Mercury's Rise (Silver Rush 04) (23 page)
Harmony pushed the tonic away. “No, thank you,” she repeated.
The scene froze, like one of Aunt Agnes’ beloved
tableaux
. Agnes sat next to Harmony, looking at her niece as if she had grown fangs and sprouted fur. The women nearby stared, fans opened flat against the bosoms of their gowns as if to ward off any evil that might creep within and weaken their lungs or beating hearts.
Movements by the parlor door drew Inez’s gaze. Epperley must have withdrawn at the first sign of an altercation—Inez spotted the tray with mineral waters on an occasional table in the hall—and returned with Lewis. The two men stood at the threshold, shoulder to shoulder or rather shoulder to ear, for Epperley was by far the taller of the two. Epperley leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed, a slightly bored expression as if he were watching a not particularly well performed amateur play. But Inez noticed that his crossed arms shielded hands knotted into angry fists. Lewis looked pale, as pale as a victim of the wasting disease. His fingers fluttered on the front of his waistcoat, helpless.
With a chill, Inez realized that, of all the people who had a stake in the Mountain Springs House’s reputation and its miracle medical wonders, most of them were in the room and had heard Harmony’s every defiant word.
Inez unstuck herself from the wall and tried to maneuver through the crowded room, anxious to reach her sister’s side and stop her from saying anything further.
But Lewis moved faster. Vibrating with managerial concern, he interposed himself between Harmony and Nurse Crowson. “Of course, Mrs. DuChamps. Of course. If you do not wish to take whatever draught Dr. Prochazka has prepared for you, I’m certain that no harm will occur from missing a dose.”
Squeezing past a cluster of women barring her trajectory to the loveseat where Harmony sat, Inez thought it uncanny—not to add annoying—that Lewis’ calm attitude and slightly patronizing tone so exactly matched Nurse Crowson’s. It was like hearing the same note played again, only an octave lower.
Lewis continued, “I am pleased that you had such a splendid, invigorating day today. Up Williams’ Canyon, wasn’t it?”
Inez finally reached the loveseat. She fluttered her fan to draw Lewis’ attention and said, “Mrs. DuChamp and I had the most marvelous time. Goodness gracious, I’m so impressed with her endurance. Why, I have lived in Colorado for years, and she outpaced me the entire distance!”
The deflection worked. Lewis’ gaze switched to Inez. She could swear he was viewing her with suspicion, as if the rapidly fluttering fan didn’t stop him from seeing straight through her machinations. He said with a surprising authority, “When vitality returns, it’s easy to take on too much too soon, which can be dangerous to a delicate constitution.” He broke off and glanced around the room, as if realizing there were many avid ears listening to what he said.
Looking around as well, Inez noticed that Crowson had stepped away, and the scorned restorative had vanished back into the basket. She continued her rounds, unobtrusively handing out other doses to various women.
Whatever he saw in the room seemed to bring Lewis back to his role as hotelier. “It’s easy,” he began again, retreating to a smooth, obsequious tone, “to let the beauty of the mountains and the landscape in Manitou carry us away, make us forget our limitations. Why, I myself have had the humbling experience of attempting Pike’s Peak, only to be done in by the exertion and forced to spend the night on its rocky slopes. I was woefully ill-prepared for that particular adventure.” He laughed a little, shaking his head at his own folly.
A woman in a sky-blue gown that, to Inez’s eye, would be better placed in a New York drawing room than in a Western hopeful with scrub oak for forests, said coyly, “That is why you have the little burros to do the walking for us, is it not, Mr. Lewis?”
Some of the other women tittered behind their fans, and the tension in the room eased.
Lewis smiled and bowed slightly. “Exactly, Mrs. Wentworth. That way we can allow you lovely ladies to enjoy your excursions in the mountains with no danger of being overcome by the experience or the altitude.”
Inez sensed the unspoken words hovering in the air: overcome like the impetuous Mrs. DuChamps, who took on more than she should have.
Harmony must have sensed it as well, for she stiffened as if preparing a retort. Inez placed a warning hand on her sister’s shoulder, squeezing slightly. She willed Harmony not to say anything more, surrounded as they were by people with a penchant for gossip and conjecture.
Harmony twisted around, anger tight across her wan features. “We should go up now, don’t you think, dear sister?” Inez said to Harmony, adding to Lewis, “We have another lovely excursion planned tomorrow. Off to the Garden of the Gods, for a bit of a picnic. I’ve never seen it and am looking forward to the trip.”
Lewis nodded approvingly. “You’ll find it most agreeable I’m sure, Mrs. Stannert. A pleasant drive and a pleasant destination. ”
A woman on the nearby settee, whose fan was slowly wafting back and forth, almost as if it were too heavy to hold, volunteered, “The Garden of the Gods is aptly named, and Williams’ Canyon is quite scenic. Why, I walked all the way up to The Narrows yesterday. I credit the good doctor’s prescriptive directions.” She smiled up at Nurse Crowson.
Nurse Crowson nodded approvingly, as if to acknowledge a student who had completed her recitation satisfactorily.
“Keep to the plan he set forth for you, and you shall make it all the way to the Cave of the Winds before you leave,” said Nurse Crowson. She fished through the basket and handed the woman a small brown bottle.
The woman brightened. “Thank you, Mrs. Crowson. I’m looking forward to that day.” She took the bottle and tucked it away into the small satin purse dangling from her wrist.
The sound level in the room returned to normal. Aunt Agnes stood. “Well, I think we have all had enough excitement for one night.”
Despite her annoyance with Agnes’ presumption, Inez found that she had to agree. The room was stuffy, the crowding nearly impossible, and, it would be best to get Harmony out of the room and away from measured gazes. Let her words be forgotten by whatever flow of conversation continued.
Inez’s gaze wandered over to Mrs. Pace’s chair. A different woman, dressed in pink satin, sat there now. She would have to find another time to talk with the widow.
Harmony rose, and did not object when Inez took one of her arms and Aunt Agnes the other. But Inez could tell from her compressed lips that she was not happy. Even so, Inez could feel her lean on their support as they headed toward the door.
No sooner had they reached the stairs to the upper floor than Jonathan DuChamps hurried from the direction of the men’s smoking room, wrapped in an anxious expression and the scent of cigar smoke. Epperley followed, at a more leisurely pace.
So, the wife acts out and the husband is called?
“Harmony!” He said her name with intensity, as if he were afraid that if he didn’t stay tightly controlled, he might shout it out. “Mr. Epperley told me that you are not feeling well.”
“You were misinformed,” Harmony said with dignity, then Inez felt her suddenly sag, her full weight dragging down.
Jonathan leapt forward to add support to his fainting wife. Inez gasped once, holding her up. Jonathan’s gaze met hers, and for the first time, Inez realized that he was frightened. Frightened for her sister.
Harmony recovered almost immediately. “It’s nothing, Jonathan. I must have stood up too quickly. Truly, it was a good day, the best in a long time. I had plenty of fresh air, ate well, enjoyed the music and the company. Don’t spoil it by fussing at me.”
“Well,” said Aunt Agnes. “
He
may not fuss at you, but
I
shall. I shall take you straight up and no argument. If you won’t take your tonic, then I insist you have a restorative brandy.”
Jonathan said, “The doctor has said that alcoholic stimulants have no therapeutic value whatsoever, that they do nothing to sustain the vital forces. That, indeed they can be dangerous to recovery.”
Agnes rounded on him. “
Mr.
DuChamps. I am not advocating your wife guzzle it by the pints. She has had a faint, and a small glass of brandy will restore her flagging energies. Please arrange for the brandy and some hot compresses.”
Jonathan took a step back, obviously not about to cross Agnes, who now held Harmony up with one protective arm about her waist.
Inez, who felt as if she could use a little restorative brandy herself, didn’t blame Jonathan one whit for retreating. She had seen Aunt Agnes take on bankers, magnates, railroad barons, and titans of industry, including: Inez and Harmony’s father. None stood against her. Or if they tried, they did not do so for long.
Her protective ferocity seemed to breathe some life back into Harmony, who said, “Aunt, I can walk. You do not need to drag me up the stairs.”
Inez stepped forward, intending to help them, but Agnes snapped, “Good night, Inez.” It was as if going up Williams’ Canyon and Harmony’s subsequent collapse were all Inez’s fault.
Stung, Inez fell back to stand by Jonathan, watching as Agnes clucked and fussed over Harmony all the way up the stairs, across the landing, and out of sight down the hallway.
Jonathan removed his glasses with a sigh, pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket, and polished them.
“What is ailing Harmony?” Inez asked.
“Ailing is a little strongly said, Mrs. Stannert.” He put his glasses back on, along with some of his composure. “Most likely Mrs. Underwood, your aunt, is right. Mrs. DuChamps is probably just overtired, and a stimulant, a little brandy, might invigorate her, if she will take it. Although so late in the evening, I believe I would prefer she were given a sedative to help her sleep.” He glanced around. Epperley, who was leaning on the nearby reception desk, straightened. “I shall happily prepare a brandy for the lady. A hot toddy, perhaps? I’ll arrange for one of the maids to prepare the compresses.”
Just as Epperley disappeared down the hall, Lewis hurried up. He held out a small brown tonic bottle and said, “Perhaps you might persuade Mrs. DuChamps to take this.”
Inez wanted to snatch the bottle from him and dash it to the floor.
Jonathan took it and tucked it into his pocket.
Lewis continued, “I would even suggest tipping the dose into the brandy. I assure you, she’ll probably not even taste it.”
Outraged, Inez burst out, “She was very clear in the parlor room that she didn’t want it.”
Lewis closed his eyes for a moment, pained, then opened them and addressed Jonathan. “Who is to decide what is best for Mrs. DuChamps? True, she refused her evening dose. Certainly humoring the request seemed trivial at the time, but that was before her collapse. I think…” he stopped, then qualified with, “I am no physician, of course, but I think it would be wise to follow Dr. Prochazka’s prescriptions for Mrs. DuChamps, given the circumstances. But, you are her husband, so of course, the decision is yours.”
What of
her
decision?
Inez didn’t have to ask. She knew, to her own detriment, the way the game was played.
Men decided, and women deferred.
Jonathan nodded without comment, then glanced at Inez. “We will see you at breakfast, I assume? Good evening, Mrs. Stannert, until the morrow.” He turned and climbed the stairs to the second floor.
Inez tried to regain her composure. This was nothing new, she told herself. The world had always been thus. It was simply that, over the past year, she had become accustomed to reigning in her own realm, the Silver Queen, in Mark’s absence. With his return and her submersion into the resort world of Manitou, she was receiving reminder after painful reminder that life outside her little kingdom ran by a very different set of rules, with other people in charge.
But if I cannot best them in direct combat, I shall use subterfuge. I mustn’t show how much this galls me. I must appear to give way, for now. And I must find a time to meet with Kirsten Pace tomorrow.
She heaved a theatrical sigh, for Lewis’ benefit. “Apologies for my outburst. It is just so upsetting to see my sister so frail. I will concede that my overprotective feelings got the better of me.”
“Quite naturally so, Mrs. Stannert,” the hotelier assured her. “No offense taken.”
“Have you paper and pen?” she asked. “I must write a note to one of the guests.”
“But of course.”
They went to the reception desk, and Mr. Lewis handed her a creamy sheet with the The Mountain Springs House printed along the top, and a pen and ink bottle. Inez crafted a short note:
I must speak with you at some time convenient to you. May I pay you a call in your room tomorrow? You may leave me a note with whatever time is best for you.
Signing it with her name and room number, Inez fanned the paper to dry the ink, and folded it twice. “Could you tell me which room Mrs. Pace is staying in?”
“Oh, we would be happy to hold the note and deliver it to her tomorrow,” said Lewis.
“No trouble,” Inez hastened. Even in an envelope, the note, she feared, would not escape from determined prying eyes. “It’s a note of…a sensitive female nature.” Let him imagine what he may. “I shall simply slide it under her door so as not to disturb her at this hour.”