Mail Order Devastation (Montana Mail Order Brides, Book 4) Page 20

  He pinned her with a dark look. “You terrified her. She was afraid to even leave the house for fear that you’d sneak in and take Cordelia away. I urged her to get out, to meet with the friend who invited her out for tea. She only went because I promised I wouldn’t leave Cordelia’s side while she was gone. She needed to get away, you see. To relax, after…” his voice broke, and he turned away.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Deming.” Mollie said, and was grateful to feel Noah squeeze her hand in support. “I truly am. I never meant to frighten her. I only wanted to see Nell, that was all. I never meant for Mrs. Deming to—”

  “I know, I know.” He waved her off. “I’m not blaming you. Not anymore. Part of me wants to. The man who murdered her is gone, and there’s no one to vent my anger on. I could blame you, or blame myself for insisting she go. But the fact is, if you hadn’t shown up in Helena, she’d have been socializing and out on the streets of Helena far more. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and it’s just…it’s so unfair. She was finally happy. She finally had her child. And now this.”

  He walked away toward the window, as if he was looking out it, but he left the curtains drawn. “As I said before, I went to Mass today, for the first time in years. I suppose I was looking for answers. I found some, though not the answers I sought. I wanted to know why God took my life, along with the lives of my three children. I knelt there, and I prayed, and you know what I thought about? All I could think about was you. The look on your face when you came to the hospital and thought your daughter might be dead. And I thought about how Cordelia would be without a mother now—and what a pitiful father I have made. I’ve just never…connected with her. I suppose my heart was so hardened from the loss of my own children that I just couldn’t open it to another child.”

  He turned to face them. “It’s not that I don’t care for her at all—I do. I very much want her to grow up to be a fine woman. But I always felt she was Vera’s daughter, not mine. I could have let her be mine…but I chose not to. And I knew what Vera would have wanted me to do. She’d have wanted me to keep her daughter as far away from you as possible.”

  Mollie’s heart sank. That was not where she had thought the conversation was going.

  “She was afraid of you,” he went on. “Afraid you’d steal Cordelia away. Afraid you’d run off with her, and never be found. Or worse, that you’d go to the courts and get your parental rights back irrevocably, since it appears that the adoption wasn’t as solid as we first believed it to be. I’ve had my attorneys check, and they said you have legal grounds, if you had the money to pursue it.”

  A small ray of hope surged within her, but she squelched it. Her rights didn’t matter. Her needs didn’t matter. Only Nell’s happiness mattered. She couldn’t let herself forget that.

  “And Vera suspected your marriage was a sham, and that you’d run back to your poor family after snatching Cordelia, and she’d be raised in squalor. So I’m quite sure that to do right by Vera’s wishes, I should keep you out of the child’s life.”

  Mollie swayed on her feet—she had dared to hope he might tell her she could say goodbye to Nell before he left. Why did he let us in?

  Noah caught her by the shoulder and steadied her. “Did you bring us in here to torture my wife, then? She’s done nothing but love her daughter. I won’t stand by and let you hurt her anymore.”

  “Settle down, man, and hear me out. Sit down,” he ordered.

  Noah hesitated, but relented in the end. They sat on one of the settees, and Mr. Deming sat on the other, his forearms resting on his knees and his hands clasped together.

  “I know my wife would have wanted me to flee back to Boston, to bury her remains there, and to raise her daughter. But I sat in church and kept thinking about how Cordelia had lost the only mother she knew. How could I take her away from the only other mother who loved her? I thought about it all through Mass, and on the way home. The child would have every financial advantage, she’d be the belle of society, have a fine education, and marry well. She’d have everything a girl could desire. Except a mother. Or a father who truly loved her. Because every time I look at Cordelia, I will be reminded of my wife’s absence.”

  He looked away, his jaw clenched, and waited a moment before returning his gaze to them—his eyes riveted on Noah and Mollie’s hands, entwined together. Mollie didn’t care if it wasn’t socially acceptable in his eyes. She needed to feel Noah beside her if she was to endure the proud man’s hurtful ramblings.

  “And then I saw you two,” he said. “Walking up my front walk, hand in hand. And I realized that perhaps your marriage wasn’t a sham. But your pursuit of Cordelia was an affront to me, so I wasn’t prepared to speak with you…until I overheard you telling Jefferson about your letter. I hadn’t expected you to make such a selfless decision—especially in light of my wife’s death. I assumed you’d insist on taking the child, so that she’d have a mother. I knew then that Vera and I had been wrong. I should have let you see the child, at least. We were selfish, both of us, in our fear. We didn’t think of how much it would hurt you, or that it might hurt Cordelia in the long run. It may be true that Vera would want me to keep you from Cordelia, but only because she was mistaken about your intentions, and your character. I apologize for that—for both of us, because I know if she was here, she’d want to make it right. She still wouldn’t have given up her baby without a fight, mind you—but she’d have wanted to ease your pain, at least.”

  “Thank you for that,” said Mollie. “I was angry before, but I did come to realize today the same thing that you did—I was thinking only of myself, and not of the fear that you and Mrs. Deming must have been feeling. That’s why I brought the letter. I wanted to apologize for that. I only wish your wife was here to read it, too.”

  Mr. Deming looked down, nodding in acknowledgement. “There’s more.”

  More? she thought. Is he going to let me see Nell after all? Her heart raced, but she tried not to get her hopes up again. She didn’t think she could endure more disappointment.

  “I think…I’m not sure, but I think…that if Vera knew everything, and truly knew how inadequate I feel to be a father alone…I think she might want me to return the child to you.”

  “What?” Mollie cried, squeezing Noah’s hand so hard, she felt him wince. She turned in shock to her husband, who seemed just as surprised.

  “Please don’t tease her, Mr. Deming.” Noah flashed him a warning expression. “Be sure of what you’re saying, and that it’s not just grief talking. I don't think she has it in her to lose Nell all over again.”

  “It’s not the grief. If it was, I’d have called the police again, and have you both dragged off. I’ve been devastated and overwrought since Vera died, but as far as this subject goes, it’s the clearest I’ve thought yet. If I were to keep Cor—I mean, Nell—it would be out of spite. Out of selfishness. As I said, it wasn’t my idea to adopt, and though I care for her, the child doesn’t see me as a real father figure. I haven't spent all that much time with her, and I don’t sing to her or coddle her, or any such stuff. Without Vera, there would be only the nurse and the nanny to do such things—and the nurse has already been given her notice, because it’s high time that Cor…Nell…was weaned. And if the nanny has exclusive care of her, and should decide to leave my employ someday, it would be like losing a mother all over again. I’m not up to the task of playing both mother and father, Mrs. Jamison. I didn’t play the father well before my wife died, and I feel even more hard-hearted now than ever before. It wouldn’t be fair to the child. Or to you.”

  “S-so you’re saying…”

  “I’m saying that I’m giving you your daughter back. I’ll even sign papers to that effect. I’ll have them drawn up tomorrow.”

  Mollie squealed and launched herself into Noah’s arms, hugging him tight. Then she turned back to Mr. Deming. “I disagree—you’re not as hard-hearted as you think. You’re doing what’s best for Nell, and that means you love her in so
me capacity. Thank you so much!”

  A ghost of a tense smile passed over the man’s lips. “I’m glad it makes you so happy. I already spoke with the nanny and nurse, and told them I was considering this already, so they’re prepared. I think I knew I was going to do it, but I hadn’t fully made the decision until after you came.”

  “But…” the smile faded from Mollie’s lips. “What about Nell? She just lost Vera—now she’ll lose you too, and her nanny and nurse as well! That will be a devastating change for her. How can we—”

  “I thought of that myself. I don’t want to disrupt her life either, but death has a way of doing that, no matter how hard we try to protect a child from it. That’s why I spoke with the staff. My idea is this: you move into this house for a week, Mrs. Jamison, and I’ll have the staff slowly introduce you to the child, with you taking a larger and larger role in her care over the course of a week. You and the nanny can also make short day visits to your home, so she can become acquainted with Mr. Jamison, as well. By the end of the week, the wet nurse should have the child fully weaned, and I’ll send the nanny back to your home with Nell, to help her adjust to living in your home. Having the nanny at first will help her feel more secure. At week’s end, I and my staff will be leaving for Boston.”

  “He’s thought of everything,” Noah said.

  “He has! It’s a wonderful idea.” She stared at Mr. Deming, trying to dampen her joy, knowing what pain he must be feeling. “I can hardly believe it’s really going to happen! Can I…can I see her?” She trembled at the thought.

  “Of course. Jefferson?”

  The butler, who had stood silent by the door the entire time, stepped forward.

  “Please ask Miss Tuttle to bring down the child?”

  “Of course, sir. Should I leave this with you?” He held out Mollie’s letter.

  “Yes, I’ll take it.” Mr. Deming took the letter and slipped it inside his suit coat.

  The minutes until Jefferson returned stretched on, awkward and silent. It seemed he would never return. But at last, she heard footsteps echo on the foyer tiles.

  One set of footsteps.

  “Mr. Deming—a word, please?” the butler said as he entered.

  “Oh, just tell me, Jefferson. I’m in no mood for proprieties.”

  “Miss Cordelia is missing.”

  Chapter 30

  Mollie’s heart seized in her chest.

  “What?” Deming snapped. “What do you mean, ‘missing’?”

  “Miss Tuttle cannot find her. Miss Fulton is missing, as well.”

  “That’s not possible—Miss Fulton knows she is not permitted to go anywhere with the child, unless Miss Tuttle accompanies her.”

  “I’m aware, sir. But when I went upstairs, Miss Tuttle said she just awakened from a nap. She’s been feeling ill since Mrs. Deming died and—”

  “Get on with it, man!”

  “When I got up there, Miss Tuttle said she couldn’t find Miss Fulton or the child. She’d been searching several minutes, and couldn’t find them upstairs at all. We just searched the lower level and the yard—there’s no sign. But Miss Fulton’s coat is gone.”

  “No,” Mollie whispered, sinking to the settee. Her body went numb, and she struggled to keep her wits.

  “Could she have taken the child for a walk?” He didn’t wait for a reply, but turned to Mollie and Noah. “I apologize for the confusion—it isn't the first time she’s shown no respect for authority. It’s half the reason we decided to wean Cordelia in the first place. Eugenia Fulton refuses to recognize that Miss Tuttle is above her in the domestic order.”

  The young woman that Mollie recognized as Daphne rushed in, out of breath. “Forgive me, sir,” she nodded at Deming, then turned to Jefferson, “I ran all the way down the block, and haven’t seen her. I would have gone farther, but I forgot my coat, and—”

  “Are you sure you searched the upstairs well?” Deming interrupted.

  “Yes, sir,” she nodded, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this. She’s been mumbling all morning about you taking away her baby.”

  “Her baby?”

  “Yes, she said something about ‘he has no right’ and ‘I’m not going to let them take my baby again’, and such.”

  “Again?” Noah asked, turning to Deming. “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know, but I don’t like it. We hired her only because Cordelia didn’t do well on the prepared milk substitutes—we tried everything from Soluble Food to Nestlé’s Milk, and our physician even prescribed Rotch’s new ‘percentage method’ formula to make infant milk. But she did worse with each new thing we tried. At last we advertised for a wet nurse, but it’s not as easy as you’d think to find one. You essentially need a mother who just lost her baby, but is willing to nourish someone else’s child. Most of the few candidates we met weren’t people we were comfortable with, and by that time, we’d found out about my mother, and needed to leave as soon as possible. So we hired Miss Fulton. She had just lost her husband and child in a fire, and had no financial support or anywhere to live. We were as desperate as she, so we hired her.”

  “So you know nothing about the woman?” Noah was incredulous.

  “No. But by the time we arrived in Montana, we realized that her…temperament…wasn’t a good fit. She was very controlling with Cordelia, and refused to honor the schedule Miss Tuttle has set.”

  Daphne nodded. “Honestly, she’s been so awful to work with, about a month ago I spoke about quitting, even though I love Cordelia, and this job is the best I’ve ever had. But Mr. Deming assured me they would have Eugenia wean the baby, so they could send her back to Boston. She’s been even more difficult since she was informed of the plan, but I decided to wait it out until she was gone.”

  Mollie listened to their conversation, but most of it barely registered, until the last part. “Wait!” Everyone looked down at her, surprised—they’d almost forgotten about her. “So Eugenia—Miss Fulton—has been behaving possessive over Nell, even more so since you asked her to start weaning, and today Mr. Deming announced he may be returning Nell to me…and now Miss Fulton and my daughter are missing?” She stood, irritated that they all seemed to be so slow at realizing the obvious danger.

  “She’s kidnapped Nell!” Noah said.

  “Jefferson, telephone the sheriff directly—tell them you’re calling on my behalf, and that the life of a young child is at stake. Settle for no one but the sheriff himself.”

  “Consider it done, sir.”

  “The rest of us will scour this house, just in case we’re mistaken, or she’s left some clue behind.”

  “I’m not waiting for the sheriff to show up here,” Noah said, as Jefferson strode out. “I’m going to the train station. If she’s leaving town, that’s the first place she’ll head. I might catch her in time.”

  “I’m going with you,” Mollie insisted.

  “No, you should stay here and help search. You have unique insight as to what a mother would do if she was worried someone would take her baby away. If she’s not at the train station, you may be able to give the sheriff some suggestions.”

  A thousand arguments wanted to trip from her tongue, but she bit them back. She needed to think sensibly, and not go off half-cocked. “Alright.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Please be careful. We don’t know what kind of a state she’s in, and Nell…”

  “I’ll approach Miss Fulton with the utmost caution, if I see her.”

  Miss Tuttle gave Noah a description of Miss Fulton, along with what she was wearing that day, and what Nell was wearing the last time she’d seen her. By the time he’d finished, Jefferson re-appeared to say the authorities were called, and he’d had the driver bring around a horse for Noah.

  For the first time, Mollie was glad that Nell’s adoptive father was wealthy—apparently the rich could make things happen as quick as a wink.

  Ten minutes after Noah had galloped away, the sheriff and two of his officers arrived with great
haste, assessing the situation. He sent one officer after Noah, to assist in the search at the train station, and another back to Main Street to check in with the liveries to see if Eugenia Fulton had hired a driver.

  Amidst the chaos, Mr. Deming’s driver came in to impart urgent news.

  “I’m so sorry sir, in the rush to fetch a horse for Mr. Jamison, as Jefferson requested, I didn’t even notice that Sally was missing.”

  “Sally?” Mr. Deming blinked, confused.

  “The older mare. We don’t use her as much, so she’s kept in a back stall. I’ve been phasing her out of use, as she can’t handle the longer drives or a full carriage as well as she used to. And I checked the tack, and a saddle, saddle blanket, and a set of saddle bags are missing.”

  Deming glanced at the sheriff. “So she took a horse, then.”

  “The tamest horse you have, it seems,” the sheriff said, with his heavy brows furrowed in thought.

  “She’s from Boston,” Mollie cut in. “It’s a large, crowded city. It’s not easy to keep horses if you live in a densely-settled neighborhood. If she was poor, her family most likely didn’t keep any horses, unless they had a business that required the use of them. It’s easier and often cheaper to rely on the horsecars or the train to get around Boston, when needed. Her experience riding horses might be limited, as mine is.”

  “Then that may play in our favor,” the sheriff replied. “If she cares for the child, she won’t ride faster than her skills would allow. That may give us an advantage.”