Steadfast Heart (20 page)

K
olbein arranged the paper work for the transfer of the lease from Mr. Fulcher to Mr. Montgomery. Designed as only a temporary situation with Montgomery, it was agreed that they would vacate the building by June fifteenth. This, in turn, allowed Mrs. Madison to sell out to Priam Welby. Of course, she hadn't had a chance to speak to Mr. Welby on the matter. Kolbein suggested she allow him to conduct the business of sale, and while she agreed in part, Mrs. Madison was quite firm that she would give Mr. Welby her answer in person. She thought it only polite.

Mr. Fulcher joined Kolbein upstairs at exactly one-thirty, just as they'd agreed upon. The school and home of the ladies seemed the easiest place to conduct business. There was no sense in forcing the ladies to break from their normal routines. From what Kolbein had learned, they hated this more than most anything else.

Kolbein gave a nod and smile when Mr. Fulcher entered the main sitting room. That smile broadened considerably when he saw Lenore appear in the doorway behind her father. Kolbein felt his heart beat a little faster just at the sight of her. She looked
at him as if he were able to climb the highest mountain or fight off the fiercest foe. Her confidence in him only served to make Kolbein feel all the more capable.

He got to his feet quickly to shake hands with Mr. Fulcher and to offer Lenore a polite bow. “I appreciate that you would take time to meet me here,” Kolbein said. “Mrs. Madison wanted to be present, and I knew it would be easier for you to come to her.”

“I don't mind at all. I'm just relieved to get the matter settled. I find that idle afternoons agree with me. I've taken up an old hobby of mine, and the afternoons are perfect for such a thing.”

“And what old hobby is that?” Kolbein asked.

Lenore interjected the answer. “Napping. Father seems to enjoy an afternoon nap.”

Kolbein laughed. “I can't fault him for that. I rather enjoy the occasional afternoon slumber myself.” He motioned to the table. “I have the papers ready, and Mrs. Madison will join us shortly.”

“Good. I hope also to have a moment in private with her. I presume you and Lenore can occupy yourselves for a few moments.”

“But of course,” Kolbein replied with a wink at Lenore.

Mrs. Madison entered the room, dressed head to toe in a gray suit that made her look like a harsh governess. Kolbein liked the older woman despite her stern nature. She was by far the more serious of the trio and obviously the one who kept the others from attending to anything too outlandish. Even so, he'd seen a glimmer of amusement cross her expression from time to time.

Kolbein offered her his arm and led her to a chair at the table. “I have the papers ready for your signatures.”

Mrs. Madison didn't hesitate to peruse the contract for herself. She studied the pages for several minutes, then looked up
to nod at Kolbein. “It's just as I asked.” She took pen in hand, dipped it in the inkwell, and signed her name.

Fulcher did likewise, having already seen a rough draft of the agreement. Mr. Montgomery had wired, giving him permission to act as his agent in the matter, so Fulcher signed, seeming relieved to have the deal settled.

“That's a weight off my chest,” the man said as he returned the pen to the inkwell. “The last issue of my former business.” He gave a sigh of relief. “I'm frankly happy to see it pass to another.”

“I'm beginning to feel much the name,” Mrs. Madison said. “I did not think I could ever part with this building, but with the help of Mr. Booth, my sister, and dear friend, I now see the sense of doing just that. Mr. Madison would want it that way, I'm sure. He wouldn't want our lives to be at risk.”

“You will be safer moving away from the docks,” Mr. Fulcher declared. “Do you yet know where you will go?”

“Mr. Welby said he has a house to include in our transaction. We will, of course, have to review and approve it, but he said it's in the Lower Queen Anne section with a view of the water. The house itself is quite large, with a great many bedrooms. He thought it perfect for our school. It stands on several acres and even has gardens to tend. We've never had the opportunity to work with the young ladies on gardening, although I believe it a sensible management of one's food needs.”

Fulcher smiled. “Perhaps you will not live far from our home. I know Lenore would like that very much.”

“I would,” Lenore said. “I would enjoy being able to walk over for a visit.”

“Well, we shall see. Mr. Welby agreed to show us on Sunday. He wanted to show us Saturday, but there was much too much to do, and our schedule would not allow for it.”

Kolbein smiled, remembering the discussion. Welby couldn't see why the ladies' Saturday duties couldn't wait, but Mrs. Madison was firm. Kolbein almost felt sorry for Welby as he tried his best to convince her otherwise, but he finally relented and agreed to a Sunday afternoon viewing. Furthermore, he would send his carriage for the ladies. This met completely with Mrs. Madison's approval, as she had vocalized her concerns about how they would get to the house.

“Now, if you would allow us,” Mr. Fulcher said, turning to Kolbein. “I'd like to speak a few moments alone with Mrs. Madison.”

“Of course.” Kolbein left the papers on the table and offered Lenore his arm. “Shall we go to the private sitting room?”

She smiled in that wonderful way that he had come to love. Her dark eyes seemed to shine as he squeezed her arm. Once they were safely alone, Kolbein pulled Lenore into his arms and kissed her gently. He felt her melt against him and sigh. Her action caused him to feel more certain than ever that they belonged together.

“I hope you don't think me too forward,” he told her, setting her apart from himself. “I really don't see any reason to pretend that we aren't madly in love. When do you think I might ask your father for your hand in marriage?”

Lenore shrugged. “I've made it clear to Mother that I intend to marry you. I would think she would have told Father that, as well. If I had my way about it, you would have a wife today, but I'm uncertain we can convince Father of such a brief engagement. I suggest you ask him at dinner Friday night. That way at least we can be formally engaged, and it will be announced in the papers. That will please Mother.”

“You don't think she'll be embarrassed by my being a lawyer?”

“I truly don't care,” Lenore replied. “Does that sound harsh?” She didn't give him time to answer. “I hope not, but either way, I will choose my own husband, and I choose you.”

“And I choose you, my dear.” He glanced toward the clock on the mantel. Time was getting away from him, and he was to help with another business negotiation. “I will need to leave in a few minutes.”

“Before you go, Kolbein, have you had any word on Greta?”

Kolbein frowned. He had mulled over the detective's latest report in his mind but had spoken of it to no one. “I had some rather unpleasant news.”

“Unpleasant? She's not . . . she didn't . . .”

“She isn't dead, at least not that I know. However, the detective shared some very grave news. In his investigation he came upon a judge who remembers marrying a young woman who fits Greta's description. He was even certain her maiden name was Booth.”

“Married? But that's wonderful, isn't it?” she said with such excitement that Kolbein hated to burst her bubble.

“She didn't know anyone long enough to marry them. Not only that, but she's a child. Just nineteen. Hardly an appropriate age to marry.”

Lenore looked at him oddly. “I'm only a year her senior. What's wrong with marrying at nineteen?”

Kolbein felt as if Lenore had struck him. “You're only . . . twenty?”

“I'll be twenty-one in August. Not only that, you and I have known each other only a short time, and we're already speaking of marriage. Be happy for your sister. If she's found true love like we have, then all the better. She will be safe and cared for.”

Lenore was only twenty. The idea of her being so young had
never really occurred to him. He had always presumed her to be closer to his own age of thirty. She certainly conducted herself as a mature woman. In fact, she was nothing like Greta, with her tantrums and girlish demands.

“Are you listening to me, Kolbein?” Lenore asked, touching his arm.

He pulled back as if she'd burned him. Looking into her beautiful face, Kolbein could not help but see the youth that his sister bore. “I thought you were older.”

“I'm old enough,” Lenore countered. “I'll come into a trust fund in August. So, you see, I shall come into this marriage with the promise of benefits from the start.”

“I'm thirty years old, Lenore. I thought you to be closer to my age—at least twenty-five.”

“Goodness. Girls marry much younger than twenty or even nineteen. I don't understand your concerns.” She looked so innocent, so completely naïve of his worries.

“You are just coming of age. You haven't yet had a chance to really know anything other than being your father's daughter. I know that is the normal way of things, but as I told Greta, I would prefer that she attend school and expand her knowledge, have a chance to live life a bit, rather than marry at such a young age.”

“Was that why she ran away?” Lenore's voice betrayed her growing distress.

Kolbein knew he had to be honest with her. “Yes. She had thought herself in love with a local young man—really a boy. They met at . . . oh, I don't know where they met. I tried to talk to Greta about the situation, tried to get her to see reason.”

“Reason? You mean you tried to change her mind.” Tears formed in Lenore's eyes. “Oh, please tell me you weren't that cruel.”

“Lenore, the age and inexperience of my sister would make her a poor wife. She had been sheltered all of her life and knew nothing of the world. When my parents died she was ten and I was twenty-two—just out of school and already working to become a lawyer. I was hardly prepared to be a young girl's guardian, so I put her in boarding school—a strict religious boarding school.”

“And you think that makes her unable to fall in love,” Lenore said, sniffing back tears. “I was sheltered myself, Kolbein, but I found ways to expose myself to the world around me. Not only that, but I certainly know my own heart.” She looked at him as if seeing a stranger. “I don't know what to say about this. It's breaking my heart that you should think me too young to know how I feel.”

“I . . . I didn't say that,” Kolbein replied, hesitating. What could he possibly say that would make this better? Lenore was only twenty and all she would hear is that he thought that too young to marry. The truth was, he still believed that, yet he wanted very much to make Lenore his wife.

Lenore shook her head. “You believe me too young to marry. Isn't that true?” The tears were streaming down her cheeks, but she held her head high.

“I suppose I do. But I—”

“Never mind. I don't need to hear anything more. Tell my father I shall wait for him in his office. Good day, Mr. Booth.” She hurried from the room.

Kolbein followed her to the door, trying to get her to stay and talk about the matter, but she'd have no part of it. He could hear her sobs as she made her way down the stairs. What was he to do? He thought to follow her but held himself in check. What could he possibly say to make this better? He needed time
to consider their relationship. Just then the large grandfather clock struck two. He shook his head, knowing it would have to wait. He had to be back in the office by two-thirty.

“Mr. Booth,” Miss Poisie said, coming up beside him, “whatever are you doing staring out across the stairs?” She stretched a bit to peer beyond him. “Is something amiss?”

“I'm afraid so, Miss Poisie. I have hurt Lenore's feelings by suggesting she's too young for marriage.” He looked at the older woman and shrugged. “I suppose I have lost the woman I love.”

“Nonsense,” Miss Poisie replied. “Have I ever told you about my beloved sea captain, Jonathan Richards? God rest his soul.”

Kolbein restrained from adding an amen and instead shook his head. “I don't believe you have.”

“Well, Jonathan was the love of my life and I of his.” She clutched her hands together and drew them to her heart. “He was the captain of the
Sea Vixen
—a fishing vessel. He was a most amazing man, and we were to be married.”

“What happened?” Kolbein asked, knowing that he really should put an end to the conversation and return to his office.

“He went north for fishing and never returned. The
Sea Vixen
was lost at sea. They found the wreckage a year later on the Canadian shores, but nothing of the men who served.” Her face grew quite sad. “That was ten years ago, and I still mourn him. I will never stop loving him, just as I do not believe Miss Lenore will ever stop loving you. Lovers' quarrels are short-lived if sensible heads prevail.”