Masquerade Meow (Beyond the Aristocracy)

1. A Cat Confounds a Customer

CHAPTER 1

A CAT CONFOUNDS A CUSTOMER

O ctober 1862, Montgomery Dry Goods and Mercantile, Galena, Illinois

Even before the faint tinkle of the door’s bell signaled another arrival to Montgomery Dry Goods, Ella Mae knew someone was about to enter. The sound of heavy boots on the wooden boardwalk out front had abruptly stopped, and Colonel, the orange calico cat that lived in the store, raised himself from a nap on the store’s counter.

From where she sat in an upholstered chair in front of an unlit fireplace in the adjoining drawing room, a hurricane lamp providing light by which she could sew, Ella Mae furrowed her blonde brows. The cat’s hair was puffed out in all directions, making him appear nearly double his normal size.

She stood and hurried to the counter, closing the curtain separating the store from the drawing room. Her father occasionally used it as a sitting room, the scents of pipe tobacco, musk, and wood smoke still lingering in the air.

When a young man appeared wearing a flannel shirt, loose tubular trousers held up with suspenders, and a groom’s cap, Colonel immediately settled back onto the counter and apparently resumed his nap. The distinctive odor of horse filled the air.

Setting aside the lengths of fabric she had been stitching together, Ella Mae greeted the customer. “Good morning, sir. May I be of any assistance?” Her eyes rounded slightly when she recognized John O’Connor. He was several inches taller and his shoulders seemed broader than the last time she had seen him seated at one of the desks in the back row of the schoolroom they had shared most of their lives. Gossip about town suggested he was working for Mr. Perkins at the local stable, a recent development given the owner was suffering with consumption and might not live long. “Mr. O’Connor. It’s good to see you again.”

John lifted his cap and gave her a nod. “Miss Montgomery,” he acknowledged. He clutched his cap in both hands while he regarded Colonel as if the cat might attack him. With his attention on the feline, it gave Ella Mae a moment to realize why she hadn’t immediately recognized him.

He wore an eye patch over one eye.

She was sure he didn’t sport it the last time she had seen him, but that had been a couple of years ago.

“What are you in need of on this fine day?” she asked.

“I’m looking for bridles. Tack. Stuff for horses,” the young man replied. Although there was a hint of an accent sounding in his words, Ella Mae knew he hadn’t come to Galena directly from Ireland. He was easy to understand, and he wasn’t as pale as those who arrived from the Emerald Isle seeking a better life in America. His father had been an immigrant, though, a laborer who helped build the Illinois and Michigan Canal and had died the year before.

“Did they not have what you needed down at Grant’s leather goods store?” she asked, stepping from behind the counter. Jesse Grant’s son, Ulysses, had moved to Galena only the year before to work as a clerk in the store, but once the South threatened to leave the Union, his military experience saw him commissioned a colonel of the 21st Illinois Volunteer Infantry Regiment. Although she had never been in the two-story brick structure while he clerked there, she had heard he wasn’t much of a salesman, preferring instead to talk about the Mexican War with anyone who would listen.

“I... I didn’t look there,” John stammered. “Your store is closer to the stable,” he added, waving to the Galena Stable across the street. “Can’t afford to be away too long.”

Ella Mae sensed there was something odd about his manner, but decided he had a point. The leather goods store was several blocks down the street. “There are a few bridles back here,” she said, leading him to a rack upon which several leather bridles and leads hung from hooks. “They’re not real fancy, though.”

“Thanks,” he said, his attention on her until she glanced at him. She was sure he was blushing as he regarded the tack with a critical eye. “Don’t need fancy, these’ll do.”

“Did Mr. Perkins acquire another pair of horses?” Ella Mae asked, well aware the beasts were in high demand for the war effort.

“Something like that. The ones he sold to a general last month required they come with tack,” he explained. “I made what I could with what leather we had, but…” He let the sentence trail off as he shrugged.

“I’ll let Father know to order more, if you’d like,” she offered. “We get them in on the steamship from St. Louis.”

“Appreciate it. I’m probably going to buy all of these.”

Ella Mae’s eyes rounded. “All right. I’ll be at the front when you’re ready to pay,” she said, sure he was watching her as she walked away from him. She was half-tempted to add some extra sway to her hips—she’d seen her mother do it a hundred times with her father—but she wasn’t sure she should be flirting with the mysterious John O’Connor.

Returning to her sewing, Ella Mae hummed softly as she finished stitching a seam. Creating the bodice and sleeves of a gown never took her long. It was the skirt that seemed to take forever, the yards and yards of fabric difficult to negotiate as she sewed the seams together with tiny, even stitches. The hem seemed to take even longer. With the change in fashion from the decade prior, a gown’s skirts were so wide, they required a crinoline to hold them in their dome shape. Ella had already seen evidence that future gowns wouldn’t have the same silhouette, though. The latest fashion journals from New York were showing narrower skirts with the volume moving to the posterior.

She couldn’t decide if she was looking forward to that particular change or not.

“I think these will do me for now,” John said as he joined her at the counter. He spread out three bridles and a number of leads on the polished wood, careful to avoid bothering the cat.

“Colonel doesn’t bite,” Ella remarked. “But he does take up entirely too much space.”

As if he understood her words, Colonel lifted his head, yawned, and jumped down from the counter.

“I think he’s taken offense to your assessment of his size,” John commented, a grin lifting the corner of his mouth. A dimple appeared to dent his lower cheek, which softened a face that appeared somewhat menacing due to the eye patch.

“He can take all the offense he wants, but he knows it’s true. Besides, I’m the one who usually feeds him, so…” She shrugged.

Apparently Colonel was rubbing one of John’s legs, because he glanced down and said, “I could use a cat like you. A good mouser, no doubt?”

“He is,” Ella affirmed, dipping a pen into an ink pot so she could write out the receipt. “As are the others who have adopted us over the years.” She handed him the receipt. “You must have acquired more than a pair of horses,” she commented, waving to the bridles.

“In a manner of speaking,” he replied. He handed over some bills, and Ella Mae made the change from the cash register. “I’m seeing to the Galena Stable, since Mr. Perkins is too sick to do it any longer.”

Ella Mae sighed softly. “I heard he was ill, but I didn’t realize it was that bad,” she remarked.

John lifted a shoulder. “’Fraid so.” He paused a moment. “Do you suppose... would you ever agree to take a ride with me about town?”

“On a horse?” she asked, surprised by the query.

“I... I was thinking in a carriage of some sort,” he clarified.

“Oh,” she breathed. “I suppose I would. If it was all right with my Father,” she added, her heart suddenly racing.

He appeared to be about to say something, but instead merely nodded.

“Would you like me to wrap these in paper for you?” she asked, curious as to what he had been about to say.

He furrowed a brow. “Uh… that won’t be necessary,” he replied. He inhaled and nodded to the pieces of fabric she had set aside. “May I ask what it is you’re making?”

Ella Mae grinned. “A ballgown,” she said proudly. “Mother says I can go to this year’s masquerade ball at the DeSoto House Hotel.”

“I saw mention of it in the Galena Gazette ,” he commented.

“It will be my come-out,” she stated proudly.

He gave a start. “Come-out?” he repeated, as if he hadn’t heard the word before.

“My introduction to Society,” she clarified.

He seemed momentarily confused. “I... I would have thought you were already out in Society.”

She tittered. “I feel as if I am. My mother’s friends include me when they invite her to tea, but... this will be my first formal ball. Not like the dances at the hall,” she explained.

“Oh. So… so you’ll be looking for suitors whilst you’re there?”

She gave a start. “Oh. I’ll mostly be hoping for dance partners,” she replied, knowing full well her cheeks were bright pink. “I’ve no idea what to expect.” She had a thought that perhaps John might attend the affair. “I suppose I wouldn’t be adverse to gaining a suitor from the experience. Should... someone… be… interested,” she stammered.

He seemed to think on her response for a moment. “If it’s a masquerade ball, doesn’t that mean you’ll be wearing a mask?”

She nodded.

“So… how would a gentleman know who you are? So he can become a suitor?”

Inhaling to answer, Ella Mae resisted the urge to giggle. “I’ve absolutely no idea. So… I suppose introductions will be required, although I can’t imagine the bit of lace I’ll be wearing as a mask will hide much of my face. I’m going as an angel, you see.”

He regarded her with an odd expression before finally nodding. “Well, I expect your dance card will be full. Good day, Miss Montgomery.”

“Good day, Mr. O’Connor.”

Ella Mae watched him go, sure her face was still bright pink. Why was it John O’Conor had her feeling as if she had made a fool of herself?