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“How?” Grace sat on the bed. “We might own half the business, but no man will allow you to have a say in how he runs his establishment.”
Elizabeth took off Rose’s stockings and turned down the bedcover. She motioned for Rose to climb in. Thoughts of her old employer, Mr. Brown, filled her with terrible memories. He owned the general store Elizabeth had worked at in Rockford, and he had come to depend on her for all aspects of the store’s operation. She had done everything from stocking the merchandise to managing the books, and he had never once given her credit. When someone complimented his store, he’d boasted about his business acumen.
The job had kept her and her sisters fed while Grace had finished school, and she found she had a natural knack for the work, but she had been forced to resist his advances from the first day. It had become harder and more wearisome with each passing month, especially when his wife assumed Elizabeth had been guilty of appalling things at the very end. Each time she said she was leaving, he would increase her pay and treat her better for a time. Truth be told, there were so few jobs available for a woman with her limited education, she couldn’t give up the work, no matter how difficult it was.
She had looked forward to doing as she pleased with the hotel business—but now she would be forced to bend to another man’s will. Would Mr. Allen be just as horrible to work with?
“There’s only one thing to be done,” Elizabeth said to Grace with more confidence than she felt. “We will need to raise enough money to buy Mr. Allen’s share of the hotel.”
Grace stopped working on her boots and looked up at Elizabeth. “Why would we want to do something like that? Why don’t we sell our share to Mr. Allen?”
“Mama and Papa spoke of owning a hotel for as long as I can remember, but they never had enough money to pursue the venture,” Elizabeth said. “We can’t give up on their dream now—especially when Papa wanted it this way.”
“Their dream?” Grace asked with sarcasm in her voice. “Or yours?”
“Of course it’s their dream. Don’t you care about their legacy?”
Grace scoffed. “I don’t give a fig about this hotel or Mama and Papa’s dreams. Papa abandoned us and I don’t owe him a thing.”
Elizabeth’s chest tightened and she wanted to cover Rose’s ears. It had been this way with Grace since their father left. Before Mama died, Grace had always been sweet and kind—a little mischievous, but never mean. The best thing for her would be to find a good husband, and the sooner the better. She needed to be settled in her own home and getting on with her life. She didn’t need to be saddled with their father’s hotel and a little sister. Those were Elizabeth’s responsibilities. She had forfeited her own happily-ever-after when she chose her family over James. What man would want her with all her responsibilities now? Isn’t that what James had said? She came with too many problems.
Her sisters deserved better, and she would do whatever she could to ensure their happiness. She would find Grace a good husband as soon as possible and provide for Rose to the best of her ability.
Elizabeth met Grace’s gaze and she knew her face revealed the depth of sadness she felt.
For a moment, it looked as if Grace might soften, but then she inhaled a breath and kicked off her second boot. “Do whatever you want. I don’t care.”
Rose looked up at Elizabeth, searching for reassurance. The unconditional love in her big brown eyes was the reminder Elizabeth needed to keep fighting for Grace, for her parents’ dream and for her own future.
Elizabeth winked at Rose and gave her a smile. “It’s time to sleep.”
“I forgot to say my prayers.” Rose climbed out of bed and knelt on the floor. She said her nightly prayers and then got back into bed.
Grace had put on her nightgown and sat beside Rose. “How will we raise enough money to buy Mr. Allen’s share? It could be thousands of dollars.”
“Maybe we can get a loan from the bank.” Elizabeth tucked the covers in around Rose. “Regardless, we’ll have to do extra work to pay for it. I’ll speak to Mr. Allen about all of that tomorrow. For now, get some sleep and don’t worry.”
Rose yawned. “I’m thirsty, Lizzie.”
Grace lifted the sheet and snuggled into the bed without looking at Elizabeth.
“I’ll get you something. But don’t leave this room,” Elizabeth said to Rose. “Stay here with Grace and I’ll come right back with something for you to drink.”
Rose nodded, a solemn promise in her trusting eyes.
Elizabeth kissed her forehead and left the bedroom through a door that led directly into the dark hallway. She stood for a moment, wondering where the kitchen might be. Martha had said it was at the back of the hotel.
She walked down the hall to where a swatch of light lit up the stairway at the end. The sound of laughter and music made her feet itch to dance. It had been years since she’d gone to a ball. James had not approved of dancing, and after he left, her name had become sullied by Mrs. Brown’s accusations, so no one had extended another invitation.
It would feel good to twist and twirl around a dance floor again, especially if she was in the arms of a competent dancer. For a fleeting moment, she thought of Mr. Allen’s strong form and graceful movements and wondered if he was any good at dancing, but the question soon faded when she remembered how much he irritated her.
Hopefully she could sneak in and out of the kitchen without being noticed.
She wasn’t in the mood to see him again tonight.
* * *
Jude stormed through the dining room and entered the kitchen. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm cinnamon bread wafted up to meet him. But even that didn’t improve his mood.
“What am I going to do with them?” he asked Martha as soon as the swinging door closed.
“I don’t imagine there’s anything you can do with them.” Martha lifted a steaming pan of bread from the oven. “They’re here to stay.”
Jude pulled out a stool and took a seat—but he couldn’t stay still, so he stood and shoved it back under the worktable. “They can’t stay here.”
The door opened and Violet entered. Her bright-red hair would make her stand out in a room—but it was the worldly set of her shoulders and the hardened look in her eyes that made people take a second glance. “Is the coffee ready?” she asked.
Martha nodded to the pot on the stove. “Just now. Bring me the empty one from the ballroom when you come back and I’ll get more going.”
Violet moved to the stove without another word. Though Jude had rescued her six weeks ago and had been nothing but kind, she still didn’t meet his gaze. She skirted around him like he might reach out and grab her—but he didn’t take it to heart. It was the same with almost all the women he’d liberated these past two years. They knew almost nothing about compassion and decency. For many, their only experience of men was abuse and neglect. He was the first man who’d respected them and treated them with care. It would take her some time to trust him.
Violet left the kitchen with the coffee and the door swung closed again.
“The way I see it,” Martha said, setting the loaf of cinnamon bread on the cooling rack near the window, “Clarence’s daughters own half this hotel and there’s nothing you can do to change that fact. God knows what He’s doing. He doesn’t make mistakes. Though we don’t understand some of His choices, He’s still sovereign and much smarter than the rest of us.”
Jude rubbed the back of his neck. He usually appreciated Martha’s wisdom and perspective, but at the moment, he’d rather she keep them to herself. “There has to be a way to get rid of them.”
“Ack!” Martha clicked her tongue. “Go on with you. Those women are in need of a home and this is all they have. They’re not that much different than the women you rescue.”
“There’s a world of difference between them—besides, this hotel can’t support all the women living here!” They could barely support Martha and Violet. “I need to find a way to get them to leave. I’m going to see Roald Hall tomorrow and find out if that letter has any legal value.”
“And what if it does?”
He didn’t want to contemplate the validity of the letter. How could he hide his rescue work if they ended up staying? Surely, once they met Violet, they’d start asking questions. What would happen when he brought in the next lady? And the next?
Frustration made him pace faster. “I don’t know why such pretty women aren’t married.”
Martha turned away from the window, her hands on her hips. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe they don’t want to be married?”
“Well they should—and soon. At least then they might give up on the idea of running a hotel.”
Martha took another pan of bread that had been cooling at the window and brought it to the worktable. She turned it onto a cutting board. “You probably won’t have to wait long. There’s nary a bride in this town that had to wait more than a fortnight to be engaged.”
Jude paused, the first glimmer of hope rising. “You’re right.”
“I usually am.”
“If I do a little matchmaking, I could probably have them engaged by the end of this week.”
Martha harrumphed. “If they had attended the ball, they would have had at least a dozen proposals tonight.”
It was true. So true, in fact, the men in town had placed an advertisement in several papers back East seeking brides. They had claimed there were a hundred eligible bachelors for every single woman. To his knowledge, no one had answered the ad—yet—but it only proved how desperate and lonely the men were in Little Falls.
He simply needed to introduce Elizabeth and Grace to the best husband candidates and they could be out of his way in no time.
“Martha, you’re a genius.”
The door opened slowly and Elizabeth Bell poked her head through the opening. She paused when she saw Jude.
For the first time since her arrival, he was happy to see her. Maybe he could still get her into that ballroom tonight and start the introductions. He moved forward and opened the door wider. “Come in.”
She took a tentative step over the threshold as she looked around the kitchen.
Martha wiped her hands on her apron. “What do you need, lovey? Are you hungry? There’s leftover roast beef and fresh cinnamon bread, right out of the oven.”
“Could I have a glass of water for Rose, please?”
“Water, you say?” Martha stood on tiptoe to reach one of the glasses. Her short stature was a constant irritant to her, so Jude reached over her head and grabbed a glass for her. “Thank you.” She straightened her shirtwaist. “How about some warm milk for the little one?”
“Milk would be even better.” Elizabeth’s voice hinted her relief. “She’s had none since we left Rockford a week ago.”
“Then milk it is. I’ll grab some in the cellar and be back in a jiffy.”
Martha exited the kitchen leaving Jude and Elizabeth alone.
She looked at him for a moment and he studied her, perplexed all over again by how Clarence could have such a beautiful daughter. But, more important, how could he convince her to go into the ballroom with him?
She looked away and played with the frayed cuff at her wrist.
“The ballroom is full tonight,” he said. “We have the best orchestra in the territory right here in Little Falls. They’ll play until midnight, at least, maybe longer if the dancers insist.”
“I imagine it’s good for business.”
“It is.” He smiled, trying to draw upon all the charm he’d mastered as a business owner. “Do you enjoy dancing, Miss Elizabeth?”
She lifted her blue-eyed gaze and blinked. “I do enjoy dancing, Mr. Allen.”
Her answer encouraged him. “Would you—?”
“Here we are.” Martha returned much sooner than he would have liked—or expected. “I left the milk on the shelf in the lean-to and thought I’d put it in the cellar later. Good thing I didn’t.” She placed a kettle on the stove. “The milk will be warm in a minute.”
“It isn’t necessary to heat the milk.” Elizabeth took a step toward Martha. “I can take it as it is. Rose won’t mind.”
“Nonsense. Everyone benefits from warm milk before bed.”
“If you enjoy dancing,” Jude said, “would you care to join the others in the ballroom?”
Elizabeth stared at him and Martha turned with the milk in one hand and the kettle in the other. “Look at the lady, Jude. She’s tuckered out.”
Martha wasn’t making this easy for him.
“I thought Miss Elizabeth might enjoy a little entertainment after her long journey.”
“Even if I would, my ball gown is tucked away in my trunk and in need of some updating.” Elizabeth touched her cuff once again. “It’s been years since I’ve gone to a ball.”
“All the more reason to go tonight.”
“I should be with my sisters.”
Martha tossed him a look of disapproval and then went back to the milk.
“They’ll soon be asleep.” Jude tried again. “You can stay for as little or as long as you’d like.”
Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder toward the door that would lead them to the ballroom, and she looked like she might concede—but then she shook her head. “Not tonight. I’ll need all the strength and mental clarity I can muster when we meet with the attorney and go over the books tomorrow. I’m sure there will be a hundred things we’ll need to discuss about the operation of the hotel.”
The thought of talking business with her made him crabby. What did she know of such things? “Fine.” He gave her a curt nod. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He walked past her and out the kitchen door. He might not get her into the ballroom tonight, but he’d be sure to invite every bachelor he knew to come by tomorrow.
He would marry Elizabeth Bell off to the first man who turned her head, and then he’d get on with the work that really mattered.
Chapter Three (#u267fd098-7385-55ff-b608-619773937217)
Elizabeth looked in the mirror the next morning, well before the sun had crested the horizon. Dark circles hung beneath her eyes and weary lines edged the sides of her mouth. Though she hadn’t slept well in weeks, she had tossed and turned all night, trying to think of a way she could earn enough money to buy out Jude Allen.
More than anything, she wanted to be in control—not only of the hotel, but her life. So many decisions had been made for her since Mama had died. It would have been nice to have a say in her future for once. But before she could think of saving money, she needed to know if she had any legal right to the hotel.
Not wanting to wake her sisters, Elizabeth found her father’s letter, put it into a pocket in her skirt and left their rooms. Worries about the legality of the letter had plagued her all night long. Surely it was enough to claim her inheritance—it had to be. She had used every penny they’d made on the sale of their things in Rockford to make the trip to Little Falls. There was nothing left to go elsewhere. They’d be destitute.
Casting aside the troubling thoughts, Elizabeth tiptoed down the dimly lit hall, not wanting to disturb their guests. More than two dozen doors spread out on either side of her, and snores could be heard escaping from several rooms.
The hotel was clean and orderly, the furnishings were well cared for and everything about the place spoke of top-quality craftsmanship. How much would it be worth if she wanted to purchase Mr. Allen’s share?
Elizabeth descended the front stairs and found a man seated behind the counter, his keen gaze following her every step. As she approached, he stood and nodded a clumsy greeting. He was a tall man—taller than most she’d ever met. His beefy hands and balding head were the first things she noticed about him, but despite his size, a simple kindness emanated from his hazel eyes.
“Good morning, miss.” His voice hinted at a lack of education. “Are ya one of them Bell sisters?”
“I am Elizabeth Bell.” She extended her hand and watched in amazement as it was swallowed up inside his.
“I’m Pascal Doucette.” He pumped her hand up and down.
She pulled her hand away and held it by her side—surprised it had returned to her unharmed from his massive grip. “Are you the night watchman?”
“I am, miss. But I do lots o’ other things for Mr. Jude.”
“What things do you do?”
“Well, I watch out for the ladies.”
Elizabeth frowned. “What ladies?”
