For the Roses

Chapter 20

George MacPherson reminded Mary Rose of a ferret. He was a tall, lean man with a long, pointy nose and skinny eyes. She felt a little guilty thinking he looked so much like the homely animal, because MacPherson was extremely kind and solicitous to her. He seemed to be genuinely thrilled to make her acquaintance, and she could have sworn there were tears in his eyes when he spotted her standing in the entrance of the drawing room.

Douglas would have called MacPherson dapper, but he would have made the comment in a mocking tone of voice.

Her father's personal assistant was dressed to the nines in a brown suit, with a gold pocket watch chain looped just so, and brown shoes that were so shiny from spit and polish, she thought that if she looked down, she would have seen her face reflected in the leather. He carried a folder full of papers in one hand and had a black umbrella hooked over his other arm.

Elliott introduced her, then suggested she sit with him and MacPherson while they looked over the monthly vouchers.

"Your father is a very generous man, Lady Victoria. These vouchers release funds from his accounts to support charitable organizations in England. We make the disbursements once a month."

Mary Rose nodded to let the man know she understood, then decided to engage him in conversation about the past.

"Mister MacPherson, you said it was nice to make my acquaintance, but we have met before, haven't we? I was just a baby at the time."

"Please call me George," he insisted. He sat down on the sofa facing her, straightened his jacket until there weren't any visible wrinkles, and then said, "Yes, we certainly did meet before. You were a beautiful infant."

"I was bald."

MacPherson smiled. "Yes, you were bald."

"Father, will it upset you to talk about what happened the night I was taken? I'm very curious about it."

"What did you want to know?" Elliott asked. He was already beginning to frown.

She turned back to MacPherson. "I was told the nursemaid took me from the nursery."

MacPherson nodded. "Your parents had gone to the opening of the new factory. They weren't expected to return until the following day. We still don't know how Lydia pulled it off. The house was filled with staff. We believe she took you down the back stairs and out the back door."

" Lydia was the name of the nursemaid?"

"Yes," her father answered. "George was eventually put in charge of the investigation. Your mother had taken ill, and I wanted to get her back to England and her own personal physician. She trusted him, you see."

"The authorities gave up the search after six months of intense looking, but your father had already hired his own team of investigators. I simply coordinated their duties."

"How long did the investigators work for you, Father?"

"Until four or five years ago. I finally put it all in God's hands and tried to accept the fact that you were lost to me. Harrison wouldn't let me give up though. He began to take over. He followed every lead that came our way."

He reached over and clasped her hand in his. "It's a miracle he found you."

"I understand from your father that you were found in an alley by some street thugs, Lady Victoria," MacPherson said.

She was grossly offended by his choice of words. "They weren't thugs. They were four good-hearted boys who had been tossed out on their own and were doing the best they could to survive. They weren't thugs," she added again in a much harder voice.

"Yes," her father agreed. He patted her hand and then let go of her. "We don't need to talk about those men now, do we? We have you back home. That's all that matters."

Mary Rose didn't want to let the subject go. She turned back to MacPherson and asked, "Did the nursemaid plan it?"

George looked at his employer before he answered. He could tell Lord Elliott was becoming distressed. He obviously wanted to put the ordeal behind him.

"Sir, do you mind if I answer her?" he asked.

"No, I don't mind. She's curious. It's only natural."

"At first, we thought there must have been one or two others involved, but as time went on, we became convinced she acted alone. I wish I could tell you more, Lady Victoria, but after all these years, we still don't have any more information. I believe it's going to remain a mystery. If Lydia had lived, perhaps she could have been persuaded to tell us."

"The woman's references were impeccable," her father interjected. The frown on his face intensified while he thought about the treachery.

"We now know she'd gotten rid of you, mi'lady. She must have had cold feet at the last minute. She didn't have any money to support herself without a job. The authorities found her in a tenement building. She'd been strangled. It's believed she came home and interrupted a robbery."

Elliott abruptly stood up. "That's enough talk about the past. George, I'll sign these vouchers tomorrow."

Mary Rose could see how distressed her father had become.

"Will you have time to go riding today, Father?" she asked, thinking to turn his attention.

He believed it was a splendid idea. Mary Rose excused herself and went up to her bedroom to change into her riding habit. She found Harrison hunched over the desk, pouring over old papers again.

"I met MacPherson," she told him after she'd shut the door behind her. "Are you certain he's the one behind the kidnapping? He seems to be too refined and timid to ever do anything so bold."

He rubbed his neck to ease the stiffness, rolled his shoulders, and then stood up. "Hell, I don't know anymore. Douglas told me the man he saw was dressed in evening attire, and MacPherson was supposed to have gone to the theater with friends."

"Everyone dresses for the evening."

"Not staff."

She sighed. "You're looking for the discrepancy in one of the charitable donations, aren't you? Have you had any luck yet?"

"There are almost a dozen organizations I've never heard of," he answered. "I'll check them out to make certain they exist."

"And if they are all credible?"

"I'll start looking somewhere else."

"Why is it so important for you to find out?"

"Are you serious?"

"You seem to be obsessed with this, Harrison. It happened years ago, and if the authorities weren't able to make a connection between MacPherson and the nursemaid, why do you think you can?"

"None of them talked to Douglas," he answered. "Your brother's description of the man he saw sounds like MacPherson, doesn't it?"

"He could have been describing a thousand men. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? You're exhausted. You can't keep up this pace much longer. Every spare minute you have you spend poring over old documents. Why is it so important to you?"

He didn't know how to make her understand. "I have to finish it," he snapped.

She tried not to be offended by his irritation. Exhaustion was the reason for his behavior.

"Do you have to leave tomorrow?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Where are you going now?" she asked when he reached for his jacket.

"To the office, sweetheart. Quit worrying about me."

"I wanted to talk to you about our future. Will you have time tonight?"

"I'll make time," he promised. "Now, quit worrying about me."

He had become as abrupt and agitated as her father had been when she'd asked questions about that night so many years ago.

He kissed her good-bye and then left the room. His own personal demons followed him. He felt he had a debt to pay, and if he had become obsessed, it was only because he owed it to his savior to finish what the jackals had started. Harrison couldn't rest until he knew for certain that MacPherson wasn't the mastermind behind the crime. He had to at least try to solve the mystery because of the kindness Elliott had shown his father.

The debt consumed him.

The following afternoon Mary Rose happened to be crossing the entryway when the mail was being delivered. She was so eager to find out if any of the letters were from her brothers, she all but snatched them out of the butler's hands.

She spotted Adam's handwriting right away, of course, and let out a cry of joy. Then she ran back upstairs to read his letter in privacy. She knew she was going to weep and didn't want anyone to see her.

Adam wondered why she hadn't written. He told her he realized she must be busy, but it wasn't like her to be unthoughtful, and she surely must know her brothers worried about her. Couldn't she spare a few minutes to pen them a note?

She was horrified by the anguish her brothers must be going through. She was disheartened too. Why hadn't her brothers received her letters?

Had they been intercepted before they left the house? No, of course they hadn't been. Her relatives wouldn't deliberately be cruel, and it would be a grave insult for her to ask.

She wrote back right away, sealed her envelope, and then tucked it into the pocket of her coat. Ann Marie came into the bedroom then.

"Where are you going, mi'lady? Have you forgotten your lessons?"

Mary Rose smiled. "Missing one afternoon learning how to run a household won't upset my aunt, will it? Will you send Eleanor to me?"

"She's helping to organize your aunt's invitations. Do you wish me to interrupt her?"

"No," Mary Rose replied. She was already going to suffer Aunt's Lillian's ire for missing her lessons. Taking her pride and joy away would only send her into a lather. Eleanor was making herself indispensable to her relative. Mary Rose was glad the two women were so fond of each other, for while her aunt was busy giving Eleanor orders, she left Mary Rose alone.

"I feel like a nice, brisk walk. Would you like to come with me?"

The maid eagerly nodded and went to fetch her coat. Mary Rose had an ulterior motive for asking her to accompany her. She wanted to send a wire to her brothers letting them know she was all right, and she needed Ann Marie to help her find the telegraph office.

She also had another favor to ask. "You have Wednesday afternoons off, don't you?"

"Yes, mi'lady," Ann Marie answered. "And every other Saturday morning as well."

"Would you be willing to post my letters for me when you're away from the house? I would really appreciate your help, Ann Marie."

The maid looked surprised by the request, but didn't argue with her mistress. She agreed to do as she was asked and promised not to mention the favor to any of the family.

"Please don't mention I'm sending a wire either," she asked.

"Is there some reason you don't trust the staff, mi'lady?"

"No, of course not. I just don't want my letters… lost. My father becomes upset when I talk about my family back in Montana. Seeing my letters on the hall table would only distress him."

"And upset your aunts as well," Ann Marie added with a nod. Mary Rose felt much better after she'd formulated her plans. Adam's letter made her smile all the rest of the day.

Her days and nights fell into a pattern throughout the winter months. She was always sure she lingered in the foyer until the mail was delivered so she would be certain her letters weren't accidentally misdirected, and twice a week she gave her letters to Ann Marie to post for her.

Her sleeping habits drastically changed. It wasn't possible for her to dance half the night away and continue to get up from her bed at the crack of dawn.

There were other noticeable changes about her as well. She became extremely quiet and nervous, jumped at the drop of a hat, and never, ever made a comment without first weighing every word. Her relatives couldn't have been happier with her. They obviously didn't notice the strain she was under. They believed she was making the transition to her new life as Lady Victoria completely. She was the rave of London society. Her circle of acquaintances extended, and some days she received three invitations to parties being held on the same night. She was constantly coming or going or changing her clothes. Some days there wasn't even time to think. She liked those days most of all because when she was occupied rushing about, she didn't have time to worry about what was happening to her.

There were many lavish, wonderful things for her to enjoy, and she certainly appreciated the luxurious life she suddenly had. She began to soften in her attitude toward her Aunt Lillian as well. When the dour woman wasn't in one of her bossy, you-mustn't-ever-say-that-again moods, she was actually likable. She had a bizarre sense of humor too. She shared stories with her niece about the mischief she'd gotten into as a child, and some of the incidents she recounted made Mary Rose laugh.

She didn't share any of her childhood memories with her aunt, however, for that would have been breaking the unspoken rule never to talk about her past life.

Her aunt loved her. All her relatives did, especially her father. She tried to remember that important fact when the hollowness inside her welled up, and she didn't think she could stand it another minute.

Yes, they all loved her. And yet none of them knew her at all. Harrison wasn't making life easy for her. He was rarely home to comfort her or assure her that she was doing the right thing and that everything really would be all right. Lord, how she needed to talk things over with him. Her father had him popping from city to city like a flea from dog to dog. When he wasn't home to hold her in his arms during the nights, she held her locket in her hands. The link with her mama and her brothers comforted her as much as a security blanket comforts a baby.

It would have been easy for her to blame Harrison for her misery. It had been all his fault that her life had been turned upside down, hadn't it? He'd come to Montana and found her, damn it.

But she'd also found him. She couldn't imagine life without Harrison, and, oh, how she missed the man she'd fallen in love with. Her husband was under quite a strain too. She could see it in his eyes and in the way he looked at her. A good wife would have been more understanding, she told herself over and over again. Harrison had asked her to be patient, to give herself time to get to know her relatives, and he always gave her the same reason why. He needed to finish it. He wouldn't explain further. There never seemed to be enough time.

She received a letter from her mama on Monday, and Travis's note arrived the following day. Her brothers, he told her, were getting ready for the spring roundup because the snow had melted early this year and the passes were almost completely bare. He added the postscript that Corrie was doing all right, at least he thought she was. The basket of supplies he left in the clearing was always empty and waiting for him when he returned. The woman still wouldn't let him get close to the cabin though, and he felt like an idiot having to read Mary Rose's letters to Corrie in a shout.

While her brothers were getting ready for the annual roundup, her relatives were preparing to move to her father's country house for the rest of spring and all of the summer months. Aunt Lillian and her prodigy, Eleanor, had also been invited to join them. Mary Rose didn't have any idea if and when Harrison would be able to join her.

She became more and more frightened of what was happening to her. She kept remembering what Harrison had said to her when they spent the night in the cave near Corrie's home. They'd been talking about honor and integrity at the time, and she recalled his exact words. If you begin to give away parts of yourself, eventually you'll give it all. And once you've lost yourself, haven't you lost everything?

The words haunted her.

It wasn't possible for her to keep up her pretence forever. Two incidents sent her world careening.

The first happened quite by accident. She was pacing back and forth in the entryway, waiting for the mail to be delivered, when Eleanor came hurrying down the stairs.

"I have wonderful news, Victoria," she cried out. "Lady Lillian wants me to become her assistant. She likes me, really likes me, and thinks my organizational skills are just what she needs. She leads such a busy life. She's needed someone to help her for a long time. Do you know what else she told me? She's going to help me find a husband. She will too. Your Aunt Lillian can do anything she sets her mind to. She told me I was like a daughter to her. Yes, she did. Isn't it all wonderful?"

Mary Rose wasn't surprised by the news. She wanted to be happy for her friend. Eleanor had had a difficult past. She'd never known her own mother, and Aunt Lillian hadn't had any children. They were two lonely people who could help each other.

"It is joyful news, indeed," she told her friend. "Does this mean you'll never want to go back to… America?" She'd almost asked her if she had made up her mind not to go back to Montana, but quickly changed her mind.

"There isn't anything in America for me, Victoria."

"What about Cole? Didn't you care about him?"

Eleanor took hold of Mary Rose's hand and smiled at her. "I'll never forget him. How could I? He gave me my very first kiss. He won't ever marry me though, and I'm grateful I found out he wasn't the marrying kind before I gave my heart to him. Besides, we really don't have anything in common. I'm much better suited to life here, Victoria. So are you," she added with a nod.

Mary Rose ignored her last comment. "I'll miss you."

Eleanor frowned. "Miss me? You aren't going anywhere, and we're always going to remain fast friends. Do you know I'm accepted by your friends because of who you are? You're Lady Victoria, for heaven's sake. Why, just look at yourself in the mirror. You have become your father's daughter all right. No one could ever know you didn't grow up here. I'm so proud of you. Your aunt's proud of you too. She loves you with all her heart. Honestly, she does. I must run now. There's so much to do today in preparation for our move."

Mary Rose watched her friend hurry back up the stairs. Edward walked into the entryway then. She was thankful the younger butler was in attendance today and not her father's other "man" as he was called. Russell, the senior staff member, had been in Elliott's employ much longer, and she knew it wouldn't be as easy to get information out of him.

"Edward, may I have a word with you? In confidence," she added so he would know she wouldn't tell anyone about the conversation. "I need to know something. Has my Aunt Lillian been intercepting my letters from home?"

Edward's complexion visibly paled. "No, Lady Victoria, she hasn't."

She was going to have to accept what he said as fact, she supposed. She nodded, then turned to go up the stairs. She stopped suddenly when Edward blurted out, "They only have your best interests at heart, mi'lady, especially Lord Elliott."

She slowly turned around. "My father's been taking my letters, hasn't he?"

He didn't answer her but turned his gaze to the floor. She thought his silence damning. "I thought it was my aunt," she whispered. Her voice sounded bewildered. "I don't know why, but I never considered my father would do… How long has it been going on?"

"From the beginning," he answered in a low voice.

"And the letters I wrote to my brothers and left on the hall table to be posted? Did he intercept those too?"

Edward looked into the drawing room to make certain they weren't being overheard, then answered her. "Yes, but you had already figured everything out, hadn't you? I'm not being disloyal by confirming your suspicions, am I?"

"No, you aren't being disloyal."

"Your father was only following the physician's advice, mi'lady. He was very happy to notice you'd stopped writing to those men. I heard him tell his brother-in-law that the advice had been sound. You were letting your past go."

"The physicians advised him?"

"I believe so, Lady Victoria."

The staff apparently knew more about the workings of the family than she did. She would have to remember to ask Edward her questions in future. She would get the truth from him.

She was too disheartened to continue the conversation. She thanked him once again and then went up to her bedroom.

Her father believed she'd left her past behind her-and her brothers, she thought to herself. Mary Rose hadn't forgotten, of course, and she hadn't quit writing. She'd known someone was intercepting her mail after she'd read Adam's letter asking her why she hadn't written. Thank God for Ann Marie. The sweet lady's maid was quietly making sure her letters were posted.

She was so furious she could barely form a coherent thought. She knew she was going to have to get past her anger before she even tried to talk to her father to find out why he would do such a cruel thing to her. After an hour of pacing and thinking about the situation, she decided not to talk to him at all. He would only tell her he was doing what was best for her, and God help her, if she heard those words just one more time, she thought she would start screaming and never be able to stop.

Her anger wouldn't go away. She begged off going to the theater with the family that evening, giving the excuse she was tired.

A hot bath didn't soothe her nerves. She put on her nightgown and her robe and reached for her locket. She kept the treasure in an ornately carved Oriental box on top of her dresser. She wanted to wear the locket to bed. Perhaps a good night's sleep would put everything back into perspective, and she would once again have enough stamina to be understanding.

The box was empty. Mary Rose didn't panic, at least not right away. She carefully retraced her steps around the room. She remembered she'd taken the necklace off that morning just after she'd gotten out of bed. Yes, she was certain she'd done just that. And she always put it in the little box for safekeeping during the day.

The locket had vanished. An hour later, she was tearing the bedroom apart for the second time. Harrison came home and found her on her knees looking under their bed. He collapsed into the nearest chair, stretched his legs out, and thought that if he didn't get some sleep soon, he would pass out.

His mind was still reeling from the information he'd found damning MacPherson. He felt tremendous anger as well, and now that he was close to tying up all the loose ends and finally going to the authorities, the tension inside him was building to an explosive level. He was as edgy as a caged bear. Lack of sleep was surely the cause, he knew, for he doubted he'd had more than three hours' rest each night for the past week.

MacPherson was never far from Harrison 's thoughts. Rage would wash over him every time he thought about how the bastard calmly worked by Elliott's side all these past years. Elliott had trusted him completely, and all that while, MacPherson had witnessed his anguish and his desolation. The son-of-a-bitch knew…

Harrison forced himself to block his thoughts. He was too agitated to go to bed right away and decided to tell his wife what he'd found out.

She hadn't noticed him yet. "I found it, sweetheart," he called out.

She bumped her head when she bolted upright on her knees. "Where is it? I've looked everywhere. Oh, thank God. I thought I'd lost it."

Harrison heard the panic in her voice and only then looked at her face. Tears were streaming down her cheeks.

"I don't think we're talking about the same thing. I was trying to tell you I found the discrepancy I was looking for. What have you lost?"

"My locket," she cried out. "It's disappeared."

"We'll find it. I'll help you look. Just let me get my second wind." He let out a loud yawn after giving her his promise.

"What if it was thrown away?"

He closed his eyes and began to rub his brow. "I'm sure it wasn't. Come and kiss me."

She couldn't believe his cavalier attitude. "You know how important my mama's locket is to me. I think they took it. I'll never forgive them if they did. Never."

His wife was shouting. Harrison straightened in his chair, braced his elbows on his knees, and frowned at her. He was determined not to let his weariness make him impatient.

"After a good night's sleep…"

"We have to find my locket before we go to bed."

He decided to try to put it all in perspective for her. The locket was important to her, yes, but they would eventually find it.

"Will you calm down? No one took your locket. You've simply misplaced it. That's all there is to it."

"How would you know if they took it or not? You're never here long enough to know anything that goes on."

"I've been busy," he shouted out. "I was trying to tell you…" He stopped before he went into an explanation about MacPherson. Now wasn't the time. She was too distraught to hear a word he said.

He let out an expletive then. "You could be a little more understanding," he said.

She staggered to her feet. She was so furious, her hands were in fists at her sides. The dam inside her burst, for it was suddenly all too much for her to endure. All those months of trying to be someone she wasn't was finally taking its toll.

"Understanding? You expect me to be understanding about their sneakery? My father takes my letters before I can mail them, and I'm supposed to be understanding? How long do you want me to be patient, Harrison? Forever? When you aren't working day and night finishing whatever in God's name you're determined to finish, you're running around looking for evidence to convict MacPherson. You've been scratching the wrong itch for months now. Oh, shame on me. I've used another expression my relatives find distasteful."

"What are you talking about? What's distasteful?"

She didn't answer him. He wouldn't understand. No one did. She turned her back on her husband and stared out into the night.

"They all love you," he assured her in a calmer tone of voice.

She whirled around again. "No, they don't. They love the woman they're all creating. Do you know what Aunt Barbara told me? I'm supposed to think of myself as a blank canvas and let them create their masterpiece. They don't love me. How could they? They don't even know me. They love the idea of having Victoria back, and now everyone's trying to pretend I've lived here all my life. What about you, Harrison? Do you love me or their masterpiece?"

The implication behind her question sent him to his feet. If she wanted to argue, then by God he would accommodate her.

"I love you," he roared.

The argument didn't end there; it escalated. She was distraught and terrified by what was happening to her, and he was simply too exhausted to reason anything out. The combination was explosive.

What the hell had she meant about a canvas, for God's sake? She started shouting again when he demanded she explain. They said some unkind things to each other, though nothing that couldn't be forgiven, and when Mary Rose realized she was going to start weeping again, she pointed to the door and ordered him to leave.

He did just that. Then she got into bed and cried herself to sleep. She was awakened by her husband's fervent apology.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry," he told her over and over again.

She believed she could forgive him anything. She loved him and would do anything to protect him and their marriage.

They made love, each desperately needing comfort from the other, and when he was just drifting off to sleep, he heard her whisper, "I love you."

"I love you too, Victoria."

Dear God, he'd called her Victoria.

She went home two days later.

August 14, 1874

Dear Mama Rose,

I have to spend the rest of the afternoon in my bedroom as punishment because I didn't act like a lady today. I punched Tommy Bonnersmith in the nose and made him bleed. He had it coming, Mama. Cole had taken me into Blue Belle, and I'd just walked outside the general store when Tommy grabbed hold of me and planted his mushy lips on top of mine.

I didn't tell Cole what Tommy had done to me. He came outside and spotted Tommy sitting on the ground holding his nose and crying like a baby. My brother would have shot Tommy if he knew what happened and I don't want him shooting anyone else. He's getting a bad reputation.

I'm not at all contrite about my behavior. Adam and Cole are always telling me I shouldn't ever let any man take liberties with me. Tommy was doing just that, wasn't he?

Are you disappointed in me?

Your loving daughter Mary Rose