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Authors: Lisa T. Bergren

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BOOK: Glittering Promises
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“Well, let me see you to your room, Sleeping Beauty,” he said, taking my hand, rising, “and ring for Anna to attend you. I’d very much like you to freshen up and join me on the terrace for dinner.”

I smiled, my heart alight at the thought. He’d planned supper while I was asleep? How utterly thoughtful! All summer long, I couldn’t remember a single night that at least some of our group weren’t with us, aside from that lovely few hours in Florence that ended so dismally. I practically skipped up the steps, despite my head being full of cobwebs from the nap.

Will rang for Anna, kissed my hand, and asked me to be ready in an hour. I shut the door as if I had all the time in the world, then hurried to my trunks, looking for the right gown—the pink that I’d worn in Paris. I hadn’t worn it much since. Anna arrived, helped me out of my day coat and skirt and dickey, then pulled the pins from my hair and began brushing it out. I wiped my face with a damp cloth—which did considerable work to awaken me.

“Oh, this arm,” I said, frustrated by my bandages and how every movement still hurt.

“If you’d just sit ladylike and stay put for a while, the arm would heal well enough,” Anna chastised me, still brushing. “But that isn’t your way, is it?”

I met her gaze in my reflection in the mirror. “I never was much of a patient,” I said. “There was never time for such things on the farm. You had to be running a mighty big fever to stay in bed.”

“And breaking an arm isn’t reason enough?” she asked, biting down on some pins, preparing to twist my hair upward.

“Well, clearly, that would have been a wise decision,” I said, feeling the heat of a blush at my jawline. “Had I stayed back, not insisted on going with the rest of them to Tivoli after just getting out of the hospital, I might’ve avoided so much pain…”

Anna put her hands on my shoulders. “I was not chastising you, Miss, about Tivoli. You made your decision with the best of intentions—to remain with your sisters, your brother, your friends. It was evil men who turned it into something terrible.”

I met her eyes, saw her sincerity, and nodded. She resumed pinning. In a minute, she was done, finishing with my pearl comb. “Lovely,” I said, turning my head this way and that.

“Indeed,” she said, cocking a brow.

I rose and followed her to the bed, where she helped me slip on the gown—an awkward, lengthy endeavor, given my arm—and then I bent to slip my feet into the delicate ivory boots that matched. I rose and took in my reflection in the full-length mirror just as Will knocked.

Hurriedly, as Anna went to answer the door, I pinched my cheeks to add some color. I turned and gaped at him. He was in tails, his shirt crisp and white, his tie perfect at the neck. “M’lady,” he said with a flourish and a bow, then left his hand outstretched for mine.

“M’lord,” I returned, taking it and grinning.

He tucked my hand around the crook of his arm and led me down the hallway, then up one flight of stairs, and still another. There, he opened a narrow door, and we climbed upward, single file. I gasped when I reached the terrace. “Oh, Will.”

He grinned and looped an arm around my back, resting his hand on my hip. For a moment, we stood there together, looking out over the city of a hundred generations, cobbled together and yet somehow fitting exquisitely. Romanesque, Gothic, Baroque, and Neoclassical—all architectural styles I could now readily identify, thanks to the tour and Will’s training. Domes and arches, columns and obelisks, loggias and rusticated building blocks. Far below us, in a small piazza, was a fountain of a reclining Nero, water spurting from his mouth into the pool that covered him to the hips. He was big and vibrant, like Rome itself. In the distance were the hills of Rome, and in the far distance, bigger hills moving into green mountains.

“It is beautiful,” I breathed.

“You are even more so,” he said, looking down at me.

I smiled, and he took my hand again and led me to a table for two, set with cloth and crystal beneath a canvas-covered portico. I glimpsed him then, saw that we were not alone. Pascal stood watch at the far corner and gave me a small nod and smile. He too, bless him, was in formal attire.

“Even here we cannot be alone?” I asked Will softly as he moved in my chair.

“I will not have my fiancée”—he paused to give me a triumphant grin—“plucked from my hand again.” He sat down across from me. “Even if my enemy comes on the wings of eagles, Pascal and I shall fight him off. You, Cora Diehl Kensington, shall remain with me.”

I smiled and waited as a footman poured water into our goblets and then wine into our glasses. Another served escargot and tiny crostini with delicate wedges of cheese and tiny slices of basil. I was famished and ate everything on my plate.

“Breakfast was some time ago, wasn’t it?” Will said, obviously similarly hungry. The footmen brought soup then, a rich minestrone, and then pasta. But I laughed aloud when they brought the most monstrous steak I had ever seen and set it between the two of us.

Will grinned at me. “
Bistecca
, a dish best served in Florence,” he said. “But given that we left Florence in haste, I never had the opportunity to introduce it to you.”

I gave him a wry grin. “This would feed an entire family in Dunnigan.”

“But tonight, it is solely for the two of us.” He gestured to it and rose. “May I cut a portion for you?”

“Please. And then I’m afraid you’ll have to cut it into bites for me too, given my arm…”

“Of course,” he said, more relaxed than I had ever seen him.

We ate. And talked. And ate some more, until I could eat not another bite. I sat leaned my head back, closing my eyes against the splendor of the city at twilight, memorizing the smell and sounds and tastes of Italy, a country I might never see again.

My eyes shot open. “May we return one day, Will? To Italy?”

He looked like a contented cat, across from me, chair shoved back from the table, tie loosened, eyes half closed. He met my gaze. “Of course. Whenever you like. Cora,” he said, reaching across the table. “Don’t you understand it yet? You are a woman grown. A woman of means. A woman of power. This tour has brought about changes in you—internally, externally—just as it does for everyone. Except in your case, it’s tenfold. A hundredfold!”

I laughed under my breath. “I suppose you’re right. But even given all that, I’d only want to return if you would come with me.” I looked out at the city, then back to him. “It’s where we finally found our footing. Together.”

He smiled and nodded as he lifted his glass. “To our next trip to Italia.”

“To our next trip,” I said, lifting my glass and clinking it against his. I sat back again, sipping for a while, then set it down. “Will.”

“Mmm?” he said, lifting one brow.

“You spoke of my means, my power.”

“Yes,” he said, now waiting.

“I would like to use some of that means and power to lobby for change in Montana, or Minnesota. Wherever we might be. So that women might obtain the vote.” I held my breath. I thought I knew where he stood. But I had to be sure…

He considered me for a moment. “I take no issue with that.” He turned the stem of his goblet in a circle, thinking. “I’ve told you before, Cora, that I believe women should have it. That women are far more capable than men give them credit for.”

“I appreciate that, Will. It’s important to me.” I thought a moment and then went on. “And I don’t need a big mansion. Servants. I mean, I suppose some might be necessary, but, Will”—I leaned across the table and took his hand—“I’d rather spend money on people. On projects, like Eleonora’s orphanage, but in our hometown as well as here. I want my wealth to be a gift to more than just me.”

He studied me for a long moment and smiled a little, silently acknowledging that I intended to keep my promises to Eleonora and more. “So you’re telling me not to become used to being a kept man, with fancy watches and fancy duds and fancy motorcars. That you might give it all away?”

I smiled. “No. Don’t get used to it.”

“Okay, then. We’d best see to those university degrees then, especially me,” he said. “I apparently still need to make a living wage.”

“It’s always good to have something to fall back on,” I said, enjoying our game. I sobered then. “But honestly, I don’t think you’ll be satisfied until you get that architectural degree. Set about building your own portion of Rome,” I said, gesturing outward.

“With my own funds,” he said, pointing softly at me. “It must be with my own funds, Cora. The remainder of my schooling, getting set up in an office. A man can handle a wealthy suffragette for a wife if he has his own means of getting by.”

“I understand,” I said.

A footman arrived with dessert, and we both groaned. It looked wonderful and yet horrible, all at the same time. Confused, the man set them down and left, clearly wondering if he’d somehow brought us the wrong dish.

I rose, picked mine up, and carried it over to the long-suffering Pascal, who probably was sick with hunger by now. “Here,” I said, lifting the plate and fork up to him. “Thanks for taking such good care of us, Pascal.”

“It’s a pleasure, Miss.”

“We’ll miss you when we leave.”

“And I, you. This tour has been the most eventful duty I’ve ever had the privilege to have. Vienna will be a bore after this.”

I smiled. “Well, you never know whom you shall guard next. Perhaps it will be an even grander adventure. Eat up. I’ll ask a footman to bring you a sandwich.”


Merci
, Mademoiselle Cora.”

The sound of strings brought my head around. A trio had entered the terrace floor and sat in one corner, warming up. Will strode over to me. “Would you do me the honor of a dance, Miss Cora?”

I gave him a wry grin. “If you don’t mind dancing with a one-armed stuffed pig.” Heavens! Had I said that aloud? When had I become so free with my speech around him? So ready to say whatever I thought?

He laughed, a great belly laugh, even as he led me to the open space of the terrace directly in front of the musicians. “Even ‘full as a tick,’ as Uncle Stuart used to call it, you are nothing short of sublime.” He lifted his hand in order to take my good one, then wrapped his other arm around me. We waltzed through one song and then another, and still another, as darkness finally claimed the city and the footmen cleared the table and set out candles all about us.

“I’m sorry I don’t have a ring for you yet, beloved,” Will said. “I wish to purchase one at home.”

He wanted to use his own funds, I understood, purchase it once he received payment from Mr. Morgan for the summer’s duty. “Will,” I said, leaning my head against his chest, “I’ll be happy to receive it, whenever you find the right one. But I’d prefer a plain band.”

“A plain band?” he repeated, leaning back to get a look at my face.

“Yes. My mother had a plain band. It was good enough for her, and it shall be good enough for me.”

“I must say,” he said with a dumbfounded sigh, “that you still manage to surprise me, even after being together all summer long.”

“Maybe I’ll surprise you all our lives.”

“I wouldn’t mind that,” he said.

The longer I danced, the sleepier I became. The movement eased the ache in my belly, and by the time I walked downstairs with him, I thought I just might be able to sleep rather than stay up all night moaning.

At my door, he hugged me gently. Downstairs we heard the foyer door open and the noise of the rest of our group returning. He lifted a finger to his lips, obviously intent on keeping this night our own treasured little secret, then he bent to kiss me. “Thank you for the most marvelous night of my life.”

“Oh, Will. Thank
you
.”

“One more thing,” he said. He reached inside his coat and pulled out a telegram. “Read this,” he said, “when you are alone.”

I gave him a puzzled nod. “All right.”

“See you in the morning, my future Mrs. McCabe,” he whispered in my ear, sending shivers down my neck and shoulder.

“In the morning,” I agreed, then reluctantly pulled away from him and shut the door.

“Well, you two had quite the evening,” Anna said from a corner chair, startling me out of my wits. “Oh, sorry!” she exclaimed, seeing my reaction. “Forgive me, Miss. I’d just come up, thinking I’d help you out of your gown and to bed, and then nodded off myself. I’m doing more and more of that of late. Perhaps my days of travel have come to an end. Best stay put in Butte next time your family decides to summer in Europe.”

“Unless we stayed in England, yes? Then you could see your family.”

“Yes, yes. If you decide to only go to England, I’d come along for that.”

She attended me, and I soon locked the door behind her and slipped under the covers, telegram still unopened. He’d wanted me to be alone. And at last I was. I turned up the flame of my gas lamp and slowly unfolded the paper.

It was from my papa, I saw, my heart skipping a beat. FROM ALAN DIEHL it said, right there at the top.

MR. MCCABE – STOP – THANK YOU FOR DOING US THE HONOR OF REQUESTING PERMISSION TO MARRY OUR DAUGHTER – STOP – WE ARE CERTAIN THAT ANY MAN WHO MEETS CORAS APPROVAL IS GOOD ENOUGH FOR US – STOP – IF YOU WILL TRULY LOVE HONOR AND CHERISH HER YOU MAY PROCEED WITH OUR BLESSING – STOP –

Tears ran down my face as I read and reread the words, hearing my papa’s gentle, firm tone, imagining Mama at the telegraph office, making certain it was all said right. I collapsed back against the goose-down pillows, thinking about how grand it was of God, to sort out the glittering promises of my life and make it clear what was truth and what was a lie. What I could cling to, count on, and what I could not.

And Will, Father. Will! Thank You for bringing me a man I could count on from the start. A man who knows where I came from and can see where I’m going, a man who is willing to walk beside me forevermore. You’ve blessed me, Lord. Far more than I could’ve ever imagined. But most of all in the love of this man.

I turned down the flame of my lamp until it was almost out, clutched the telegram to my chest like a hug from my folks, and in seconds, I slept.

CHAPTER 37

BOOK: Glittering Promises
8.48Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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