“Oh no, sir.” Sara cast him a glance over her shoulder. “I have witnessed parties grander than this since Gwyn’s age.”
Gwyn giggled, drawing a wink from Christopher as he pulled Sara’s coat free. “Well, I’m glad of that. It . . . has . . . ."
Christopher’s smile died away as he drew the coat away to reveal the velvet gown of rich indigo beneath. He swallowed hard. White ribbon roses trailed from right shoulder to left hip, ending in a delicate bouquet of orchid and lilac. Interwoven throughout were smatterings of faux pearls and green ribbon leaves. The effect was elegance personified, the flow of the gown augmenting her statuesque figure.
“Oh Sara,” Gwyn breathed. “You look like a princess.”
“Thank you, Gwyn.” Sara looked to Christopher with an eager and bright expression. She reached for his tie. “Mr. Christopher, you knotted yourself in.”
A laugh cleared the boulder of fire and stone from his throat. “Yes, I suppose I have. Distraction is to blame, proving I can’t do too many things at once.”
Gwyn gathered his right hand, her laughter echoing through the halls. “Mamma used to do your ties, Papa. You always knotted them.”
“Yes, well, that’s the way of life sometimes.” Christopher watched Sara while she unknot the mess and deftly performed the duty he attempted himself. She peeked at him and smiled. His ears burned, and he shifted his attention to Dix and Paul. Paul helped Dix from her coat while sending Christopher a sidelong glance of amusement. Dix seemed to ignore them altogether.
“There.” She gave the tie one last straightening movement with a graceful hand before once more smiling up at him.
“Now, Gwyn.” Nonplussed at a sudden churning within, he dropped to one knee and gathered his daughter’s hands. “You stay with Auntie Dix and Uncle Paul this afternoon. Just like you used to. Understood?” Gwyn nodded. “Good girl.” He kissed her cheek and watched as she dutifully moved toward her Aunt and Uncle. Christopher offered his arm to Sara. “Miss Kreyssler.”
“This is so exciting,” she said, voice hushed.
“Does that mean you might be open to the possibility of introducing yourself?”
“Your sister seemed to think you may not want to do so tonight, but she would no’ tell me why.”
“Oh.” Christopher cleared his throat. “I had forgotten about that . . . ." He sent her a glance, and noticed her curious expression.
“Well, hello. Look who’s early.” Teddy approached, smiling.
“Hello, Mr. Parker.” Sara actually offered him a hand, which he accepted to give a slight and quick grip. “I could no’ stay away nearly so long this time.”
Teddy laughed and then motioned toward her. “You look lovely.”
Sara flushed. “Thank you.”
Christopher scolded himself for not saying it first.
“Seems to me something about her is beginning to itch at the back of my mind. You notice that at all, Top?”
“Teddy,” Christopher complained, “don’t start the age-old lines now. She knows you too well to fall for them.”
Sara restrained a giggle.
Teddy frowned. “I was being serious. Give me some credit.” He focused on Sara again, his frown disappearing. “You want some punch and sandwiches? We have cookies this time, too. Em outdid herself.”
“No, thank you.”
“You certain?”
“I am too excited to eat or drink a thing.”
“You’ll get tired of these things eventually.” Teddy passed to greet Dix and Paul. “Let me know if you change your mind about the punch,” he called over his shoulder.
Smiling after him, Sara shook her head.
“Sara.”
Sara turned. “Yes, Mr. Christopher?”
“I have a confession.”
Her smile dropped away as she blinked up at him. “A c-confession, sir?”
“I won’t be able to spend as much time with you tonight as I did before.” He forced a smile. “Teddy and Paul have sworn to make certain you’re not preyed upon by the more desperate single artists.”
“Oh.” Sara lowered her gaze to her clasped hands.
The dejection in the single utterance tore at his conscience, but how could he tell her the distance was to protect her reputation against a false report to the Chronicle? “I should have told you earlier—”
The front doors opened as the first of their guests arrived. A cluster of regulars, they were distracted to a further entrance by Dix and Paul’s greeting. Christopher took up Sara’s cold hands to give a collection of squeezes. He cursed himself. “Sara, don’t convince yourself you’ve done something wrong. Your enthusiasm is gratifying, and my distance isn’t a punishment. I’m simply taking my role as sponsor one step further.”
Sara passed a quick look to him from beneath her lashes.
He willed himself to offer a more convincing smile and gave her hands another gentle pressure. “I want you to enjoy yourself this evening. Mingle. Laugh. Listen to their inspirations brought about by the viewing of your sketches. Relish the freedom to be yourself.” Christopher brought each of her hands to his lips—He blinked at the soft warmth of lip and hand, and both their faces burned crimson. “I . . . ." He met her wide-eyed gaze and forced a release of her hands. “Slap my face if I do that again.”
Sara laughed.
“That’s better.” Christopher gathered Paul’s attention from the entry. “I won’t be absent all evening. I promise. What kind of host would I be if I didn’t mingle with everyone, boring and charming?”
Christopher stared after her and Paul for only a moment before more guests arrived. Then he had no chance to gauge or examine anything.
~§~
“Passing her off to Paul and Teddy.”
Christopher turned from his task of surreptitiously listening to a group of young artists discuss Sara’s firsts. Dix approached, not livid but definitely irritated. “What?”
She pointed at him. “You should be ashamed of yourself for handing Sara off to Paul and Teddy. She’s your protégé.”
“Dix, you know as well as I do why I did it.”
“And you don’t think anyone will find it suspicious in the least that you’ve barely spent any time with her at all? After being her escort the previous unveiling?” Dix scoffed. “Please.”
Christopher crossed his arms. “What would you have suggested, then? I certainly didn’t hear you offering any alternatives when we discussed it earlier.”
“I held my tongue so that I wouldn’t give you a lashing.”
Christopher lowered his voice when he noticed a few glances cast their direction. “I guarantee here isn’t the place to speak your mind.”
She pressed her lips together. “Fine, but you had better decide which is more important, appearances or feelings.”
“Dix, I made the decision I did due to the repercussions to both. I thought I explained that.”
“But it’s the principle of the whole situation I protest, Chris. They’ve no right to report something that deliberately and negatively effects a tentative friendship. You shouldn’t allow them the satisfaction.” She crossed her arms. “I know Carla wouldn’t.”
“But Carla isn’t here,” he hissed, “that being the reason for the whole issue in the first place.” He sought Sara’s form, focusing back on Dix when he didn’t see her. “You know what Sa– she would do if they published a false supposition that put a questionable light on the future of our friendship.” He glanced around again. People had migrated to different rooms of the gallery, leaving very few within ear-shot. “Knowing her as well as you do, you know that she would try to protect me from slander, even if it meant giving up her own future.”
“Don’t be absurd. If protecting you from slander is what God puts on her heart to do, then who are we to say otherwise? Certainly it’s honorable for you to keep her from that position in the first place, but at such a sacrifice? That’s not like you, Chris, and I don’t like the fact this article and th
e possibility of others pushes you to it.”
Christopher released a quick breath.
“I’m not saying you’re doing wrong in not revealing who she is this evening; I honestly don’t believe she’s ready. But holding her at arm’s length will only prove that in private you treat her one way and in public another. Do you want her believing you’re embarrassed by her?”
He flinched.
Dix reached out to enfold his upper arm in a tight clasp. “I’m not saying that is at all what she thinks, Chris. I’m only giving you a warning to the possibility. She’s a sensitive soul, and I would hate for all the good changes in her life to be sabotaged.”
Christopher scrubbed at his scalp. “I’m an idiot.”
Dix smiled and gave his arm another tight grip. “No, dear. I just have a different perspective on things.” She chuckled. “Now let’s go save our residing English angel from Teddy’s over-eager attempts to win her heart.”
“I don’t think we have anything to worry about in that respect, Dix.”
“Oh? And why’s that? He has been more attentive to her this evening than certain other gentleman.”
“Teddy shies from commitment like a horse from fire. You know that.”
“Yes, and I also know that our charming lady visitor is one of those types men commonly give up their roaming for.”
Christopher looked down at his sister, his eyebrow raised. “Teddy? Give up flirting to marry? You’re joking.”
“Joking, am I? Hm.” She motioned ahead. “If I’m joking, what do you call that?”
Christopher followed her gesture to see Teddy and Sara standing close together while examining one of the other artists’ displays. Teddy motioned here and there while giving a dialogue or narrative that apparently held some interest for her, as she intensely listened and only occasionally interrupted with either a comment or question.
Something within twitched and roared in protest, causing a very brief frown. Christopher pushed it aside. “That? Friendship is all I see, Dix. Don’t commit Teddy to anything more. He’ll be horrified.”
“With an angel like her showing interest in his opinions, offering encouragement to go further, and doing her best to let him know what’s acceptable in talking with a lady? Not likely.”
“Believe what you want, Dix. I’ve known Teddy too many years. He’s not ready to see a woman as anything but a bit of curve and sweetness.”
“Christopher Andrew,” she protested.
He smirked. “Sorry.”
“Likely story.” She removed her hand from his arm and shoved him forward. “Now go do your duty and behave yourself.”
Chuckling, Christopher continued toward the duet. But as he drew closer and began to hear the murmur of their conversation mold into words, he suddenly felt very uncomfortable. The thought of Teddy growing fond of someone like Sara wasn’t at all impossible. But would he be able to provide her the security she needed? Would he understand her history and adjust himself accordingly?
Christopher cleared his throat, noticed the sound drew Sara’s attention, and offered her a somewhat uncertain smile. “I don’t suppose I could interrupt this experience of bonding and camaraderie to take over the duty of escort?”
Sara’s smile vanished as she looked toward him, eyes wide. Teddy frowned. “No fair, Top. I thought she was my responsibility.”
“She was, for the first half. Now it’s my turn to be charmed and charming.”
Teddy read the hall clock. “First half, my eye. You don’t want me to have any fun.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Sara continued to regard him as he did his best to soothe Teddy’s rumpled temper. “I never said you had to leave.”
“To be the third wheel who doesn’t understand a single word of what you artists find funny?” Teddy scoffed. “No thank you. I’ll find my own amusement.” He stalked into the crowd.
Christopher stared after him, aware of Sara’s curious gaze still examining his profile. Forcing what he hoped to be an easy smile, he felt a bit of surprise when she held his gaze.
“He was no’ happy with you,” she observed.
A smirk tilted his lips as he offered her his arm. She accepted. “I think you’re right. I wonder why?”
“You took away all his responsibilities.”
“Me?” Christopher asked, feigning shock. “How could I have possibly done that? I only took back mine.”
“Yes, but I do believe you might have embarrassed him.”
Christopher blinked down at her. Again, she held his gaze. “Theodore Parker doesn’t embarrass. Believe me. We’ve all tried our hardest to make it happen at one time or other.”
“Oh I do no’ doubt that. He seems to be an imp of sorts, but . . . .” Her expression softened, altering the loveliness of her face. “Mr. Christopher, did you not see his face? He likely thought you might no’ trust he can do what you asked, which might have hurt.”
Christopher halted to stare down at her, nonplussed. “You . . . You’re serious?”
The soft smile didn’t fade as she rested a hand on his arm. “I know you did no’ mean to, as you do nothing mean or spiteful, but he was trying so hard to be gentlemanly and responsible—”
“I can’t believe this,” he protested. “Dix chastises me for sloughing you off onto Teddy and Paul—done for your own protection, I might add—and then you chastise me for taking you back from Teddy when you were disappointed that I had passed you off as his responsibility in the first place.”
Sara laughed, her blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “Christopher.”
“So what do you want me to do then? Avoid you as I did before and get my ears chewed by Dix? Track down Teddy and hand you off again? Or . . . or what?” This time Sara lowered her gaze. He scrubbed at his scalp. “I’m sorry.”
“I did no’ mean to chastise.”
He released another quick breath, guiding Sara’s hand back to the nook of his arm. “Speaking the truth and being honest is never nagging. The people who need to hear it are the ones who have the tendency of labeling it such.”
Sara made no response.
Christopher did his best to gauge the expression on her down-turned face, he couldn’t label it. “Maybe I should have left you in Teddy’s care. I seem to have ruined your evening.”
“Oh no. I was but thinking.” Her gaze lifted to his, her features relaxing into a smile. “He will likely complain I confessed, but he was off to find you soon anyway. Said that he had to talk to some sculptors who had come and did no’ want to bore me with the conversation.” She giggled. “You two are so silly.”
Tension melted and he chuckled. “Yes, I guess we are.”
“It is fun to watch,” she admitted. “I never had brothers and sisters, and I feel as if you and your friends and family are as close as I’ll ever come. It is a miracle of a blessing.”
“Well, I’m glad you think so.”
She wrinkled her nose at him, immediately widening her eyes as she began to comment on the different feel of the party. Christopher gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
~§~
“I’m going home, Chris,” Teddy said, shrugging into his overcoat.
Christopher balanced another collection of dirtied glasses in his hands and looked up toward his friend. “Go ahead. I can finish cleaning up here. It’s not as cluttered as I thought it would be.”
Teddy nodded, still not meeting Christopher’s eyes while he wrapped his plain gray scarf around his neck and pulled on his gloves. “I’ll be a bit late tomorrow. Another meeting with a new sculptor interested in consigning some pieces.”
An eyebrow twitched upward as Christopher regarded his friend’s face. “Certainly.” He motioned toward Teddy with a handful of glasses. “Let me know how it goes.”
Teddy grunted and moved toward the exit.
Christopher stared after him, floored silent. Teddy had kept his distance most of the afternoon. Thinking it due to the sudden retrieval of Sara from T
eddy’s care, Christopher tried to apologize for any insult. His friend simply grunted an acceptance and again disappeared to a mysterious meeting with an unnamed sculptor, much as he did now.
Christopher set the glasses with a firm clink and rubbed at his forehead. The display of Sara’s colored charcoals drew his attention. He smiled. Her habit of viewing life through rose-colored glasses began to change things for him. He could sense himself beginning to see and feel something beyond what his wife’s death had left. A part of him began to see life as she did. How could he have known that a simple friendship would be the key to that?
He sighed and bent to retrieve a cloth napkin from the floor. When he straightened, his gaze was drawn once again to her art and the dreams and futures it held—He gasped, for at last he saw an image—the charcoal’s translation from the whisper of fantasy to the heightened reality of oil.
Twenty-Two
Interpretations
24 February 1894
Noon the following day had nearly come before Teddy’s familiar steps were heard in the main hall. Christopher scooped up a paint-soiled rag to wipe the oils from his hands as he made his way to the hall.
Their gazes met and Teddy halted, giving an uncomfortable clearing of his throat as he also scrubbed at the back of his neck. Then he wordlessly continued on as he slipped from his well-worn overcoat.
“Teddy,” Christopher called. His friend halted. “Ted, what’s going on?”
He shot Christopher a sidelong glance before continuing forward. “Nothing. Forget it.”
Christopher followed. “Ted, I told you I didn’t mean anything by taking over as Sara’s escort last night. Dix gave me an earful, tha—”
“It’s fine.” Teddy attempted to continue on again.
Christopher took hold of his arm. “It isn’t.” He noticed a muscle twitch in Teddy’s jaw and released his grip. “I wouldn’t have asked you to be responsible for Sara if I didn’t think you could be trusted. It’s only—”
“I know.” Teddy sent Christopher a sharp glare. “Dix chewed your ears. You said that. Last night twice. Now again. I get it.”
“Then what’s the problem? I’ve never seen you like this before.”
Teddy momentarily clenched his teeth. “Don’t worry about it. I just need to deal with something.”
Christopher raised an eyebrow. “You certain?”