Chapter 15
“An autumn wedding would be perfect.” Mam’s declaration to her friends nearby rose above the chatter of the circle of young ladies surrounding Zaira.
The forty or so guests mingled about Oakland’s sprawling yard where the tables and chairs were placed in the shade of the oak trees and covered in the finest linens, china dishes, and crystal goblets. Freshly picked bouquets of flowers in vases adorned each table.
Zaira tried to keep smiling and listening to the guests, but her heart was weighing more heavily with every passing moment of the supposed celebration: the eating of the gander, the meal to announce her match with Bellamy.
Across the yard, Bellamy stood with her brothers—Kiernan, Madigan, Quinlan, and Riley—along with neighbors who’d been invited to the party.
Bellamy was more handsome than usual, which was a nearly impossible feat since he was always so striking.
But something about his wearing a dark suit with a long tailcoat instead of his more casual day wear added to his appeal.
She, of course, was attired in one of her fanciest dresses, a blue floral silk with a lace bertha trimming the low neckline.
Mam had wanted Zaira to have a new gown tailored for the occasion, and Zaira had hoped the dress fittings would allow her to make frequent trips into the city to the seamstress.
Over the past three days since she’d left St. Louis with Da and Kiernan and Alannah, Zaira had wanted to check on how Moya and Seamus were doing with the McKennas.
However, since the men had given them only a few days to plan, there hadn’t been time for a new gown, and she hadn’t been able to concoct any other excuses to go to town.
She’d been relieved to learn from Bellamy when he’d first arrived with Oscar a short while ago that the children were still staying with them and seemed to be adjusting.
Although she hadn’t talked with Bellamy for long, he’d informed her that both Seamus and Moya had taken baths and accepted the new clothing Jenny had purchased for them.
They were also eating well, and Seamus had been helping in the kitchen with fetching water and other simple chores that kept him busy.
Bellamy had continued to put out the word regarding the children’s father, but he hadn’t found any information on the man’s whereabouts.
Even with mostly good news regarding the children, Zaira was anxious to see them again.
She needed to go into the city soon to turn in the next chapter of her story to the newspaper.
She wasn’t sure what justification she’d find for escaping from Oakland, but she would figure out something. She always did.
“Maybe by autumn the cholera will be gone,” said one of Mam’s friends as she pumped her face with a fan, the lace and ruffles of her gown rustling in the breeze.
Another friend nodded, fanning her face too. “My husband said that the highest recorded daily deaths of one hundred twenty-four was on July 10, and that each day since has shown a marked decrease.”
“Thanks be.” Mam made the sign of the cross.
Thanks be, Zaira inwardly echoed. Even so, the slowing of the disease didn’t take care of the problem of homeless children like Seamus and Moya. How many more were wandering the streets, hungry and confused, wondering where their parents had gone?
“You’re so lucky, Zaira,” said Emilie Conway, grasping Zaira’s arm and pulling her back into the conversation with the young ladies, all of whom were also attired in their prettiest gowns. “You managed to win the handsomest man in all of St. Louis. How did you do it?”
Dottie Buckley made a swooning sound. “Remember last All Hallows’ Eve when Zaira peeled the whole apple skin without breaking it? When she threw it over her shoulder, it landed in the shape of a W for William Bellamy McKenna.”
Zaira forced a smile. The old tradition of casting an unbroken apple peel over the shoulder was nothing more than a superstition. It couldn’t really predict a future spouse, and she and her friends had only done so to be silly.
“I’ve been sprinkling salt on the four corners of my bed every night.” Emilie dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “And I’ve been dreaming about a man with pale hair, wearing a gray suit.”
The salt sprinkling was another Irish tradition, one that claimed if a woman put salt on her bed, then in her first hour of sleep she would see the man she would marry—or at least glimpse his hair color and the clothes he would wear on their wedding day.
There were other such customs, like putting a piece of somebody else’s wedding cake under a pillow to make a woman dream about the man she would marry. Or dropping hair and nail clippings into a fire to create a dream about the future spouse.
Zaira had always had fun with the traditions with her friends.
But the W in the apple peeling didn’t stand for William Bellamy McKenna.
Their relationship was only a farce. He didn’t like her.
And she could tell he was still angry with her for all her lying because he’d only spoken to her about the children since he’d arrived, and he’d hardly looked her way.
Dottie made eyes at one of the young men standing near Bellamy and then giggled. “I’m considering having a love potion made to help me find my true love.”
Was there such a thing as true love?
Zaira wanted to believe that was possible—had always believed she’d eventually find a man who loved her passionately and whom she loved passionately in return.
But what if she never found a man who could love her for who she really was?
A man who knew about her secrets and flaws and still accepted her and loved her regardless?
Maybe such a man only existed in fiction.
After all, she had to pretend to be someone else in order to keep her mam and dad happy with her. They had such traditional views of what a woman should be like that they would never understand she wanted more—needed more, needed freedom, needed to create. Why would that change in a husband?
Regardless, she was here now, and she had to make the best of the situation—her fake engagement to her fake fiancé. She felt terrible that her mam had gone to so much trouble for the party.
Zaira had tried to object to such a big celebration, had even suggested waiting because of the cholera in hopes of deterring Mam’s plans.
But Mam had pushed forward anyway, stating that they were all safe in the countryside, that she missed the gatherings with her friends, and that eating the gander would be the perfect occasion to have company.
Da and Kiernan had also decided it would be a way to show the community that the Shanahans weren’t cowering away after Kiernan’s marriage to Alannah and that the past was behind them.
Emilie nudged her arm and leaned in. “Look who’s coming our way.”
Bellamy was crossing toward them, and Emilie was boldly staring at him as though he was a dessert she wanted to gobble up.
Strange prickles formed inside Zaira. Emilie shouldn’t be looking at her fake fiancé that way. Her friend didn’t know the relationship wasn’t real. And it was rude to make eyes at a man who was taken.
It didn’t matter that Zaira understood her friend’s attraction to Bellamy.
His freshly shaven face showed off his angular jaw and high cheekbones.
His dark hair was parted neatly on one side and slicked back.
And his eyes were just as dark and almost brooding tonight, as if he wasn’t happy with the party.
Well, the party wasn’t her fault, if that’s what he was thinking.
She wasn’t happy about it either. But she would try to enjoy the evening.
After all, she never wasted a single moment of anything that happened in her life.
It was all fuel to ignite her writing inspiration.
Surely some day she could write all about the fake engagement party in one of her novels.
As he neared, the conversations from the clusters of women around her tapered to silence. Everyone was watching her and Bellamy. Everyone wanted to see them interact. And everyone would be judging their relationship.
She couldn’t give people anything more to gossip about. Instead, she had to pretend she was interested in Bellamy and make the guests believe the match was a good one. That’s what her parents would expect of her tonight, and she couldn’t let them down or disappoint them, especially so publicly.
No, she had to use her best acting skills with Bellamy and put on a show.
She curved her lips into what she hoped was a welcoming smile.
As he stopped, he didn’t smile in return.
“I’ve been wondering when I would get to spend some time with you.” She widened her smile and made sure to sound cheerful.
Bellamy held out his elbow. “I’ve been told it’s time for us to take our spot together at the table so the meal can begin.”
She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and allowed him to guide her toward the center table. As they moved out of hearing range from the other guests, she leaned in and whispered, “You’ve made it clear you detest me. But remember, you have to at least pretend to like me.”
He leaned in toward her ear. “I don’t detest you.”
“You could have fooled me and everyone else here.”
“I’m sorry, so I am.” His arm brushed against her shoulder. “I just wish we could have avoided all of this.”
“Me too.” She sighed. “But since we’re here, we have to at least be cordial to each other, or people will start to wonder what’s going on.”
“Rightly so.” He released a tense breath too. “I’ll try to be doing better.”
“We can at least be friends, Bellamy. That’s not too hard, is it?”
He hesitated.
It was long enough to send a shiver of apprehension through her. Did he dislike her so much that he didn’t even want to be friends?
“Never mind.” She couldn’t keep the stiffness from her tone. “Just see that you’re somewhat affectionate, and let’s hope that’s convincing enough for everyone.”