The Ringmaster's Wife (13 page)

“There was no convincing needed,” Colin shot back before she could answer, then deposited her bag in the compartment above their heads. “Rosamund knows her own mind.”

It was the last thing she'd imagine him to say, but she offered a soft thank-you in reply.

Ward proved positively gleeful to find Rosamund had joined the party, and patted the soft green velvet seatback next to him.

The moment she'd settled in the seat, he began rushing her through a one-sided conversation on the ills of life outside the circus world. Colin gave an exasperated sigh, then eased down into the seat next to Bella. He took out his pocket watch and began absently turning it over in his fingertips.

“The Ringling Brothers boast the greatest show known to man in a grand spectacle of exotic animals and performances by artists who defy the conventions of gravity, strength, and will.” Ward perked up, nodding, hoping to engage Rosamund in his same level of enthusiasm. “It's a menagerie of men and animals creating spectacles unlike any the world has ever seen.”

“Been reading the advertising pamphlets again, Ward?” Bella asked.

“But she needs to hear it, doesn't she? At least know something about the circus acts?” Ward chatted on, undaunted by the snip of Bella's remark. “So, there are baggage horses—the ones that pull the circus wagons and help raise the Big Top—and then there are the performance horses. The liberty horses run through their act without a harness. But your horse will still have one. She'll be put with the rest of the high school horses in the pad room.”

“Pad room?” Rosamund asked, feeling more provincial by the moment. There was too much to learn simply to decode his last few sentences.

“Sure. Also called the ring stock tent. You'll get a bang out of seeing that. We've got hundreds of performance horses there.” Ward smiled, stretching his long limbs out on the floor between benches. He folded his arms behind his head, settling in, it appeared, for a very drawn-out conversation. “Don't worry, Lady Easling. We'll get you up to speed.”

It would be a long journey to New York, and Florida after that. Both because of Ward's incessant chatter and Bella's impenetrable condescension at every turn. Rosamund tried to be polite and offer smiles, even the occasional comment to Ward's conversation, but her thoughts were being carried away at the speed of the train.

Apparently, what had passed between them on the train platform had only served to root Colin's opinion of her. It seemed now that he had more belief in her gumption than she might have herself. Rosamund found her heart stirred by it, enough that her gaze was drawn to the man sitting across from her, and a growing storm that had settled in the depths of his blue eyes.

Rosamund knows her own mind . . .

Oh, how she hoped that was true.

1926

S
ARASOTA
, F
LORIDA

Rosamund stepped from the train into the Florida sunshine, and everything came alive. Even the sky seemed bigger, an exquisite vault of clear blue, with puffs of clouds so cottony white that they seemed to stretch out with no beginning or end.

The fanning palms were so tall they'd have scraped the arches of Easling Park's fourth-floor windows. There seemed to be a world of color that opened up everywhere she looked. Bushes with vibrant pink and orange flowers, lush green foliage, white birds dotting the sky, and water so clear that Rosamund doubted anything could be closer to heaven than what was laid out before her.

It had taken six days to sail from the port of Southampton into New York Harbor. They'd stopped in New York City so Colin could catch up on business, and so Bella and Ward could catch a train north to meet up with the rest of the performers in Bridgeport, Connecticut. From there, Rosamund and Ingénue's world had passed by in a blur from port to ferry, and on to speed train rides through cities both big and modern. Finally came the ride that took them all the way south to the shores of Sarasota Bay, where
Rosamund stood with Colin now, listening as he pointed out the sights before them.

Rosamund had taken off her peach felt cloche and held it in her hand, welcoming the feel of the sun's warmth on her cheeks. She turned her face up to meet it, taking in the sight of the glittering waters of the bay and the expanse of Longboat Key bridging the horizon.

A light breath of wind caught up the tulip hem of her matching gauze frock, dancing the soft fabric about her legs.

“See that road stretching out over the water? That's the causeway. It's new, just finished in January. John Ringling was the first to drive over it. Before that you could only reach Longboat Key by boat.” Colin stretched his arm out toward the edge of land beyond the bay. “And off the key is Lido Beach. Mrs. Ringling organizes picnics and games there for the local children.”

Rosamund gave him a look that suggested he was in real danger of heaping extraneous details on her like Ward would.

“I know. You're new, and there's a lot to take in.” He smiled, reading her thoughts accurately.

“You know Mrs. Ringling personally?”

He nodded. “Yes, I do. Have for some years now. She keeps a low profile with the media and with the performers in the show, but she's beloved in the Sarasota community. The Ringlings spend their winter months here. I hope you get to meet her while you're with us. I think she'd like you.”

“I'm not sure I'll be here long enough for that, but it still sounds nice. And it really is beautiful here. More than I'd ever imagined.”

Rosamund squinted, trying to picture the span of beach that hosted picnics and children's games beyond the key.

“It is that. And with the causeway, everything you're looking at is opened up now.”

“Opened for what?”

“Tourists,” Colin replied, allowing an easy smile to spread across his face. He tilted his head back toward the car. “Come on. There's something you'll want to see.”

Rosamund spun around, taking in the beauty of the bay. “Something better than this?”

Still, she followed him back to the car, wondering what was next, feeling her excitement growing as he drove them through the heart of Sarasota.

Colin angled the car through the city streets teeming with palms and stucco buildings. They came down a long, winding dirt road that led into an open field and bumped along enough that Rosamund anchored her grip to the side of the car door.

The sky was just as blue here too, an expanse broken only by aged oak trees and palms dotting the landscape. Old plank buildings stood in a group, their exteriors long swept by the sea breeze. She could see stable houses, pens, and what looked to have once been a grandstand and moderately sized exhibit hall.

Colin brought the engine to a stop and turned to face her. “Well?”

Rosamund looked around at what wasn't there.

She saw the ghost of something—not the greatest spectacle the world had ever seen. There was no Big Top. No exotic animals or crowds of people. Just a stray bird or two flying overhead and palm trees swaying in the breeze.

“Well what?”

“This is it, the Sarasota County Fairgrounds. Ingénue's new home.” He grinned. “Or it will be, when it's finished.”

Rosamund could see that something had caught fire in Colin's eyes. They fairly sparkled at the sight. She tried to meet that, to see what he was showing her.

“I think Ward may have overstated the scale of the circus grounds just a bit,” she said.

Colin rolled his eyes. “Your cheek is duly noted,” he said, and jumped from the auto. He bounded to her side of the car and opened the door, clasping her hand to help her out. “Come on.”

She left her hat and gloves on the seat and stepped out at his side.

“It's not been announced to the press yet, but the wheels are already in motion to move the circus's winter lodgings here.”

Rosamund raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun and looked over the expanse before them.

“Here?”

“We'll be in flux for a year, maybe more. But the lease for the land in Bridgeport is up come January, so the time is right for the move. We've got to form a new plan, and there are no better visionaries to do that than the Ringlings. The local economy's taken a beating here in the last year, but with the real estate opportunities that still remain, John Ringling is pressing for this to become the circus's new home. And I have to agree that winter is much more agreeable in Florida than Connecticut.”

“Ward said there are more than a thousand people who travel with the show?”

“More like fourteen hundred.”

She turned in a half-moon, spreading her arms wide. “So where will you put everyone? All the animals? Train cars? Everything?”

“We've got two hundred acres to work with. New buildings will go up all over. We'll have a mass of rail lines put in that come right up to the grounds. An indoor and outdoor menagerie house with elephants, apes, big cats—you name it. Dormitories. We'll even have our own hospital on the grounds. And over there”—he pointed to a great stretch of field far out in front of them—“a massive training complex for the performance horses. Enough to house
four hundred or more, Ingénue among them. Everything can be done right here, from building and servicing our own rail cars to training the animals and bringing in new performers in the off-season. We can even test new acts with tourists in a two-ring circus here before we take them out on the road.”

“But, Colin—there's nothing here. Well, next to nothing. Why didn't you take Ingénue to Bridgeport with the rest of the show?”

“I have my reasons. One of which is because I want to oversee her training, and I can't do that half a country away. So we'll keep her in Sarasota for now, until the show rolls. Then she'll go on the road, and by the time the season ends next fall, we'll be ready for her to come back to the new grounds with the rest of the show. We can't be sure of timing this early, but we'd like to open Christmas Day of next year.”

She tossed him a speculative glance, wondering how they'd manage such an undertaking from the barren span of the grounds in front of them. “You expect you'll be ready for visitors by Christmas Day?”

“Of course,” he said, scanning the fields just as she was. “We expect tens of thousands of tourists could come here year-round—maybe more. But they'll flock to see the show in the off-season, and all of that will happen right where you're standing.”

“And when is the off-season?”

“The show opens in New York every March. Madison Square Garden—the greatest venue dedicated solely to entertainment in all the world. Then the train rolls out, stopping to put on shows in cities all across the country through the end of October. We stop in farming communities, manufacturing towns, and a few of the big cities, which are bigger draw opportunities for us. Then we head to Tampa to end the season. But there's talk of bringing the closing right here to Sarasota, once everything is done and the entire show can move in.”

“And you'll live here too?”

Colin shook his head. “I can't say that I really live anywhere. Maybe I'll stay here during the winter season, when I'm not traveling to recruit new acts. Charles Ringling was the onsite administrator up until the latter half of this season. Since he's been ill of late, my responsibilities could increase. That makes it difficult to put down roots, even in a place as beautiful as this.”

Rosamund gave a knowing smile.

The clarification made her understand Colin more. The way he'd looked after their group from England into New York Harbor. Why he'd shown no fear when he'd jumped in the creek after her that day. And why he was going to such lengths to ensure she was comfortable with the transition for a horse that most men couldn't have cared less for.

Colin Keary was the boss over thousands of lives, both of those who performed in the show and those who watched it. His were shoulders that spread wide, with responsibilities that he managed well. It was humbling, knowing the position he held and yet the time he had taken with her.

“So when Ward called you the boss, he really meant it.”

“Try not to listen to half of what he says if you can help it. Everyone's got to be a boss when they're reining Ward in. Though his enthusiasm has served the circus well in the time I've known him.”

“I actually didn't mind listening,” she replied, smiling to remember all Ward had told her in their cross-ocean journey. In one sea voyage she learned more about the circus life than she'd ever thought possible. “He helped me to envision this place, just as you have now. I saw a menagerie house at Piccadilly when I was a young girl, right there in the heart of London. There were exotic birds and a small ape of some kind, but it was nothing like what either of you have described. I've only read about wonders like this, and here it will be real. It almost sounds like a kind of Camelot, doesn't it?”

Rosamund stood next to Colin, and in a moment of unbridled awe brushed a steadying hand to his arm without thinking. Just because she'd succumbed to the magic of what would be around her.

In it, the splendid promise of the freedom she'd sought.

She could almost see it—the vision of this grand performance glittering all around her. The old fairgrounds would be transformed, with bright red train cars and striped awnings, the sounds of animals and bustling crowds, and massive tents holding delighted men, women, and children in awe of the spectacles the various artists would perform.

Rosamund closed her eyes and could almost hear the circus band cueing up. She could see scores of children delighting over the elephants' march. Laughing at the clowns. She could imagine performers in dazzling costumes as they tumbled from bars high up in the air. She could hear the sound of the horses' hooves as trick riders awed the crowds with their bareback riding show.