Steadfast Heart (4 page)

“I do hope you find your sister,” she began. “The city isn't nearly as dangerous as one might think. Not if you know where to go. Of course, your sister won't know where to go, so I suppose that is a concern.” She glanced over her shoulder at him as they retraced their steps to the front door.

Kolbein didn't know what to say. Miss Cunningham had a way about her that suggested she was unconcerned with social etiquette. He found her openness rather refreshing, but her manner of chattering on and on was exhausting.

She extended him his hat and smiled. “I do hope you find your sister.”

“Yes, you said that.”

Miss Cunningham nodded. “So I did. Well then, perhaps I shall merely say farewell . . . until next we meet again.”

P
riam Welby was a man used to making things happen—especially when they involved something that he wanted. He smiled at Miriam Madison, but inside he was seething. He'd just offered the old crone an outrageous sum of money to buy the Madison Building, but she had refused.

“Mr. Welby, you must know that my husband left me this building. It was one of the few things Mr. Madison owned when he passed on.”

“God rest his soul,” Mrs. Madison's sister declared.

Mrs. Madison nodded. “Amen.”

Welby shook his head. “Ladies, I understand sentimental value, but this building is perfect for my import business. It is just beginning to make me a decent profit, and I need this building. You are perfectly situated to the harbor, not residing in the Lava Bed area, where the worst scum and degenerates are to be found along Skid Road, nor far up the hill to that intellectual society of university dwellers. It's a good location for a business such as mine.”

“Mr. Welby, while I can appreciate your desire to better your business, I simply cannot help you. This is more than just a
building. I house dozens of young women here at any given time. We run a finishing school for potential brides.”

Welby knew all about the school. He had thought it rather ridiculous, while others in his circle of peers spoke of finding accomplished brides, who could not only sing and play the piano but comport themselves like women befitting a higher social station. Priam thought it all nonsense and beyond any interest to him. What interested him was his own business and the fact that the demand for imported goods had grown over the last year.

“Mrs. Madison, I am not suggesting you give up your lucrative business. On the contrary, I have a proposition to make. Not only will I pay you the amount I offered for this building, but I also have a beautiful house in the Lower Queen Anne area. It's a palatial estate. There are acres of well-manicured lawns, servants' quarters, a stable, and a carriage house. The main house itself is massive compared to your setup here. The entire third floor comprises a ballroom.”

“We have that here, Mr. Welby,” Mrs. Madison replied.

“I assure you that my mansion is far better suited than what you have here. I myself found it rather alarming to learn that young women were living in this building. Why, you are in one of the roughest areas of Seattle. There are all manner of hoodlums lurking about. I would think you would want to get away from the waterfront.”

“Oh, but we can't!” the younger woman declared without warning. “I could never live without having the sea in view. It would just break my heart. My dear fiancé, Captain Jonathan Richards, God rest his soul, of the fishing vessel
Sea
Vixen
and the United States Naval Services prior to that, lost his life at sea. I couldn't be parted from that connection.”

“Poisie, take that basket of lemons upstairs to Selma,” Mrs.
Madison commanded. “I'm certain she has need of them by now.”

The woman who had been introduced to him as Miss Holmes got to her feet, and Priam did likewise, as any good gentleman would. “Good day, Mr. Welby.” She gave a little bob of her head and crossed the room to take up the basket of lemons she'd earlier deposited by the door.

Once she was gone, Priam returned to his seat to address Mrs. Madison in earnest. “I realize this place was left to you by your husband. However, as I mentioned before, it is hardly a decent location for the school you operate, much less for a home. You are putting the lives of dozens of young women in danger. Don't you think that a place away from downtown would better serve?”

“Of course not. The men are downtown. They've come to depend on the women being here. Why, right now we're serving tea and lemonade with light refreshments upstairs in the ballroom. Are you married, Mr. Welby?”

“No. I've never had reason to be.”

Mrs. Madison looked at him as if he were a child in need of guidance. “
Tsk tsk
. I believe God has a man for every woman and for every woman a man. Why don't you join us upstairs? You can get an understanding of what we do here. And you just might find a bride for yourself.”

“Forgive me, but I truly have no interest. A wife would require more attention than I have to give at present. Perhaps one day I will take you up on your offer, but for now I'm quite content with my bachelorhood.”

“Nonsense!”

Mrs. Madison's sharp declaration made Priam jump ever so slightly. He had faced down grown men of questionable
reputations and dealt with high society kings who thought they knew all the tricks in the book, but never had he felt quite this intimidated. And to think it was an old woman who caused him such discomfort.

“Aunt Miriam,” a much younger woman called from the door. Priam got to his feet once again. The stranger stepped into the room with a blaze of untidy red curls and a winning smile. The smile faded just a bit when she noticed Priam. “Excuse me. I didn't know you were still here,” she said, staring at him. She seemed to realize how harsh this sounded and proceeded to apologize.

“I hope you won't take offense at my comment, sir. I very often speak before thinking. In fact, Aunt Miriam chides me for it at least six days a week. But never on Sunday. Sunday is the Lord's Day of rest, and Aunt Miriam says that even she must rest from disciplining. Although with so many young ladies, she also says it's hard to rest . . . even on Sunday.”

Priam was fascinated by the young woman's chatter. She had a way of going on and on about the silliest things. He'd never seen anything quite like her.

“Abrianna, I will be finished here shortly. I just invited Mr. Welby to join us upstairs.”

“I'm afraid that's impossible today,” Priam said. “I'm due at another appointment—a luncheon—and the time is already noon.”

“Abrianna will show you out. I should get back to the reception. I do hope you aren't overly disappointed, Mr. Welby. I'm certain that upon prayer and reflection God will direct you to another property.”

But Priam knew better. He'd already reviewed other properties, and this one suited him in full. But he realized by the set of
the woman's face and firmness of tone that she had made up her mind. For this battle, Mrs. Madison could call herself the victor. But winning one battle was not winning the entire war.

The redhead—Abrianna, Mrs. Madison had called her—waited for him. She was a pleasant enough looking young woman, but there was something of the hoyden about her.

“So Mrs. Madison is your aunt?” He made his way beside her.

“In a manner. You see, my mother died when I was quite small and there were no other relatives. She asked the ladies to take charge of me before her death.” The woman shocked him by giggling. “Well, of course it was before her death. She could hardly do anything after she died.” Abrianna smiled. “It's amazing the things we say, isn't it, Mr. Welby?”

“It is indeed, and you seem at no loss for such things.”

She looked embarrassed, but it passed quickly. “I'm afraid I am quite the complex soul. I fear there are so many words that float about my head that I must speak them or they will rupture something.” She held his gaze for a moment. “
Rupture
isn't one of those words that we shouldn't mention in mixed company, is it? Goodness, I can never keep all the rules straight. Why, just the other day my dear friend Lenore chided me for saying
legs
when I should have said
limbs
.”

Abrianna frowned and shook her head. “There. I suppose I've just said it again. I'm quite hopeless, but my heart is good.”

He laughed in spite of himself. “I'm certain you are right, for you seem gentle of spirit despite your enthusiasm for life.”

She surprised him by touching his arm. “You are so kind to say so, but I am afraid that I am quite incorrigible. Especially when it comes to talking and speaking my mind. Aunt Miriam said it was a pity that a young woman couldn't earn a living by talking, or I might be wealthy.” She looked at him with such
an expression of sober contemplation that Priam couldn't help but grin.

“I must say, it has been a pleasure meeting you, Miss . . . ?”

“Cunningham. Abrianna Cunningham. No relationship to the very wealthy Cunninghams of Tacoma, however. I didn't even know they existed until one of the gentlemen who attended our receptions made mention of it.”

“Well, Miss Cunningham, I don't believe that matters one whit. You are charming and obviously intelligent. Very pleasant to look at, as well. Now, if you'll be so kind, I'll take my hat and bid you adieu.” He gave her a slight bow.

Abrianna handed him the hat. “Good day, Mr. Welby, and do have a pleasant lunch. It looks to rain, so I hope you have an umbrella or maybe a closed carriage.”

He chuckled. “I have both. Never fear.” She nodded and he took his leave. What a curious creature, so vivacious and unabashed in her ways. He smiled to himself. Perhaps she was the answer to his problems. Perhaps Miss Cunningham—not of the Tacoma Cunninghams—could help convince her adopted aunt that selling to him would be the best thing.

“I'm so glad your aunts allowed you to accompany me today,” Kolbein told Abrianna. He then turned to the beautiful woman between them. “And I'm very grateful for your help.”

“Between Lenore and me,” Abrianna said, “we know more than half the city's occupants. Surely if your sister is here someone has seen her. Although, if she's trying to disguise her appearance so that no one can find her, it will be more difficult. Do you suppose she is traveling incognito? Perhaps she has taken another name.”

“I doubt she would go to such trouble,” Kolbein assured her.

“At least the rain has stopped,” Lenore commented.

“Yes,” Abrianna agreed. “It rained all the time we were in church yesterday, and it made concentration impossible. I wonder if the Lord ever thought about how distracting rain can be when it rivals the words of a preacher teaching on the Beatitudes.”

“I'm sure the Lord knows very well what we endure,” Lenore told her.

She smiled at Kolbein and he felt his heart beat all the harder. He had never felt this way about a young lady—not even once in his life. Could this be what all the fuss was about? Could this be the same fever his friends had caught? The sickness that led them to the altar?

“Mr. Booth, I wonder how it is that you came to be guardian of your sister.”

“Please, call me Kolbein.”

She nodded her approval. “I suppose such ways are the latest fashion. But then you must call me Lenore.”

“And I'm Abrianna, but of course you already knew that.”

Kolbein smiled at both women. “I would very much like to call you by your given names. It makes conversation so much easier, more personal.”

“My mother would say it is more intimate, which is why I suppose she would also discourage it,” Lenore replied. “However, I'm of a mind that times are changing, and we must also change with it.”

“I agree,” Kolbein said. But did he really? Most of his life he had lived by a strict set of guidelines and restrictions. It was one of the reasons he enjoyed his legal work. There were laws and regulations to follow, and it was only when someone or some case set a new standard that he felt uneasy. Now, however, he
was breaking all of his social restrictions and speaking to these young ladies as if they were brother and sister rather than new acquaintances.

“You asked me about my sister. Our parents died when Greta was still quite young. Being older by twelve years, I was left as her guardian. We had no other family, save an aged uncle in New York, so there seemed no other choice.”

“So that means you are thirty-one,” Abrianna declared.

“I will be in September,” Kolbein replied. “I was twenty-two when we received word of our parents' death. They were killed in a train accident in the Northeast. Greta was devastated. I was just out of college and had taken a job clerking for a judge in Richmond.”