"I think you'll find the ride very pleasant," Richard said as the carriage moved away from the train station. "Broad Street is known for its lovely homes."
And rightly so, Felicity realized as she watched mansion after mansion pass by her window. "Mr. Gordon said that my grandfather lives nearby," she ventured, wondering what type of home she would discover him occupying.
"Yes, he does," Richard confirmed proudly. "He lives on Rittenhouse Square, which is considered to be the heart of the most fashionable section of town."
"Oh, my," Felicity murmured, hazarding a glance at Joshua's face. He did not seem pleased by this information, but what had he expected? They knew her grandfather was a wealthy man, and after seeing his railroad car, they could logically anticipate that he lived in a mansion. Before she could point this out, however, Richard spoke.
"And what exactly is your occupation, Joshua?" he asked, assuming his role as charming host.
Josh studied the too friendly smile a moment before answering. Obviously, Winthrop was prepared to be politely, if insincerely, enthusiastic about whatever Josh named as his profession.
"I'm a rancher," he said.
"A cattle rancher?" Richard asked with an empty smile. At Josh's nod, he inquired, "And how many cows do you… uh, keep?"
Josh easily read his contempt. Obviously, Winthrop pictured Josh with a milk pail and a dozen heifers. "Oh, it depends on the time of year. In the spring we have more, of course, and in the fall we sell some off," he explained with elaborate casualness. "Most times we run between fifteen and twenty… thousand."
"Thousand!" Richard gasped.
Josh nodded again, biting back a satisfied smile. "It keeps us busy," he said almost apologetically, and pretended a renewed interest in the passing scenery. He purposely did not look at Felicity. He did not want to see her awe at the beautiful homes they were passing. Was she already growing discontent with the log and adobe house back at the Rocking L Ranch?
Although she was certainly in awe, Felicity was not a bit discontent. All she could think about as she looked at these houses was how cold and impersonal they seemed. Then the carriage came to a halt in front of the coldest of them all, an imposing structure of Italianate styling.
"Here we are," Richard announced.
"This is where my grandfather lives?" Felicity asked in disbelief. "It looks like a… like a bank!" she exclaimed, reexamining the classical facade for some hint the building might really be someone's home.
Joshua made a funny noise that might have been a smothered laugh, and Richard glared at him for just a second before assuming his patient charm once again. "Yes, it is rather impressive, isn't it?" he remarked as he climbed down and reached to help Felicity alight from the carriage.
Felicity tried not to gape, but the task became more difficult with every passing second. When the massive front door opened to reveal an entryway three stones high and paved with pink marble, she felt as if she had stepped into a fairyland.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Winthrop," a tall, dignified man in livery said as they entered.
"Good afternoon, Bellwood," Richard responded coolly. "This is Mr. Maxwell's granddaughter and her husband, Mr. Logan. We are expected, I believe."
"Yes, sir. Miss Maxwell will receive you in the drawing room," Bellwood informed them. "May I take your coats?" When he had, he said, "Follow me, please."
To Felicity's wide-eyed amazement, this elegant man- who had hardly even glanced at her or Joshua, although surely he was curious about them-turned smartly on his heel and conducted them to a pair of sliding doors midway down the long entrance hall. He slid them open with a flourish.
"Mr. Richard Winthrop, Mr. and Mrs. Logan," he announced in stentorian tones, and then stepped back to allow them to enter.
Richard led the way, approaching a small woman in pink who rose from a gilt sofa to greet them. Felicity and Josh stopped just inside the door. Felicity put a hand on her stomach to still a flutter of excitement as she prepared to meet her Aunt Isabel.
"Richard?" a feeble voice inquired tentatively.
"Cousin Isabel, may I present your niece, Felicity, and her husband, Joshua Logan?" Richard said. He placed an arm around the lady's waist and escorted her toward where Josh and Felicity stood.
Felicity watched them approach. Aunt Isabel was absolutely tiny, standing several inches shorter than her own five feet. Her aunt was wearing a frilly pink gown which had obviously been designed with an ingenue in mind, and she had her graying hair tied back with an absurd pink bow.
But the face that stared up at hers was smooth and unlined, as if no worries had ever troubled it, and the eyes were as blue as her own. "Aunt Isabel, I'm so happy to meet you," Felicity said, smiling with genuine delight.
But Aunt Isabel did not return the smile. Instead, she simply stared at Felicity for an uncomfortably long time. At last one frail, parchment-white hand rose to rest on the pink bosom. "Claire," Isabel breathed tragically, and promptly fainted.
Oddly, she fainted right into Joshua's arms, or at least, that was the way it appeared to Felicity. At any rate, he managed somehow to catch her before she hit the ground.
"What should I do with her?" Josh inquired with some irony when he had gotten a good grip on her.
"Right over here, sir," Bellwood informed him with no change whatsoever in his expression. "On the fainting couch." He indicated an oddly shaped piece of furniture in one corner of the room. Josh gratefully carried his burden over to it.
Following him, Felicity noticed for the first time that the room was enormous. Her first impression had been one of closeness, but she realized now what had caused that impression. The place was literally crammed with objects d'art of every description. Every wall and flat surface was covered with paintings, sculptures, figurines, and assorted knickknacks, which were, in turn, adorned with peacock feathers or silk flowers or some other foofaraw. Felicity realized vaguely that she could spend an entire day in this room and never see everything it contained.
When Josh had laid Isabel down, Felicity examined her aunt's pale face in dismay. "Good heavens, what should we do?" she asked, appalled at the havoc her arrival had caused.
"Perhaps you should throw some water in her face, madam," Bellwood suggested calmly.
"Water?" Felicity asked incredulously, turning on him. That was when she noticed the twinkle in his eye. No sooner had she registered this incongruity than she heard her aunt moan, loudly and dramatically.
"My salts, Richard," Isabel said feebly.
"It works every time, madam," Bellwood informed Felicity in a whisper.
Wide-eyed with amazement, Felicity looked back to observe her cousin Richard handing a vial to her aunt. He was as unmoved as Bellwood. She glanced at Josh. He, too, seemed unnaturally calm for a man who had just caught an unconscious woman. Was she the only one in the room who felt sympathy for her poor aunt… or did her aunt really need any sympathy? She turned a suspicious gaze back toward the small lady on the fainting couch.
"Are you all right, Aunt Isabel?" Felicity felt compelled to ask.
Isabel inhaled of her smelling salts and sighed. "Yes…yes, I'm fine now," she said with a weak smile. "How fortunate that handsome young man was there to catch me. Who did you say he was again, Richard?"
"He's my husband, Aunt Isabel," Felicity replied for him, stepping closer to the couch where her aunt lay so she could better judge her condition.
"Husband?" Isabel repeated, forgetting to sound faint. "We heard nothing about any husband. Why, you're much too young to be married, my dear," she added with a frown.
"I'm nineteen, and I've been married almost a year," Felicity said, certain now that Isabel's faint had been faked. What she could not figure out was why.
Isabel's cornflower eyes took Joshua in from head to toe and back again. "A year," she echoed, and looked as if she might faint again. "Oh, my…"