Blessing (40 page)

Blessing saw Ramsay’s mouth lowering to claim hers. She felt herself leaning forward, anticipating his lips, soft and insistent—

She tugged free with a silent gasp.

He gazed at her with such longing she had to stiffen her resolve, turning toward the fire. The two of them had no future together. “I always tried not to provoke Smith,” she said, unable to stay silent, “but he was so wicked and caused suffering for so many.”
For Richard and me.
She sank back into the rocker and pulled the shawl around her, still palpably chilled by tonight’s events.

Again her mind conjured up her sad marriage. All the
times Richard had vowed to be free of alcohol and gambling and other women. And all the times he’d failed. All the times Smith had lured him back to the docks, introducing him to sinful pleasures that could excite him in new ways. She shuddered, admitting to herself she had retained a grudge against Smith. Maybe he’d been right to accuse her of hating him.

Ramsay sat in the rocker opposite her, his gaze beseeching her to let him come closer. “I overheard most of what Smith said in the minutes before . . .”

Was he asking for an explanation about Richard? She could not, would not speak to this man about the husband who had abused her and followed a path to destruction—and bequeathed to her all his wealth out of guilt and shame.

She turned the conversation toward Ramsay. “Now we know why Smith hated thee in particular.”

“I was listening outside, hoping the night watch would come. I heard everything. He indeed wanted to destroy me. And you’re the one who stopped him. Where would I be if you had not deterred his plans?”

Blessing wouldn’t respond to that. It would only bring them closer. “Sometimes the evil in this world weighs me down,” she said, redirecting the conversation and trying to keep her feelings hidden, difficult though it was. Witnessing Smith’s suicide had stripped away her outer shell. She must be wary.

“What can I do to help you? You shouldn’t have been subjected to this dreadful incident.”

His words were exactly what a gentleman was expected to say to a lady who’d witnessed something unpleasant. Of course, Smith’s suicide was far from merely unpleasant. But Ramsay’s falling back onto propriety somehow steadied her.
She gazed at him, pulling up her reserves.
I am not a sheltered lady.

She looked him in the eye. “Thee forgets that I am the woman who walks the docks at night, trying to find those who can still be rescued.” She lifted her chin. “I’ve seen violent death before. Sadly.”

“I wish that weren’t true. But I know I can’t change you.”

His final words endangered her resistance to him most of all. Of all the men she’d known, this one understood her the best, better than Richard ever had.

Again she averted the discussion from herself. “So Smith’s
idée fixe
didn’t start when thee arrived in Cincinnati. He’d envied thee long before that.”

Gerard snorted. “Appearances can be so deceiving. Smith never met my father. I may be his legitimate heir, but my father has never loved me.”

The stark words saddened her. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ve always been fortunate in my parents.”

He nodded in the low light.

She needed him to go before she had another weak moment. “Ramsay, I really don’t want to talk more.”

“Would you like me just to sit with you? We don’t need to talk.”

She tried to say she didn’t require his presence, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell an outright lie. “Yes, thee may stay and sit.”

He assented.

She found she couldn’t send him away. His nearness was calming her, stabilizing her. “Please stay till I can go up to bed.”

“Very well.”

The firelight flickered on the rose-papered walls. The silence of deep night settled over them. Though Blessing relaxed in Ramsay’s comforting presence, she prayed she would have the strength to resist her feelings for him.

No one must know the truth about the guilt she carried and would never be free of, least of all this man who was becoming so much more than she could have thought possible at their first meeting.

MAY 1, 1849

Reports of Smith’s suicide hit the streets in the newspaper
Extras
the next morning. Any doubt that Mr. Smith had held notorious sway over many men could no longer be denied, and death by his own hand made for a sensational story. Newspaper reporters, notebooks in hand, gathered around Mrs. Mather’s front door, asking for Gerard.

After a hastily eaten breakfast, Gerard faced them on the front porch and gave a succinct and guarded statement about Smith and his death. They clamored with questions. He answered a few and then asked them to leave. There was nothing more to say.

The raucous and insistent newspapermen refused to leave, perhaps scenting much more gore or drama for their columns. Finally the watchmen, prompted by complaints from the neighbors, had to disperse them. Gerard, inside the front door, faced Mrs. Mather. “I’m sorry. I seem to always be your most troublesome boarder.”

She ignored his apology. “Thee had best go quickly to Blessing’s home. I’m sure they are harassing her too.”

“Why didn’t I think of that?”

“No doubt because thee mistakenly thought that those men wouldn’t bother a lady,” Mrs. Mather replied with a touch of sarcasm. “Mary and I will stay in today and lock the doors and pull down the shades. That should keep unwanted reporters away.”

He grinned. “You’re a Trojan, Mrs. Mather.”

She blushed. “Go and protect Blessing from those vultures.”

Gerard donned his coat, hat, and gloves and, gripping his cane, headed to Blessing’s house. From a discreet distance, he found it shut up tight with the curtains drawn. Without calling attention to himself, he made his way to the orphanage instead.

There he found a guard standing at each gate and door—large men of color and a few white men dressed in Quaker attire. One of the former recognized Gerard, and he was allowed inside.

Blessing sat in the parlor with several noisy and lively children playing around her. She looked much more relaxed than he had expected.

Scotty immediately accosted Gerard. “Mister, something bad happened last night.”

Gerard stooped down and looked Scotty in the eye. “I know, but you’re safe today. No one is going to do anything bad again.”

Scotty leaned against him, and Gerard patted his shoulder awkwardly. “Now why don’t you go play jacks?”

The child pressed closer to him.

Gerard gave in. He swept the boy up into his arms, picked
his way through the children playing on the parlor rug, and set Scotty on his lap as he sat across from Blessing.

He almost asked if she was doing well, but that sounded insipid. “I’m glad to see you this morning,” he substituted.

She smiled but didn’t reply.

And that was how the remainder of his visit proceeded. Blessing had erected a wall around herself and wouldn’t let him in. Finally he set Scotty down and bid her a polite good day.

As he left, Gerard couldn’t figure out if he’d done something to offend her or if she was still suffering some form of shock. He recalled holding her last night and realized that he longed to embrace Blessing again to comfort her—and perhaps comfort himself.

After leaving the orphanage, Gerard didn’t know where he was going until he reached Stoddard’s house. He knocked on the door, choosing not to analyze his motives. Stoddard was probably at work already in any case.

Honoree answered. “Oh, sir, I am that glad to greet you. Miss Tippy is worried about you and Miss Blessing. Mr. Henry left for work before we saw that story in
Extras
about what happened last night. Is Miss Blessing all right?”

“I just visited her at the orphanage. She is doing well.” He realized he’d come seeking comfort but now would be providing news and solace to Tippy and her household.

Honoree did not look convinced. “Did you want to see Miss Tippy?” Her simple request concealed the real message, a plea for him to console Tippy with information.

Then Tippy’s voice floated down the hallway. “Gerard, please come and visit me.”

Gerard could not say no to Stoddard’s beloved, who was still recovering. He let Honoree relieve him of his accoutrements, and she led him to the garden off the rear parlor.

Tippy sat in the same white wicker chair as usual, but she appeared much better than she had the day Stoddard had carried her here against her wishes.

Gerard was moved to kiss her proffered hand in welcome. “I am glad to see you looking so much healthier.”

Tippy smiled. “Do sit. Honoree, bring him some refreshment, please.”

Gerard sat in the chair adjacent to Tippy’s, glancing at the fresh greenery and flowers everywhere. “Your garden is beginning to thrive.”

“I have started digging in the dirt,” she said with a laugh. “It’s good for the plants and for me. Now, what is this I read about that man Smith?”

Gerard did not want to tell her, but she’d find out soon enough anyway. He gave her a brief report of events without embellishment.

Tippy stared at the house next door over his shoulder. “You care for Blessing, don’t you?”

He hadn’t expected this question and didn’t reply.

“She cares for you, too,” Tippy continued.

He still kept silent.

“Since she lost Richard, I’ve not seen her drawn to any man as she’s been drawn to you. Blessing is one of the most special people I’ve ever known.” Tippy looked into his eyes. “If you let her slip away from you, you will regret it.”

The truth of her words settled over him and then sank in like a gentle rain on soft earth. “I don’t want to let her go,” he admitted. “But she has been pushing me away.”

Tippy glanced downward. A woodpecker nearby was pounding his beak into a tree. “She never speaks of her husband. But it was not a happy marriage.” Tippy looked to him again. “After her period of mourning ended, many men fixed their interest on her, but she never gave anyone a second look. Till you came.”

“You hold a grudge against me for your late husband.”
The words Smith had taunted Blessing with came back.

“What kind of man was her husband?”

“He inherited two breweries and much valuable land from his father when he was only twenty-two. He was
very
handsome and charming.”

“But what kind of man was he?” Gerard repeated.

Tippy almost lowered her gaze again but lifted her chin instead. “I never liked Richard Brightman. I think he was drawn to Blessing because she was his complete opposite. He was weak and she was strong. Perhaps he thought she could save him from himself.”

Tippy’s blunt assessment set Gerard back on his heels. A woman like Blessing married to a man who was weak? A wealthy young man perhaps more foolish than Gerard had been before he’d met Blessing. He recalled that Smith had completely ensnared the man. “No wonder,” he murmured.

“What?”

“Nothing.” But in his mind he completed the thought.
No wonder Blessing fought to keep me from Smith.
He fell silent.

Tippy closed her eyes as if fatigued by the conversation.

Gerard listened to wheels and footsteps passing on the street and the chirp of baby frogs in the garden pond. A blue jay chided them from a nearby tree. Gerard found himself equally agitated and exhausted by the events of the previous night. And the truth about his father’s duplicity intruded, reminding him of the sad loss of his mother. So much pain, one thing on top of the next.

Before cool gloom could drag him down, he pulled himself together. “What should I do?”

Tippy opened her eyes and blinked. “Do you love her?”

Her words galvanized him. He didn’t need to answer the question. “Thank you.” He rose and impetuously kissed her forehead. “Get better. Stoddard needs you.”

“No more than I need him.”

Gerard lifted his hand in wordless farewell and started out, still trying to come to a plan, a course of action. At least he knew what he had to do about Blessing. Words must be said.