<< Go Back

Sing in the Sunlight

By Kathleen Denly

Order Now!

CHAPTER 1

The Young Ladies' Seminary
Benicia, California
December 3, 1857

Clarinda Humphrey jammed the chair beneath her doorknob and tugged the beautiful garnet ring from its hiding place beneath her chemise. Undoing the knot, she slipped the heirloom free of the ribbon that had kept it close to her heart these last three days. She slid the ring onto the third finger of her left hand.

Or tried to.

The metal caught on the thick, hideous scar that ran across her second knuckle. With determination, she shoved it past and narrowed her attention to the stone's promise.

She was loved.

The urge to hum swelled within her as she strolled to the window. She pulled back the heavy drapes and lifted her hand to the light filtering through the thin lace curtains. Barely a glint reflected in the deep red stone.

She parted the lace, careful to remain out of view, and tilted her hand in the late afternoon sunlight below the sill. A myriad of tiny red dots danced across the walls.

This was the night. She’d never be alone again. She clapped her fingertips in a quiet patter.
Laughter filtered through the windowpane.

She froze. Had they seen her? No. The slit in the curtains was too narrow. Wasn’t it? She dared a peek at the garden below.

Several of her classmates strolled the paths. The girls chattered in the late afternoon sunlight, seemingly oblivious to her observation.

Not girls. Women—despite what their parents may believe. Like her, they’d been sent to the first female college in the west to be trained—molded—into the ladies their parents wished them to become.

But they were nothing like her.

All bright, beautiful, and whole, none of her classmates had ever questioned their future. Why should they? They'd never been shunned at social gatherings, nor been asked to remain behind so as not to repel the other guests. They hadn’t been told they would never marry—that no man would ever want them. They'd never lain awake at night wondering why God had abandoned them.

Nor had they ever made any attempt to befriend her.

And that was fine with her. Normally.

Right now Clarinda’d give almost anything for a confidante to entrust with her secret. She was bursting to tell someone. Not even Katie, her one true friend at this school, knew of her plans. Clarinda couldn't risk the young maid losing her position here if it were discovered she'd kept a scandalous confidence. Though, she would know soon enough. The day had finally arrived.

Clarinda's left arm grew warm. She glanced at her sleeve. She'd been rubbing her scars through the fabric again. With a huff, she turned from the window, tugging her cuff out of habit. She pulled on her gloves and lifted her hat from its hook, pinning it in place.

She jerked the tea towel cover from the small oval mirror and examined her reflection. Her veil hung askew, allowing a rebellious blond curl to poke out the bottom. Perhaps she should have confided in Katie. With her friend’s help, Clarinda’s chignon wouldn’t be falling apart minutes after it’d been created. She jabbed in another pin to hold the curl.

Clarinda adjusted her veil so the flowers embroidered on its sheer fabric hid the left side of her face. She'd grown so used to staring through the creamy-white cotton voile, she rarely noticed it anymore. If she lifted the filter, the world's colors grew bolder. The light, brighter. But she preferred her muted, hazy view. She tucked the ends of the veil into the unfashionably high neck of her bodice. The haze suited her life.

Or it had.

Her mouth pulled to the side, smirking at her reflection. Arnie had changed all that.

She lifted the timepiece from where it was pinned to her bodice.

One hour.

Her stomach fluttered as she sucked in a breath.

One hour until she could break free of these walls—these grounds that had imprisoned her since her parents banished her here two and a half years ago. They hadn't called it that, of course. They insisted sending her to this school was their way of ensuring she had a means of supporting herself once they'd gone. After all, it wasn't fair to expect her future brother-in-law to provide for her. He would have his own family, as well as their parents’ shop, to look after. A shop she'd never been permitted to set foot in for fear she would make their customers uncomfortable.

She didn't make Arnie uncomfortable. Quite the opposite. Grinning, she pictured his bright blue eyes and wavy brown hair slicked back with oil. His goatee had tickled her face the first time they kissed, but she'd gotten used to the scruff.

Footsteps hurried down the hall outside her door. She darted across the room and yanked the drapes over the window, cloaking the room in near darkness. Only skinny lines of light peeked around the fabric's edges.

Arnie hadn't been deterred by her veil. He saw it as a challenge, as some men were wont to do. Usually, the removal of her left glove—revealing the scars beneath—was enough to send those men running for the hills. Not Arnie. He didn’t so much as flinch at the sight. Nor did he laugh or mock her the way those men on the ship had when a gust of wind whipped her covering loose during her journey from San Diego.

Home. She could scarcely believe she would see it again.

When her parents had put her on that steamer up the coast, they'd bid her farewell with the expectation that, upon graduation, she would find a position as a teacher in some backwoods town where the community would be too desperate for an instructor to care about her scars.

Instead, she’d be returning with a new husband. The look of shock on her parents' faces would be priceless. And once the truth set in, her mother might genuinely smile.

At her. For the first time in fourteen years. She ran a finger through the dust on the sill. Her parents might even let her visit their shop.

After a childhood spent dusting shelves and tidying stock, she'd never imagined it possible to miss such tasks as terribly as she had after they moved to San Diego eight years ago. Again, she wondered how their new shop differed from the one she'd cleaned in Washington D.C. Father said the place was bigger. Her little sister, Lucy, claimed it was fourteen steps across and twenty eight steps deep. But Clarinda longed to see it for herself. Lucy was almost a foot shorter than Clarinda's five feet, ten inches. Did she remember to dust the tops of the shelves the way Clarinda used to?

Someone knocked on her door.

“Miss Humphrey, are you feeling better, dear?” Miss Leming's voice carried through the door. “Will you be joining us this evening?”

Aside from Katie, Miss Leming was the only one who paid attention to Clarinda outside of classes and recitals. It was her job to supervise the students housed in her section of the second-floor sleeping quarters. Since Clarinda had no roommate, she received extra attention. None of the other young women had wanted to room with her. Not that Clarinda minded. Sneaking out to see Arnie would have been impossible had she had a roommate.

Clarinda removed the chair, careful not to allow a telltale scrape. She opened the door and feigned a wince, squinting as if the light from the hall pained her. “I'm afraid not, Miss Leming. This headache is positively merciless. I can barely keep my eyes open and feel a bit light-headed.” She pretended to waver on her feet. “I think I'd better rest for the night.”
Miss Leming placed a hand on Clarinda's right arm—no one ever touched her on the left. “Should I send for the doctor?”

“Oh no, ma'am.” Perhaps the wavering had been a bit too much. “I'm sure all I need is a restful night's sleep. I'll be good as new in the morning. You'll see.”

“Well, if you're sure.”

Clarinda tensed as Miss Leming peered past her shoulder, studying the room. “One of the maids brought you fresh linens and a pitcher of water, I see. Does it need refilling?”

Miss Leming tried to enter, but Clarinda blocked her way. “No, ma'am. I've plenty. The maid was just here to refill it.”

“Oh. Well...” the teacher stepped back. “You will let me know if the pain grows worse or you need anything?”

Clarinda nodded and began edging the door closed.

Miss Leming took the hint and turned to go. “I'll see you in the morning, then.”

“Goodnight.” Clarinda closed the door and leaned her forehead against the wood.
The teacher’s footsteps faded away.

She scanned the darkened interior of her room. How much of the space had been illuminated by the hall lamps? Could the teacher have seen Clarinda's traveling bag? She shook herself. Surely not, or Miss Leming wouldn't have left.

Clarinda lifted the timepiece again. One quarter of an hour had passed. She groaned. How would she ever endure the next forty-five minutes?

#

Nevada City, California
December 3, 1857

Numbers blurred before Richard Stevens’s eyes. Truth was, the Prosperity Mine’s ledger had long ago lost his attention. Since the shock of his sister’s letter last week, the sense that he was wasting time had hounded him. And it was only growing worse.

This office was a prison. The responsibilities of ownership, like shackles chaining him to his desk. He wanted to walk the mile to his mine and…

What?

His desire to dig had died. Buried in the collapsed mine alongside the previous owner’s son. After the accident, Richard nearly walked away from the chance to purchase Prosperity Mine. But the men who worked the shafts depended on the wages they earned to support their families. He was proud of the changes he’d made, lowering the risk of another accident. But the alterations had been completed months ago. Now…

He glared at his ledger. How could owning a successful gold mine be so mind-numbing?

Female sniffling dragged his thoughts back to the office. His gaze shifted to his secretary seated at her desk across the small room. Miss Bennetti wiped at her nose. Did she have a cold? At least, instead of her dress sleeve she now used a handkerchief.

His secretary had changed in the past year. She wore a plain, brown dress, and a simple bun. Perfectly respectable. So, the yellow violet tucked behind her ear was a bit unusual. Still, her appearance was a far cry from the shocking get-up she’d been wearing when he met her. If that weren’t enough, her face had been caked in powders and her eyes outlined by lampblack. He’d had trouble believing she was only eighteen until she’d wiped herself clean. Without the makeup, her big brown eyes…were shimmering with tears? Wet trails ran down her cheeks. “What's wrong, Miss Bennetti?”

“I'm so sorry.”

He glanced at her tidy desk. Nothing seemed amiss. “For what?”

“I'm such a wicked woman. I took advantage of your big heart.” She wrung her kerchief. “You should've left me where you found me.”

Not this again.

He’d taken a wrong turn into the Barbary Coast last spring and found Bella Bennetti sobbing in an alley. Of course, he couldn't leave her there. So he’d escorted her to safety. On the stoop of the nearest church, she’d shared her tale of woe and he’d done what any gentleman would—offered her a respectable means of supporting herself. She’d eagerly accepted.

Unfortunately, Miss Bennetti lapsed into her first fit of self-recrimination within a week of arriving in Nevada City. Her dramatic episodes continued off and on for months. It had been enough to break his heart and drive him mad at the same time.

Yet three months had passed since her last fit. Richard thought she'd finally accepted his assurances of her value as a forgiven child of God and would no longer castigate herself for her past naïve mistakes. It seemed he’d been wrong.

“You’re forgetting, God loves and forgives you and so do I. Besides”—he waved a hand to encompass their tiny office—“you've been doing a marvelous job. I don't know how I'd get on without you.”

It was the truth. On her desk sat a stack of correspondence she'd penned and addressed for him, the wood floors still gleamed from her morning scrubbing, and the little green curtains she'd sewn for him framed clean windows. His lips tilted. There probably weren’t curtains in actual prisons.

Unfortunately, his reassurances failed to make his secretary smile. Instead, she wailed louder.

“You don't understand. I'm so ungrateful.” She sniffed and blew her nose. “I mean, I'm not ungrateful. Oh, no!” She leapt from her chair and rushed across the room to grasp his hand in both of hers. “Please don't ever think me ungrateful. I am so grateful. Truly, I am.”

“No, of course not”—Richard began, but quickly corrected—“I mean, of course. I know you're grateful. You've told me repeatedly how grateful you are.”

Miss Bennetti nodded. Her breathing slowed, and her face crumpled again. “Oh, but I'm not!” she wailed. “I'm so sorry.” She fell into his lap, burying her face in his collar, still sobbing.
Her momentum threatened to topple them both. Richard grabbed the edge of his desk, keeping them upright.

The sensation of crawling ants traveled up his spine. He glanced at the windows facing the town's main street. If anyone looked their way, the view wouldn't do his reputation any favors. People already thought him odd for hiring a female secretary.

He patted her shoulder. “There, there. Of course you are. You're just too hard on yourself.” He ought to remove her from his lap. But how to do it without further upsetting her?

She shook her head, face still mashed into his shirtfront. “Please forgive me. I didn't mean for it to happen.”

Richard stilled. “Didn't mean for what to happen?”

“To-o-ommy!” She somehow extended his head miner's name into a three syllable whine that sent a chill through his veins. “I didn't mean to, but he's so handsome and he was so nice to me and—”

A white-hot fire chased the chill away.

“What did he do to you?” He shoved her back to see her face. Images of other scenes he'd witnessed after taking that wrong turn last year, flashed through his mind. “Tell me and I'll make sure he regrets it. I'll make sure he never comes near you again.”

She gasped. “Oh, no! I knew you'd feel like that. I told Tommy. He didn't believe me, but I told him ...”

Richard slid her from his lap and stood.

He guided her into his chair, vaguely aware she was still talking.

Tommy. Richard stomped to the coat rack. He and that man had worked side by side in the shafts for years. Tommy was like family. That’s why he'd given Tommy the task of bringing the roster to the office each day. How could his head miner have betrayed him?

Richard ground his teeth.

Miss Bennetti sniffed, blotted her eyes with the mangled kerchief, and blew her nose. “I'll tell him the wedding is off, that's all. He'll understand. He has to.”

Her words doused his burning rage like a bucket of creek water. “What?”

“I'm so sorry. I know how much you depend on me, and I knew—no matter how you denied it—I knew you were attracted to me.” She pushed to her feet. “Of course, I'll marry you instead of Tommy. It's only right after everything you’ve done.” She sniffled and wiped her nose again.

“He offered to marry you?” What was she saying? “After he took advantage of you, you mean? To stop you from telling me?”

Her hand flew to her mouth. “No! It wasn't like that at all. Tommy and I haven't...”

How could a woman with her background still blush and stammer over the subject of physical intimacy? “You haven't?”

“No.” She slumped into his chair, her lower lip jutted out. “I told you I wouldn't. I promised God. I thought you...”

He grimaced and examined the floor. He had seen the change in her since she'd knelt at the church altar last month. He shouldn't have thought she'd...but hadn't she said...? His memory was clear as mud. But it didn't matter.

He strode across the room and lowered himself to a knee in front of her. “Miss Bennetti,”—he took her hand and waited for her to look at him—“it would be a great honor to call you my wife. But I would never ask you to give up the desires of your heart.”

Her mouth popped open.

He held up his hand. “Tommy is a good man. If I cannot have you for myself, nothing would make me happier than to see you married to him. If that is what you wish.”

“But what about you, Mr. Stevens? Once I'm married, I'll be too busy seeing after Tommy to come to the office. And won't you be brokenhearted?”

A family of his own was something he’d always wanted. He’d once considered solving both their problems with an offer of marriage. However, it hadn't taken him long to realize their temperaments were not well suited. And the thought perished. In fact, it was so fleeting, he was certain he’d never revealed any hint of it to anyone.

Nevertheless, Miss Bennetti believed any man who’d go to such trouble to help her must have ulterior motives. But he’d no desire for a marriage of convenience. “I'll miss you, of course, but I'll be fine. If God's plan is for you to marry Tommy, I'm certain the Lord will see me through in your absence. Don't you worry about me.” He patted her hand.

The office door opened and they turned.

Tommy stood there, a bouquet in his grip. His mouth pressed firm as his nostrils flared.

#

Bag in hand, Clarinda slipped from her room, pulling the door shut behind her. The click echoed in the empty hall. She froze, listening. The barely discernible voice of the school’s director addressing the students came through the floorboards. Nothing more. Clarinda released her breath and scurried to the stairs.

As she descended, the muffled notes of “When I Saw Sweet Nellie Home” filled the hall. Of course, it was Arnie’s sister’s rich contralto voice singing. Beautiful Mary always began the nightly musical recitations for the school. The song’s melody was exquisite, and the lyrics so fitting Clarinda’s current mood that she sucked in a breath—her lungs ready to release the music trapped within. But as she’d done every day of her life for the past nine years, she squelched it.

No one wanted to hear her sing. Not anymore.

A door swung open as a maid backed out of the nearest classroom.

“Katie,” Clarinda whispered.

Katie jumped. Both the vases she'd had tucked beneath her arms crashed to the floor with a deafening shatter. Wilted petals and stems scattered across the wooden planks.

Clarinda tossed her bag behind a nearby sideboard as the door to the assembly room flew open.
Miss Leming emerged, eyes wide. “What's happened?”

Before either Katie or Clarinda could answer, the teacher spied the mess and moaned. “Oh, no. Not again, Katie.”

Clarinda cringed. Though Katie’s heart was the biggest Clarinda had ever known, and her intent was always for good, she possessed an uncanny knack for disaster. The school’s director had warned Katie if the calamities didn’t stop she would lose her position—a position that had rescued her from her monster of a father.

Clarinda stepped forward. “It was my fault. I bumped into her.”

Miss Leming offered a sad smile. “That's kind of you to say, Clarinda, but falsehoods, even those formed with good intentions, are unbecoming a woman of God.”

Clarinda ignored the twinge in her conscience. God hardly cared what she did, never mind what she said. “No, really. It was entirely my fault.” She stepped back to place a hand on the banister, as though to steady herself. “I thought I was feeling better and came to join the assembly, but a dizziness overcame me just as Katie was exiting the classroom. I'm afraid I bumped her in my attempt to regain my balance.”

Miss Leming looked to Katie. “Is this true?”

“I...” Katie glanced at Clarinda.

Squinting as if the light bothered her, Clarinda placed a hand over her face and directed a sideways glare at Katie. Do not contradict me.

Turning her gaze to the floor, Katie nodded.

“Very well.” Miss Leming sighed. “Clarinda, I will assist you back to your room. You clearly should have remained in bed. Katie, please see that this mess is cleared before the assembly is concluded. I don't want the girls walking through these shards.”

Clarinda’s hand dropped. She couldn't return to her room. Only a few minutes of assembly remained. She'd miss her opportunity to escape.

Arnie was waiting for her.

Clarinda resisted the urge to glance at her secreted travel bag and grimaced as she lowered herself to the steps. “I think I'd better rest here a moment instead, Miss Leming. The dizziness has grown worse with all this commotion. I fear if I take another step I’ll not be able to retain the contents of my stomach.”

Miss Leming tisked her disapproval. “I knew I should have sent for the doctor.” She turned to Katie. “Will you find one of the other maids and send them—”

“No!” Clarinda relaxed her expression to give the impression her discomfort was easing. “Please. If you'll allow me a moment's rest, I'm sure I'll be able to return to my room. You're right. I should never have left it. A good night's rest is all I need. This headache will surely be gone by morning.”

The assembly room door opened again. Clarinda stifled a groan. Would the entire school be coming to see what the fuss was about?

One of Clarinda's classmates poked her head into the hallway. She gaped at the mess on the floor. “It’s time for your class's recitations, Miss Leming.”

Miss Leming stepped toward the door, but pivoted. “I'll not have you climbing those stairs on your own—”

“I won't. I promise. I'll just sit here until Katie is finished cleaning. I'm sure she won't mind helping me upstairs.”

Katie, who'd begun collecting the dead blooms and sharp pottery pieces, looked up from her kneeling position. “I’m happy to help Miss Humphrey, ma'am.”

“Miss Leming?” The director’s voice rang out from the open door.

Heaving a sigh, Miss Leming hurried away.

At last, the door closed behind the teacher. Clarinda sprang from the steps and fetched her bag.
Katie stood. “What’re thee doing?” The maid’s Northern English accent thickened with confusion, making her more difficult to understand. “Shh.” Clarinda glanced at the closed door. “Arnie and I are to be married tonight.” She picked her way through the mess to her friend. “I'm meeting him behind the church, and then we're riding to Sacramento. He's found a preacher who'll marry us there.” She pulled the precious ring from its hiding place.

“He has?” Katie's eyebrows rose toward her mobcap.

“He asked me three days ago. I've been dying to tell you, but he made me promise not to tell a soul.”

“Loavin days!” Katie's hurt was written on her face. “And thee’re leaving without even a farewell?”

“No.” Clarinda released the ring to dangle from her neck and gripped Katie's fingers. “Never. I was coming to find you.”

Katie peered through the film of Clarinda’s veil, searching her eyes. Her mouth eased into a sad smile. “I know it's what thee've been hoping for, but it’ll be lonesome ’round here without thee.”

Clarinda pulled her into a fierce hug. “I'll miss you, too.” She drew back. Tears clogged her throat, but the joy of what lay before her forbade them from forming in her eyes. “But I'll write.”

“Thee will?”

“I promise.” She glanced to the still-closed assembly door. The muffled recitations continued for now, but wouldn't last much longer. “I must go.” She squeezed her friend's hands. “Wish me well?”

“May the good Lord keep thee.”

Clarinda dashed to the front door.

“Wait!” Katie's loud whisper halted Clarinda as she gripped the knob.
She glanced back.

Katie darted closer, keeping her voice low. “What'll I tell Miss Leming?”

“Don't tell her anything unless she asks.” Clarinda hesitated. Katie loathed deceit. “If she does ask, tell her I'm in my room and have gone to sleep.”

Katie frowned, but nodded.

With a soft smile, Clarinda pulled the door open and raced toward her future.

Order Now!

<< Go Back