32
DESSA TAPPED GENTLY on the door to the room she’d assigned Liling and Mei Mei, barely making a noise. Nonetheless, a moment later the door opened and Liling peered fearfully around the edge.
“Are we safe?”
Dessa nodded. “I’m going to church, and Jane will accompany me. Remee will stay downstairs to keep watch for anything unusual.”
The expression on Liling’s face, formerly so worried, now went hard.
“She doesn’t want any trouble here, Liling. You can trust her that far.”
Liling nodded once, quickly, but did not meet Dessa’s eyes.
“I’ll see if Mr. Dunne—that’s the gentleman who lives in our carriage house—has returned. He can be of some help, even if we don’t explain all that’s going on.”
Seeing Liling’s face made Dessa want to stay behind. Liling was beyond fear; she seemed to be preparing herself for the inevitable. Dessa wished she could stay—the girls were just beginning to trust her. But what could she tell Mr. Hawkins? Make up some excuse? Or lie? That was no more acceptable than telling him the truth, at least right now when there was no time to explain.
“I’ll return as quickly as I can, but I must go. I’m sorry, Liling. May God keep you safe.”
As she turned away, Liling quietly closed the door.
Dessa stopped by Remee’s room, and Remee agreed to do as Dessa asked: stand guard. Dessa knew the other woman acted more from survival than to protect the girls, but motive didn’t matter to her so long as someone looked out for the place. Though what good Remee would be if men came forcefully after the girls, Dessa did not know. What good would any of them be?
She found Jane already downstairs, waiting for her with Mr. Hawkins at the door. Jane’s face reflected the first hint of peace Dessa had seen on her since coming back with the Chinese girls last night.
“I’d like to check the carriage house for Mr. Dunne before we leave, if you don’t mind, Mr. Hawkins.”
Although she knew they hadn’t much time if they were to avoid being late, Dessa hoped to find Mr. Dunne. If he’d returned, she must ask him to stay behind and watch over the house. She would have to save an explanation for later.
But her brisk knock at the carriage house door went unanswered, and when she called his name he didn’t respond. Desperate to make sure he wasn’t just sleeping, she pulled open the door. It moved far more freely than it once did, since Mr. Dunne had put it to more regular use.
It was empty. The place was darker than it used to be, with a canvas patch covering the hole in the roof and all the crooked slats nailed snugly back into place. It was also neat; a blanket was folded carefully at the foot of the cot, no litter or books to be found.
It was almost as if he’d gone entirely. Perhaps she should be relieved, yet she only found herself wondering where he could be. Another reason to worry. And to pray.
She would have stepped out and closed the door again behind her, but a noise stopped her, something falling to the ground. She waited, looking to the four corners. No little squirrel this time.
Perhaps she’d imagined the sound. Or perhaps it had come from outside the wall.
There was no time to figure out the source of the noise now. She pulled the door closed, then hurried back inside to join Jane and Mr. Hawkins, following them out the front door.
“I’d expected to have a full carriage again if I came to retrieve you,” Mr. Hawkins said as his coachman opened the door and assisted first Jane, then Dessa, inside.
“Remee isn’t quite ready to attend regularly,” Dessa told him once he was seated opposite her and Jane. “Though I hope she will soon. And I’m afraid I cannot find Mr. Dunne.”
“We’re supposed to hope he has a new job, but I think he’s off drinking somewhere!”
Dessa frowned at Jane’s theory. She glanced at Mr. Hawkins. He, too, was frowning, but then he’d been frowning ever since Belva departed.
“He’ll turn up” was all Mr. Hawkins said; then he looked out the window as the carriage moved onward. “I’m meeting someone at church this morning. Someone Tobias agreed to escort, since I’d thought there would be no room for her in here.”
Dessa eyed him with surprise. Her?
He turned to hold her gaze. “My mother.”
“Oh!” Jane sounded immediately buoyant. “How wonderful. I’ll be so glad to meet her.”
“And so will I,” Dessa added. “I didn’t know she lived in the area.”
“She came in from Leadville,” Mr. Hawkins explained, “and will stay for the dinner tonight.”
“I wish I could go!” Jane raised a palm to cover her mouth, but her eyes were merry, free of any regret. “I suppose I shouldn’t be so forward as to say such a thing.”
Mr. Hawkins offered a smile, but somehow it didn’t seem a very happy one. “You’d likely be bored, Jane. A lot of stuffy investors and their polite but rather . . . selective . . . wives.” His brows took on an apologetic slant as he looked at Dessa. “I should ask your pardon in advance for inviting you, with that sort of recommendation of the evening.”
Dessa had trouble swallowing around a sudden lump that formed in her throat. If she didn’t have so many other things on her mind, she’d be more nervous than ever about attending a party with Denver’s high society instead of as its servant. Once, before taking on far more serious things to worry about, she might have been concerned about wearing a gown off a mannequin amid such a group.
And yet . . . how eager she was, still, to glimpse more of Mr. Hawkins’s life, to be at his party, to be at his side.
She caught that thought. At his side? She was just a guest, and barely one at that.
Jane chatted most of the way to the church, which Dessa was happy to let her do. She was glad the girl was back to being herself, if only for the little while they would allow themselves to be away from Pierson House. Mr. Hawkins, too, seemed content to let Jane fill the silence. He’d taken to his familiar one-word answers, and if Jane noticed at all, she didn’t seem to mind.
At the church, Mr. Hawkins set a slow pace to go inside, even though they could hear the strains of the first hymn. In the vestibule, Dessa felt his hand on her elbow.
“Miss Caldwell,” he said, low, “I wonder if I might have a word with you? After the service, that is?”
“Of course. I hope you’ll introduce me to your mother.”
He nodded. “I’m sure she’s here already. Tobias would never be late.”
Dessa looked toward the arch that led into the sanctuary. “Will Mr. Ridgeway be here, then? And his wife?”
“Yes, they’ve opted to stay with my mother for the service, rather than attending their own church today.”
Dessa’s spirits brightened. She’d forgotten that Mr. Ridgeway’s wife would undoubtedly be in attendance tonight as well. How could anyone married to such a wonderful man be anything but congenial?
In the sanctuary, it was easy to see Mr. Ridgeway, since he was both tall and wide. He sat toward the front, on the end of what Dessa had called Mr. Hawkins’s pew since he’d first shown up at church. Perhaps Mr. Ridgeway had chosen the end in deference to those behind him—or rather, she saw as she neared, to extend his legs into the aisle, free of the confines of the seat in front of him.
For the first time since attending this church, Dessa did not sit with the White family. They were already there, squeezed together to leave room on the family pew for Dessa and Jane as well. But when Dessa filed into the sanctuary beside Mr. Hawkins, he led them to the pew behind the Whites. Mariadela smiled approvingly even as her husband, beside her, spread out in his seat, triggering the same action all the way down the line.
Beside Mr. Ridgeway were two women, both of them singing along with the hymn “Sweet Rest in Jesus.” Dessa joined in, though she felt almost shy when both women simultaneously tilted their bonnets toward her. Though they smiled, she wondered if they—rightly so—blamed her for making Mr. Hawkins late.
“Oh, how happy am I,
With my Savior so nigh!
I have found sweet rest
On Jesus’ dear breast.”
Eventually, as she listened to the words she sang, Dessa felt the proclaimed rest.
Once again, Henry had trouble concentrating on the various parts of the service. Even as he enjoyed the extraordinary feelings of wanting to know God’s grace for himself, of having a real family surrounding him, of reveling in Dessa’s sweet voice beside him, he couldn’t escape the ominous truth.
How long would it take Foster to figure out that Henry’s initial investment hadn’t come from where he’d claimed? Anyone who’d known him back then would recall that “a wealthy investor” had endowed Henry with enough capital to start his own business. He’d been foolish enough to talk about his “investor” everywhere, in Chicago and Leadville as well as here in Denver, though to a lesser extent. His gaze fell on William and Mariadela White, in front of him. Even they would remember. Perhaps that investigator had come round the Whites’ innocently asking about him. What secret should they have made of knowing Henry back then?
He’d bragged about his secure future, his story so practiced he’d almost believed it himself. But it wouldn’t take long to learn there had been no such investor. A made-up name. A figment of Henry’s imagination.
It might not be easy to figure out where the money had come from, but spreading doubt about its source would be enough. Everyone knew banks depended upon the confidence of the public. Take that away, and they were ruined.
He would be ruined.
Henry glanced at Dessa, who was listening earnestly to whatever Reverend Sempkins had to say. It might not matter if she refused the intentions he wished to make known, once he told her the truth. He might not have anything to offer.
He raised a hand to his forehead, rubbing once. Dear God, I know none of this is a surprise to You. I have no right to ask Your help in finding a way to avoid the consequences of my sin. So all I ask is that You give me the strength to suffer them. And maybe . . . give some of that strength—and a touch of Your grace—to Dessa when I speak to her.