Enduring Love (25 page)

“That we have,” Hannah said.

“It was the smell of yer cooking that convinced us,” Lydia said. The woman smiled broadly. “I’m known as a fine cook.” She turned her attention to the registry. “Would ye two ladies like to share a room?”

Hannah and Lydia looked at one another. “Yes. We would,” Lydia said.

“All right, then.” The woman wrote in the ledger, then asked, “Your names?”

“Mrs. David Gelson.”

“Hannah Talbot.” Hannah’s maiden name tasted like lead on her tongue.

The woman turned the ledger toward them. “Sign here.”

After Hannah and Lydia had both put their signatures to the ledger, the woman said, “I’m Mrs. Jones, Elen Jones. My husband went to his eternal rest two years ago.” Her eyes turned moist, but she tipped up her chin and managed to smile. “I’ve been running this place since. If ye have any needs, just let me know.” She moved toward the entryway. “Now then, up the stairs, turn left, and go down two doors. Your room is on the right.”

“Thank you,” Hannah said, glancing at Dalton.

Elen turned to him. “Are you with them?”

“I am.”

“All right, then, Mr. . . .” She glanced at the register. “Gelson. I’ll—”

“I’m not Mr. Gelson. I’m Dalton Keen, and I’m simply accompanying the ladies.”

“Oh. I do apologize.” Elen blushed. “I’ll put you across the hallway from them.”

After signing the register, Dalton carried Hannah and Lydia’s bags to their room, and then with a warning about prudence, he set off for his own.

Lydia stepped into the hallway. “Dalton. We’ll be going downstairs for . . . tea.” Mischief lit her eyes. “Just in case yer wondering where we got to.”

His mouth tight and his brow furrowed, he said, “I’ll be down shortly.”

Lydia stepped back into the room. “He’s not happy with us, I can see that.”

“It’s not us,” Hannah said. “It’s the circumstances. He realizes what may be at stake.” She looked around the room. It was clean and tidy, with frilled curtains at the window. There were two beds with a bureau between them. A side chair sat in one corner beside an armoire. “This is nice.”

“That it is.” Lydia sat on one of the beds and pressed a hand into the mattress. “I believe they’ve used feather ticking, but it could use some new stuffing.”

“Do you think we should go downstairs straightaway? I’d like to see if Mr. Douglas is among the breakfast guests.”

Lydia stood and moved to the door. “We can only hope, eh.” “Lydia, this is not a game.”

“I know that. Would ye prefer I wear a frown and growl at everyone?”

“No, of course not.” Lydia had always been one to take life straight on without grumbling. “I’m sorry. I just have a bad feeling about all of this.”

Lydia moved to Hannah and draped an arm over her shoulders. “I know. But we’ve got to remember God is in this with us. He’ll see to it that his will is done. But we’ve still got to do all we can.”

Hannah rested her head on Lydia’s shoulder. “You’re a good friend.”

Lydia gave her a quick squeeze. “Come on. Let’s get us some morning tea, eh.”

The two made their way to the dining room. A large mahogany table nearly filled the room. A paunchy man sat at one end, a cup of coffee in hand. His face rounded when he smiled. He stood. “Good day, ladies.”

“Good day,” Lydia said.

“Ah, so yer going to join us, then,” Elen Jones said, setting a platter of scones on the table.

“We’ve eaten,” Hannah said. “But a cup of tea would be nice.”

“Fine.”

An elderly couple sat across from the man who’d greeted them. The gentleman stood. “Good day.”

Lydia and Hannah both nodded and smiled.

“Mr. Booth, what can I get for you?” Elen asked.

“My wife and I would like tea to go with our scones,” he said, returning to his seat.

Elen bounced as she moved about the room, filling cups and serving the morning meal of scones, eggs, and fried pork. When she came to a man sitting at the end of the table and staring into his cup, she asked, “And how ’bout you, can I get you more coffee, Mr. Douglas?”

The rhythm of Hannah’s heart picked up as her eyes fell upon the man. He looked fatigued and unfriendly.
That’s him.
He wasn’t what she expected, not exactly unattractive but a bit pudgy and unkempt.

Lydia leaned close to Hannah and whispered, “Looks like he’s been at the grog.”

Hannah agreed. He’d not said a word, but she didn’t like him. How could Margaret be interested in someone like him?

“Ye look a bit done in,” Elen said to Mr. Douglas.

“That I am. But another cup of your fine coffee ought to perk me up.”

She filled his mug and left the room.

Mr. Douglas sipped, looking over his cup at the newcomers.

“Something ye need from me, ladies?” He smiled grimly.

“N-no,” Hannah said, realizing she’d been staring.

“We’ll be fine with just tea.” Lydia took a place at the table. Hannah slid into the chair beside her, wondering what she ought to say next. How did one get information out of a stranger?

“We’ve just checked in,” Lydia said. “You?”

“I’ve been here a good while.” He took another drink of his coffee.

“Have ye traveled a great distance?”

“Should say so—all the way from London.”

“Oh, London, really? Do ye have a business establishment here, then?”

He gazed at Lydia through bloodshot eyes. “No. And I’ve nearly completed my affairs and will soon be sailing home.”

Elen returned, carrying a tray with a teakettle and cups and saucers. Setting it on the table, she filled the cups and set one in front of Hannah and then Lydia. “Are ye sure I can’t offer ye ladies something to eat?”

“Actually, I was thinking of trying one of the scones. They look grand,” Lydia said.

Elen offered her the plate. Lydia took one and dipped it into her tea before taking a bite. “Mmm. This is delicious.”

Elen smiled. “Thank ye. It was me mum’s recipe.” She looked at Hannah. “And you, would ye like something?”

“A scone will be fine.” Hannah wasn’t at all hungry, but she took a scone to show she had a legitimate reason for being at the table.

“All right, then. I’ve a pile of dishes waiting for me.” Elen disappeared through a door Hannah guessed led to the kitchen.

Lydia dipped her scone again and took another bite. “What kind of business are you in, Mr. Douglas?”

He leaned his arms on the table. “Just Weston will be fine.” He held his mug in both hands. “Actually, I’m here on speculation, considering just what kind of business might do well in this town. Haven’t made up my mind, but I’m considering importing goods. There’s a need for more suppliers, I’d say.”

“So ye’d open a mercantile, then?”

“Perhaps. But more likely I’d supply the shops and mercantiles here in the local townships.” He eyed Lydia more closely. “And you, where are you from?”

Hannah felt a moment of panic. What if he connected them with Margaret?

“My husband is a physician in Parramatta,” Lydia said casually, her smile warm.

Hannah made note not to trust Lydia so thoroughly. She was quite a good actress.

“Ah, so you’re married, then.”

“I am. He’s a fine man.”

Weston Douglas turned his dark eyes on Hannah. “And you?”

“I work as a housemaid, nothing quite so grand as being married to a doctor.” She was surprised to hear a cheery, friendly lilt to her voice.

He downed the last of his coffee. “Well, have a grand day, ladies. I’ve business to attend to.” He pushed away from the table, picked up his hat, and with a slight bow to all gathered at the table, he walked out.

His leaving seemed to be a sign to the others. The Booths and the other gentleman rose and left the room.

Hannah pressed a hand to the base of her throat. “Oh, I just nearly fainted. I wasn’t at all sure what to say.”

“Ye did fine.” Lydia smiled. “But we didn’t learn much. I suppose we’ll have to wait until dinner, eh.”

“And what do we do until then?”

“I say, a day of shopping is in order. Christmas is nearly here, and I was hoping to find something for David.”

“Of course . . . Christmas.” Hannah had nearly forgotten. Her mind went to how this Christmas would be different than last. She pressed her palms together on the table in front of her and forced herself to think on what was at hand. “How are we going to discover anything from Mr. Douglas? We can’t openly question him.”

“He’s sociable. Sometimes if ye just bide yer time and wait, fellas like him will tell ye all ye need to know without asking. They usually love to talk ’bout themselves.”

“What is it that you need to find out? Perhaps I can be of help,” Elen said.

Hannah and Lydia swung around. They’d not heard her enter the room. “We were just wondering where we might find Christmas gifts for our families,” Hannah managed to say.

“Oh well, there are a couple of fine shops not far from here. Are ye shopping for yer families?”

“That we are,” said Lydia.

Elen smiled. “The Johnson’s have a fine store just down the street. They’ve toys of all sorts.” She moved to the window and glanced out. “Ye just step out and turn right. It’s not far.”

“Thank you.” Lydia dipped the last of her scone into her tea.

Elen cleared away cups and saucers and moved into the kitchen.

Lydia finished her tea. “While we’re looking for gifts, we can inquire as to Weston Douglas’s activities.”

“We’ll look suspicious.”

“Not at all. People love to gossip.” Lydia smiled. “Come on. It’s time we were on our way.”

“We ought to tell Dalton.”

“My guess is he’s napping. I remember when I used to work at the estate. He’d take a mid-morning nap whenever he could manage.”

Hannah smiled. “He still does, if he’s not needed. Still, we must tell him what we’ve learned—”

“Which is very little.” Lydia picked up her reticule. “We can tell him later.” She sounded almost giddy.

“You’re enjoying this too much.”

“I admit it is a bit fun. Life sometimes feels tedious. This is very much like a treasure hunt.”

Hannah felt herself grow angry. She folded her arms over her chest. “We’re not searching for treasure. And what we find might possibly wreak havoc on the only man I’ve ever loved.”

Lydia gave Hannah a disdainful look. “I know. Ye’ve told me. But did ye ever think that he might be happy to know the truth?”

Lydia plopped down on the bed. “I think David will like his new muffler, don’t ye?” She held up a dark blue scarf she’d purchased.

“It’s the middle of summer, Lydia.”

“Yes, but winter will come. It was a good price.”

“That’s because no one wants mufflers in the summer.” Hannah shook her head slightly, then smiled. “It is a nice scarf.”

“And I’m sure he’ll enjoy the tobacco too,” Lydia said.

Hannah felt melancholy. She had no husband to buy for. How nice it would be to purchase pipe tobacco for John. She’d always liked the smell of it.

“I’m sure Thomas will love his Bilbo Catcher.” Lydia shook her head slightly. “How children can catch a tiny ball in a cup on top of a wooden spindle I’ll never know. I can’t manage it.” She wrapped the scarf about her neck. “It was a fine day, but I wish we’d discovered more about Mr. Douglas.”

“Maybe there’s nothing to be found.” Hannah sat in the side chair and stuck her legs straight out in front of her, crossing her ankles.

A knock sounded at the door. Lydia pushed herself off the bed. “Who is it?”

“Dalton Keen.”

Lydia opened the door. “Why, hello. Wherever did ye get off to? We’ve not seen ye all day.”

“I apologize. But after you left this morning, I thought I’d have a go at finding information on our Mr. Douglas.”

“And did ye discover anything?” asked Lydia.

“I did, in fact.”

“Ye did? Please, come in.”

Dalton’s face turned a slight pink. “It’s not proper—a man in your room.”

Lydia stepped out and glanced up and down the hallway. “No one will see. Come in.”

Taking another look down the corridor, Dalton stepped inside, and Lydia closed the door behind him.

“Well, what is it?” she asked.

“It seems that Mr. Douglas hasn’t been completely forthcoming about his business affairs. He professes to be contemplating opening a business here, but since his arrival, he’s done nothing toward that end. Rather, he spends his time drinking and gambling.”

“Really?” Hannah felt her pulse quicken. “Perhaps he truly is a scoundrel.”

“Highly likely, I’d say.” Dalton looked at the door, obviously feeling uneasy about being in the ladies’ room.

“If he’s not here on business, then what reason can he have?” Lydia asked. “What do ye think he and Margaret are up to?”

“What can they possibly want from John?” Hannah asked. “The farm is only now beginning to prosper and certainly isn’t worth traveling all the way from London for.”

“That’s true.” Lydia folded her arms over her chest. “There must be something we don’t know ’bout John or the situation.”

The room turned quiet. Finally, Hannah said, “There’s nothing I can think of.”

“He’s not got a fortune hid, then?”

“No. Of course not. I’d know. He lost everything when he went to gaol—his cousin saw to that.”