good to come to the sale today. I know you are disappointed that our niece has no desire to court you, but we are not in the business of forcing any woman to become a bride. We believe that love should come naturally through getting to know each other, and if that time spent together is displeasing to either party, we believe it should be terminated. You are, however, welcome to attend the receptions to search for another potential bride.”

Welby shook his head. “Thank you, no. I do not believe my heart could be so easily manipulated.” He took hold of her gloved hand and bowed. “I must attend to other business. If you'll excuse me.” He released her and straightened to glare at Wade. “Good day, sir.”

“Good afternoon,” Miss Poisie corrected, but Welby was already stalking across the park lawn.

“Oh, Miriam, I'm not at all sure that we should further en
tertain Mr. Welby's offer. He's no doubt a Darwinist. You heard his mention of ‘evolution.' No good Christian would put such a word in their vocabulary.” She drew out a handkerchief and dabbed it to her neck. “Goodness, he talks just like Mr. Gibson did.”

“God rest his soul,” Poisie murmured.

“Amen.”

K
olbein found the Fulchers to be rather superficial. Before they sat down to dine, Mrs. Fulcher made certain he admired her collection of various expensive objets d'art, and as they started in on the meal, Mr. Fulcher seemed interested only in knowing Kolbein's financial status. Kolbein felt sorry for Lenore. Her parents spoke of her as one might of a pampered and spoiled pet or a beloved painting.

“Lenore has known comfort all of her life,” Mr. Fulcher said. “I'm not opposed to having a working man amidst us, but I would want to be assured that he could continue to support Lenore in a proper fashion.”

“Oh, Father,” Lenore said, shaking her head but smiling with a girlish kind of charm. “I thought we agreed to put that aside for now. Why don't you drill Mr. Booth on whether he can match you in croquet or tennis? You will have plenty of time to badger him about his earnings and net worth later.”

Kolbein was surprised at her comment but couldn't help but feel proud. He liked that she could stand up to her father without resorting to belittling or rage. She had obviously learned the
value of a sense of humor and of treading carefully where her father's worries were concerned.

“I do play a very good game of tennis,” Kolbein said, looking back to Mr. Fulcher. “Do I dare hope we might have a match?”

“I would like that,” the older man said with great enthusiasm. “I haven't had a worthy opponent in some time. Many of my associates don't even play the game. Their schedules will not allow for it. However, mine shall be considerably less filled in the days to come.”

“And why is that?” Kolbein asked, nodding at the servant to remove his dinner plate.

“I have sold my freight brokerage to an acquaintance in San Francisco. The man has great plans for expansion. He intends to send his men up this summer to scout out a location that will best serve his needs. For the meanwhile, I am hopeful that I might persuade Mrs. Madison to continue renting the first floor of her building to Montgomery and Sons.”

Kolbein realized that Fulcher knew nothing of Mrs. Madison's thoughts about selling her building. He kept the matter to himself, hoping that perhaps Lenore would introduce the subject, but she apparently knew nothing of it, either.

The servants cleared the table and then brought coffee and a tall coconut torte cake that beckoned Kolbein to find room in his already overstuffed stomach. He took a slice of the cake and waited until everyone else had been served before changing the subject.

“I am curious as to why you chose now to sell your business.”

“It was for numerous reasons, the most important of which was that I have no son to pass it down to. When Montgomery approached me about buying it, it seemed a logical solution.” Fulcher waited for the servants to leave the room before con
tinuing. “I have done business with Montgomery for years. He runs his company headquarters from San Francisco, while his sons manage affairs in San Diego. His family has been involved with shipping for many generations and thought my brokerage business would come alongside quite nicely. I believe his biggest reason, however, was that he heard me mention selling and he desired a foothold in Seattle. I don't doubt that he'll one day run the entire West Coast of this country. At least where shipping and freighting are concerned.”

Kolbein could see that Mrs. Fulcher was displeased that the conversation had turned to business, so he quickly posed a question to her. “And, Mrs. Fulcher, will you and your husband travel now that he's free?”

Lenore's mother perked up. “Oh, I do hope so. We have discussed a grand tour of Europe. I have wanted such a trip for a very long time, but Mr. Fulcher could not be parted from the business that long.”

He smiled. Lenore's mother was a lovely woman, and he could easily see where Lenore took her looks. Turning to Lenore, he raised another question. “And what of you, Miss Fulcher? Are you hoping to accompany them on the grand tour?”

She met his gaze, and in her eyes Kolbein could see an impish twinkle. “That all depends, Mr. Kolbein.”

“On what?” he teased, knowing that he was the reason she would stay.

“On whether or not I'm free to join them.”

“And do you desire such a trip in your future?”

Lenore toyed with her fork. “I used to think I did.”

“But of course she does,” Mrs. Fulcher interjected. “She would love such a trip, wouldn't you, dear?”

“I believe,” Lenore began thoughtfully, “that seeing the world
would be a great pleasure. Abrianna has told me about many wonders that sound enticing.”

“Goodness, child, a woman does not go to Europe for the enticing wonders. She goes to buy her wardrobe from Worth and to pick out the best china and crystal. And linens. Some of the most beautiful linens come from Ireland,” her mother remarked.

Lenore rolled her eyes heavenward, which only served to endear her all the more to Kolbein.

“Mother,” she said, “I believe seeing ancient castles, extensive gardens, and museums filled with artifacts and art would be preferable. Just imagine standing in the same place where Mozart created his music.”

Her mother looked at her oddly for a moment and then smiled. “But of course, a person could purchase art and tapestries. I merely overlooked that thought.”

Lenore met Kolbein's gaze. “And what of you, Mr. Booth? Would you care to take the grand tour?”

“I suppose it would be something to consider. My duties have not yet allowed me such a luxury.”

“Lenore tells us that you are seeking to find your younger sister,” Mr. Fulcher stated with a note of concern. “What can you tell me about the situation? Is there anything we might do to help?”

His offer surprised Kolbein. “I thank you for the offer. I'm not sure what is yet left undone. I have hired a man to search for her, and Abrianna—Miss Cunningham—put out word on the street amongst the shopkeepers and such.” He didn't want to bring up the topic of Abrianna's homeless orphans and indigent seamen. “The police have also been made aware. They took her photograph and had an artist render a likeness. I am also having it published in the newspaper. I hope we will have better results in the near future.”

“And if you do not?” Lenore's father asked.

“Goodness, Father, look at the time. We rarely sit around the table so long. Would it be acceptable for us—Mr. Booth and I—to take a brief walk in the garden before you have your discussion with him? I know that the lamps have been lit, so we would have plenty of light to see by.”

Kolbein appreciated her redirection. He had stewed many hours over what might happen if he couldn't locate Greta. It troubled him more than he could bear to imagine she might have died before he could find her, or worse. Tonight, however, he wanted his full attention on Lenore.

“I suppose, if you do not stay outside too long,” her father answered. “There is still a chill in the night air. I wouldn't want you coming down sick. Your mother would never let me hear the end of it,” he mused with an affectionate glance toward his wife.

“You must wear a shawl,” Mrs. Fulcher insisted. “And do keep the gown away from the damp ground.”

Lenore scooted her chair back just a bit, and Kolbein jumped up to assist her. “I will see to it that we stay on the path.”

He offered Lenore his hand and helped her to her feet. Her beauty put him in a state of awe. The lavender gown of costly silk chiffon draped her gracefully, and her beautiful cocoa-colored hair had been arranged in such a fashion to sweep all of the hair up and away from her face. He liked the effect. He liked it very much. But it was her eyes—the expression of contentment on her face—that truly captivated his attention.

“If you'll wait one moment, I'll fetch my wrap,” she told him.

Kolbein hardly heard her for the pounding of his heart. He could only nod and watch her glide from the room. He felt as though he were in a dream. He thought of Abrianna's comment once about thanking God for his blessings, and Kolbein
realized he was very blessed to have Lenore's consideration and love.

I do thank
you, Father God. I thank you for this young woman
.

“Mr. Booth.” Lenore's father interrupted his thoughts. “I hope that after your walk you will have the butler show you to my study. I believe we should talk in private.”

Kolbein nodded. “I would like that very much.” He gave a quick glance at the ceiling as Fulcher walked away.
And, Lord, if it's not too selfish of
me to ask, please let Mr. Fulcher have no reservations
regarding my courtship of Lenore. You know that my heart
toward her is honorable. Please let Mr. Fulcher see that
for himself.

Lenore wrapped the wispy white silk around her shoulders and hurried back to where Kolbein awaited her in the hall. He smiled at her, and Lenore felt a shiver of pleasure run down her spine. He was clearly the most handsome man in all the world, and he desired to court her. The thought pleased and terrified Lenore all at the same time. What if she did something to betray his trust? What if upon closer inspection and getting to know each other, Kolbein found her to be boring or insipid? After all, she had hated school and was nowhere near the scholar that Abrianna was. What if Kolbein expected a smart wife—a wife with an interest in the world and all its affairs?

“You look troubled,” Kolbein said, offering her his arm.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I'm fine.” She led the way to the French doors that opened onto the outdoor patio and gardens. “I hope you don't mind that most of the flowers are not yet in bloom.”

“I really didn't come out here to see the flowers,” he said in a low husky voice. He led her farther from the house and then stopped. “I wanted time with you . . . alone.”

“I wanted the same,” she replied. “I hope Father wasn't too overbearing this evening. He worries about whether my husband will provide riches and luxury for me all of my life, without consulting me about my desires.”

“And what are those desires?” he asked, turning her to face him.

Lenore trembled. “You.” Her voice could barely be heard.

“And you aren't worried about having less than you have now?”

She shook her head. “All of this used to be so important,” she said, waving back toward the house. “I thought it was all that mattered, because it was all that mattered to my mother. Oh, I will say it's wonderful to have an easy life with servants and plenty, but I've had a change of heart regarding its importance.”

“Because of me?”

“No, because of Abrianna. When I met her for the first time at church, I realized that she had a spirit of genuine joy and love to share. Even as a young girl, I envied her natural ability with others and her obvious concern for those less fortunate. Do you know that one of my first memories of Abrianna is of her dropping everything in her arms to assist an older congregant whose shawl had slipped to the ground? She has such a servant's heart and seems to find genuine joy in helping others. At first I didn't understand this. I'd been raised much too self-focused. I even tried to change her, to turn her into my mother's idea of a grand lady.”

He chuckled. “I can't imagine that went well, although I have seen Abrianna dressed in some of the gowns you've given her.”

“Mother only allows me to wear them five times before passing them along. I think it a waste, but Mother says that's what all ladies of society do.” She shook her head. “But Abrianna is different. She's grand in her own way, but I failed to see that at first. I'm afraid I was quite firm with her regarding what her future should look like. I now realize I was wrong.”

“And what brought you to this understanding?”

Lenore thought for a moment about the opulence of the Montgomery house. All the outward signs of beauty were there, but within the hearts of the people who lived there, Lenore saw only greed and haughtiness.