The Confidential Life of Eugenia Cooper (10 page)

Funny how the truth seemed the only good answer. “One last adventure.”

Tova actually smiled. “Then you’ll find caring for the Beck child exactly what you came for.” She paused to glance at the union suit still caught in the tree. “Top of the stairs, turn right. Yours is the first room on the left. It adjoins the nursery. I’ll have Isak bring your bath.”

“Thank you.” Gennie made to enter the house, only to feel Tova’s iron grip on her arm.

The housekeeper pointed to the cash still in Gennie’s hand. Nodding, Gennie handed over a large portion of her funds, then watched as Tova tucked it into the pocket of her heavily starched apron. “And see that you remember that fellow of yours back home when you’re tempted to give my Elias a second look.”

Mae waited until the last second, her finger all but squeezing the trigger of her favorite Colt pistol. The dust cloud drew nearer.

She dared not even scratch the itch at the tip of her nose. To do so would be to risk being caught, and being caught meant taking a bullet, for One-Eyed Ed rarely missed his aim.

Mae rested her fist on the rock and settled the Colt atop it. She’d get one shot, maybe two, before Ed returned fire. She had to make it good. With a prayer for good aim and safe travel home, Mae tightened her grip on the Colt and counted to five.

Gennie tossed her traveling clothes into a pile and padded across the marble tiles to test the water’s temperature. Warm. She sighed. How long had it been since she’d enjoyed a proper soak?

Too long.

Ignoring the twinge of combined regret and excitement, Gennie sank to her shoulders beneath the fragrant water. The tub, crafted in a generous length and width from the same marble as the floor, seemed out of place in such humble surroundings. Gennie recognized the soap as the same French-milled variety Mama had shipped in from Paris.

How did a common governess’s room come to boast such a luxury? In Manhattan, the help had to make do with garden variety Pears soap, and their bathtub was a glorified bucket that could be moved nearer the stove in cold weather.

Slathering scented bubbles over skin that begged for a good scrubbing,
Gennie leaned back against the edge of the tub and felt the heaviness of exhaustion tug at her eyelids. Sleep would be best, but the sun still shone on the snowcapped Rockies. Dare she hope her temporary duties as governess to the Beck child might begin tomorrow rather than today?

Until Gennie left the solitude of the bath, at least, she was responsible for nothing more than finding clean skin beneath the layers of ash and soot courtesy of the railroad.

After much effort, her skin glowed pink as, likely, did her scalp. The only thing that remained was to wash off the soap. Gennie preferred to sink beneath the water as if she were a mermaid, a habit she’d begun well before Mama disapproved. She slid beneath the water and held her breath until her lungs protested, then bobbed up and swiped at her eyes.

“I never seen a grownup do that.”

Gennie squealed. The last of the water departed her eyes, and Charlotte Beck came into view. “What are you doing in my bathing closet?” she asked, sinking beneath a protective layer of soapy water and peering at the impudent child.

“Did I hear someone scream?” Elias called.

“No,” Gennie said, but Charlotte responded with an emphatic yes.

Footsteps thudded toward her.

“Halt, sir!” Gennie called.

Charlotte giggled as she settled onto the edge of the tub and dipped her palm into the water. “You talk funny.”

At least she no longer smelled funny.

The footsteps halted outside the bedroom door, and the resulting silence was filled by the splashing of water at the hands of the Beck girl.

“Stop it,” Gennie snapped. The girl drew back, but only slightly. “You will take your leave now, Miss Beck. And in the future you will knock before entering a closed door. Do you understand?”

The girl’s expression went curiously penitent. Gennie didn’t buy it for a moment. “What time is dinner, Miss Beck?”

“That’d be six o’clock, miss,” Elias Howe called from the other room. “My apologies for the girl,” he added. “Were I a blind man, I’d come fetch her, but as I’m not, I’m forced to wait for the imp. I’m sure you understand.”

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Howe.” Gennie tamed her grin and turned to Charlotte. “We shall continue our conversation regarding proper deportment for young ladies at promptly six o’clock.” Gennie narrowed her eyes. “Now depart this room immediately and never entertain the thought of returning, unless this tub is unoccupied.”

When Charlotte did not move, Gennie leaned forward, careful to keep the soap bubbles and her arms well placed to preserve her modesty.

“You smell funny,” she said to the wide-eyed girl. “When’s the last time you had a bath, Charlotte Beck?”

Charlotte took a step backward. As Gennie suspected, the little heathen’s love of adventure did not extend to a tangle with soap and water.

Gennie smiled. “Mr. Howe, are you still nearby?”

“I am,” he said, “though I swear on the life of my dear departed mother that I’ve seen nothing, nor have I made the attempt.” He cleared his throat. “I’m still figuring how to help, though.”

“Might you be able to fetch a change of clothes for the girl?” she called. “A dress if she has one.” She suppressed a giggle at the girl’s expression. “Just leave them outside the door.”

“Yes, miss,” he replied without bothering to disguise his humor.

As the footsteps faded, Gennie reached for her wrapper. “Turn around, Charlotte. I’ll not have my modesty compromised.”

Turn the girl did, gathering up Gennie’s puddle of clothing and
scampering toward the door. In an instant, she and the only clothes Gennie had were gone. An outrageous situation, but what could be done about it? Screaming certainly wouldn’t bring the desired result.

Gennie dried quickly, this time with the door locked, and donned her wrapper. Outside, the sun still hung above the Rockies, but Gennie felt the clock should read half past midnight.

Manhattan and her home on Fifth Avenue suddenly seemed very far away. The realization made her want to laugh and cry in equal measure. Somehow she’d become a woman capable of boarding a train for the Wild West with nothing but her reticule and a prayer, arriving in Denver with only her pluck and poise to get her through.

A stab of loneliness jabbed her heart, and tears blurred her vision. “Stop that, you ninny,” she said as she furiously swiped at her eyes. “You asked for this adventure, and you’re going to appreciate every single minute of it.”

Gennie leaned against the fireplace mantel, a lovely piece carved from the same marble as the tub, and placed her forehead against the cool stone.
Father, is this the end of my adventure or merely the beginning? Gift me with discernment.

A movement outside her window caught Gennie’s attention, and she strolled over in time to see Isak shinnying down the pine tree, the union suit draped over one shoulder.

And, please
, she added as she turned away from the window and walked toward the feather bed,
an extra measure of patience.

She couldn’t leave the room until Tova returned with her newly purchased clothing. Surely snatching a few moments of rest while she waited wouldn’t hurt.

The feather mattress cushioned her, while a pile of pillows in various sizes provided just the right position for her to recline in comfort.
The bed coverings were a decent silk, and the sheets felt nearly as soft as the ones on her bed at home.

With the sun streaming through the pines, the room took on a pleasant, soothing atmosphere. All that remained was a good-night from her parents and a practical joke of some kind from Connor, and she’d feel right at home. Gennie settled back into the pillows and let her eyes drift shut.

Moments later, she opened her eyes and noted two things: her new clothing had been delivered, and she’d missed dinner by an hour. If the mantel clock were to be believed, she’d slept until a few minutes before seven.

Gennie scrambled to her feet and stumbled toward the dress, then froze.

The garment was absolutely hideous. She touched the fabric, then jumped back in horror. She wouldn’t dream of asking her own maids to wear something this horrid.

Constructed of some poor version of homespun that would likely cause a rash, the garish, saffron-colored day dress, with its random sprigging of scarlet rosebuds and green leaves, would do nothing for her complexion or, likely, her figure. A matronly set of undergarments of the same rough-hewn fabric lay folded on the chair. A pair of serviceable lace-up boots and heavy woolen stockings, both in dull black, completed the ensemble.

Then she saw the hat. More suited to a prairie schooner than any possible city venue, the poke bonnet had been chosen, presumably, for its matching red roses, though the background of the chapeau was a sickly blue green.

“An absolute nightmare,” Gennie muttered.

Casting about for her traveling garments, she sighed. Either they
were hanging in a tree somewhere, or Tova had not yet completed laundering them.

There was nothing to do but don the newly purchased frock and make the best of things. She stepped out of her wrapper and into the dress.

A long line of buttons was the only way to close the gaping back. By putting the dress on backwards, she was able to button the skirt and a portion of the waistband, and reaching behind her took care of a few of the top buttons. The middle of her back proved a bit trickier, however.

After several more attempts to close the gap, Gennie gave up. Grabbing the cloth from the bedside table, she draped it over her shoulders like a shawl and headed downstairs to make her apologies for the lateness of the hour.

She found Elias in the kitchen, stirring something that smelled delicious. Before she could greet him, the older man turned around and grinned.

“I wondered if you’d climbed down the drainpipe and run off. Not that I’d have blamed you.” He used the knuckle of his forefinger to straighten his cap, then went back to stirring. “Sit yourself down. The others have already eaten and gone.”

So she had missed the meal. How odd that he would still be cooking.

“I’m terribly sorry,” she offered. “I had no idea I was so tired.”

“Sit,” he repeated. “You’ve had a long trip. We’ll not let a little thing like oversleeping cause you to be fired on your first day.”

Only when he punctuated the statement with a chuckle did Gennie relax. She pulled a chair away from the table and sat, mindful of the fact that she’d never taken a meal in a kitchen in her life. Unlike the dining
rooms she was accustomed to, the scent of food cooking and the warmth of the big stove gave the kitchen an informal air. Dining with the servants felt odd, but for now, at least, she was exactly that: a servant.

As this realization sunk in, her makeshift shawl slipped. Gennie hurriedly straightened it. Should the former tablecloth fail to cover her faux pas, bare skin would show, and so would her inability to do the simplest dressing of herself.

Gennie sat straighter in her chair and tried not to think of such things. Pots and pans clanged, and the cook seemed in perpetual motion. For a man of advanced years, the old soldier obviously still had plenty of energy.

“So,” Gennie said to Elias Howe’s back, “when exactly is Mr. Beck expected to return?”

“It’s easier asking when the wind will stop blowing.” The man’s chuckle rumbled toward her. “No one knows for sure, though it always happens.”

Despite having no interest whatsoever in staying with the Becks, Gennie felt her temper rise. “So he comes and goes without concern for what happens to his daughter?”

Elias froze, then slowly set his utensils aside and turned to face her. Gennie watched in stunned silence as the old man’s genial expression turned sour.

“I don’t believe you should judge Daniel until you know him.” He reached for a corner of the apron he’d thrown on over his customary Confederate suit coat and mopped his forehead. “He does what he thinks is best for Charlotte and leaves it to the rest of us to honor that and not question it. You’re here to take up where the girl’s ma left off, so I’d advise you to hold your questions until you can ask them of Daniel himself. The raising of that child is important to him, especially now.”