Page 23 of A Season Beyond A Kiss (Birmingham #2)
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F ARRELL I VES LEANED BACK IN HIS CHAIR AND thoughtfully contemplated the glowing tip of the cheroot he normally allowed himself each morning before plunging into the maelstrom of designing fashions and appeasing ladies in their desire to dress well. Upon lifting his gaze, he squinted through the swirling smoke and fixed his gaze upon his early morning visitor, who perched nearby on an overstuffed arm of a leather settee, one of the many costly pieces furnishing his private apartment. “It’s bound to strike folks as damned peculiar, Jeffrey, you staying out at Oakley while your wife lives with Elizabeth here in Charleston and works for me during the day.”
Jeff lifted his wide shoulders in a perfunctory shrug. “I can’t concern myself about what people may think, Farrell. I’m more interested in what is going on in Raelynn’s head. I must give her the freedom and time to make up her own mind about me. Letting her go seems the best way to do that. You know better than anyone that we hardly knew each other before we wed, and though I’m firmly convinced we’re well suited for one another, I can’t force that premise on my wife. She must come to her own conclusions about me in her own time, at her own pace.”
The couturier shook his head in utter bemusement. “Dammit, Jeffrey, what has happened between you two? Every time I’ve been around the both of you, Raelynn has given every indication that she’s totally smitten with you.”
Jeff met his gaze squarely. “When Raelynn came into the stables and found me standing over Nell’s body with the murder weapon in my hand, the shock proved too much for her. She has yet to get over the trauma. It even haunts her dreams. I can only hope that by releasing her from any marital obligations and allowing her to come to know me as a man and possibly as a friend rather than a husband, she will eventually realize that I’m not capable of such brutality.”
“How do you suppose that will happen while you’re miles away and Raelynn is living here in Charleston? If you haven’t realized it yet, my friend, it’s no short jaunt from here to yonder,” Farrell pointed out with satiric wit. He wasn’t being unkind, just practical. “And what if Fridrich decides to masquerade as Attila the Hun again? Who’s going to protect her?”
“I’ve considered all of that and have taken the initiative to speak with several trustworthy men who’re willing to keep watch over her from a distance. Her safety naturally is of paramount importance to me. Though Elijah is presently hampered by his injured leg, he has agreed to keep a vigil from an upstairs window at the boardinghouse across the street from Elizabeth’s house. I’ve spoken to Mrs. Murphy already about the idea of allowing me to rent a front room from which Elijah can watch. If there’s any trouble, Elijah will send her chore boy to fetch me.” Jeff chuckled briefly before adding, “I believe I saw a vindictive glint in that old woman’s eyes when she assured me that it would be her greatest pleasure to be of service in that respect. It seems that she has no love for Mr. Fridrich after some of his men wrecked the furniture in one of her guest’s rooms. It was their way of convincing her that she should pay the German for providing her protection.
She showed me the weapon she fired behind his men when she sent them skedaddling, and I can understand why they’ve never been back. Believe me, it was closely reminiscent of a blunderbuss.”
“That old woman has her fair share of Irish grit, that’s for sure,” Farrell stated with a deep chortle before growing serious again. “But, Jeffrey, have you considered the length of time it would take for someone to ride all the way out to Oakley to fetch you? Why, your wife could be taken, stripped and mounted before one of your men could reach you, and you know you’d never forgive yourself if Raelynn is ravished because you couldn’t get to her in time.”
“Actually, I won’t be that far away. Unless I’m needed at Oakley, I’ll be staying at a townhouse I’ll be letting near my warehouse. I will endeavor, however, to keep that knowledge a secret from Raelynn lest she arrive at the conclusion that I’m spying on her.”
Leaning forward in his chair, Farrell knocked the cigar ash into a glass receptacle residing on the table between them. “You’re certainly going out of your way to protect her after giving her leave to enjoy her freedom, Jeffrey. You know, she could decide to dismiss you from her life entirely.”
“I’m giving her every opportunity to do just that,” Jeff admitted dismally. “She’s the one who’ll have to decide what she really wants, her independence or marriage with me. It wouldn’t surprise me if she decides to sail back to England, but then, that’s not a conjecture I enjoy pondering.”
The occasion called for stark frankness, and Farrell had never been a man to withhold a decisive punch. “People will conclude the worst, Jeffrey. You know that.”
“Aye, they’ll think my wife left me because she believes I stabbed Nell to death.”
Such bluntness made even the world-hardened ex-boxer flinch, but he made no effort to deny such speculation. On the contrary, he matched his friend’s candor with more of his. “Jeffrey me dearie, have you given due heed to what that would mean if you’re brought to trial for Nell’s murder? The men who will sit on your jury may well have their judgment swayed by the knowledge that your own wife believes you’re guilty.”
“I guess I haven’t reached that far in my thinking yet,” Jeff conceded, his mouth twisting grimly awry. He didn’t dispute Ives’s supposition, but he couldn’t allow himself to be influenced by it either. “Olney Hyde claimed that he was innocent of the deed and that he saw me stab Nell, yet he can’t come forward into the open and accuse me, because Rhys would then be able to arrest him for making an attempt on my life. We both know Olney is capable of such a crime. He definitely meant to kill me before Raelynn was kidnapped, but it remains to be proven that he murdered Nell. The fact that he stole Ariadne clearly puts him at the scene of the crime when she was killed, but Elijah pointed out the fact to both Rhys and me that other footprints had scuffed up those that Olney had made. His footprints disappeared after he mounted the mare. The second set were obviously made by a pair of my own boots, which Cora found in my bathing chamber the morning after Nell was killed.
Since I hadn’t worn them for about a week, the fact that they bore fresh mud from the rain we had that night leaves me no other option but to conclude that Nell’s killer wore them while murdering her. He might have even been one of our guests.”
Farrell tamped the cheroot out in the dish. “Do you suppose Cooper Frye could have ventured out your way that night?”
“It’s certainly possible,” Jeff acknowledged. “He has as much to gain as Olney if he’s the one to bring about Rae lynn’s final capitulation to Fridrich. From what Olney said, Fridrich offered Frye a thousand dollars to bring about our permanent disunion. What better way to perform that deed than arranging for me to be hanged for a murder I didn’t commit? But if my memory serves me well enough, I’d say Frye wouldn’t be able to wear my boots for the same reason Olney couldn’t. I believe both men have fairly large feet.”
Leaning back in his chair, Farrell made a steeple of his forefingers and pressed them to his lips as he eyed his friend’s custom-made boots. “I seem to recall that none of us could wear your shoes, Jeffrey, which might not sit well for you if the culprit isn’t caught. Your feet were always too narrow for any of us to wedge our toes in much less our feet.”
“Well, that fact could certainly pin the blame on the murderer if we ever found him,” Jeff countered.
Farrell came out of his chair with a frustrated sigh and began to pace about his parlor. He paused to look at his guest as he considered an alternative to the plan Jeff had come up with. “Have you asked Brandon if Raelynn can stay at Harthaven until you’ve proven your innocence? She’d be a lot safer out there with them than living here in Charleston, even with you residing several blocks away.”
“Raelynn doesn’t want to involve him or Heather in this matter.”
Farrell couldn’t subdue a flicker of surprise. “Given the gravity of the situation, Jeffrey, should your wife’s preferences dictate the course of action you should take?”
“Not necessarily, but I consider myself a practical man. If I’m to win Raelynn’s trust and regard, I must court her as a suitor. Having her ensconced in the midst of my family would seriously hinder her liberty to reject or to invite my attentions. In short, she’d find it difficult to dismiss me from my brother’s house. As for Fridrich, if he really believes she has broken with me, he may be content to bide his time until I’m dispensed with in one fashion or another. Once the path is clear, he may think he can claim her without opposition.” He jeered in rampant sarcasm. “As magnanimous as the man is, he’ll probably suppose she has learned her lesson and will be grateful enough to accept his attentions. If she goes to Harthaven, he may well make another attempt to take her by force. My brother isn’t going to stand for that without a fight, and considering the number of men Fridrich brought with him to Oakley, Brandon could be killed trying to protect her.”
“Fridrich just may attempt that kind of force here if she’s working on the premises,” Farrell pointed out, not unreasonably. The possibility didn’t concern him overmuch; he just thought his friend needed to be apprised of the hazards his wife could be facing outside his husbandly protection.
“If you’re not averse to the idea, I could draw a couple of men from the lumber mill or one of my other businesses to watch over Raelynn here. She wouldn’t be able to recognize them. Neither would Fridrich. Both would think you just acquired a few extra helpers.”
“Business is certainly good enough to warrant some help,” Farrell remarked drolly before casting a glance toward his guest. “I don’t suppose you intend to send me someone who can actually thread a needle.”
Jeff chuckled. “Well, if you’re that much in need, I could send you experienced sailors who can stitch canvas with the best of them.”
“Marvelous,” Ives muttered, making much of his lack of enthusiasm. “If Charleston’s gentry suddenly takes to wearing sailcloth, my future will be secure.”
“I WILL BE HAPPY TO PROVIDE YOU WITH EMPLOYMENT , Mrs. Birmingham,” Farrell Ives assured the young beauty a pair of days later after admitting her into his shop before opening time. Her maid was sitting quietly in the parlor, where she had a clear view of the area where Raelynn and he sat facing each other across the surface of his desk. Tizzy was there for the specific purpose of providing reasonable chaperone service to allay any rumors. Considering his bachelor’s status and the fact that gossips were wont to enlarge upon his reputation with the most outrageous stories, the presence of the maid was most needful. If anyone had taken such tales seriously, then Farrell supposed that in the last few years they had credited him with siring half the city’s infants, but to perform such a feat, he’d have been far too busy making babies to even think of carrying on his high fashion business.
Farrell swept his hand toward the tooled leather desktop where he had spread Raelynn’s drawings to better peruse them after Jeff had delivered them. It was a plain fact that the more he had studied them, the more he had become intrigued. “These fashion sketches of yours are marvelously animated, Mrs. Birmingham. They certainly leave no doubt as to your skill as a couturiere.” Formality had come into play now that he could foresee them working together. First names would no longer be used, but more than that, the lengthy appellation would serve to remind him that this very fetching lady was the wife of his best friend. As much as he might have enjoyed courting her had she been free, he was not about to endanger a close camaraderie that had been firmly established in his earlier youth. “Would it be possible for you to start immediately?”
“Immediately?” Raelynn was aghast. “You mean today?”
“Yes, of course. As I understand it, you’ll be letting a room from Elizabeth from now on, and unless you have other things planned, I thought we could get you settled in here as well. Is that at all acceptable to you?”
Raelynn leaned back in her chair, totally taken aback. When Jeff had asked for the fashion plates, he had made it known that he would be leaving them with the couturier to allow him to consider her merits as a fashion designer, but Jeff had also warned her that if Farrell didn’t think her contributions would come up to his standards, the man would likely find her other work to do in his shop. Relieving Eliz abeth of some of the paperwork involved in keeping the accounts and records up to date for Ives’s Couture had been an option, although one that Raelynn hadn’t particularly relished, but having prepared herself for the worst, she had hardly expected the clothier to leap at a chance to hire her.
“Why, yes, I suppose it is, Mr. Ives. I mean, I can’t see any harm in getting started this morning. In fact, it really doesn’t matter when I begin. I have nothing else to do.” Her voice caught, and she hurriedly turned her face aside lest she break down in front of the man. The fact that Jeff had handed her into the landau earlier that morning and, with a stoic frown, had watched them depart had left her feeling much the way she had after each of her parents had died, as if her heart had been suddenly laden with heavy, iron chains.
“Is anything the matter?” Farrell queried. He had thought that she’d be overjoyed with how well he liked her drawings. Yet, he was now inclined to think the lady was on the verge of tears. “You seem distressed about something. Does the idea of working for me disturb you?”
“No, of course not, Mr. Ives. I’m delighted that you like my sketches.” Raelynn wrung her hands, wondering if she should be completely honest in her reasons for being in his shop. “You may think this strange, Mr. Ives, in view of the fact that I’ve made inquiries into the matter of my employment, but I wasn’t at all averse to being Jeffrey’s wife or, for that matter, Oakley’s mistress. If I seem at all disturbed, then be assured that it has nothing to do with a reluctance to be working here. It’s just that I realize that in the days and weeks to come, I will be disassociating myself from what I’ve come to hold dear. I really had no wish to alienate myself from my husband, but when I’m repeatedly haunted by grizzly impressions of him standing over Nell’s body with a bloody knife in his hand, I have trouble sorting things out in my mind. I don’t want to believe that Jeff is guilty of murder, yet I keep wondering, What if ...
What if ...”
Farrell was relieved to hear her speak with such open concern about her relationship with her husband. It gave him some hope that in due time the difficulty between the couple would be resolved in a satisfactory manner. “You needn’t fret yourself unduly about the matter, Mrs. Birmingham. Your husband has the greatest concern for your well-being and is allowing you this opportunity to come to terms with your fears. I’ve known Jeff for many years, and more than any of us, whether it’s myself, Brandon, or Rhys Townsend, Jeff has a sincere fondness for most people. He’s that way about animals, too, ofttimes to the sheriff’s chagrin, but that’s another story. I know what you saw in the stables shattered your trust in your husband, but if you’d give your mind leave to rest over the matter, I’m sure the true culprit will come to light in time, and you will be reassured that Jeff couldn’t possibly have done such a deed. I should also like to add that if you think
either Rhys or I are prejudiced in our friendship with your husband, then may I enlighten you by telling you that I once threatened Emory Dalton with serious mayhem if I ever saw him mistreating Elizabeth again. Though I didn’t kill him myself, I actually felt a great measure of relief as well as a deep sadness when I buried him several nights later. Jeff’s friendship means a great deal to me, but if I really thought he had killed that little girl, I’d be the first one to accuse him though it might well mean his hanging.”
“Am I being a disloyal wife because I can’t settle the matter of his innocence in my mind?” Raelynn asked in a tiny voice. Because she feared his answer, she turned her face aside and pressed a knuckle to her quivering lips, not wishing to glimpse any hint of his condemnation.
“Do you love Jeffrey?”
Her head snapped around, and for a moment she stared at her new employer as if he had taken leave of his senses. Then she lowered her gaze to the sketches on the desk and tried to swallow, only then realizing just how dry her mouth had become. Finally she bent her head forward in a discon certed, jerky movement and uttered words that seemed distant even in her own ears. “Yes, I love him.” Though she tried to blink away the moisture that rapidly filled her eyes, the tears began spilling freely down her cheeks. “I think I’ve loved him ever since he rescued me from that passing livery. He was so gallant, so noble ... so incredibly wonderful....” As she spoke, her head came up, and a surging joy began to well up within her and to overflow in a suddenly radiant countenance. Though it was an emotion she had begun to suspect mere moments before she had gone out to the stables, her present acknowledgment was as much to herself as to the couturier. Her whisper was
barely audible, yet full of feeling. “Aye, I love him very, very much.”
Amazed to find himself affected by her declaration, Farrell cleared his throat in sudden discomfiture and, feeling a need to move on to a less emotional subject, got down to the business at hand as he rose to his feet. “If you don’t mind, Mrs. Birmingham, we’ll find a place for you to work on your sketches and designs in the main hall. In there you’ll be readily accessible whenever Elizabeth or any of the seamstresses have a need to speak with you about your designs or when our customers may wish to take a look at your drawings. I’ve settled on a few designs of my own for the spring season but not anywhere near the amount I’ll be needing to appease everyone who’ll be looking for something original. I’m hoping with your assistance that I’ll be able to placate all our clients.”
“I’ll gladly give as much help as I’m capable of, sir.”
“And I will likely be demanding a lot from you,” Farrell warned with a grin. “Many of my customers expect no less than my personal attention, and the more customers there are, the less time I have to spend designing new gowns. Hopefully you’ll fill in the gap.”
Thoughtfully Farrell led her to the adjoining hall and scanned several possible areas where her desk could be placed. He went to stand in each location and, from there, considered the lighting, convenience, and the overall setting before finally selecting a place near the back of the corridor that permitted a view of a carefully tended garden, which, for his own relaxation, he took care of himself. Canting his head to peer at his newest employee over his shoulder, he gave her a grin. “Are you loath to being put on full display, Mrs. Birmingham?”
Raelynn smiled hesitantly, not knowing what mischief he was about. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind as long as I don’t have to answer impertinent questions about why I’m here, if I’m truly estranged from my husband and if he’s really the father of Nell’s babe.”
A soft chuckle prefaced his remedy for that kind of situation. “I’ll do my best to shush those nosy women with gushing compliments. You’d be amazed at how quickly some women will preen in pleasure when they’re given a little manly attention.”
Raelynn had no difficulty imagining the transformation that could occur in a lady’s disposition when the one doing the complimenting was Farrell Ives. If not for Jeffrey Birmingham, she might have been just as susceptible. “I suspect you’ve been blessed with the gift of blarney, Mr. Ives.”
His lips stretched into a wide grin beneath the neatly clipped brush adorning his upper lip. “Aye, my dear mother was as Irish as Dublin itself. I learned it well from her, God rest her soul.”
“You did at that, Mr. Ives,” Raelynn readily agreed with a chuckle.
Farrell stroked his beard musefully as he lent his attention this time to determining the best angle for situating her desk in the spot he had selected. He considered the closest brass chandelier of a pair that hung from the high ceiling and decided that if her desk was placed slightly behind it, the fixture would cast more light on her work. She would also be framed by the expanse of windows overlooking the garden. “This is where I shall put you, Mrs. Birmingham,” he announced, stepping into the spot to better mark it for her benefit. “A beautiful, well-garbed woman will gain the attention she rightly deserves here in this charming setting. You’ll have the windows overlooking the garden to your back, which will offer natural light, while, in front of the desk, the chandelier will illumine your comely presence. None of our customers will be able to miss seeing you, and, of course, to get to you, they’ll have to pass the tables where all of our most costly fabrics are displayed.”
“You have quite a devious mind, Mr. Ives,” Raelynn averred in a voice imbued with amusement. “I’ll have to take care to guard my purse strings lest I fall in the same enticing trap you lay for your customers.”
Farrell gave her a devious grin as he whisked a finger slyly beneath his mustache and waggled his eyebrows. “My dear Mrs. Birmingham, you just don’t know the half of it.” He leaned toward her as if to share a tantalizing secret. “You see, you’ll be the bait that lures the ladies into my trap, for you’ll soon be wearing some of my most stunning creations, as Mrs. Dalton does now.”
Raelynn hated to dash the man’s expectations, but she couldn’t allow him to go to such expense and bother when in a month’s time she’d likely be showing her pregnancy. A mischievous glow sparkled in her aqua eyes as she queried, “How are you at designing garments for expectant mothers, sir?”
Farrell’s bearded chin dropped significantly to convey his astonishment. Briefly his eyes flicked downward to what seemed to him a perfectly flat stomach before he remembered himself and, in some chagrin, cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Birmingham, I didn’t realize. Jeffrey didn’t inform me of your delicate condition.” He cocked a curious brow as he eyed her closely. “I assume you’ve told him.”
“He’s aware of my childbearing state,” Raelynn stated carefully and thought it only fair to give Farrell a chance to retract his offer. “Under the circumstances, do you still wish to hire me on? I’ll understand completely if you think your customers will be unduly shocked to find a woman in my condition working in your shop.”
Farrell grinned devilishly. “Women in your condition, Mrs. Birmingham, will need beautiful clothes to mask some of their bulk. It’s about time they had a source from which to procure such stylish garb, and I’m quite willing to supply them with gowns that will bring them out of hiding. If I can supply clothes for old spinsters and stout matrons, then I can only imagine how much more delightful it shall be to adorn a woman who has been truly appreciated by her husband.”
Raelynn blushed significantly even as her effervescent laughter spilled outward in amusement. “Mr. Ives, you’re positively perverse.”
Grinning knavishly, Farrell flicked his eyebrows once again. “To be sure, Mrs. Birmingham, to be sure.”