Chapter 4
Knowing there was nothing to do but go after Beatrix because he couldn’t very well leave a spinster woman unaccompanied in the middle of a remote forest, Norman strode to the horse Beatrix had left behind. Taking hold of the reins, he resisted the urge to drop them when the horse let out a nicker.
“This is not the time for such nasty business,” he said, earning a nibble from the horse, which had perspiration beading his forehead and his stomach roiling.
“You lost, mister?”
Turning, Norman discovered a young boy standing a few feet away from him, holding an empty bucket in one hand and a stick with a line attached to it in the other.
He wasn’t a man comfortable around children, never knew what to say to them even though he had numerous nieces and nephews. However, since he was lost at the moment, Norman nodded.
“I’m afraid I am lost. I’ve also misplaced the woman I was traveling with and was about to go on a quest to try and locate her. Any chance you’d be willing to help me out? I have a feeling she’s off to find the nearest road or train station.”
The lad smiled, revealing a large gap in his front teeth. “Is a quest the same as an adventure?”
The boy nodded. “That sounds almost as fun as fishing, so sure, I’ll help you.” His smile faded. “Don’t know how we can go about finding your lost woman, though, but the road that’ll take you to the Merrillville train station is that way.” He pointed the stick to the right. “Want me to lead the way?”
“That would be most appreciated.”
After retrieving the steel plates and research papers, and after taking a moment to re-gird his chest because there was a possibility Beatrix might reappear at some point and because she was still armed, Norman took hold of the horse’s reins and fell into step beside the boy.
He soon learned that the boy’s name was John Nelson, and he also learned that John was eight years old and had annoying sisters who didn’t care for fishing. The look he sent him after that disclosure left Norman with the distinct impression John found that more than a tad confusing. The little boy then launched into all the reasons why fishing was his favorite activity, and since he didn’t expect Norman to do more than nod every few minutes, Norman found their walk through the forest to be surprisingly pleasant.
Stepping from the trees almost an hour later, Norman came to an abrupt stop when he heard something behind him. Turning, he frowned when Beatrix cantered into sight, leaving him to wonder if she’d been following them the entire time—a concerning notion since he’d not had the smallest inkling she was trailing after him.
“Couldn’t find your way back on your own?” he called.
Beatrix reined her horse to a stop as her nose shot straight into the air. “I turned around to come back for you because I was worried about your mother, which should have you reconsidering your conclusions about spinsters and our supposed lack of maternal feelings.”
“What does my mother have to do with anything?”
“I figured she’d be beside herself if you didn’t return to Chicago within the next few days. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself knowing that if you came to an unpleasant end, I could have spared your mother such anguish. So, here I am, but how fortunate this boy came across you and was so helpful with leading you out of the forest and to a road.” With that, Beatrix slid gracefully from the saddle and strode over to John.
“I’m Miss Beatrix Waterbury,” she said, smiling at John, who was watching her with wide eyes. “What’s your name?”
“I’m John Nelson, Miss Waterbury, and I ain’t never seen a lady wearing such a fancy dress get off a horse so smoothly.”
“I’ve been riding since before I could walk,” Beatrix said right as the sound of barking rang out, which sent John bolting forward.
“That’s Charlie,” he called over his shoulder. “He’s lookin’ for me. Don’t want him to worry, so I’ll be right back.”
As John dashed away, Beatrix’s smile widened. “What a delightful boy.”
“I suppose he is, although he’s very chatty for one so young.”
“Am I correct in assuming you don’t converse in idle chitchat with children?”
“I don’t have an aptitude for participating in idle chitchat with anyone.”
“How unfortunate for you. I’ve always found it to be a wonderful way to engage in pleasant interludes with strangers who then often evolve into friends.” Beatrix turned from him as John came racing into sight, a large dog of indeterminate breed keeping pace beside him, its tail wagging furiously.
A second later, as Beatrix knelt to greet the boy and his dog, she was knocked to the ground by Charlie, peals of laughter escaping her as the dog immediately proceeded to lick her face.
Norman suddenly felt the most unusual urge to laugh with her, an idea that took him so aback that any amusement he’d been feeling disappeared in a flash.
He was not a man who laughed often, preferring to embrace a somber attitude, one that befitted a serious man of science.
The very idea that he’d felt compelled to join in Beatrix’s amusement left him with the concerning notion that his well-structured world was slowly becoming anything other than structured.
Taking a firm grip of the horse’s reins, he tugged the horse forward, not bothering to even flinch when it let out a nicker. Frankly, there was no time for flinching, not when it was becoming clear to him that his well-structured life was in certain jeopardy.
For the sake of his sanity, he realized that he needed to part ways as quickly as possible with Miss Beatrix Waterbury because even though he barely knew the woman, he was now convinced she had the ability to disrupt his world, which would then disrupt his work, and that was something he couldn’t—or rather wouldn’t—allow anyone to do.
After thanking John for getting Norman out of the forest, Beatrix couldn’t resist a roll of the eyes when Norman threw himself across the saddle again. He then asked her to keep their pace at a sedate level, stating his chest was still sore from where she’d shot him and he didn’t care to be jostled about.
Because she had shot him, though, she didn’t set her horse to galloping, letting it meander down the road at a pace that left much to be desired.
It quickly became apparent that Norman had not been exaggerating when he’d claimed to have no aptitude for chitchat. The few times she attempted to engage him in conversation during their ride were met with grunts or silence, which was why she eventually abandoned any effort in that regard, spending the time it took to get to the small train station listening to Norman spout out random numbers every few seconds.
Steering the horse to a hitching post once they reached the station, Beatrix dismounted and tied the reins around the post, doing the same to the reins of Norman’s horse. She then watched in disbelief as Norman slid clumsily off his horse, landing on his backside, but before she could offer him a hand up, he was on his feet, stamping one foot and then the other against the ground and wincing with every stamp.
“I’m trying to get rid of the tingles,” he said when he noticed her watching him. “Must have lost the circulation at some point.”
“That wouldn’t have happened if you’d ridden in the saddle.”
“No, but if I’d done that then there’s a good chance I’d have fainted from terror at some point, and then where would we be?”
“You’d still be lying on the road, where I would have left you because I don’t believe I would have been sympathetic to your plight a second time.”
“And yet another reason why you’re not married.”
Her lips twitched, but not wanting Norman to know he’d actually amused her instead of annoyed her, Beatrix spun on her heel and strode to the ticket window, purchasing them two tickets to Chicago. Delighted to be told the train to Chicago would be leaving in fifteen minutes, she took a moment to explain their situation to the man in the ticket booth, who hurried to assure her that he’d see after the horses, and then returned her money, saying she deserved a free trip after the trouble she’d experienced.
“Did that man give you back your money?” Norman asked, falling into step beside her after she handed him his ticket and strode for the train.
“He did.”
“That was hardly a prudent business decision on his part. You were obviously capable of paying since you’d already done exactly that, although I was intending to pay you back for my ticket.”
“He was trying to be kind.”
“But he lost the sale of two tickets.”
Beatrix stopped walking a few feet from the train. “Do feel free to choose a seat far, far away from me.”
He frowned. “I was already intending on doing that.”
“Good.” As she marched her way onto the train, her disappointment was swift when she realized all the seats were occupied save two—and those seats, unfortunately, were together.
“And here I was hoping to get some uninterrupted time on the ride to Chicago,” Norman said behind her. “Highly doubtful that’ll happen now, not when you talked almost nonstop on the ride here.”
“No, I didn’t,” Beatrix said. “You’re the one who was never silent.”
“I was working on an elusive mathematical equation, which demanded I talk out loud because that helps me puzzle equations out.”
“You do know that talking out loud to oneself can be construed by others as rather rude behavior, don’t you?” Beatrix asked as she headed for the two empty seats, sitting down in the one directly by the window, Norman taking the seat next to her.
“No one has ever mentioned that they find my talking out loud rude, not even the decorum instructors my mother hired for me in my youth.”
“You had decorum instructors?”
He nodded. “My mother has always been determined to take her place as one of the society leaders in Chicago society. But the lessons stopped when I turned twelve, though, after Miss Addleson, my last decorum instructor, decided I was a hopeless case.”
“Your family is society?”
He nodded again.
Beatrix’s brows drew together. “Don’t you find society events difficult because you don’t enjoy idle chitchat?”
“I’m only required to attend a few events every Season.” Norman smiled. “My mother is well aware that I’m somewhat lacking in social graces, which is why she’s content to simply tell everyone I’m occupied with my work. She only insists I attend events that are deemed significant, which, thankfully, are few and far between.”
The train chugged into motion, picking up speed as Beatrix took a moment to appreciate the scenery now flashing past her window. “How did your family become involved in Chicago society?” she asked, turning back to Norman, who was in the process of retrieving an apple from his pocket, which he promptly gave to her before retrieving another one for himself.
Beatrix smiled. “Thank you.” She took a bite, swallowed, then nodded. “Returning to your family, have they always been society?”
He took a bite of his apple, chewed it for a few seconds, then shook his head. “No, at least not on my father’s side. My grandfather began mining iron ore back in the forties. He found a large deposit on some land he’d purchased, which then led him to build an iron foundry in Chicago a few years later. That foundry became quite profitable, which allowed my grandfather, and then my father, to expand into steel mills. With their success came invitations to society events and introductions to the reigning belles of the day, of which my mother was one.” With that, Norman took another bite of his apple and descended into silence, seeming to be perfectly content to end the conversation there.
Beatrix frowned. “You really are inept at the whole chitchat business, aren’t you?”
“I never said I was inept. I said I don’t have an aptitude for it.”
“You admitted you’ve had decorum instructors, so I have to imagine those instructors broached the subject of how to go about participating in proper conversations. With that said, you’ve just neglected a basic rule of conversation—that being when someone has inquired about your life, you reciprocate by inquiring about theirs.”
“You’re upset that I didn’t inquire about your societal standing?”
“Upset wouldn’t be the word I’d choose. Curious would suit the occasion better.”
Norman polished off his apple and shrugged. “I was trying to spare you the embarrassment of admitting that you don’t have any societal standing.”
Of anything Beatrix had been expecting him to say, that hadn’t crossed her mind. “Why would you assume I don’t travel in society?”
“Because you’re a confirmed spinster. You’re also traveling alone, which suggests you’re not a lady of means. Ladies without means are rarely of the society set.”
That he kept bringing up her spinster status set her teeth on edge and had her abandoning any thought of disclosing the fact that she was a lady of means, and great means at that, or that she was a member of the illustrious New York Four Hundred.
“I’m beginning to feel you might be right about idle chitchat, that it is, indeed, overrated,” she muttered, which earned a nod from him in return.
“Of course I’m right.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Or perhaps I should amend that and say any attempt at idle chitchat with you is doomed to failure because you’re completely inept with it.”
“I’m not inept. I simply don’t enjoy it.”
“Then by all means, feel free to return to your mathematical equations. I’m perfectly capable of entertaining myself.”
“An excellent suggestion.” He closed his eyes and immediately began mouthing numbers instead of speaking them out loud, something that suggested he’d never realized how annoying his unusual habit was until she’d mentioned it, and was actually making an attempt not to annoy her.
However, because the numbers were coming out of a mouth that appeared to be clenched, it was clear he wasn’t finding elusive mathematical equations to be the distraction he’d evidently been hoping for, something that left Beatrix smiling.