Bay City Belle Page 15

  “The last I saw of them, they were still in my trunk. Unless he’s moved it, my trunk is sitting in Robert’s bedroom.”

  “Then we’ll go get it.”

  She drew back in alarm. “Never! How could I face Robert after what I did? He must still be in a rage.”

  “Then you don’t have to go. I will.”

  “But you can’t.”

  “I can and I will. They’re your clothes, aren’t they? Do you think I’m afraid of your Robert Romano?”

  She knew better than to argue. Yancy could be warm and congenial, but she’d never forget that steely, unyielding look in his eye the day he tangled with the Cooper Brothers and sent them packing. “Then I would be most grateful.” An understatement if ever there was one. She was so sick and tired of the brown wool suit, she’d burn it at the first opportunity.

  “Then it’s settled.” He started to say more, but Mrs. O’Brien knocked and came in the room. “Sorry to bother you, but Mrs. McLeish isn’t here, and Cook wants to know how many for dinner.”

  “I don’t know when Mrs. McLeish will be back,” Yancy replied, “but Miss Ainsworth will be here for dinner. She’ll be staying with us, so she’ll need a bedroom.”

  If the housekeeper was surprised, she didn’t let on. “I’ll get to it right away. So two for dinner then?”

  “Four. Let’s not forget the children.”

  “But they don’t usually—”

  “They do now, Mrs. O’Brien.”

  “Fine then. I’ll tell Cook.”

  Belle didn’t fail to notice the little smile that crossed Mrs. O’Brien’s face as she left the library. “So I won’t be meeting Ronald’s wife tonight?”

  “Apparently Bernice has more important things to do.”

  How strange. What could be more important than her children? They had just lost their father. Why would their mother not want to be with them every minute? Belle didn’t know all the circumstances, though, so she wouldn’t dream of offering her opinion. “I shall very much look forward to dinner.” A huge wave of relief swept through her. She was safe and secure now. With Yancy’s help, she could return to Savannah, her family, her comfortable life. Her spirits soared, but the more she thought about it, the more they began to fall. Comfortable life? Or was it more like her boring, unexciting life where she’d be attending the bi-weekly meetings of the Georgia Ladies of the Confederacy for endless years into eternity. Where she’d be the poor relative again, living with a sister who resented her. Where she’d be sleeping lonely and alone in her spinster’s bed for the whole remainder of her miserable life.

  But wait. Now was no time to be brooding over her dismal future. She should count her blessings that she wasn’t lying dead in the weeds, thanks to a brave young man who had no obligation to help her. She should be grateful for Yancy’s support and ignore her unexpected letdown. How foolish she’d been to expect he’d immediately take her into his arms when he walked into the library. He’d obviously been delighted to see her and genuinely sympathetic to her ordeal. That was all, though. If she’d been counting on their one kiss beside the river to bring on a proposal of marriage, she’d been sadly mistaken. Yancy was attracted to her, but he, smart man that he was, had thought things through, which was a lot more than she had. He’d come to the very wise decision that their romance, or whatever it was, didn’t have a chance. He lived in Maine and could hardly wait to get home. She lived in the Deep South and could hardly wait to get home, despite all her pessimistic thoughts. What if he did propose? She could not imagine herself living in a tiny cabin beside an isolated lake in the woods of Maine. Nor, she was sure, could he imagine becoming a Southern gentleman, engulfed in a culture of plantations and magnolia blossoms.

  But she shouldn’t be thinking of her future right now. She should be grateful that whatever was going to go wrong had already gone wrong. From now on, everything was going to be fine. Her father used to say, “The successful people in this world take life as it comes,” and that’s what she planned to do.

  Chapter 14

  Yancy couldn’t remember a more enjoyable dinner, served by a maid in the large, elegantly furnished dining room. Belle couldn’t have been more charming, despite the ordeal she’d been through. Both Beth and Richard acted as if eating in the dining room was a rare and special treat. “Don’t you ever eat here?” Yancy had asked.

  “No, sir, never, except Thanksgiving and Christmas,” Richard replied. “Father always wanted us to, but Mother said no.”

  Yancy’s opinion of Bernice dipped even lower. Judging from the fleeting expression of displeasure that crossed Belle’s face, she felt the same. She loved children, he could tell. Instead of ignoring them, she’d given them extra attention all evening, making Beth giggle and Richard occasionally smile. Yancy still hadn’t gotten over his astonishment that Belle had fled from her mail-order husband and found her way here. He could hardly keep his eyes off her. She’d claimed she was “a mess,” but a very pretty mess as far as he was concerned. The brown wool suit needed pressing, but he liked how it clung to her curves. Her hair might be a bit disheveled, but that didn’t keep him from wanting to reach out and brush back the little strands that had escaped her hair clasp and twisted around her delicate face. What a beautiful woman. Brave, too, although she modestly didn’t think so. Spent the night in an opium den? Good Lord. He liked that she hadn’t gone all hysterical, like a lot of women would have done, and had even laughed at the worst of her predicament. He would like to see more of her, but what was the use? She’d be gone soon, and so would he. And besides, since when did he need a woman in his life? Or anyone? He, Yancy McLeish, the man who wanted more than anything else to be left alone. Only…

  An idea popped into his head. He looked across the table at her. “I suppose you’d like to leave for Savannah tomorrow.”

  “I suppose.” She arched an eyebrow. “Unless? Did you have something in mind?”

  “Matter of fact, I did. Leighton Canfield, the vice president of the bank, is taking me on a tour of San Francisco tomorrow afternoon. You’re welcome to come along. That is, unless you’re anxious to get back.”

  She didn’t hesitate. “I’m not that anxious. I could wait a day or two.”

  “Fine, then, we’ll do it.” He spoke with just the right amount of casualness in his voice, as if he really didn’t care whether she came with him or not. But the trouble was, he did care, and where all this was leading, he didn’t know. “I’ll be picking up your trunk in the morning. You might appreciate having something different to wear.”

  She didn’t smile. “I suppose I should be grateful, but you know how I feel. Since it’s during the day, I doubt Robert will be around, but you must be careful.”

  “Don’t worry, I will.” Of course, he’d be careful. He always was. But if she thought he couldn’t handle a bully like Romano, she should think again.

  * * * *

  That night after dinner, Richard set up his bone-and-ivory chess set. To Yancy’s relief, he soon remembered the fine points of the game. In the end, he won, but not before he discovered the boy had a keen mind and wasn’t easy to beat. They could have played all night but had to stop when Mrs. O’Brien firmly announced, “It’s way past the child’s bedtime.”

  The boy was smiling as he said good night. “I enjoyed playing chess with you, Uncle Yancy. Do you suppose we can play again?”

  “We certainly can, Richard. I enjoyed it, too.” And he had. Times like this, he didn’t even want to think about leaving.

  * * * *

  In the morning after breakfast, Yancy took Richard with him to the carriage house. Happy to be included, Richard had jumped at the chance when Yancy asked if he’d like to come along when he picked up Belle’s trunk.

  The housekeeper’s husband, Linus O’Brien, a husky Irishman with a friendly, open face, served as both the gardener and stableman. After hearing the
address, Mr. O’Brien said he knew exactly where it was and would be happy to help pick up the trunk. In the carriage house, he gestured to where three carriages—a high-flying runabout, gleaming black coach, and a brougham—were lined up side by side, reminding Yancy yet again of how wealthy his brother had become. Mr. O’Brien pointed at the brougham. “We’ll take this one. There’s room for you and Richard in the cab, and we can tie the trunk onto the back.”

  The address wasn’t very far, and soon Mr. O’Brien, sitting upon the high seat in front, pulled to a stop in front of a large two-story house not far from Meiggs Wharf. “I know this area well,” he called back to them. “The missus likes to come here to buy her fish.” He hopped from the carriage, and Yancy followed.

  Richard started to climb down, too, but Yancy stopped him. “Stay in the carriage. We won’t be long.” Not that he expected any trouble, but why take a chance? With Mr. O’Brien beside him, he walked to the front door and rang. A young woman with an abundance of dark hair answered. “Yes?”

  Yancy introduced himself. “I’ve come to collect Miss Belle Ainsworth’s belongings. That would be a trunk and anything else she might have left.”

  The young woman gasped. Her eyes went wide. “Is she all right?”

  “She’s fine, ma’am.”

  “I was so worried.” The young woman looked swiftly behind her, stepped outside, and pulled the door shut. “I’m Rosa Romano, Roberto’s sister-in-law. Did she mention me?”

  “She did. You’re the one who helped her.”

  “She was scared to death, and so was I.”

  “I suppose your brother-in-law was pretty upset.”

  “Are you joking? Upset is hardly the word. After Belle left, I went to the restaurant. By then, Roberto was getting impatient. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him, but I didn’t have to. He’d sent Lorenzo to check on her, and when Lorenzo came back…” Rosa squeezed her eyes shut a moment, as if to blot out a bad memory. “It was terrible. There we were at the wedding. Two hundred people—family, neighbors, friends, employees. The band, the flowers, the food. I cannot describe the look on Roberto’s face when he found out Belle wasn’t coming, but I would sooner have faced a grizzly bear or a shark in the ocean. I’ve never seen him in such a fury. He wasn’t shouting or cursing or stomping around in a rage. It was just the opposite. He got very quiet—too quiet. Only his eyes gave him away, so full of rage and hatred I got a chill down my spine. By then, the guests had sat down to eat. He ordered everyone to leave in this low, awful voice that supposedly was calm, but I could tell he wasn’t calm at all. Everyone—the band, waiters, guests, family had to go. I was glad to get out of there. The last I saw of him that night, he was standing with his fists clenched, about to explode. From what I heard later, when he finally left, he closed the door, locked it, and hasn’t let anyone in since.”

  Yancy shook his head with sympathy. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that. I don’t want to cause you any trouble. All I want is Belle’s trunk and whatever else is hers. We’ll be in and out in no time.”

  “I guess… Mama and Giana have gone out shopping. There’s nobody home except me and the children.”

  “So Roberto isn’t here?”

  “Gone for the day, far as I know.”

  “I hope he’s calmed down since then.”

  “No, he hasn’t, and I doubt he ever will. It’s a good thing you’ve come for her trunk. He said tomorrow he’s going to put it in one of his boats, take it out to the deepest part of the sea, and dump it.” She placed a hand over her heart and paused to catch her breath. “That’s not all he said. He vowed to find Belle, put her in the trunk, and dump her, too. I can’t say for sure he didn’t mean it. So you can see why the whole family’s upset. Roberto doesn’t know where she is, but I’m scared to death just thinking what he’ll do if he finds her.”

  Yancy was having second thoughts. “I don’t want to get you into any trouble.”

  “Belle needs her clothes, doesn’t she?” Rosa squared her shoulders. “You let me worry about Roberto. I’m his sister-in-law, not the woman who jilted him. He won’t kill me when he sees the trunk is gone. At least I don’t think he will.” She opened the door wide. “Come in.”

  “Just show me where. We won’t be long.”

  Yancy and Mr. O’Brien stepped inside. With a finger to her lips and a “shh,” Rosa led them upstairs. No one in sight. She led them to Roberto’s bedroom where they found the trunk. They picked it up and were halfway down the stairs when a voice came from below.

  “Aunt Rosa, what are these men doing?” A boy with a smirking face stood at the bottom of the stairs.

  Rosa uttered a curse under her breath. “You shut your mouth, Bruno. You didn’t see a thing, understand?”

  “Yes, Aunt Rosa, if you say so.”

  Yancy recognized a sarcastic reply when he heard one.

  Rosa spoke again. “Pay no attention, Mr. McLeish. That’s Bruno, my nephew.” She threw a menacing glance in the boy’s direction. “He won’t tattle to his uncle because if he does, he’ll have me to answer to.”

  Bruno made a face and disappeared. Rosa followed as they hauled the trunk to the brougham where Richard sat waiting. They tied it to the rack on the rear and were ready to leave when Rosa asked Yancy, “So Belle is really all right?”

  “She’s fine now and plans to return to Savannah as soon as she can.” A pang of regret shot through him. He must get over that.

  “Well, give her my love, will you? She made the right decision.” Rosa cast a leery look at the house. “Sorry about Bruno. The little weasel will probably tell Roberto everything. I don’t worry for myself, but I want Belle to be safe.”

  “She will be,” Yancy answered confidently. “Roberto has no idea where Belle is staying. She’ll be gone soon anyway.”

  “Fine then. I won’t worry.” Rosa waved a goodbye and returned to the house. On the way home, Mr. O’Brien entertained them with fond memories of his employer. “You’d never find a finer man than Ronald McLeish. Always a smile on his face and an outstretched hand willing to help.”

  Richard clung to every word he said and asked for more. Yancy was glad he’d brought the boy along. This was just what he needed, to get out in the world and talk to people, instead of sitting and brooding in his room.

  They reached the house. Turning the horses into the driveway, Mr. O’Brien had to come to a near-complete stop. Richard had been looking out the window. “Did you see that?” he asked.

  “See what?”

  “There was a boy riding on the back. I saw him jump off and run away.”

  Mr. O’Brien chuckled. “I wouldn’t worry, It’s one of the street kids. They’re always hitching rides.”

  “This wasn’t a street kid,” Richard solemnly replied. “I saw him at the house where we got the trunk. He was sort of sneaking out the front door.”

  Bruno. Had to be the thieving little weasel. No doubt he’d tell Roberto, but no sense spreading an alarm. “I don’t suppose the boy did any harm,” Yancy said. “He was probably just hitching a ride.”

  * * * *

  Belle kept telling herself not to worry. If ever there was a man who could take care of himself, it was Yancy McLeish. At first, she kept herself busy by writing a long letter to Bridger in which she described the train robbery, her harrowing escape from the terrible Roberto, and her amazing night in the opium den. Bridger was always on her mind, and she especially wanted him to understand why she couldn’t marry Robert Romano. When the letter was done, she could find nothing else useful to do and began looking out the drawing room window, hoping for Yancy and Richard’s safe return from the Romanos’. And the trunk, too. She could hardly wait. Even though she’d protested and told Yancy not to go, she’d be overjoyed to see her clothes again.

  As she looked out the window, a coach with a driver dressed in gold-buttoned livery
stopped in front. An attractive woman in her thirties descended, leaving a well-dressed man waiting in the coach. Judging by the servants’ excited murmur and scurrying footsteps, this had to be Bernice. She wasn’t in black, though, and instead was wearing a stylish blue gown with a bustle decorated with a huge blue velvet bow. How awkward, Belle thought. Should she present herself to the widow of Ronald McLeish? Should she wait until spoken to? Bernice solved her dilemma by immediately sweeping into the drawing room and studying her with an icy gaze. “Mrs. O’Brien said you were here,” she commented, none too cordially. “May I ask who you are?”

  “My name is Belle Ainsworth, and I’m from Savannah. I’m a friend of Yancy McLeish. I shall be leaving shortly.” She could have said more, but Bernice’s snooty attitude put her off.

  The icy gaze grew icier still, if that was possible. “So you’re leaving today?”

  “Tomorrow.” She would not say one more word than she had to.

  “Is Yancy here?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know where he’s gone?”

  “He and Richard are out on an errand.”

  Bernice breathed a sigh of annoyance. “My friend and I will be leaving for Europe tomorrow. I’ve already sent my trunk ahead, but I thought I’d say goodbye to the children before I left. Too bad Richard’s not here, and Yancy, too. If they don’t get back soon, will you tell them goodbye for me? I’ll run upstairs and say goodbye to Beth.”

  Bernice exited the drawing room, leaving Belle staring after her with amazement. She would never understand a woman like that. How could she leave her children? At least little Beth was home, but would Richard get back in time to say goodbye to his mother? Belle spent the next few minutes anxiously peering out the window.

  They didn’t make it. Soon Bernice was back down the stairs again and out the door. Belle stood away from the window. She didn’t even want to look at a woman so despicable she’d leave her children. Although she was practically a stranger and shouldn’t interfere, she had to know how Beth was doing. She left the drawing room and encountered Mrs. O’Brien on the stairs. The housekeeper grimly shook her head. “I hope you’re on your way to see Beth. She needs some attention right now. Perhaps you could read to her like her father used to do.”