The words seemed to echo in the room long after he was gone.
By dawn the next morning the ranch was crowded with neighbors who had seen the flames and come to help put out the fire. Although the barn was now only a pile of charred embers, they had at least managed to keep the fire from spreading. The women had fixed breakfast for the men, and while they were eating, Blanche finally found a minute to take Candace aside and get the whole story from her.
"Who would have ever thought," Blanche murmured in wonder when Candace was finished. "I know Felicity will be glad to hear all this. She must have been worried sick all this time."
Candace shook her head. "She don't know anything about this. Mr. Josh didn't tell her a thing."
"What!" Blanche exclaimed. "What on earth did he tell her when he left her in Philadelphia, then?"
"That we needed him to help with the roundup," Candace reported in disgust. "And that ain't the worst of it, Mrs. Delano. He hasn't written her one letter, not one line, since he's been back, neither."
"Has she written to him?" Blanche asked in disbelief.
Candace nodded. "She'd send two or three letters every week, or at least she did. Lately there hasn't been any. Not for two or three weeks now."
Blanche made a rude noise. "Well, of course there hasn't been. She's probably furious with him, and who could blame her? I'm furious myself. She thinks he just up and left her for no good reason and… Oh, Lord, Candace! When he didn't write, she must have thought he'd left her for good!"
"I don't know what she thinks, but it can't be anything nice," Candace said. "I tried to talk some sense into him, but he won't talk about it, not at all. Mrs. Delano, we've got to do something about this."
"You're absolutely right," Blanche replied. "And I think I know just what that something is. I'll write to her myself."
"Do you think that will help?" Candace asked.
"It got Josh home, didn't it?" Blanche replied with a conspiratorial smile.
Chapter Thirteen
Felicity paused in the parlor doorway, posing selfconsciously as she awaited Richard's reaction to her appearance. He rose slowly from his chair, a stunned expression on his face.
"Darling, you look ravishing," he exclaimed after a long moment of silence, and rushed forward to take her hands. "You'll be the most beautiful woman at the party."
Felicity smiled graciously at his compliment, although his casual endearment made her uneasy. A married woman should not allow such intimacy from another man, but she decided to ignore her qualms. Richard had proven he was her very best friend during the difficult two months since Joshua's desertion. Her cousin had certainly earned the right to call her "darling."
Then, with alarm, she realized he was closing in for a kiss. Even Richard had not yet earned that much intimacy, and she turned her head just in time, offering her cheek instead. The terrible part was that she had almost wanted him to kiss her mouth. Her pride had taken such a beating from Joshua's continued failure to contact her that she fairly ached for some reassurance that she was still attractive to someone. Richard would be only too willing to give her such assurance, she knew, and sometimes she was unbearably tempted to let him. But not this time.
Richard stepped away again, giving her a teasing smile that reproved her for avoiding his kiss, but he wisely said nothing about it. To do so might provoke an argument, and he had no intention of upsetting her on this of all nights. Instead he stood back and admired the picture she made in her new ballgown.
The dress was blue silk, the exact color of her eyes. Mademoiselle Fabian had designed it specifically for Felicity, to display her to perfection, and the woman had succeeded magnificently. The bodice and the edge of the skirt were adorned with crystal bugle beads that glittered dazzlingly and tinkled musically every time Felicity moved, giving the illusion that she was surrounded by some sort of shimmering aura. Richard thought she looked like a fairy princess.
Her golden hair was swept up into an elaborate coiffure, leaving her long, lovely neck exposed. Richard fantasized for a moment about kissing that neck before he noticed the necklace fastened around it. Diamonds. New diamonds. He had never seen the piece before.
"What a gorgeous necklace," he said. "Is it new?"
Felicity's hand flew self-consciously to the jewels. "Yes," she said with an embarrassed laugh. "Grandfather gave them to me this morning. I tried to tell him they were too much, but you know how he is. He just wouldn't let me refuse them."
"Yes, I know exactly how he is," Richard assured her, smiling. "And he's right to be like that. You should have beautiful things." His smile faded into earnestness. "You were born for this kind of life, my darling. Don't you realize that?"
Felicity stared at him in renewed alarm. What did he mean? But before she could ask him, Bellwood tapped on the parlor door.
"Excuse me, but I hear the guests beginning to arrive," he told them.
"We'd better get upstairs, then," Richard said, taking her hand and tucking it into the curve of his arm. "We have to greet them in the ballroom."
The ballroom was on the third floor of Maxwell's mansion, and as they made their way up the stairs toward it, Felicity did not know whether to blame her breathlessness on the climb or on the excitement over the coming party or on Richard's remark about how she was born for this kind of life. It was true that she could not help being tempted by all the luxuries her grandfather offered, but she loved Joshua and the life they had together. She would go back in a minute if she only thought Joshua wanted her to.
The thought of her husband brought with it all the pain his departure and subsequent silence had caused her. She had tried not to grow bitter, but as each day passed without word from him, she began to feel more and more abandoned. Her last letter describing this very party had been meant to stir his jealousy, but he had not responded at all. He had even ignored the news about her photographs being displayed at the Exposition. She was finding it increasingly difficult to maintain her belief that Joshua still cared about her.
"Why are you frowning?" Richard asked just as they reached the top floor of the townhouse.
Felicity consciously forced her lips into a smile. "I was just wondering if my dress is all right," she lied, nervously smoothing down the fine fabric and telling herself she was foolish for thinking such awful thoughts on this, the night her grandfather had planned to honor her before all of Philadelphia. She would forget about Joshua Logan and all the hurt he had caused her. She would have a wonderful time and worry only about preventing her grandfather from mentioning her photographs.
But what she saw when she entered the ballroom made all of that impossible. Her photographs were everywhere.
Her grandfather greeted her and Richard as they entered the room. "Surprise, my dear," Maxwell said. He was clad in evening clothes that were only slightly loose. In the weeks since Dr. Strong's first visit, Henry had made a rapid recovery. Only the small amount of weight he had not yet regained indicated how ill he had been. He smiled at her stunned expression as she stared around the room. "Now you see why we could not allow you up here this morning," he added.
Felicity nodded vaguely. She was too busy looking at her photographs to reply. Yes, they were all there, mounted and hung on the walls around the entire ballroom, silent reminders of the life she had determined to forget for this one evening. "Why on earth did you do this?" she asked at last, still numb from the shock and thinking inanely how the pictures looked out of place in the elegance of the room. She had an inexplicable urge to take them all down and hide them.
"I told you I wanted to make the announcement about your photographs being displayed at the Exposition tonight," Henry explained.