Catch Me If You Can (19 page)

Her mouth opened in shock, her eyes wide. “I’m the one who is being reasonable, you are not.” Her declaration was vehement. “What I need from a... friend…” She blushed furiously. “… is respect, someone who acknowledges I’m not some weak-spirited mare who needs to be guided and led.”

“That’s exactly what I am. It is you who is being hot-headed and irrational.”

As soon as the words were out, he knew he’d made that fatal error: a man should never, ever, call a woman irrational. He roared, angry with them both. “Godammit, you need someone to take you in hand and tame your wild streak, is what you need.”

“Oho.” She folded her arms tightly over her chest, clutching her shawl in white knuckled fingers. “And I suppose you think you’re the man for the task?”

Yes.
He wanted to roar at her.
Yes I am. Dammit to hell.

She’d caught him, like a rat in a trap. Rivers groaned aloud, his hands clenched in fury.

Why, oh why did she bring out this side of him, this hitherto unknown aspect of his personality? He knew he sounded like a tyrant, but he was trying to make her see sense, so that he could protect her, love her and be with her.

He sat on the seat, pushing his head into his hands. “Eleanor, I came here today hoping for something entirely different to pass between us.”

“I don’t doubt it, how much sweeter it would have been for you to undertake your duties with me another of your willing conquests.” 

His head shot up in disbelief. She was glaring at him.

“What nonsense is this? There have been others in the past, yes, I’m no saint and never claimed to be, but I’ve not looked at another woman since I met you. Eleanor, you are wrong.” He held up the sheet of parchment. “This is a letter to your aunt to explain my deep affection for you and my intentions toward you.”

She stared suspiciously at the sheet of paper but didn’t remark.

He stood again and walked to her.

He stroked the curve of her cheek with the back of one finger.

She drew away slowly, as if reluctant. She’d lingered and, yes, there was evidence of some sadness beneath the disquiet in her expression, the vivid, heated anger. Something had affected her deeply. His heart ached with need to mend this, to resolve their differences.

“Eleanor, I came here to tell you how much I love you. I wish to propose marriage.”  He paused, unsure of whether he should have even pursued his original plan, given her current frame of mind. It had to be done, for it was the deepest conviction of his heart. He had to find a way to make her understand his true intentions, and what greater gesture could a man make?

Eleanor’s mouth fell open. She stepped back, reeling as if he’d slapped her.

“Marriage?” Her tone was one of complete disbelief. “Is that your last resort, Sir?”

“It’s not a resort of any kind, it’s a proposal.”

“You would stop at nothing, wouldn’t you, to win this battle?” She was absolutely livid. “If you thought I would swoon into your arms so you could stash me on a train for the duration you are sadly mistaken.”

“This is not a battle,” he replied, unconvincingly, his voice terse and snappy. “My proposal is genuine. If you believe these ridiculous accusations you are making, then it is clear we are at cross-purposes. I refuse to consider this a battle and will leave you to consider my words until such time you deem them worthy of fair consideration.” 

With that he took one last look at her, his glance hungrily taking in her flushed cheeks, the startled look in her eyes, and the tightness of her fingers clutching her shawl across her breast. Even in anger, she was an incredible beauty. She was full of fire and yet vulnerable, making him long to soothe the wild streak in her. She’d spurned him. She’d pushed aside his heartfelt proposal, interpreting it a cover for some ridiculous plan that was entirely untrue. He gave a sharp bow and took his leave, storming through the house.

When he stepped out of the O’Neill house onto the street, he blasphemed loudly and hurled his letter to Frieda under the wheels of a passing carriage. He was furious with himself. How idiotic of him to carry on regardless, given the state she’d been in. The trouble was they each had to compromise something of themselves for each other – their independence. Both of them had fought for that and lived by it. It had been a mighty difficult thing for him to come to terms with, but it was worth it to be with her, and she would discover the value of its sacrifice soon enough.

Give her time.

She’d come round, each and every time they’d had a misunderstanding before, and how blissful it had been when they made up, how precious it was. He couldn’t help but wish away the troubles, though, and longed for more of the tender compassion between them.

Whatever happened, he would know if she tried to leave.

He hoped she would relinquish before such time. However, if it came to that, Frank had seen to it. He would tie her up and lock her in a private compartment for the entire journey if necessary. His mind wandered, his loins heating at the prospect of having her thoroughly compromised. The lewd thought, delightful as it was, distracted him unnecessarily and he took a deep breath and focused once more on the current problem. Whatever happened, she was unaware the servants would report her movements. He would know within hours if she packed one single trunk. As far as he was concerned, he’d made a fundamental error this evening, but otherwise he had all eventualities safely covered.

Chapter Fifteen

The Lady Vanishes

Felix led the two women through the busy station. With curt gestures and arrogant orders, he cleared a path through the crowded platform until they were alongside the steaming train, which was readying for departure.

The women walked with their arms linked. Eleanor had dressed practically, in a heavy overcoat, with a comfortable woolen jacket over her shirt, and a heavy gabardine skirt, from under which peeped her solid walking boots. Miette looked as if she were on parade, for she dressed in a cream wool dress with plaid skirts, under a dramatic sealskin coat trimmed with fur, and matching hat and muff.

Their plan had gone well. Felix had hidden the valise and small suitcase Eleanor wanted to take with her aboard the carriage they were riding out in – supposedly for an afternoon drive. He told the driver to detour via the station when they were on their way and it was too late for the driver to inform anyone in the household of the change of plans. Miette gripped Eleanor’s arm during the secret ride, as if she would never let her go. The Frenchwoman issued instructions for the journey all the while, even as the platform attendant hurried the stragglers onto the train.

“And you must write and tell me your adventures. And don’t forget to carry your pistol at all times, and don’t worry, I’ll have all your luggage packed up, shipped and waiting for you in California when you arrive.”

“You won’t tell Rivers anything, will you? Promise me.” Eleanor grew fretful about his possible reaction to her secret departure. He would surely be furious when he discovered she’d escaped without him and destroyed his carefully made plans to woo her in whatever manner he deemed appropriate at the time.

“As promised, Cherie,” Miette replied, pouting at her. “I’ll tell Frank you are indisposed with a head cold this evening so he won’t miss you. He’ll be away from home for two days. He won’t be able to tell your Mr. Rivers. Forget about him now.” 

If only it were that easy
. A sudden shiver descended her spine.

She wanted to escape, to breathe in open spaces, but she also felt wretched about their final encounter. It had only taken a matter of minutes after his departure for his words to sink in. He said he loved her. Yes, and she loved him.

However, she’d vowed to do this expedition for her father and she would complete it. After that, they would meet again. Rivers would travel ahead by train and he would be there with Frieda when she arrived in California.
It would be difficult to restore their relationship after all that had passed between them,
she reflected, aching. She tried to ignore the thoughts and emotions, but then looked at the faces of the crowd on the platform. She was looking for his face, wondering what would happen if he came up to her and scolded her for attempting to travel alone. She would slap him for his impudence, she decided, then shook off her lovelorn daydreams, determination renewed.

She focused again on Miette, who still talked on. Eleanor sensed Miette’s regret. She embraced her French friend when they reached her designated carriage door.

“Oh, do be careful, Eleanor.” A tear glistened in Miette’s eyes.

“A little danger is good for one.” She put her friend from her, and added, “As you well know.”

“Well, life can be dull otherwise.” She seemed delighted with Eleanor’s comment. They chuckled over the shared joke and the tears were forgotten.

Eleanor watched from the carriage door until Miette’s figure faded from her view before settling into her seat. Eleanor knew it had done her good to be with her friend over the past weeks, for it had lifted her from the sadness she’d suffered at home after her father’s death. However, she was glad now to be away from her dominating ways. She loved her friend and enjoyed their times together. At the same time she found Miette's devious plans ridiculous. She smiled to herself.
Ari will never be respectable, but neither will Miette.

She looked out at the view as the train gathered speed and hauled out of New York, chugging faster on its way. The fading grandeur of the Erie Railroad carriages were reasonably comfortable, compared to a journey she and her father had once endured in North Africa, and Eleanor enjoyed the journey.

By day, she periodically passed along the carriages to stretch her cramped legs, or sat and absorbed the passing scenery. At night, she moved to the stacked berths, each hiding a person behind a heavy curtain. The lack of privacy and the cold encouraged her to remain dressed at night, her big coat over the thin blankets on the bed, her pistol under her pillow. The draughty carriages meant she also nestled in her coat during the day, her gloved hands rubbing together to keep out the cold, while she watched the southern shore of Lake Erie as they passed by.

She had a variety of traveling companions. The first was a legal man who was traveling to defend his brother in a case of cattle rustling. He told Eleanor the details of the many cases he was currently working on and she listened, wondering to herself whether he should be divulging such information to a complete stranger on a train.

Then a stern woman in her forties with a docile daughter of about fifteen stayed with her for two days, during which time the woman spoke incessantly and the girl never said a word. By the time they disembarked, Eleanor knew she would have recognized everybody in their town from the descriptions and stories the woman had given her. When the woman found Eleanor was traveling quite far alone, she delighted in telling her of the dangers she might encounter. Her descriptions were lurid and quite obviously exaggerated. Eleanor had to bite her lip on several occasions to stop herself from laughing.

“And you be sure to keep your pistol in your groin, lady,” she said on one occasion, her finger pointing down to Eleanor’s lap.

Eleanor almost burst out laughing, especially as the daughter seemed unfazed by her mother’s remark, and looked on with a dour expression on her face.

“Why would that be?” Eleanor eventually managed to ask.

“Because they won’t think of looking there.” Her eyebrows shot up dramatically.

Eleanor thought it was more likely to be because the pistol would be to hand, if they did try to look
there
, but she didn’t voice her thoughts on the matter.

After a meal of cold ham and lukewarm potatoes, which she soon found to be the standard fare of the railroad, she climbed into her bunk and began a letter to Mrs. Bramley. Later, her traveling companion spoke to her through the curtain. “Good night, dear, you be sure to keep your pistol handy.” 

Eleanor gave a muffled “thank you” in reply.

The railroad passed through wide expanses of land, small towns with the signs of industry, and the dense cities of Cleveland and Chicago, where she had to change train in the massive station. She took the opportunity to buy some fresh apples to relieve the boring menu on the train, and picked up a newspaper before boarding the next train. It was less draughty but stuffier than the last and she wondered if any comfort could be gained on these long haul wagons.

As she remembered from her reading, the passage to the west was marked by the gradual depletion of civilization into smaller and sparser clusters, until they neared the West Coast. Her father’s diary recorded the scenes and she re-read it along the way. It was as if he’d been there at her side when he wrote them. She felt close to him when she recognized his words in her own view of the landscape and scenes before her.

When she finally stepped from the train in St. Joseph, Kansas, she stood on the platform looking at where the railroad would have ended, but now went on. She squinted into the horizon. As the dust swept up to blur the tracks fading into the distance, she could imagine how it would have looked to James and David Craven. She glanced around. The station was smaller than she’d imagined, and the two other passengers who had alighted with her had already disappeared. The train beside her gathered steam. Seeing there were no new passengers, the stoker waved to the stationmaster and climbed back into the engine. A whistle sounded.

A sudden sense of misgiving crept up from nowhere and threatened to engulf her, seeing the train leave. The stationmaster had gone back inside the small station office, slamming the door behind him. Dust eddied across the path in front of her.

Suddenly alone, Eleanor was tempted to wait for the next train, whenever that might be, and remain more secure inside the sealed wagon. Then she reprimanded herself and thought of her vow. She picked up her two bags and squared her shoulders. Leaving the station she began to hunt for the boarding house mentioned in her father’s diary, where she planned to spend the night before the next stage.

* * *

Rivers paced back and forth, scowling, and glared down at the carved griffin. It seemed to mock him at his most difficult moments in life, whenever he passed through the O’Neill hallway.

He’d come straight there after receiving the brief, apologetic note from Frank, who was clearly too embarrassed or afraid to face up in person with the news of Eleanor’s secret departure. The butler returned and led him into the salon, where Miette waited expectantly and offered her hand.

“Pierre, how nice it is to welcome you again.” She looked at him as he raised his head from her hand, and a slow smile crept across her face.

Rivers frowned. “Thank you for receiving me, Madame. Have you had news from Miss Eleanor since she left?” 

He sat where she indicated and waited for her reply.

Miette sat opposite him, spreading her skirts around her before answering.

Rivers looked her over. She was the type of women he’d been known to pursue. He would have seen her as an admirable conquest in the past. Now she looked appeared shallow and conniving to his eyes. He preferred an altogether different breed these days – women with fire, passion and vitality. He sighed inwardly. He was truly smitten with Eleanor, that was the truth of the matter.

“As I told Frank, and I’m sure he has told you, I’ve not heard from her since she left here, some three days ago now.” 

His frown grew deeper. “Neither has her aunt had news, it is most worrying.”

The woman in front of him continued to smile, as if amused.

He found it most off-putting, as if they were chatting about something of little importance. “I sense you aren’t concerned about her journey?” He couldn’t help being provoked by her amused and watchful silence.

“On the contrary. Eleanor and I are old friends, we went to school together. I’m concerned for her safety, but she had her mind set on this. I simply don’t know how I can help you.”  

The door opened and a servant brought in a tray filled with ornate crockery and pretty-looking food. He accepted a cup of tea and sipped at it vaguely, his thoughts elsewhere. “I was hoping you might have some idea of the route she took before I begin to cover the possibilities.” 

She laughed aloud.

The sound of it grated on his nerves. He disliked this rattlesnake woman more intensely as the moments passed and thought quickly on introductions to more kindly friendships Eleanor might forge on her arrival in Napa.

“The hero to the rescue, how gallant.” Her eyebrow arched mockingly. “Eleanor discussed nothing of her route before she left. All I know is she booked her passage through to St. Joseph.” 

He nodded. “That’s as I suspected.”

He eyed her suspiciously. If she did know anything, she wasn’t telling, although he doubted she had the wit to query any matter that didn’t directly involve her own interests. He frowned, his thoughts moving on rapidly. “I’ll undertake an investigation in the town of St. Joseph to begin with.” 

Frustration made him restless. When he’d been with Eleanor in England he’d wanted her to do this journey, for he wanted to spend time with her. He’d hoped she and James would travel to California soon after their return. He’d long since come to terms with the fact he loved her, but he now wished she’d never thought of leaving England, for the sake of her safety – and his own sanity.

Miette was speaking. “Eleanor won’t be found unless she wants to be found.”

He didn’t appreciate her attitude. “I assure you I will find her, and I will have the upper hand when I do so.”

“The upper hand, with Eleanor? That would be quite the scene to witness.” Amusement shone in her eyes. She
rose and walked to the side of his chair.
“Won’t you stay a while?
Frank will be away tonight on a business function and I’d be glad of your company for dinner.” 

Rivers looked at her in disbelief. “Madame, the idea of languishing here in your...er, delightful company…while Eleanor crosses America alone seems quite ridiculous.” 

She looked him over with her piercing green eyes “That’s a shame.”

Annoyed at her glib attitude, he stood and reached for his hat. “I’ll take my leave now, Madame.”  

“I suspect we will meet again, Mr. Rivers. Do give Eleanor my love when you find her.”  She laughed, as if delighted at some private joke.

Rivers gave her a curt bow and left forthwith. He hastened in order to resist the urge he had to shake some sense into the woman. He walked down the wide steps onto the street, put his hat on and pulled out his fob watch. It was noon. He would be on the three o’ clock train heading west. She had a three day start on him. He strode quickly down the street, his blood racing. He would track down that hotheaded young woman if it were the last thing he ever did. The only unknown factors to his mind were
where
he would find her, and
when
.