Filed To Story: Alessia Mistaken as Mistress Book PDF Free
“What bracelet?”
“The emerald bracelet. She claimed you gave it to her.”
“Humph.” Celia pushed a hank of her frizzy red hair back from her face.
“Did you give it to her?”
She looked him in the eye, hers clearer than he’d hoped.
“What do you think? I look like the emerald bracelet type to you?”
“Claire never mentioned leaving?”
“She didn’t tell me she was going, all right? Pretty damned inconsiderate of her, if you ask me.”
“And you know nothing of the bracelet.”
“Back to that damned bracelet.”
“Was anything she ever said to me the truth?” he wondered aloud.
“She ever say she was in love with you?”
“What?”
“Well, that woulda been the truth.”
“You’re a crazy old woman.”
“That might be, but I know what I know. And I want to know where the hell the bottles are.”
“And what you do know is that she was in love with me.”
“Yeah.”
He laughed scornfully. “Well, she was a damned good actress anyway.”
“She was a poor actress, she was. Never had me fooled for a minute.”
“That’s because you’re her mother.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay.”
“I can see you’re all choked up about her being gone, so I’ll leave you to your misery.” He stepped to the door.
“You do that,” she said. “And tell that damned maid to bring a bottle and the newspapers!”
He stared at her for a long minute. Claire had been far too lenient with the woman’s poor disposition and despicable habits. “The servants have been ordered not to bring you a bottle. You may have wine at dinner. I’ll expect you dressed and downstairs at eight this evening.”
Her eyes widened as though they’d pop from her head. “What the hell-?”
“And you’ll curb your language in front of my mother.”
She opened her mouth as if to object again, but he cut her off. “If you want to eat, you’ll be there. I don’t pay my staff to wait hand and foot on someone capable of bringing herself to the dining room.”
He shook his head and closed the door on her cursing.
Thank you very much, my dear Stephen. Lord help him if he was stuck with this woman for life. But if he was, there were going to be some changes made. He’d see to it.
Fort Wayne, Indiana
Alessia stared into the darkness overhead. She hadn’t known she possessed the strength to board that train back in Youngstown. But she’d done it. And she’d kept her bags and William possessively in her grasp the entire five days.
She hugged William to her side, grateful for the crowded boardinghouse room because she was lying down to sleep for the first time in days, and because she no longer had to listen to the droning rhythm of the rails and feel the tremulous rocking of the passenger car.
The talk around her had centered on factory jobs and restaurant work, and she’d listened unobtrusively. She received frowns of disapproval from more than a few of the women. The proprietress had warned her that if William so much as cried out at night, she would have to leave.
She’d hastened to assure her that William never cried. And she would spend the entire night with him affixed to her breast if need be. She had to sleep. Her leg ached from being unable to prop it, from walking, from climbing the metal stairs on the train cars, from running to get a seat after stopping for food and water. Her back ached from carrying the bags.
But inside, deep inside, was where the true ache yawned. Her deception ate at her. Her lies and the hurt she’d caused the Hallidays were worse than any physical pain. Missing them tore at her heart and brought tears that she fought constantly.
Loneliness and shame created an ache far worse than hunger or fatigue or mending bones.
“That baby got a daddy?” came a softly spoken question from the darkness beside her.
“No,” she replied.
“Shame. Baby should have a daddy.”
Tears rolled down her temples into her hair. Lies, lies and more lies. “He died.”
“Oh. Shame.”
“Yes.” What had become of her life? Would she ever be able to speak without being on guard?
“Need a job?”
“Yes.”
“Can’t take a baby to the factory.”
“I know.”
“Don’t pay as good, but I know somebody lookin’ for help.”
“You do?”
“Shut it up!” The loud voice startled Alessia, and even William jumped in his sleep. She soothed him with loving pats.
“I’ll tell you in the morning.” The voice came as a whisper this time.
“Thank you,” she replied, grateful there were a few kind people in the world.
She purposely relaxed each limb and muscle in her body, thinking of her downy canopy bed back in Boston, the luxurious four-poster at the Hallidays’. But she no longer led that kind of life, lived in comfortable homes as before or slept in beds as privileged people did.
Worse, she thought of William’s lovely iron crib with the high sides and the taffeta skirt that fell to the floor. He’d been so comfortable in that bed Leda had provided for him.
Her choices had changed their futures. She was of the working class now. And she might as well get used to it.