Fairer than Morning (39 page)

The same horde of covered dishes overran the table. Will reached for one and removed the lid.

“Would you like some roast?' he asked her.

“Yes, please.” She smiled at him, and he answered with a slow, warm smile as he looked into her eyes. He picked up his fork without looking back at the dish and gazed at her the whole while as he speared a slice of roast beef and transferred it to her plate. Then he took one for himself.

She chuckled, and he grinned more broadly.

“That's quite a skill,” she said, relieved that he had finally looked away at her laugh. His unbroken regard was comical, but stirring somehow.

“I have a strong instinct for finding food. It came in handy more than once.” His gaze turned a little more serious, though his tone was still light. She wanted to touch his hand to show him her understanding, but that would be too forward. Instead, she touched another dish.

“Very well then. What do you think is in this one?”

He knit his brows together in mock concentration. “Beans.”

She peeked inside, then lifted off the lid. “How did you know?”

They both grinned.

The girl in amber spoke around his shoulder. “You must have great mental ability. Are you a spiritualist?”

He turned to answer. “No, miss.”

“I've seen spiritualists in Philadelphia tell the number of a card plucked from a hat.”

She said something else that was frivolous, and Will answered politely. Ann could tell that he was not very interested in the girl's flirtatious remarks, but he could not escape her direct questions. A little flame of annoyance lit in Ann's heart.

While Will's head was turned away, she looked across at her father. He was watching her with a knowing look. She looked back defiantly and raised her eyebrows as if to ask him what he intended by that. He smirked and picked up his knife and fork to busy himself cutting his meat.

“Don't you think so, Miss Miller?” Will turned back to her with a visible effort to redirect his attention away from the other girl.

“Why . . . yes.” She could tell that he knew she had not heard the subject of their discussion.

Will picked up the pitcher of lemonade in front of them and refreshed her glass. Before he could continue the conversation, however, the girl in amber broke in again.

For the rest of the meal, Ann fumed in silence at being deprived of Will's company. It was simply rude of that girl, that was all. No man could have extricated himself from her, though Will made several attempts. Ann made conversation with her father instead, though she thought he could tell that her heart wasn't in it. She redoubled her efforts to sound interested and cheerful.

She was glad when the captain stood up, bowed to the company, and left. With a quick “pardon” to the girl in amber, Will turned to Ann. “Are you finished?”

“Yes.”

“Shall we go?” He stood and she rose with him. At the disappointed look on the girl's face, he said, “It was a pleasure meeting you, miss.”

Ann realized he did not remember the girl's name. That made her happy. But she was being petty.

Mr. Miller excused himself to the company and came round to join them.

“Perhaps we should take a walk on deck. It's much warmer than it was on our last journey.”

Will agreed. They all left the dining room and stepped into the darkness and the river breeze. After only a few steps astern, however, Mr. Miller clapped his hand to his head. “I have forgotten my hat,” he said.

Ann looked at him askance.

“Don't wait for me.” He left them and walked back to the dining room.

Will offered her his arm again and they walked on. The lamps flickered beneath their glass panes. They walked all the way to the stern railing that overlooked the engine deck. The men down there were less rowdy than the first crew had been. They still played cards and drew swigs from long-necked bottles, but with only a low hum of talk and an occasional laugh.

Away from the deck lamps, they could see the sky more clearly. Scattered clouds made dark blots against the stars.

Ann felt Will move and noticed that he had removed his hat with his right hand. He set it on the crate to his right by the rail, but he did not move the arm she was holding. She liked his closeness and chose to keep her hand tucked around his elbow.

“Do you ever wish you could change the past?” His hair lifted in the light breeze from the ship's passage.

“Many times.” She thought of her mother. Then his. “What would you change?”

“What happened to my parents.”

Her heart pained her at the loneliness that echoed in his flat statement, even though she had known what he would say.

“You also lost your mother,” he said.

“Yes.”

“It must have been hard to become a mother to your sisters.”

“Not as hard as it would have been to lose both my parents.” She pressed his arm with a gentle hand.

“If my parents had lived, so many things would not have happened. I would never have gone to Master Good's.”

“That's true.”

“But I also would never have met your father. Or you.” He looked at her, his eyes even darker out here.

“I don't think my father and I are such great prizes.”

“Perhaps not.” He smiled.

She smiled back but affected an injured tone. “You're supposed to say we are pearls beyond price.”

“Then you are. You are.” Beneath his humor was an affection and gentleness that made her want to put her arms around him and soothe away all the misery he had endured.

“But in all seriousness, I can never repay what your father has done for me.”

She wondered at that, but held her tongue, sensing that he needed her to listen, not speak.

“He has opened the gates of heaven—” His low voice caught and he cleared his throat and turned his head away. “I will never be the same.”

She inched closer to him and interlaced her arm through his. He turned back to her and smiled, his face both familiar and new to her. The wildness was gone, replaced by peace.

They stood at the railing for some time, side by side, with silent understanding.

Thirty-Six

M
R. MILLER HAD TOLD
W
ILL THAT THE FAMILY
hosting them in Pittsburgh was well-to-do, but Will was unprepared for the magnificence of the curved driveway, or the vast lawn ornamented with dark evergreens trimmed in classical symmetry. The coach rolled away behind them, leaving Will, Ann, and her father standing next to their small pile of baggage. Will stared up at the columned mansion from the base of its wide white stairs.

“They are expecting us?” Ann asked her father.

“I sent a letter two days ahead of our departure, so I trust they know by now.”

“I do hope they won't mind.”

“I'm sure Mrs. Burbridge will be pleased to help us. And we had little choice. It would be unwise to stay with Dr. Loftin, under the circumstances.” Mr. Miller hefted one of the large traveling cases and started up the stairs. Will took the other two cases and followed the saddler and Ann to the door. He felt conspicuous enough as it was, with all the time and trouble the Millers had taken on his account. He would rather lurk in the background at this grand place, carrying bags and calling no attention to himself.

At the tap of the polished brass knocker, the door opened to reveal a middle-aged man in a black coat and stiff white collar. “Mr. Miller,” he said, crisp and clear in his Irish brogue. “Miss Miller.” He bowed and ushered them into a high-ceilinged foyer. “Mrs. Burbridge awaits you in the parlor. May I take your hats? And please leave your bags; I will take them up for you.”

Following Mr. Miller's example, Will set down the cases and doffed his hat to give to the butler. Ann took a moment to untie the wide bow beneath her chin and lift her larger, more delicate hat from the loose curls atop her head. The butler balanced all three hats in his hands and retreated into the small anteroom to the side of the front foyer.

Mr. Miller offered Ann his arm and led her through the foyer. Will marveled at the elaborate carved paneling that gave way at waist height to dark-gold walls. He had never seen moldings of the sort that adorned the ceiling of the foyer and led the eye to the wide parlor doorway ahead. As they walked through into the vast blue and gold room, he noticed that the room took the shape of an oval, its dark mahogany furniture sitting on rounded feet in graceful clusters, upholstered in blue crushed velvet and gold brocade. Will looked down to make sure his boots were clean before he stepped on the Oriental rug.

“Welcome, Samuel!” An elderly lady rose from the chaise longue at the far end of the room. At the same time, a young man and woman stood from the chairs flanking her. For a moment, they looked as if they posed for a formal portrait, in their sumptuous, tasteful garb.

The young woman broke the frieze and hurried to Ann. “We were so glad to receive your letter.” She embraced Ann.

The old woman had followed her and stood beside her to address the saddler. “And, Mr. Miller, of course you and yours are always welcome in our home.”

Mr. Miller took the hand the old woman offered. “My deepest thanks.” He stepped aside to gesture toward Will. “Will, this is Miss Louisa Burbridge and her grandmother, Mrs. Lewis Burbridge. Ladies, this is the apprentice I mentioned, Will Hanby. I'm here to settle his case.”

“So unfortunate, the way some of these masters abuse their apprentices,” the old woman said. Will's neck warmed, but there was only sympathy in her age-cracked voice. She approached, her stiff dark skirt advancing in slow measures, a foot at a time over the thick rug. “You will always have our support, young man.”

He ducked his head, unsure of how to respond.

The young man had lingered back by the chairs, but now he walked up beside his grandmother, a curious look on his patrician face. He went to Ann and took her hand, bowing over it. “Miss Miller.” There was no mistaking the intent look in his gray eyes as he looked up at her, and indeed she was dainty and beautiful in her red dress. Will turned away in disgust, pretending to examine the pianoforte in the corner. Would these fellows never leave her alone?

Mr. Miller spoke up immediately. “And this is Mr. Allan Burbridge, a good friend to our family.”

What did that mean? Did this man also have some claim on Ann's heart? Will forced a civil look to his face as Burbridge straightened up and finally turned his attention from Ann to Will.

“A pleasure to meet you.” Though his words were polite, his careful gaze assessed Will from head to foot. Then, as if dismissing Will from further notice, he leaned toward Mr. Miller and shook his hand. “Welcome. Was the journey arduous?”

Behind Burbridge's back, Ann crossed her arms over her bodice and shot Will a surreptitious glance. He did not want her sympathy and looked away. Clearly he was not of sufficient station for Burbridge to shake his hand. Will would not give the rich young man the satisfaction of seeing his snub hit home.

After more pleasantries, during which Will acquainted himself with the contents of a curio cabinet, he heard Burbridge telling the Millers that his sister would show them to their rooms.

Mr. Miller headed for the stairs after Miss Burbridge, tall and slim and blond in her mauve silk, then paused and turned back to his hostess. “Mrs. Burbridge, might I trouble you once more for the use of your coach in a half hour?”

“So soon? Do you not wish to refresh yourself, take tea, perhaps?” The elderly woman cocked her gray head.

“That's very kind, but it would be best if I went directly to Master Good with my proposal. A great weight will be lifted from all of us when that contract is bought out.”

“And I will go with you, sir.” Will would not let Mr. Miller do his business for him, cowering in some far-off hiding place under Ann's watch. He would face Master Good himself.

Mr. Miller raised his eyebrows as if to object, but after regarding Will for a moment, he nodded once. “Very well.”

In the rush of satisfaction that followed, it took Will a moment to see that Ann's face had blanched as white as the marble stairs behind her. She turned and hurried up after Louisa.

After a splash of cold water from a bowl on the washstand and a perfunctory wipe with a towel, Will rejoined Mr. Miller at the foot of the grand staircase that dwarfed even the one he had seen in Dr. Loftin's home.

Mr. Miller and Mrs. Burbridge exchanged some thoughts on a minister whose name Will did not know. The butler came in to tell them that the coach awaited them outside.

“We should return in no more than an hour or two.” Mr. Miller took Mrs. Burbridge's hand and bade her farewell with a courtly half bow from the waist.

The Burbidges' black town coach with blue liveried driver was only a few steps from the door across the crunching gravel. The butler moved ahead of them with the understated grace of long service and clicked open the coach door. After they had stepped up and found themselves facing one another, the butler closed the door behind them. “And a good day to you, gentlemen,” he said.