Beloved (6 page)

A rap on the door announced the arrival of Robert Sinclair, Tyson’s newly hired valet. Mr. Sinclair was a dozen years Tyson’s
senior and limped from an injury received during England’s First Boer War. About ten years ago, he’d immigrated to America and eventually arrived in Idaho.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the valet said. “I haven’t laid out your clothes. Was there a particular suit you wanted?”

“No need, Mr. Sinclair. I am taking my ease today.”

“Very good, sir.”

Tyson wiped his face with a towel as he turned toward the valet. “Do you know if Mrs. Applegate is up? Is she having breakfast in her room or going down?”

“I don’t know, sir, but I can inquire of her maid.”

“Yes. Please do.”

Mr. Sinclair gave a brief bow and left the bedchamber. By the time Tyson finished dressing unaided, the valet had returned. “Liz reports that Mrs. Applegate is awake and eating breakfast in her room.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sinclair. I believe I shall join her there.”

A flicker of surprise crossed the valet’s face, but he hid it quickly. “Shall I bring you a tray, sir?”

“No, thank you. I’ll be down to eat after while.”

Again he received a bow before the man departed.

“I hope I know what I’m doing,” Tyson said aloud. Then he, too, left his bedchamber.

He followed the hallway to his wife’s room. He hadn’t entered it since before her furnishings arrived a week ago. He wondered how much she would mind him being there. Not at all? Far too much?

He knocked.

“Yes.”

“It’s Tyson. May I come in?”

Silence. Then, “Yes. Come in.”

He opened the door.

She was still abed, her back resting against the headboard and several pillows, a breakfast tray over her lap. She wore a frothy-looking bed jacket of some sort, the same exact color as her eyes, and her hair fell over her shoulders in soft waves.

Beautiful. Enchanting. Mesmerizing. She was his wife, and the desire to join her in that bed hit him hard. Some men might have claimed the right to do so. He was not one of them. No matter that they were legally married. He’d given up the right to intimate relations years ago when he deserted her.

He cleared his throat, hoping she wouldn’t guess the thoughts whirling in his head. “Do you have plans for the day, Diana?”

“No.”

“Then I wondered if we might go for a horseback ride in the foothills.”

“You aren’t going out?”

“No.” He smiled—and again hoped she couldn’t guess how much he desired her, certain she would send him away if she guessed the truth.

Another lengthy silence filled the room before she said, “I should like to go riding, Tyson.”

“Wonderful. Shall we say ten o’clock? I’ll ask the cook to prepare sandwiches to take with us in case we grow hungry.”

“I shall be ready at ten.”

Tempting as it was to linger in her chamber, he withdrew, discretion being the better part of valor—or so Shakespeare said.

Diana released a breath as the door to her room clicked closed. She couldn’t believe how much smaller her bedchamber had felt with Tyson standing in it. For that matter, she couldn’t believe how
underdressed she’d felt, despite the layers of bedclothes she wore and the blankets covering her hips and legs.

Disturbing. Most disturbing.

But she wouldn’t think about that now. He’d invited her to go riding, and nothing could have kept her from accepting. She’d been dying to ride her new mare. Today she would finally have the chance to do so.

She set aside the breakfast tray and got out of bed. Her morning toilet was completed in haste, then she rang for the maid to help her dress. Not that she couldn’t have managed on her own, but she suspected Liz’s feelings would be hurt. The girl’s confidence was not great. Asking for help would, no doubt, give the maid a boost and let her know she was needed.

A short while later, Diana inspected her reflection in the mirror. The tailored jacket and flowing skirt of her new riding habit were made of a forest-green wool. Beneath the jacket she wore a crisp white chemisette. The outfit was finished with a wide-brimmed bowler.

“I’ve never seen anyone so lovely as you, missus,” the maid said.

“Thank you, Liz.”

She wondered if Tyson would think the same.

Trying not to appear impatient, Tyson read the morning paper at the large desk in the library. There was plenty of political news. Earlier in the month, the Populist National Convention had nominated William Jennings Bryan for president and the so-called “middle-of-the-road” Populists had nominated Wharton Barker. The Republican National Convention wasn’t until mid-June, but it was a foregone conclusion they would nominate President McKinley to run for reelection. Tyson hoped the party could
convince Governor Theodore Roosevelt to run for the vice presidency. After serving with Teddy in Cuba, Tyson had nothing but respect for the man’s leadership abilities.

Also in the paper was a story about some of the athletes representing the United States in the Olympic Games in Paris. Tyson smiled to himself as he read the article, remembering the month he’d spent in that romantic city. Someday he’d like to take Diana to see it.

Assuming, of course, that he could convince her to stay with him after the election.

“Oh. Tyson. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were in here.”

He lowered the newspaper to look at his mother-in-law.

“I thought you’d gone out on business again,” Gloria said. “I wouldn’t have dreamed of disturbing you in your library.”

“You haven’t disturbed me, Mrs. Fisher. I’m simply passing the time while I wait for Diana. We’re going riding.”

“Riding? The two of you?”

“Yes.”

She took a step closer to the desk, her expression serious. “Are you being fair, Tyson?”

“Fair?”

“Don’t toy with my daughter’s heart.”

He folded the paper and set it aside. “I’m not toying with her heart, Mrs. Fisher. I assure you I’m not.”

“When you left, you hurt her more than you know.”

How could he respond to that? He was guilty as charged.

She continued, “I suppose all mothers want the same thing for their daughters. That they will find contentment and fulfillment wherever life takes them. When Diana introduced you to us, Mr. Fisher and I thought you a fine young man with much to recommend you. Your family. Your education. Your profession.
Your courteous nature. I suppose I knew that your feelings for my daughter were not as strong as hers were for you, but I was confident they would grow. Otherwise we never would have agreed to the match.”

Again he didn’t know what to say.

“Our approval was never about your wealth, you know.”

“Yes. I know that.”

She looked at her hands, folded before her waist. “I have never had a strong will like my daughter has. I believe she inherited that from the woman who gave birth to her. I was timid as a child, and as a woman I was content to agree with my husband’s opinions and decisions. I liked my quiet role in marriage. But it did not leave me well prepared for life as a widow without any source of income.” She drew a breath and let it out on a long sigh.

Before coming to Boise City, Tyson had made it his business to learn what had transpired in Diana’s life—and therefore, in her parents’ lives—in the years he was away. He’d discovered his father-in-law had lost most everything in the financial panic of 1893, although the man had managed to keep it a secret from his newlywed daughter at the time. Tyson also knew Diana had asked her father-in-law for help once the truth was known and that Jeremiah Applegate had refused to lift a finger to help her parents.

Tyson clenched his jaw. He would have to work a little harder at forgiving his father. He obviously hadn’t achieved it yet.

“Tyson.”

He returned his attention to his mother-in-law. “Yes?”

“If you break Diana’s heart again, I don’t believe I will remain timid. I will hurt you in whatever way I can. So help me, I will.”

Tyson rose from his chair. He wished he could round the desk and give his mother-in-law a tight hug. Instead, he said, “I give you my word, Mrs. Fisher. I won’t hurt Diana. At least not
intentionally, and hopefully not by accident either. I want to prove myself a changed man and a good husband.”

Whatever Gloria Fisher might have replied to him was interrupted by her daughter’s voice, speaking to the housekeeper in the hall. A few moments later, Diana appeared in the library doorway. Tyson could tell she wondered what mother- and son-in-law had been saying to each other. Would she be surprised to know her mother had threatened to harm him if he broke her heart a second time?

“Are you ready?” he asked her, deciding it wise not to linger.

“Yes, I’m ready.”

Gloria said, “You have a beautiful day for your ride. I hope you both enjoy it.” She crossed the room and placed a kiss on Diana’s cheek. “As for me, I plan to sit in the shade of the porch and knit. I shall enjoy the peace and quiet.”

Tyson waited until his mother-in-law disappeared through the doorway before circumventing his desk and approaching his wife. “You look stunning in that riding outfit. And I love the hat. Is it new as well?”

“I’m glad you like it.” She lifted her chin, tartness in her voice. “You paid for it.”

He had the feeling she wanted to goad him into saying something he shouldn’t. It didn’t work. “Money well spent.” He grinned as he motioned toward the back of the house. “Shall we? The horses await.”

Nothing, absolutely nothing, was as wonderful as sitting atop a horse, breathing in the sweet air of morning, seeing the sunlight caress the greenish-brown hillsides. Diana hadn’t known how much she’d missed riding until now.

Sitting astride a dapple-gray gelding, Tyson led the way on a track that followed a shallow stream. The flowing water created a soft melody that seemed in keeping with the beauty of the day.

They’d ridden for a good half hour when Tyson reined in and glanced over his shoulder at her. “Look. Up there on the ridge.” He pointed.

She followed the direction of his arm. For a moment she saw nothing of interest. Just grass and sagebrush and rock. But then something moved. A red fox, watching them as intently as they watched it.

Diana whispered, “It’s beautiful.” Then she saw more movement in the grass near the fox. “She’s got pups.”

“Four of them, I think.”

“I wish we were closer so we could see them better.”

“Next time we ride up here we’ll bring binoculars.”

She liked the sound of
next time
—although she shouldn’t. Not if she wanted to keep a proper distance between them.

Tired of the humans’ attention, the fox darted away, her pups on her heels. Surprisingly fast, even the babies.

They rode on, and when the trail widened, Tyson fell back beside Diana. “Your mare seems calm.”

“Yes. I thought she might be more difficult when we started out.”

“I’ve had the groom exercise her every day.”

“Well, that explains it.” She reached down and stroked the bay’s neck. “But I think we’d both like to canter a bit. How much longer will we follow this path?”

“I was told that when we reach that knoll”—he pointed—”the trail opens onto more level ground. We can give the horses their heads when we get there.”

Diana was ready the instant they crested the hill. Without a word to Tyson, she kicked the mare. The horse shot forward as if
propelled from a canon. Laughter burbled up in Diana’s throat and trailed behind her. She didn’t know where Tyson was, if he followed or sat still. It mattered not to her. All she cared about was the wind on her face, the pounding of hooves on hard ground, and the thrill of sitting atop such a magnificent horse.
Her
horse. It made her feel free and abundantly alive. Troubles, doubts, and fears didn’t exist at this moment.

Tyson’s gelding caught up with them. The two riders exchanged smiles, understanding what the other felt without the use of words. Eventually, of course, they had to slow their mounts, first to a gentle canter and then to a walk.

“That was grand!” Diana was breathless, as if she’d been the one running.

“Yes, it was.” He was silent for a few minutes, then added, “Remember the last time we rode together?”

Something pinched her heart. Regret? Nostalgia? Hope? “Yes.”

“Very different terrain up north. The trees and the underbrush. Not as desertlike as it is here.”

“But this has a beauty of its own.”

“You’re right. It does. That’s something I discovered in my travels. I can’t say I liked every place I went, but each had its own kind of beauty. As a creator, God isn’t repetitious. He likes variety.”

She turned a narrowed gaze in his direction, uncertain what to think of that comment. The man she’d married had scorned religion. On the other hand, Tyson
had
attended church services with her and her mother this past Sunday. Much to her surprise. Perhaps he’d wanted to be seen there for political purposes. Or maybe …

“A penny for your thoughts, Diana.”

She didn’t plan her response. The question seemed to form and spill from her lips of its own volition. “After so long, Tyson, what made you decide to come back?”

March 1893

Diana stood in an aisle of the general store, a copy of
Pride and Prejudice
open in her hands. It had taken Miss Austen only a few paragraphs to make Diana forget she was supposed to watch for her mother’s arrival.

“Miss Fisher? Is that you?”

Pulled from the world of the Bennets and Mr. Bingley, Diana glanced up. Her own world seemed to stop spinning when she recognized Tyson Applegate, standing in the aisle a few feet away. “Mr. Applegate.” Her voice broke over his name.

He grinned. “What a surprise to find you here.”

“I live here.”

“In this store?” His eyes sparkled with mirth as his smile broadened.

It was if she’d last seen him only yesterday instead of seven months ago. Unable to resist his teasing, she returned his smile. “Not in the store, silly. I live in Dillon.”

“That’s right. You told me so when we met last summer. I’d forgotten.”

But he hadn’t forgotten her name. That pleased her beyond words—because she remembered every tiny detail about him. How kind he’d been to her. How handsome he was. How tall he was. The deep blue of his eyes. The thickness of his dark hair. A smile that could cause her heart to go pitty-pat. The laugh that rose from deep in his chest.