Northern Lights Trilogy (48 page)

Riley nodded once, understanding, as Peder walked off. Elsa had kept after Riley until he had told her all of it, leaving no detail to the imagination. Her heart pounded in fear for her husband, for Riley, for how close they had both come to following Edmundo’s path into the deep.

“I told you, missus, and now I will keep my promise to the Cap’n,” Riley said solemnly. “Do not ever tell ’im I told you about it. But to my mind, it is good for a wife to know of what stock her man is made. Our cap’n is a fine man.”

“I know, Riley. Do not worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

She looked after Peder, watching as he sighed heavily and looked out to sea. He would wrestle with his decision for years to come. But not one of his men would ever speak of it again.

T
ora and Trent were invited to a harvest dance, but few involved had ever handled seed or rake, she mused. Not that she had either. She simply saw the irony of it all. It was like having a ship christening with no ship. Despite its ironic nature, and true to form for the Saint Paul upper class, the ball was at the Gutzian mansion and being given by people of discriminating taste. She mourned the fact that it would be her last in Saint Paul, yet did everything she could to hide it from her escort.

Trent had agreed to her plan, an unpleasant surprise, and was allowing her to go west. Why had he not reacted as she had anticipated? Tora was sure that her threat of going would make him propose. Perhaps he was bluffing, playing his last card. Perhaps when she actually stepped onto the Northern Pacific tomorrow, he would bend his knee and ask her to be his wife. Yes, that was it, she decided. Surely he did not intend to let her go. He simply was curious to see if she herself was bluffing.

Well, I’ll show him. I’ll go all the way to Montana Territory if I have to, to earn his respect
. She found herself alternately excited and
horrified at the idea. Tora could see herself doing as she had said to Trent, performing as liaison for Storm Enterprises in setting up new ventures in new towns. Yet she also had been reading dime novels of late, and
Captives of the Wild Frontier
, gunfighters, Indians, and the United States Cavalry filled her head. Was she prepared to face the dangers ahead? Part of Tora wanted to toss her head at the challenge—of course she could handle it; the other part made her toss and turn at night in her sleep, or lack thereof.

“Why, good evening, Mr. Storm,” said a coquettish blond as they passed.

“Good evening, Miss Grant,” Trent said benignly.

It had not taken long for Tora to notice that her beau drew the eye of every available young woman in the Twin Cities and beyond, nor that all those women looked down their noses at her. They hated her. Hated her for what they could not have. Trent Storm. Yet if he did not propose, did Tora truly have him? It nagged at her soul. Was she doing the right thing in leaving?

She looked up into his eyes as he whisked her onto the dance floor. The small orchestra, a tight group elegantly dressed for the occasion, played a lovely, soothing waltz. He held her so confidently, looked at her so intently, that Tora was able to think of no one else. What was this within her? She wondered at the feeling that made her at once sick to her stomach and high as a kite at simply being on Trent’s arm. It went beyond what she had once felt for Kristoffer. That was more like friendship. This was … She abruptly stepped away from him.

“What? What is it? You look pale, Tora.”

“Forgive me, Trent,” she said, as he led her off the dance floor. “I think I need to sit for a moment. Excuse me while I go find the ladies’ sitting room.”

“Certainly.”

What was wrong with her? she wondered as she left him. Perhaps she needed to eat. Knocking briefly at what she knew was a
ladies’ lounge, Tora entered. Three young women looked up at her: Alicia Hall, Giselle Gutzian, and Audrey Campbell.
Oh dear
. She had stumbled into a private lounge, not the one most of the guests used. Alicia moved to block her view of the coffee table, but not before Tora saw a pile of white powder.

“Excuse me,” she said hastily. “I was in search of the ladies’ sitting room and the necessary.”

“In there,” Audrey said with a nod toward a door. Her eyes were hazy, as if she were sleepy.

Tora rushed past and closed the door. After pouring some water from a pitcher into the basin, she splashed her face, and felt a bit better. She stared at her features in the gilt-edged mirror, wondering what Trent saw in her. The girls outside were giggling, but Tora ignored them. She had to figure out what she was feeling. Was this love? She felt desperate to remain with Trent, but furious that he would let her go. It was more than what he could provide her, she decided with some surprise. It was the man himself. She was falling in love with Trent Storm!

Tora smiled and saw something in her eyes she had never seen before. Joy? Was this what she had been seeking all along? A knock startled her.

“Just a minute. I’ll be out shortly.” She opened her beaded purse and dabbed on some lip cream and powder. Then, taking a breath, she opened the door.

It was Alicia. Her eyes now held the same gauzy haze as Audrey’s.

“It’s all yours,” Tora said, brushing past to make her way out.

“No, you don’t,” Alicia said with a giggle. “We want some answers.”

Tora turned to face her. Alicia was about the same height. She felt the other young women come up behind her and felt trapped. “I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, relax, darling,” Alicia cajoled. “Why don’t you come on over here and share in the bounty first?” Her tone was light, inviting. Her
words easy, if a bit slurred. Too much champagne? Tora wondered. She had been dying for a glass herself, but Trent was a teetotaler. Perhaps they had a bottle in here. No doubt the Gutzians had purchased only the finest from France.

Alicia led her by the elbow to the coffee table. Tora felt simultaneously suspicious and lured by the chance of sharing something with these women she wanted to befriend, not fight. She glanced at the white powder on the table, uneasy. “I really should get back to Trent.”

“Trent!” Audrey cackled. “Why, the matter must be very serious if you are on a first-name basis with Mr. Storm.”

“Of course it is,” Alicia answered. “Our little Tora Anders has snagged the heart of dear Trent. You must tell us how you’ve done it, Tora. We are amazed at your ability.”

Tora searched her face, but she seemed honestly interested.

“But first, to be a part of our circle, Tora, you need to partake.” Alicia handed her a sterling silver tube as if she knew what to do with it. Seeing Tora’s confusion, Alicia said generously, “Through the nose, darling. Take a big sniff of the laudanum up your nose. Inhale as deeply as you can. It will take care of your headache.”

“I do not have a headache,” Tora said. For the first time in her life, she felt as if she definitely did not have the upper hand. She looked around the room as if casting about for an anchor.

“Well, of course you don’t, silly,” Audrey said. “None of us had a headache either, and now we won’t until morning! Think of it as a precautionary measure.” She tilted her head down and giggled.

Audrey looked free, easy, happy. If all these fine, upstanding women of society were doing it—whatever
it
was—why shouldn’t she? She had been trying to get in their good graces for months, and now they were welcoming her. She dipped her head and inhaled.

The powder burned as it entered her nostril, and she twitched her nose and shivered. That set the women to laughing hysterically. Within seconds, Tora felt lightheaded, free. She giggled along with them, and when Alicia gripped her arm, she did not pull away.

“Tell us,” Alicia said conspiratorially. “Tell us the truth, Tora. How did you come to Minnesota? And how did you snag Trent Storm? We want to know it all, darling. Start at the beginning. I bet it’s that adorable accent that got to him. Norwegian, isn’t it? Why, you sound just like my own beloved.”

A warning bell rang in Tora’s head from a great distance. But feeling as she did, nothing could hurt her, she decided. Suddenly she felt she had it all—wealth, beauty, and apparently, by their reaction, wit. She was welcome! She was a part of them. And so, Tora began to tell them her story as if she were speaking with her sisters, trying hazily to stick to the story she had told Trent.

Alicia sighed and snuggled closer to her on the love seat as if they were dear friends. “But before that, darling. Before that horrible disaster on the sea. You’re from Bergen, are you not? I believe you once knew my fiancé, Karl Martensen.”

What is the harm?
Tora asked herself, having a more difficult time focusing by the minute. She giggled. “Of course. He was in love with my sister,” she said. She frowned as Alicia stood, her eyes narrowing. What had she said? Why was she so angry?

“Your sister …” she dimly heard Alicia repeating. “Well, isn’t that interesting?”

And then Tora fell into a blessed, deep sleep.

Karl approached the group of men encircled by a ring of smoke from their Turkish Orientals, the cigarette of choice. In their offices most seemed to chew tobacco, but the women preferred them to smoke in their presence rather than spit. Karl refused either form of tobacco, as well as the glass of Monongahela whiskey that John shoved into his hand.

“No, thank you,” he said, passing the glass to a waiter.

“Nonsense, man,” John said, staying his hand with a laugh. “If you’re to work with these men,” he said, waving at the crowd of businessmen, “you drink with these men.”

Karl said nothing, just held on to the glass. The men laughed uneasily and raised their glasses in silent cheers. After a moment, he was again forgotten.

“As I was saying, John, I thought it quite striking that Parker pulled out of the Sullivan warehouse deal so suddenly.” The man’s tone was full of innuendo.
He dares to say it because he has no direct business dealings with John
, Karl thought. The fellow was foolish to dare his future father-in-law. Sooner or later, every businessman in Saint Paul would deal with John J. Hall.

“Indeed,” John said, full of bravado. “I always say that a man has to look after his assets close to home before he looks to foreign soil. The fortress walls, I call them.”

Karl thought of the image, and his mind went back to a story his father had told him as a young child. He remembered little of the tale other than that it was of a Norwegian king who had conquered a city, and in retribution for the townspeople’s resistance, ordered ten men killed and buried within the walls of his new fortress. Were Brad and Parker victims, laid to rest in John’s fortress walls? Karl stepped back and watched Hall as he spoke, as if seeing him in a dream.
Who have I become?
he asked himself. Was he the knight for an evil king? Driven by money and the need to succeed, he had done John’s bidding.

He caught himself shuddering as Trent Storm walked up and joined the group.

“You all right, man?” Trent asked in a low voice.

Karl nodded.

“Say, the lady I have been courting disappeared into Alicia’s room. Have you seen your fiancée lately?”

“No,” he said, choking on the word.
Tora and Alicia in the same room!
“I’ll ask a maid,” he said. Spotting Alicia’s maidservant passing a tray of champagne, he waited until he could catch her eye. She hurried over. “Jonquil, would you check on Miss Hall and Miss—”

“Anders,” Trent interrupted, assuming Karl did not know.

“Yes, Miss Anders. We have not seen the ladies in quite some time and wanted to make sure they were all right.”

“Certainly, Mr. Martensen.” She curtsied shallowly, then hurried off to follow his instructions.

Within minutes, Jonquil emerged from the lounge, and shortly thereafter, the women did too. Karl frowned as they made their way over. He did not like it. He did not like it at all. Alicia smiled, but it was all lip and no eye. Tora seemed tired, woozy, as if she had … Karl narrowed his gaze and looked at his fiancée. She evaded his glance, but he saw enough to know. Alicia had been into the laudanum again, and from the look of her, so had Tora.

“Headache, dear?” he asked under his breath.

“No.” Alicia laughed, looking at him, challenging him. “I did earlier, but it’s all gone now. Karl, darling, have you met Tora Anders? Your fellow Bergenser.”

“Why, yes,” he said without missing a beat. “We caught up at your sister’s wedding.”
Stick to the truth
, he coached himself.

“But, darling, she told me something quite amusing,” Alicia said, her eyes catlike. For a moment, Karl could see a tail swishing beyond her. “Tora says you once loved her sister.”

Karl laughed it off, hoping he sounded convincing. “Love! I know the entire Anders family but can only claim friendship with any of them. Why, Tora was just a girl when I left, hardly the young woman she is now. Perhaps she was remembering a girlish fantasy.” Karl hated the defensiveness that crept into his voice. She was the one who should be questioned, not him.

Suddenly he felt as he had that day in John’s office when Brad was fired. The shadows were deepening, threatening to swallow him. His job aside, what had he gotten into with Alicia? Was she the woman he wanted for a wife? The idea seemed ludicrous. Yet what was he to do now?