Mercury's Rise (Silver Rush 04) (31 page)

The foyer and entry hall were crammed with guests and visitors, all jostling, waiting for the doors to open to the music room. Some parents had their older children with them, and she heard one mother instruct her son, “
Tableaux vivants
are ‘living pictures.’ The people in the scenes are like statues. They are posed and supposed to hold especially still so we may view the scene, just like we would at a museum. Do not talk to any of them, not even your sister, or try to make her laugh or respond in any way.”

“How come they picked her and not me?” he groused.

The mother smoothed down his cowlick. “When you can hold still without wiggling, sneezing, or sticking out your tongue for ten minutes at a time, perhaps they will.”

The doors were flung open by a radiant Aunt Agnes, dressed in a startling rose and purple ensemble that frothed with lace and flounces. Inez’s first thought was how it was a dress appropriate for a younger woman. Her second thought was that it didn’t matter what fashion might dictate: the cut and color suited Aunt Agnes perfectly. The audience streamed into the room at last, Inez pulled into the wake. The room had been transformed, emptied of chairs, the grand piano pushed to one side. Different tableau groupings were staged around the walls. Behind each posed scene, someone had tacked muslin over the wallpaper, providing in some cases a plain backdrop, and in others, a painted one.

The next thing Inez noticed was that the displays had a decidedly classical theme. The posed players, for the most part, wore what looked like classical Grecian-style draperies that covered the limbs from ankle to elbow. Inez wondered, briefly, how many Mountain Springs House sheets and tablecloths had died so that Aunt Agnes’
tableaux
might live.

Aunt Agnes was happily occupied with greeting various people and accepting the exclamations of amazement and admiration, leaving Inez free to wander as she wished. She circled through the room, taking in each scene and looking for Harmony, Jonathan, Calder, and any others she might recognize. Harmony was posed as Diana, readily identifiable by the quiver of arrows on her back, and a small moon crown holding back her dark hair, which had been powdered white. Her other hand rested on a small stuffed deer with antlers lashed to its head. A woman in front of Inez exclaimed, “
Diane de Versailles!
The very likeness!” She added in a lower tone to her female companion, “Although thankfully she’s clad in a longer gown than the actual statue.”

Jonathan posed nearby with a painted wooden replica of a lyre and a stuffed snake curled about a wooden stump. Inez thought he made a rather solemn and pale Apollo. If she had been choosing players, Inez supposed she would have chosen Epperley, with his white-blonde hair and Anglo-Saxon good looks.
Aunt Agnes probably assigned Jonathan the role to complement Harmony’s role as Diana.
An amateur painting of a vibrant yellow sun resting in a chariot splashed the muslin behind him.

The next
tableau
featured three young girls, obviously enjoying themselves and having a hard time not whispering and giggling. Their arms twined around each others’ shoulders, and Inez guessed they were the three graces. “Aglaia?” said Inez, testing them. One twitched a smile. Another teetered in her carefully draped sheet and said in a stage whisper, “I’m Euphrosyne, and this is Thalia!”

She finally stopped before a puzzling scene that included Calder, Epperley, Dr. Prochazka, and three female guests, including the red-haired and befreckled Mrs. Banscombe. Inez cocked her head and tried to make sense of the grouping. Epperley wore a silver bowl on his head like a helmet and held a brass caduceus that Inez recognized from the statue of Hermes at the top of the entrance staircase. He stood behind Calder, who knelt on one knee, in a beseeching pose, arms outstretched to Prochazka. Prochazka seemed to be basically playing himself, frowning darkly at Epperley and Calder. The physician leaned on a rough-hewn tree limb with a stuffed snake twined up the length. The three women, arms entwined like the young Graces at the other end of the room, stood to the far right. All except Epperley had clematis wreaths around their brows. It looked all the world to Inez as if Dr. Prochazka was a disapproving father, denying two suitors access to his three daughters. One of the suitors was clearly Hermes. But the rest?

That was when Susan said at her elbow, “What do you think?”

Inez turned in surprise. “I thought you were to take photographs. I must say, it’s quite a production that Aunt Agnes put together. I’m impressed. This had to come together quickly. I’m not certain how she did it.”

Susan smiled, eyes on Calder. “She is a wonder, your aunt. I took all the photographs before the doors opened. I thought it best to do so before everyone arrived. It took a little longer than I’d planned, as the room kept getting smoky from the flash powder. My part is done now, so I can just enjoy it.”

“Do you know what this scene is?” Inez asked.

“I can explain it to you. Let’s move on a bit so others can take their turn to see.”

They wandered over to the French doors, where a table had been set up with a punch bowl and cups. Susan said, “You’re not alone in your confusion. I had no idea myself what it was supposed to be. It was apparently Dr. Prochazka’s idea and is taken from a scene in the Museum Pio Clemens in Rome. Not Greek, but Roman, which is close enough for a tableau, I suppose. It features Mercury and a merchant approaching Asclepius. The three women are the graces Meditrine, Hygeia, and Panacea.”

The light went on. “Asclepius, ah yes. I heard Dr. Prochazka rail on about him.”

Harmony nodded. “Dr. Prochazka wouldn’t pose for a photograph until he had explained it all fully to me. He evidently doesn’t like all the little statues of Hermes scattered about the hotel. He said that if they won’t honor the real god of medicine, Asclepius, they could at least choose one of his three daughters, who symbolize medicine, hygiene, and healing. Anyway, he told Mrs. Underwood that if she wanted him in a tableau, it would have to be a scene of his choosing. She agreed, saying that as long as it was classical in nature, she would go along with it.”

“I just had no idea he would pick something so obscure.” Aunt Agnes’ voice sounded nearly in Inez’s ear. She moved between Susan and Inez, threading her arms through both of theirs. “I had hoped Dr. Prochazka would pose as Zeus or Poseidon. I thought he’d be perfect as a god with a thunderbolt or trident.” She sighed. “People have no idea what the tableau is supposed to be, it confuses everyone. I should simply stand there and explain to anyone who passes by. Well, at least it
is
classical.” She beamed at Inez. “So, dear niece, what do you think?”

“Extraordinary,” conceded Inez. “I don’t know how you managed it.”

Aunt Agnes looked satisfied. “I must circulate so as to not neglecting my duties as a hostess.” She sailed off into the crowd, a pillar of rose and violet energy.

No sooner had Agnes moved on than Inez heard Mr. Lewis say behind her, “Pardon me, Mrs. Stannert?”

Without taking her eyes from her aunt, who had snared Dr. Zuckerman and was gesticulating at the medically-themed tableau, she responded, “Yes, Mr. Lewis?”

She turned, almost expecting to see Nurse Crowson hovering at Lewis’ side.

But the person who stood next to Lewis wasn’t the nurse.

Lewis said, unnecessarily, “Madam, your husband has arrived.”

Chapter Thirty-two

Inez’s limbs were as immobile as the living statues around her.

Mark stood by Mr. Lewis, smiling, top hat in hand, travel coat draped over one arm.

In their early years together, it had astonished her how Mark Stannert could spend hours in a rattling train—ashes, cinders, and dust sifting through windows and down onto everything—or an equally arduous amount of time in a stagecoach or on horseback, and yet, upon arrival, look as elegant and dapper as if he’d strolled out from an elegant resort. She had finally come to accept that as a given, after many years of marriage.

What astonished her
this
particular time was her immediate, nearly overwhelming impulse to throw herself at him in sheer relief at his arrival.

That impulse, however, quickly died.

Mr. Lewis was addressing Mark. “We have put you in one of the suites that recently opened up. I do hope you will find it to your liking. It’s one of our best, with a perfect view of the creek, the bridge, the springs, and across the valley to the foothills of Pike’s Peak. We are in the process of moving Mrs. Stannert’s trunks and boxes into the suite, as well.”

That unstuck her feet from the floor. “You’re moving my
things
into the
suite?
”

He retreated under the pressure of her incredulity and anger. “Well, not me personally, of course. The hotel staff is doing the packing and moving. Is there something wrong?”

Inez knew she had to bring her roiling emotions under control. Sharing a suite with Mark had not been part of her plan, but she realized now that it was, of course, a logical response on the part of the hotel.

Mark moved forward and took her elbow, saying amiably to Mr. Lewis, “We are most appreciative of your hospitality. Mrs. Stannert and I approve of a hotel that puts its customers’ comforts, needs, and desires first, and foresees them, when possible. Isn’t that true, darlin’?” He squeezed her arm, a reminder to be civil, hold her tongue, play her part.

Steaming inside, Inez managed a smile at Mr. Lewis, even while she envisioned ripping the brass caduceus from Epperley’s posed hand and skewering the hotelier with it. “But of course, dear husband. That’s certainly one of the many virtues I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing here at the Mountain Springs House, and one of the primary reasons I urged you to cut short your other business obligations and come, posthaste, to Manitou.”

“We believe in catering to our clientele.” Lewis’ radiant expression could put Apollo in the shade. “Please, relax and enjoy the pageantry here, while we put your rooms to rights. Shall I take your coat, Mr. Stannert? We shall have it brushed and ready for you, bright and early on the morrow.”

Mark handed him the overcoat, and let go of Inez, offering her his arm instead. Inez took it, and he said, “Why don’t we look around, and you can tell me what this is all about.” He then leaned toward her and said in her ear, “I had nothing to do with the room arrangements, darlin’. Just so you know.”

His warm breath tickled her ear, and she drew back a bit and fluttered her fan. “If you say so.
Dearest.
” The emphasis left no doubt as to how she felt about the whole affair. “I imagine we shall manage. We always do, don’t we? Now, I have several people to whom I should introduce you. Some are family, whom you’ve not met or whom you haven’t seen in a long time. Oh, you knew Miss Carothers was here in Manitou, didn’t you? I believe I told you that much.”

Susan stood stock-still by the punch bowl, crystal cup in hand. “Hello, Mr. Stannert,” she said. Her eyes flashed to Inez, searching for clues on how to act.

Inez nodded encouragingly and said, “Miss Carothers has been a godsend to me here. How lucky we are to be friends.”

Mark bowed to Susan. “It’s good to see you again, Miss Carothers. Our paths haven’t crossed since I returned to Leadville. I am glad that you and my wife have continued your strong friendship.”

Susan bobbed her head uncertainly. “It’s good to see you again, Mr. Stannert, and in good health.” Inez saw her gaze linger on the scar on Mark’s face, before flicking to the silver-headed cane he leaned upon.

“What brings you to Manitou, Miss Carothers?” Mark asked. “My lovely wife told me you were accompanying her, but not the reason. Looking for new vistas for your considerable talents?”

“I’m here to learn some techniques from Mrs. Anna Galbreaith, who does marvelous photography in and around Manitou and the Garden of the Gods.” Susan colored. Her hands jumped a bit, sending the punch cup splashing. She looked down at it in surprise, as if she’d forgotten she held it, and then added hastily, “Mr. Stannert, you should try the punch! It’s made with the local soda waters. There’s lemon, sugar, a touch of mint. I’m not certain of all the ingredients, but it’s quite good.”

Mark moved to the bowl and looked at Inez, eyebrows raised.

“No, thank you. I find the local waters do not agree with me.” Inez snapped the fan through the air in vicious little swipes.

“Dear niece, surely you are going to introduce me to this elegant gentleman?” Aunt Agnes had abandoned Dr. Zuckerman and swooped back.

“Of course, dear aunt. Mrs. Underwood, allow me to introduce to you my husband, Mr. Stannert. Mr. Stannert, Mrs. Underwood, my aunt.”

“Your husband?” Her blue eyes went wide. “I thought you weren’t arriving until next week, Mr. Stannert. Such a pleasure.” She offered him her hand.

Mark abandoned the punch and took Aunt Agnes’ hand. “The pleasure is all mine.” He bowed over it like a courtier.

Aunt Agnes looked Mark up and down, taking in his impeccable grooming, the expensive cut of his hand-tailored suit, and the silver-headed cane with obvious delight. “Why, niece, I had no idea you married such a model gentleman. All the stories I’ve heard make him out to be such a
rascal
,” She said the word as if it was a charming trait. “Of course, I never met him while he was in New York courting you.” Inez could translate that as well: Mark had dropped into her life, wooed her in a whirlwind, and two weeks later, they had eloped. Hardly a proper length of time for a courtship.