A Lady of Hidden Intent (13 page)

“Have a pleasant time, and try not to dwell on your father.

Find yourself a distraction.”

Catherine thought of Selma’s words as she made her way down the street. It was a beautiful day with just a hint of the changing seasons in the air. Philadelphia was nothing like Bath, and it was easy to get caught up in the differences. Bath was all pale stone and misty meadows, with gentle reminders of centuries gone by. Philadelphia seemed entirely too new—too American.

The brick and stone used here colored the town in a festive manner, compared to Bath’s pale blond stone.

The park was surprisingly empty when Catherine arrived. No doubt it would fill soon enough. She enjoyed watching the people as they strolled or rode by. There was a little pond where ducks swam and children often sailed boats. Catherine always felt a sort of aching deep inside as she watched the children. Perhaps a part of her longed for a child of her own, but there was also another part that mourned the past and the childhood innocence she’d lost in the wake of life’s trials.

Settling under a large oak, Catherine unfolded her bundled lunch and began to eat. The apple was sweet and cold, and set against the flavor of the cheese, Catherine thought it a most refreshing meal.

Father would like it here
, she thought as she had on previous occasions.
He would like Philadelphia. He would no doubt say it was full of interesting people who had little to hide and much to share
. She smiled at the thought. Her father had never known a stranger. He loved people and was generous to a fault. Even his partnership with Finley Baker had been borne out of a sense of obligation to a family friend. Baker was the son of one of her father’s friends. When Baker’s father had died without a pence to his name, it was Nelson Newbury who took pity on Finley and gave him a proper job.

Catherine tried not to hate Finley Baker, but it was almost impossible. She had no desire to think kindly of the man or to wish him well. And despite her mother’s admonitions to pray for her enemies, Catherine found it impossible to pray for Finley Baker unless the prayer was in regard to his being caught. His actions and deception had put her father behind bars.

I cannot let my thoughts run away with anger toward Mr. Baker
, she thought.
It will serve no purpose and only ruin my outing.

She picked at the bread and watched as a couple passed by.

The woman was overdressed for a Sunday walk. Her satin gown and lace shawl would have been more befitting a party. The gentleman, too, was quite nicely attired, so in all likelihood they were on their way to a festivity that required such dress. They clearly enjoyed each other’s company.

Catherine watched as they paused for a moment not far from the little bridge that crossed a stream of water. The man gently touched the woman’s face with his gloved hand. She blushed and cast an adoring gaze into his eyes. He took her face in his hands and kissed her. Then, as if they were both embarrassed by the unexpected display of affection, they hurried on their way.

Longing for such a love affair of her own, Catherine closed her eyes and tried to still the ache in her heart. She had once dreamed of the man who would sweep her off her feet. A man whom she would know at a single glance was to be her husband— her life.

“Why, Miss Shay, is that you?”

Her eyes shot open at the sound of a voice she clearly recognized. Carter Danby sat atop a fine sorrel gelding. Mr. Danby smiled and tipped his hat. His buff-colored trousers and dark blue coat fit him to perfection. Beside him on a smaller black mare rode his sister, Winifred, and on her left was another male rider.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Danby. Miss Danby.”

Mr. Danby was already getting off of his horse, much to Catherine’s horror. “Come, let us visit with Miss Shay for a time,” he told the others. He took hold of Winifred’s mare while the other man quickly dismounted and went to help her down.

They dropped the reins, much to her surprise, and allowed the horses to graze in a patch of grass to Catherine’s right.

“Will they not wander off?” she asked as Carter came to join her.

“No. They’ve been trained in this way. When the reins are dropped to the ground, they believe themselves tied.”

“How is this so?” Catherine had never seen such a thing.

“When they were in training, we would drop the reins but secure them with a peg to the ground. The horses would pull away but quickly found that they were secured. After a time, it was no longer necessary to use the peg. Whenever the reins were dropped, they believed themselves staked to the ground.”

“I’m very glad to see you,” Winifred said, taking a seat on the grass beside Catherine. She seemed rather nervous, and Catherine couldn’t help but wonder if the cause was the dashing young man who had joined them on their outing.

“Miss Shay, may I introduce Mr. Leander Arlington. Lee has been my close friend for many years.”

“Mr. Arlington,” Catherine said with a nod.

“Ah, I hear from your voice you are English. I must say I’m quite fond of England. I have family there on my mother’s side.

Are you familiar with Plymouth?”

“A little,” Catherine said, feeling her chest tighten. She longed to leave before too many questions were asked. “I’m sorry, but I should be going. I’m expected home.” It was true, she was expected sometime, she just hadn’t said when.

“No, please stay,” Winifred said, pulling at her sleeve. “I have so wanted to know you better.”

“It’s hardly proper,” Catherine said, clutching the remains of her lunch.

“And why is that?” Carter asked, his dark eyes searching her face as if he might find the answer written there.

“I am not of your social class,” Catherine said. “I am a common worker.”

“Classes here do not hold the same interest as in your homeland, Miss Shay,” Mr. Arlington declared. “Part of our decision for liberty was based in the desire to break free of such chains.

Although we have our families who still hold to such tradition, you will find that much of America is happy to intermingle.”

“I doubt that seriously, sir. Granted, I do not know this country as well as one born here, yet I see how the classes are divided and how people know their stations.”

“Perhaps people choose to maintain the separation because they are afraid of breaking down those barriers,” Mr. Danby said softly.

“I think you make a good point, Carter,” Mr. Arlington replied. “And I believe there are those who belittle others in order to feel more comfortable about themselves.”

Winifred cast a sidewise glance at the man. She seemed to hang on his every word, and Catherine became quite certain that she fancied the man as a suitor. Perhaps that was what this outing was all about. The man wanted to court Miss Danby, and Carter was acting as escort.

“Well, I should go now,” Catherine said, trying again to get to her feet.

“Please don’t go, Catherine. I very much enjoy your company,”

Winifred said with great pleading in her tone.

“As do I,” Carter said with a grin.

“You can count me among your numbers,” Mr. Arlington added with a sweeping bow. “I find you quite well-spoken.”

“You hardly know me and have definitely not heard enough to know whether I am well-spoken or not,” Catherine stated in a guarded manner.

“Then you must stay so that we might ascertain this matter firsthand,” Mr. Danby said, his tone teasing.

“Have you seen the flower beds?” Winifred asked Catherine.

“There are some very beautiful arrangements. There are roses that defy description. I saw them briefly the other day from the carriage and want to examine them more closely.”

“Leander, why don’t you escort Winifred to the roses. I would like to talk privately with Miss Shay for just a moment before she leaves.”

“Of course.” Mr. Arlington reached down to offer Winifred help in getting to her feet.

The girl blushed profusely but kept her head bent so that he might not see her reaction. Catherine thought it quite sweet and innocent and might have enjoyed the scene had it not been for the unnerving thought that Carter might expose her secrets.

As Winifred got to her feet, Catherine quickly scrambled to hers as well. To her surprise, Carter stood even more quickly and took hold of her arm to steady her as she tried to arrange her skirts.

Winifred paused and offered a sweet smile. “Catherine, I very much enjoyed seeing you. I wish you didn’t have to leave. I hope we’ll get another chance to talk soon.”

Winifred’s words were so sincerely delivered that Catherine had no doubt the young woman had come to like her. Catherine nodded and tried to seem cordial as she pulled away from Carter’s touch.

“I hope so too, Miss Danby.”

“You promised to call me Winifred,” she reminded.

“Winifred. I am sure we will visit very soon. I will need, after all, to have you in for a fitting.”

“I’ll look forward to seeing you then.” Winifred turned and allowed herself to take hold of Leander’s arm.

As they walked away, Catherine couldn’t help but think they made a nice couple. She hoped Winifred might find true love. If not with Mr. Arlington, then with someone who would cherish and respect her.

“Do you really need to go, or are you simply afraid of talking to me?” Carter asked matter-of-factly.

Catherine frowned. “I am expected, just as I said. I have no need to lie to you or anyone else.”

“But you remain a woman of mystery, Miss Shaw. I feel there is something you want to remain hidden from me.”

She met his gaze and instantly wished she had not. He had intrigued her five years ago, but now . . . now Catherine couldn’t deny the attraction she felt toward him.

He moved closer and smiled. “Why should you fear my knowing you? To be honest, I am certain I’ve already made your acquaintance, and if that is true, then you must remember it too.

Why should you not take pity on me and remind me of that place and time?”

“Had we met, as you say, it could hardly have been all that memorable, since you cannot bring it to mind,” Catherine replied coolly. She fought to compose her emotions, but Carter moved closer and took hold of her gloved hand.

“What does come to mind,” he said in a hushed tone, “is that you are not all that you pretend to be. Or perhaps it is that you are much more than you pretend to be. Is that it?”

Catherine tried to pull her hand away, but he only grinned.

“Release me, sir.”

“Not until you tell me the truth.”

“And what truth is that?” She felt her heart pounding so hard she was certain he could hear.

“The truth, my dear Miss Shay, that we have met before.”

Catherine considered his comment and nodded. “Then I can in truth reply that we have met before.”

“Ha! I knew it.” He dropped his hold and slapped his thigh.

“Now you must remind me of all the details.”

Catherine turned to walk away. “The details are very few. I met you when you accompanied your mother and sister to Mrs. Clarkson’s, and then again when Winifred came to pick out her fabrics.”

He came after her. “That’s not fair. That isn’t what I meant, and you know it.”

“I know very little about what you might mean or not mean, Mr. Danby, for I simply do not know you.”

With surprising speed, Carter Danby turned her in his arms, and for a moment Catherine thought he might pull her tight. She froze in place.

“Then I mean to change that, Miss Shay, for I find you fascinating and quite beautiful.” He winked and released her. “I mean to change it very, very soon.”

CHAPTER 9

T
he very next day, Carter sat in Lee’s office and set his plan in motion. “Lee, I want to hire you to learn what you can about Miss Shay.”

Lee leaned back in his chair and smiled. “I cannot imagine why you should want to know anything about her. She is, as she said, but a common worker. A seamstress.” He chuckled. “A seamstress who, as I hear it, designs gowns that every woman in Philadelphia wants to have. I thought her fascinating and can see why you do too.”

“She is very talented and fascinating, but that aside, she is also—”

“Very beautiful,” Leander interjected.

Carter grinned. “That she is.”

“Are you losing your heart at last?”

Carter shrugged. “I might be. I know I find myself thinking of her at the strangest moments. Like the other day as I was looking over a house design, I found myself wondering if Catherine Shay might like such a place. She is, I believe, something more than she lets on. I feel confident we’ve met before, but I simply cannot remember the time or place.”

“So what do we know of her?” Lee asked, taking up his pen.

“She lives at Mrs. Clarkson’s sewing house. I believe her parents live there as well, although I’m not certain. When my mother and sister first went there, Winifred recalls something being said about the cook being Mrs. Shay.”

Leander jotted down the information. “And she is obviously from England.”

“Yes, but I have not yet heard her say which part of England she called home,” Carter admitted.