Love, Come to Me(64)

As they neared Boston, Lucy began to fuss needlessly with her dress, wanting not even one ribbon to be askew when she stepped out of the carriage. Heath almost always noticed what she wore, and since she hadn’t seen him in two days, she wanted to look especially nice. The upper skirt of her dress was made of fancy silver-gray wool, trimmed with matching fringe and looped up to reveal a darker underskirt, while the long sleeves fit tightly to her wrist and puffed out at the shoulders. Her saucy hat, called a béarnais, was low-crowned and trimmed with velvet ribbon. The glazed straw brim matched the color of her dress perfectly, and it dipped over her forehead coyly.

Peering out the window as the carriage went by Boston Common, Lucy had a perfect view of Beacon Hill, named for the old beacon that had been built there in the seventeenth century to warn the earliest settlers in case of invasion. Certain sections of Beacon Hill, such as Louisburg Square, were the dominion of the “first families” of Boston. These families, who were occasionally referred to as “cold-roast” Bostonians, inhabited a separate world within Boston. Their names—Lodge, Cabot, and Peabody, to name a few—were synonymous with the names of royalty. Each family possessed a fortune and a reputation founded in earlier years by a revered ancestor. Some, like the Forbeses and the Gardners, had made their money through shipping or railroad investments, while others, such as the Winthrops, the Lowells and the Redmonds, had made it in textiles or banking.

Contrary to the opinions of the First Families, however, there was another, equally important sector of Boston, a class that had the money but not the snobbery of the oldest families. It was a class of entrepreneurs, the businessmen who constantly pushed and prodded the city to develop at a pace it would not have otherwise been inclined to maintain. They made Boston into a showcase for development, and they traveled by train between New York and Boston to conduct their elaborate business transactions with the aplomb of pirates. Their money was new money, and they spent it lavishly, throwing spectacular parties, filling the theaters, frequenting the shops and department stores, and monopolizing the best restaurants. First families abhorred publicity, but the entrepreneurs adored it. They were filled with unself-conscious pride at their own achievements. They were hearty, thriving, occasionally vulgar, and secure in the knowledge that there was little they could not buy. Frequently the Forbeses, the Redmonds, and all of the other first families married their daughters and sons off to the heirs of the entrepreneurs, linking elite names to impressive fortunes.

It occurred to Lucy as the carriage passed the straight facades of the row houses between Louisburg Square and Mt. Vernon Place that she was married to an entrepreneur. What an odd combination they were, a liberalminded war veteran from Virginia and a conservative Bay Stater who had rarely ventured out of the town of Concord. And stranger still was the combination of Heath and Damon Redmond as business partners. How in the world was Heath going to mix with a proper Bostonian? If Redmond had one-tenth the arrogance, the elitism, that could reasonably be expected from a member of a first family, there was stormy weather ahead at the offices of the Examiner. Wouldn’t it have been easier to find someone other than a Redmond to deal with?

The carriage stopped in front of a large house with a mansard roof and a yard bordered with an elaborate wrought-iron fence. It was much bigger than she had expected, more than twice the size of the house in Concord. Lucy stared at it dumbly as her father helped her from the carriage. She found it hard to believe that she would be living here. Heath hadn’t led her to expect anything like this.

Even her father did not bother to hide the fact that he was impressed. “Look,” he said, tapping his foot on the paved border of the street. In front of the house the brick had been arranged in an elaborate pattern and glazed. “It’s called a ‘rich man’s sidewalk.’ ” He glanced at Lucy speculatively, and it was almost possible to see the numbers clicking through his mind. “Seems he’s been keeping a thing or two under his hat. What kind of investments did he make? Was it—”

“Something about the railroad,” Lucy replied, tucking stray wisps of hair behind her ears and blotting the shine of her nose with a corner of her handkerchief. “And if the way you’re looking at me means that you’re wondering if I knew anything about his money before we were married, the answer is no.”

“I wasn’t thinking that at all,” her father said, looking affronted.

“Good,” she said pertly. “I would hate to think that you believed me capable of being so mercenary that I would set out to entrap him just because he has a little more money than Daniel—”

“A great deal more than Daniel.”

“Yes . . . well . . .”

“Mr. Caldwell?” came a voice from behind Lucas. It was the Hosmer boy, who had stopped the wagon behind the carriage. “Should I start unloading things?”

“Where is your husband?” Lucas demanded of his daughter without expecting an answer. “He should be out here.”

“I’m sure he’s busy. I’ll go in the house and find him,” Lucy said quickly, and she went up the front steps as her father and the boy discussed which boxes to unload first.

The house was spectacular, even in its present state. Scattered here and there were a few elegant pieces of imported walnut furniture, most of which would have to be reupholstered. The hardwood floors were almost crying out to be polished, but they were free of scars and pockmarks, and the high ceilings were adorned with twinkling chandeliers. Huge windows let in a flood of sunlight. She could picture them framed with fringed draperies. There were glossy marble fireplaces and empty walls that needed to be filled with pictures. Everything needed to be washed, dusted, and cleaned, but it was going to be a beautiful house. How could she help but love it?