Corbin's Fancy (20 page)

Fancy didn’t wait to ask how they were going to find a train out here in the middle of nowhere, what they were going to do about the balloon, or anything. She scrambled out of the bedroom, fighting for every breath.

Jeff followed almost immediately, of course, and all the while he ate his breakfast and chatted with Isabella, he watched Fancy, delighting in the reactions she couldn’t hide.

She tried not to acknowledge his gaze, or meet it, but the truth was that she could feel it. He was preparing her, making silent promises, and Fancy was caught between outrage and a scandalous yearning for night to come.

Soon enough, it was time to leave. Fancy had a brief respite in the business of thanking Isabella and saying good-bye. The exchange was a tearful one.

Hershel, being their only baggage, was loaded into the back of Eustis’s wagon, content to munch dandelion greens in his cage. They drove through the nodding wheat to the railroad tracks; to Fancy’s surprise, there were other people waiting for the train, too.

Jeff thanked Eustis, helped Fancy down from the hard wagon seat, and collected Hershel. The approach of the train was audible now, a metallic clacking sound mingled with those of escaping steam and a shrilling whistle.

The locomotive stopped beside them with a smoky clatter and the two calico-clad women waiting with their husbands finally stopped staring at Fancy’s free-falling hair and outlandish dress. She boarded the train with help from both Jeff and the attentive conductor, and then the train was moving again.

Jeff grinned as he settled into the seat beside hers, Hershel having been consigned to the baggage car. “What’s the matter with you?” he asked. “You’re blushing.”

“Those women were looking at me,” Fancy replied, folding her hands in her lap and keeping her eyes down.

“So were their husbands,” said Jeff with a shrug in his voice.

Fancy shifted her gaze to the wheatlands waving beyond the train window. “I hate it when people stare at me,” she whispered. Now that they were actually on their way to Spokane, she was feeling intimidated. Her life there would be different from anything she had ever experienced before, and she wondered how she could possibly be equal to it all.

Jeff caught her chin in a gentle hand and turned her to face him. “Frances, people look at you because you’re beautiful.”

Tears suddenly blurred her vision. “Because I’m strange, you mean!” she whispered fiercely. “Because I’m wearing a stupid dress with stars on it, b–because I couldn’t pin up my hair—”

“You’re scared, aren’t you?” Jeff broke in, with tender clarity.

There was no point in lying. Fancy nodded her head and sniffled in an attempt to regain her composure.

“Why?”

“I’m not a lady, that’s why! People will say, ‘Whatever possessed Jeff Corbin to take such a wife?’!”

Jeff chuckled and kissed her forehead. “No. They’ll say, ‘Damn it, why does he get all the luck?’” He paused to smooth her hair back from her face. “You’ll have everything you want, Fancy—I’ll see to that. Jewelry, clothes, anything.”

Pain stretched itself from Fancy’s solar plexus into every extremity. Did he think luxury was what she wanted and needed? What about his love? What about children?

It was silly to suffer such doubts when he had told her just the night before that he loved her, but Fancy could not shake them.

“I want to have a baby,” she ventured, just to test the waters.

Jeff grinned. “I’ve been doing my best,” he said, looking comically wounded. Then, in an easy gesture, completely disregarding the other passengers aboard that train, he draped one arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

Fancy tried to look forward to reaching Spokane—no doubt the house would be grand. There would be good food and probably a bathtub big enough to languish in. There would be books and entertainments, pretty clothes, new people, parties.

And gossip. It wouldn’t be long before society figured out that Frances Marie Corbin wasn’t one of their number. “Jeff Corbin married a show woman,” they would say. “She was actually wearing a dress with stars on it!” others would trill.

Fancy turned her face into the hard strength of Jeff’s shoulder and wished that she’d been born a lady. Still, echoes from the near future assaulted her … “It will never last, you know—she’s not good enough for him—she was born in Newcastle and her mother is a washer woman—you did notice, didn’t you, that she isn’t wearing a wedding ring?”

Somehow, the cacophonous rhythm of the train put Fancy to sleep. The voices followed, taking on disapproving faces.

“Jeffrey Corbin, it
is
you!”

The trilling exclamation at first seemed to be part of Fancy’s bad dream. When she opened her eyes with a start, however, she found that the speaker was all too real.

A gloriously beautiful woman with titian hair had materialized in the seat facing Jeff’s, wide green eyes all but devouring him.

“Hello, Meredith,” Jeff said evenly.

The lush Meredith rewarded the greeting with a blinding smile. Fancy felt about as much a part of the gathering as the ugly rose cabbage pattern of the train seats.
“Tell
me you’re on your way to Spokane, darling!” the vision enjoined.

Jeff’s arm didn’t hold Fancy quite so close as before, it seemed to her. “All right, Meredith,” he answered. “We’re on our way to Spokane.”

Meredith’s eyes widened; it was clear that she hadn’t noticed that Jeff wasn’t alone until that moment. Surreptitiously, her gaze dropped to Fancy’s bare left-hand ring finger before it could be hidden. “I’m Meredith Whittaker.”

Fancy sat up very straight. “Frances Corbin,” she replied. The look on Meredith’s face was a delight.

“You’re married?” she asked of Jeff, looking wounded.

Jeff simply nodded. Fancy might have wished for a more enthusiastic response, but she had to be content with the fact that he had, at least, acknowledged her.

Slightly pale, Meredith took in Fancy’s cascading hair and star-spangled dress. “I don’t believe it,” she murmured.

“Believe it,” said Fancy.

Jeff gave her an amused, sidelong look but said nothing.

Meredith was more than willing to fill the breach. “I hear that Adam is married now, too,” she said quickly and with some surprise. “What’s her name again? Something odd—”

“Banner,” Jeff replied shortly. Fancy instantly tensed at the name. Merciful heavens, she had yet to meet her sister-in-law and already she hated her.

“That’s right,” sang Meredith. “Banner. Mother met her when last she saw Katherine in Port Hastings, and she was very impressed.”

“It’s impossible not to be impressed by Banner,” Jeff answered, and Fancy was stung anew.

Meredith seemed to be at a loss, too. She stood up, looking a mite nervous, and excused herself with a few polite words and a promise to come calling as soon as Jeff and “Frances” were settled.

“Whoopee,” breathed Jeff, removing his arm from around Fancy’s shoulders and sitting back in the train seat in an attitude of unperturbed relaxation.

“What does she look like?” Fancy asked, in a small voice.

Jeff closed his eyes and sighed. “Who?”

“Banner.”

His jawline tightened momentarily, but his eyes remained closed. “She has red hair and green eyes,” he answered in weary tones.

“Like Meredith?” dared Fancy.

“Meredith pales by comparison.”

“Oh,” mourned Fancy, turning to look out the window. The wheat fields were far behind now, having given way to a rocky, desolate terrain.

After a time, Fancy slept again. She dreamed that she had just borne Jeff a child, a healthy daughter. “Look,” said the doctor, who had no face. And Jeff and Fancy looked, seeing their baby girl wearing a tiny black dress with stars affixed to it.

Fancy was glad to awaken until she realized that the train was approaching Spokane and she was alone. Panic, partly spawned by her silly dream, swelled into her throat.

A scarecrow-thin woman across the aisle noticed her distress and promptly added to it, clearly disapproving of Fancy. “If you’re wondering where your man went,” she imparted with relish, “he’s up in the next car with that society lady.”

Though she was wilting inwardly, Fancy would have died before letting the crone know it. “Thank you,” she said, turning to look out the window.

Spokane was a good-sized city, though not as big as Seattle by any means, and it sat down in a valley. There were many evergreen trees, even though the community was surrounded by prairie, and, as the tracks descended, Fancy could see a river sweeping through the center of town.

An impressive brick tower with a clock in its top rose up out of the railroad yard, but the other buildings were mostly of wood.

The thinly cushioned train seat gave a little as Jeff sat down next to Fancy. She pretended rapt interest in the view and bit back all the questions she wanted to ask about what he’d been discussing with Meredith Whittaker in the next car.

He seemed to read as much from the set of her shoulders and the determined upward tilt of her head. “Frances,” he said quietly.

Fancy ignored him. So Meredith resembled Banner, did she? No wonder he’d been so anxious to spend time with the woman.

“Turn around and look at me.”

She turned, her eyes bright with angry tears. Tears she had not even realized were there. If he asked her what was the matter, she was going to scream.

“You’re tired,” Jeff said sympathetically. “After what you’ve been through in the past few days, I’m not surprised.”

Fancy clasped her hands together in her lap. “Temple didn’t catch us, at least,” she said, trying to look on the bright side. She did have something of a tendency to let her emotions run away with her, where this man was concerned, anyway, and she was determined not to make that mistake again.

“Don’t assume that we won’t have to deal with him,” Jeff warned in response. “If I’ve learned one thing in the last twenty years, it’s never to underestimate Temple Royce.”

Fancy closed her eyes. And, unbidden, the memory of Temple gloating over the destruction of Jeff’s ship came to her mind, filling it to the breaking point. “Jeff,” she began shakily, “I—in Port Hastings—”

She could feel Jeff’s sudden alertness even before she looked and saw it in his face. “Yes?” he prompted gravely.

“I—” Fancy paused, swallowing hard.

“Temple—” The train whistle shrieked suddenly and there was a sensation of impending collision as the wheels were thrust into reverse, screeching along the metal tracks. Before Fancy could regroup her meager forces and go on, Meredith lurched elegantly up the aisle. “My carriage is here,” she said, her green eyes warm
as a caress on Jeff’s face. “Won’t you let me drop you off?”

Jeff’s lips moved in an inaudible curse, but he stood up and favored Meredith with a cordial nod. “Thank you,” he bit out. “That would be convenient.”

Fancy’s intention to confess what she knew about the sinking of the
Sea Mistress
was washed away on a tide of fresh humiliation. How could Jeff have agreed to let that woman escort them home in her carriage? Fancy was embarrassed enough by her appearance—now she would have to collect Hershel and explain why she happened to have a rabbit in her possession!

“A
rabbit!”
cried Meredith when Jeff had fetched the caged creature and brought it to the fore. “Good heavens, what do you want with a thing like that?”

Standing there in the railroad yard of a strange city, Fancy closed her eyes for a fraction of a second and blushed for considerably longer. By this time tomorrow, every socialite in Spokane would have heard about Mrs. Jeff Corbin’s pet rodent.

Jeff laid a reassuring hand on Fancy’s shoulder. “Why does anybody have a rabbit, Meredith?” he asked, stalling.

“Why, indeed?” Meredith pressed.

Fancy wanted to cry. Again. She was too tired and too undone to hide what she did for a living, social acceptability be hanged. “I—”

Jeff’s arm was a steely support around her waist. “Hershel is a pet, Meredith,” he said, his tones brooking no further questions. “If you object to his riding in your carriage—”

“Oh, no—of course not!” Meredith cried quickly. “There it is, over there. Herbert! Oh, Herbert!”

Fancy, grateful for the rescue, followed Meredith’s
gaze and saw a glistening black carriage attended by a driver. Herbert, no doubt, she thought wearily.

Jeff was standing beside her, and he jolted her out of her lethargy by giving her bottom a surreptitious squeeze and whispering, “This too shall pass. I promise.”

Fancy laughed in spite of herself and managed an affronted scowl. “Keep your hands to yourself,” she whispered.

He pinched her again as he handed her up into the elegantly appointed carriage after Meredith. Hershel had already been consigned to a compartment in the back.

“I’ve got so much luggage, Herbert!” wailed the sweetly weary Miss Whittaker. “Come back for it later, won’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” came the desultory reply, from the carriage box.

Jeff got in and sat down beside Fancy, looking innocent and yet mischievous. He folded his arms across his chest and sighed. “That’s the advantage of traveling light,” he remarked, to no one in particular. “You just pack up your rabbit and you’re off. It does save wear and tear on the servants, too.”

Meredith looked confused, as though she didn’t know whether she was being mocked or not. Fancy smiled, knowing that she was.

As they drove out of the noisy and bustling railroad yard, Fancy silently berated herself for being nasty. She had no real reason to dislike Meredith, and taking pleasure in her discomfort, however moderate, was wrong.

Meredith recovered quickly. “I told Herbert to stop at Corbin House,” she informed Jeff, “but won’t you
reconsider and come have supper with us? Mother will be perishing to meet the new Mrs. Corbin and—”

“No,” Jeff broke in, with polite firmness. “Not tonight.”

A vague, heated memory was triggered within Fancy. She looked out at Spokane, busy even in the gathering dusk, and instead of buggies, board sidewalks, telegraph poles, and buildings, she saw Jeff putting on his trousers that morning in Isabella’s spare room.
“Tonight,”
he’d said, giving the word scandalous meaning.