Mary loved the turret room, with its many windows, window seat, and bookshelves built into the niches. It was decorated in the Queen Anne style, the furniture made of a light cherry wood. The half-tester bed had white crocheted net hangings, and the matching armoire, desk, and highboy dresser were similar to the furnishings in the bedroom of her cabin on the Trail T.
Unfortunately, the room reminded her of her bedroom back home in other ways, too. As she unpacked her trunks, Mary discovered the room didn't have anywhere near the amount of storage space she would need for her clothes or her personal items. She had already filled the hanging space of the armoire with dresses and all the dresser drawers with feminine undergarments and accessories and three trunks still remained to be unpacked—including the one that contained most of her trousseau. Mary dropped an armload of dresses on the bed. Where was she going to put them all? She stood in the center of the bedroom, debating for a moment before she decided to inspect the other bedrooms more closely. Maybe one of them would have a larger closet. Mary bit her bottom lip. She hated to give up the turret bedroom, but what else could she do? She had to have a place to put her clothes.
There was no point in moving into another bedroom, she decided after inspecting the storage area in the other rooms. None of the other rooms had any more space than hers. But she could use the armoires and closets in the remaining bedrooms if she separated her clothes by seasons and uses—leaving her winter and spring dresses and everyday dresses in her bedroom, putting her evening gowns and summer and fall clothes in the other rooms. Mary frowned. If only she had a dressing room like the one that connected Maddy's bedroom to Lee's.
A dressing room! Mary smiled. If she had to farm her clothes out to the other bedrooms for storage, why not simply use the dressing room? She hadn't really looked at it when she put Maddy down for her nap, except to notice, in an abstract sort of way, that it was very large and packed with clothes. Why not store those clothes in trunks and use the space for herself? Mary decided to give the dressing room a closer inspection.
She walked down the hall and quietly entered Maddy's room. The little girl was fast asleep, her breathing deep and even. Mary tiptoed across the room, opened the door that connected Maddy's room to Lee's, and stepped into the magnificent dressing room. Maddy's parents had probably shared the dressing room since it connected the two bedrooms of the master suite, but the man of the house hadn't used it as much as his wife.
The room was utterly feminine. A skirted glass-topped vanity table, covered with crystal perfume bottles, decorative hairpin boxes, silver-framed photographs, and an assortment of cosmetics occupied the space to the left of the pass-through hall, and an enormous dressing area took up every available inch on the right side.
Indulging her curiosity, Mary stopped to investigate. Although Mary's family, the Jordan-Alexander clan, was wealthy, they were also conservative. The main house of the Trail T ranch was large and comfortable, but it was a ranch house, not a modern-day replica
of an English castle. Mary was astounded by the extravagance displayed throughout Ettinger House and intrigued by the luxury of having a separate dressing room of this size with cedar-lined walls and one whole wall of floor-to-ceiling shelves for hats, shoes, and accessories. Not to mention the amount and variety of fine ladies' clothing hanging on the rods below the shelves. There were morning gowns, day dresses, walking dresses, afternoon dresses, evening gowns, delicate nightwear, and wraps of every description. Mary moved closer and began to rifle through the hanging clothes. Odd. There wasn't a single article of men's clothing in the entire room.
Apparently Maddy's father hadn't used the room at all. Mary frowned. Where had he slept? In the big brass bed Lee currently occupied? If so, where had he kept his clothes? Lee's room didn't contain a closet or even an armoire. It didn't need, them. Not with a complete dressing room next door. And Mary had already checked all the other bedrooms for closets. The rooms with closets had empty closets and the rooms with armoires and dressers were just as empty. Mary thought back to her tour of the house. The red parlor—with its roulette wheel, lewd painting, billiard table, drinks bar, and stale cigar smoke—and Judah's bedroom were the only two rooms in the house that showed any sign of ever having had a male occupant. And Maddy's bedroom was so thoroughly little girlish—with its pink and white wallpaper, child-sized furniture, pink canopied bed, and toys—that it was impossible to tell if it had once been a man's bedroom.
Mary bit her bottom lip as she fingered the silk fabric of a gray day dress. The pungent aroma of some exotic perfume drifted up to tease her nostrils. She walked over to the skirted vanity and began studying the objects crammed atop the glass surface. She lifted a large silver-framed photograph from behind an etched perfume bottle. Mary couldn't think of any reason why she hadn't come across any of Lee's former partner's belongings. Unless…
Mary stared down at the photograph of a man and a woman, and found her husband's sepia-colored face staring back at her.
* * *
Chapter Fourteen
Lee awoke with a start as something cold and heavy landed in the center of his chest. He opened his eyes to find Mary standing over him, her brown-eyed stare shooting sparks at him. A silver picture frame rested against his breastbone. "What the… ?"
"You lied to me," she accused. "I thought you said you had never been to Utopia before," she challenged.
"I haven't." Lee sat up in bed. The covers fell to his waist and the silver picture frame slid off his chest onto the mattress.
"Then how do you explain that?"
"What?" He yawned and wiped the sleep from his eyes, then absently rubbed his chest where the picture frame had landed.
"That!" Mary pointed to the photograph.
Lee picked up the frame and looked at the picture. He and Tabitha embracing in a photographer's studio in Denver. He thought back. What was it now? Three, three and a half years ago? He couldn't remember the exact date, but he remembered the day—a crisp, cold January day in Denver. Tabitha had insisted they stop at the photographer's studio on the way to the depot. She had wanted a picture of them together. A memento of the time they had spent as partners, as friends, and as lovers. Lee smiled at the memory. Their brief romance had been a month out of time. Four special weeks they'd shared before they went their separate ways. He had boarded the train for Chicago shortly after that photograph was taken and Tabitha—lovely, young, vibrant Tabby Gray—had remained behind in Denver to continue her work for Pinkerton. Now Tabitha Gray was dead at the age of twenty-seven. "I didn't lie to you, Mary. I've never been here before. This photograph was taken in Denver," he answered quietly. "In January eighteen seventy."
"What about your partner?" Mary already knew how Lee would answer, but she asked the question anyway.
Lee met Mary's clear brown-eyed gaze. "I never told you my partner was a man."
"But you let me continue to think it."
Lee shrugged his shoulders. "It seemed less complicated at the time. At least I thought it would be." He smiled. "I guess I was wrong."
"Then she was your partner?"
"For a while," he answered evasively.
"I see," Mary replied in a tight voice.
Lee hadn't planned to explain the circumstances of his partnership with Tabitha. It had begun and ended long before he met Mary, long after Jeannie died. He had been unattached, and lonely. He didn't owe Mary any explanation. His affair with Tabby had happened years before he met her. Years before he even learned David Alexander had a sister. His relationship with Tabitha had nothing to do with Mary. Or did it?
Lee took a deep breath and laid the picture aside. He wasn't being honest with himself or completely honest with Mary. His relationship with Tabitha Gray had everything to do with where he and Mary were now. He was living in Tabby's house, sleeping in Tabby's bed, and taking care of her daughter. And Mary Alexander was right there beside him because Tabitha had been forced to tie up the loose ends of her life before her time. Maybe he didn't owe Mary an explanation for his involvement with Tabby, but he suddenly realized he wanted to give her one. He wanted to talk about it. He wanted to tell Mary everything—to share that part of his life with someone else. And he knew he could trust Mary. Despite their first meetings, or perhaps because of them, Lee had realized from the beginning that Mary Alexander was trustworthy and loyal. "For two months," he burst out. "She was my partner from December of eighteen sixty-nine until the end of January eighteen seventy."
Mary nodded. "I see," she said again.