At last she said, "Please, Grandfather, don't make me choose between you."
Henry's step faltered as he paced across the room, and he stopped and stared at her in wonder. When he had studied her face for a moment, he shook his head resignedly. "That is what I'm asking you to do, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is, and it isn't fair," Felicity said, kindly but with iron determination. "I love you both, but Joshua is my husband and my place is with him. That doesn't mean I'll never see you again. We'll come back to visit you often, and you can come to Texas to see us, too, now that you're well."
Henry's shoulders slumped in the face of her determination. "Yes, you've given me back my health. I suppose I should be grateful for that, at least. But I was hoping… I thought perhaps you and Richard…"
But Felicity shook her head. "No, Grandfather, never me and Richard. I like Richard very much, but I love Joshua and he's my husband. I want to be with him."
"But what about your photographs and the Exposition? Surely you want to be here for your moment of glory," he tried desperately.
That was her one real regret, but she had already decided where her priorities lay. "Mr. and Mrs. Evans will be only too glad to oversee the exhibit for me. I don't have to be here. The photographs will stand on their own merit."
Henry reluctantly agreed. "It's just that I can't stand the thought of losing you…"
"I'm not Claire, Grandfather," Felicity assured him. "I'm not going to disappear from your life."
"No, you're not Claire," Henry agreed at last, lifting a hand to stroke the golden cloud of her hair. "You have her spirit, but you have a lot more sense than she or her father ever had."
"You have plenty of sense when you choose to use it," Felicity pointed out with a small smile.
She watched unnamed emotions play across his face for a moment, and then he said, "I think I'd better use some now, then. There's something you need to know about Joshua, about why he left here. He made me promise not to tell you, but I should have told you anyway. The reason I didn't was because I wanted you to be unhappy with him, and I'm sorry for that now. It seems there's some kind of trouble at his ranch. It may not be safe for you to go back yet…"
Felicity listened to his explanation, letting him show his concern for her, before she told him she already knew about everything. She did not leave him until much later, after she had assured him the trouble at the ranch was solved and he had helped her plan her trip and they had made promises to see each other again very soon. As she closed the door of his room behind her, she realized that she only had one more thing to do before leaving Philadelphia. She had to see Dr. Strong.
Josh roamed aimlessly around the empty house as twilight began to shadow the rooms. How he hated the long, lonely evenings when the men had retired to the bunkhouse and Candace had returned to her cabin. This was the time he used to spend with Felicity, and memories of her were everywhere in the echoing house.
In his restlessness, he carefully avoided the corner of the parlor where his desk sat, the desk where he had composed so many unmailed letters to his absent wife. Since the night of the fire, when he and his men had finally destroyed Ortega's gang and driven them off for good, Josh had changed his mind a dozen times about the best way to get Felicity home.
At first he had decided the only thing to do was go to Philadelphia and fetch her, but events had prohibited him from such an action. He and his men had spent several days combing the countryside for Ortega and the few outlaws who had escaped.
Josh had conducted the search with mixed hopes for success. While he wanted to capture Ortega once and for all, he was afraid that Jeremiah would be with the bandit. Even though his half-brother was far from innocent, Josh could not have brought him to justice, not when he owed the man his life.
But circumstances had spared him such a duty. Ortega and Jeremiah seemed to have vanished into thin air. Eventually Josh and his men returned home, content to know that although Ortega was not captured, at least he was conquered.
After that, Josh had to clear away what was left of the barn and oversee the raising of a new one. The whole community turned out for the event, and yesterday the new barn had been completed.
During all that time, Josh had begun to realize how foolish he would look if he returned to Philadelphia like a supplicant to beg Felicity to come home. By now she must be a veritable fixture in Philadelphia society, Henry Maxwell's protegee and Richard Winthrop's constant companion. The thought infuriated him. During those days, he had drafted several summonses which demanded she leave her grandfather and come home to Texas. All of them had ended up in the fire because he had known, however much he might deny it, that calling her home by mail was the coward's way out.
No, if he wanted his wife back, he must go to Philadelphia himself. If she was angry with him-as well she might be judging from her silence-then she could be angry in person. And if she still refused to come home, then he would simply bring her. A husband had certain legal rights that even Henry Maxwell's influence could not negate.
Damn it, yes, that's what he would do. He would go to Philadelphia. In fact, he decided, heading for his bedroom, he would leave tonight. There was no sense in waiting for the stage from Prospect. He could be halfway to San Antonio by morning if he left now on a good horse.
He was throwing things into a carpetbag when he heard a wagon rattling into the ranch yard.
"Hello, the house!" Blanche called.
Josh swore. Not Blanche, not now. She'd just stopped by this afternoon on her way to town. She'd been nosing around, asking questions about when Felicity was coming home. What in the hell could she want again so soon?
"Joshua!" Her voice seemed to reverberate through the evening stillness. "Come out here! I've brought you something from town!"
Blanche had indeed stopped by the ranch earlier. Her main purpose had been to make sure Josh was home, and to inform Candace of Felicity's arrival. Then, as instructed, she had gone to Prospect to await the stagecoach.
Felicity leaned out the window of the stage as the town of Prospect came into view. Miraculously, it was unchanged, although how that could be when she herself was so changed, Felicity could not imagine.
And Blanche was waiting for her, just as her telegram had requested.
"I see you got my message," Felicity said breathlessly when Blanche at last released her from a bear-hug greeting.
"Of course I got your message," Blanche said, looking exasperated. "But did you have to sign it, "Your Dearest Friend"? "Why didn't you use your name?"
"Because," Felicity said with a grin, "then my return would have been public knowledge. There's nothing private about telegrams."
"No, not when Oscar is the telegraph operator," Blanche agreed. "But why all the secrecy?"
"I told you, I want to surprise Joshua," Felicity said. She hadn't allowed herself to examine the motives for such a surprise. Perhaps she just wanted to be there to see his face that first moment when he realized she had come back to him. If she had sent the telegram to him, that moment would have occurred when she was a thousand miles away. If he had been the one to meet her, his true feelings would have been disguised behind a polite veneer. This way, she would see every one of those feelings just as Joshua experienced them.
By the time Felicity's trunks had been loaded into Blanche's wagon, everyone in town knew she had returned. She kept telling well-wishers that she wanted to surprise her husband. She only hoped that the news did not beat her out to the ranch.
"Do you want to get a bite to eat before we go? It's almost suppertime," Blanche asked when the loading was finished.
"No, I couldn't eat a thing. I'm too excited. I just want to see Joshua," Felicity said, and so they left immediately.