Temptation

“She’s here,” Grace said, out of breath from her run up the stairs.

Temperance looked up from the sea of papers around her. Her mother had written that Angus was so happy that James was at last marrying that he was going to foot the bill for the biggest wedding that McCairn had ever seen.

“Does he think that will be difficult?” Grace asked when Temperance told her of Angus’s generosity. “Or maybe he plans to use the change in his pocket.”

Since the announcement of the pending marriage, Grace had become a different person, Temperance thought. The calm Grace she’d first met was now sarcastic and nervous. And, try as she might, Temperance couldn’t find out what was bothering her. However, Temperance liked to think that maybe Grace was upset at the thought that Temperance would soon be leaving them and returning to New York.

It had now been four days since Temperance had spoken to James on the mountain. She had been embarrassed by her outburst, and when she reached the house, she’d had a little talk with herself. She was behaving like a child with all her moods and petulance. She had to stop herself from trying to figure out why she was constantly either angry or wildly happy or melancholy, or whatever the mood of the moment was. Instead, Temperance made a vow to get on with this final task of preparing a wedding; then she was going to leave McCairn forever. She was going back to New York, the place where she belonged, where she didn’t live in a world of constantly changing moods.

“Such a waste of time,” she told herself, then looked at the list of merchants that her mother had sent her, all of whom were to be consulted before the wedding.

“I don’t know why Kenna can’t plan her own wedding,” Grace said, her mouth drawn into a tight, prim little round shape.

“I guess she’s busy,” Temperance said, refusing to be drawn into whatever was bothering Grace. Temperance had her own problems; she didn’t need more. With every day that passed she was thinking more about never seeing the people in McCairn again. Would Alys get into medical school if Temperance wasn’t there to bully some hard-nosed administrator into admitting her? What was Ramsey going to do with his life? Had anyone ever thought of that? Maybe she should talk to his parents, whoever they were.

Temperance halted her thinking because she’d yet again picked up the sketch for the wedding dress that Finola had drawn. Such talent! Temperance thought. Such a beautiful dress. “I hope mine looks just like this,” she said under her breath.

“What?!” Grace snapped.

“Grace, I think we need to talk about—”

“She’s here!” Alys said from the doorway. “Don’t you want to meet her?”

Grace looked at Temperance; Temperance looked at Grace. Both women almost said, “No,” but then they turned back to Alys and gave her weak smiles.

“Of course,” Temperance said. “Of course we want to meet her.”

“She’s ever so lovely,” Alys said dreamily. “Just like a storybook princess.”

At that Temperance looked down at what she was wearing. Ever since the three wonderful days she’d spent in the village, she’d left her beautiful clothes in their trunks. After all, silk skirts snagged on brambles and silk stained easily. Her cotton blouse and heavy skirt with its wide belt seemed perfect considering that she had so much work to do. But right now she wished she’d thought of making a bit of effort this morning.

As she followed Alys and Grace out the door, Temperance paused for a moment to glance at herself in the mirror. Her hair was straggling about her face and there was a stain on her shirt collar. Suddenly, she remembered the charming Charmaine mentioning Temperance’s wrinkles about her eyes. Leaning forward, she looked into the mirror. No wrinkles. Happy at that thought, she smiled—and there they were!!

“Are you coming?” Grace said from the doorway, her tone saying that she’d rather swallow the pins that were usually in her mouth than meet Kenna Lockwood.

The lines at the corners of her eyes had put Temperance into her own bad mood. “Why are you so bad-tempered lately?” she asked, frowning.

As they started down the stairs, Grace opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, then opened it. “I think you’re going to see,” she said after a moment. “You saw inside me, so I think you’re going to see what I know.”

With that cryptic bit of dialogue, Grace moved on down the stairs and left Temperance alone.

Most of the village was inside the dining room, spilling out into the big entrance hallway. For a moment Temperance stood at the bottom of the staircase and looked at all of them. In the weeks that she’d been in McCairn, she’d come to know nearly all of them. She knew their babies’ names and their grandparents’ names. She knew that if Nessie ate strawberries, she broke into hives. She knew that Mrs. Headrick secretly nipped at her husband’s whiskey. And she knew that Mrs. Means embroidered all her underwear and that she and her husband . . .

Anyway, Temperance had come to know these people, and she had difficulty thinking of leaving the place.

But she was going to have to, she thought, so she’d better make the best of it. Taking a deep breath, she put her shoulders back and began to make her way through the crowd. She was the housekeeper and, therefore, the unofficial hostess until James said “I do” to another woman and threw Temperance out on her—

Again, she stopped her train of thought and pasted a smile on her face. In front of her was the back of the renowned Kenna, the woman whose name had been on the lips of every man, woman, and child of McCairn for many days now. Soon to be the wife of James McCairn.

She was a small woman, Temperance thought, short and very slim. She was dressed in a divine little creation that Temperance was sure was by Paquin. She’s not poor, Temperance thought. She had reddish hair, perfectly arranged, and not covered by a hat.

For a moment Temperance stood behind her and looked at the faces of the people who were seeing their beloved Kenna for the first time in years. If they had been looking into the eyes of an angel, they couldn’t have looked more adoring.

Quietly, Temperance waited until Kenna turned around and acknowledged her, and when she did, Temperance drew in her breath quickly.

Yes, Kenna was beautiful. She had dark green eyes and that perfect skin that comes from incessant care. Her eyebrows were plucked so that they looked natural but arched perfectly. Her lips were perfect; her nose exquisite; the shape of her face was—

Oh, yes, Kenna Lockwood was indeed beautiful. And Temperance had seen that kind of beauty many times. And she’d seen what was deep, deep inside eyes like those many times.

“How do you do?” Temperance said cheerfully, suddenly feeling as though an enormous weight had been lifted off her shoulders. “I’m Temperance O’Neil, the housekeeper.”

For a moment something flickered across Kenna’s perfect green eyes, then they changed to warmth. “And I’m Kenna, here to marry the McCairn.”

“Better you than one of us,” Temperance said loudly, then smiled when the villagers around her laughed. She had gone from feeling as though her life were ending to feeling wonderful.

“Yes, better me,” Kenna said softly, and again that expression crossed her eyes.

What a temper she has, Temperance thought, but kept smiling. “You must be tired. May I show you to your room? It’s the best in the house. Of course later you’ll be wanting to decorate. If you can get any money out of James, that is.”

Again everyone laughed, and again Kenna gave Temperance a quelling look.

“I’m sure I’ll manage,” Kenna said softly. “I’ll have my own people to help me, the people I grew up with and have always loved.” Her eyes said to Temperance, See if you can top that one.

But Temperance didn’t take the challenge. Instead, she just smiled and motioned for Kenna to follow her up the stairs.

Of course half the village followed the two of them, Kenna’s many trunks and boxes on their backs or under their arms. And once they reached the room that was to be Kenna’s, Temperance stepped back and quietly walked down the corridor to the back stairs, then raced down to the kitchen.

“Where is he?” she asked, breathless. She’d run down the stairs so fast that she’d lost her breath.

“He wasn’t with the others?” a sullen Ramsey said as he bottle-fed a lamb.

Temperance could have kissed the boy. Only he and Grace seemed to have any regret that Temperance was leaving McCairn. Temperance shook her head no.

“He be in with the money,” Eppie said—her way of saying that James was working on the account books in the library.

“He’ll be in a bad mood then,” Ramsey said.

“He’s going to be in a worse one after what I tell him,” Temperance said joyfully over her shoulder as she went running out of the room.

She ran into the library so fast that she skidded on the stones in the entryway. Without bothering to knock, she threw open the double doors to the room, shut them behind her, then leaned against them. James looked up from a desk piled high with papers.

“You can’t marry her,” Temperance said, still out of breath.

“Hmph!” James grunted, then looked back at the papers. “I thought you had something new to say to me.”

“No, I mean it: you can’t marry her.” Temperance started to walk forward, but her skirt was caught in between the two doors.

Putting down his pen, James looked up at her. “All right, I’ll bite. What’s the problem now? Why can’t I marry Kenna?”

“She’s—” Temperance had to stop for a moment as she got her skirt out from between the doors. “She’s . . . She’s . . .” How did she say this politely? she wondered.

“She’s a woman who’s seen hard times?” James asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Yes, but she’s also—”

“Had some men other than her husband?” James asked without hesitation, then looked back down at the papers. “I thought you were going to help with the accounts. I hate paperwork.”

Temperance walked to his desk and put her hands on it. “You know this? You’re going to marry such a woman?”

He looked up at her in surprise. “You’d be the last one I thought was a snob,” he said in surprise. “You’re not the only one who can write letters, you know. Kenna and I have been corresponding ever since your mother and Aunt Rowena were here. I know a lot about her.”

“You know that she . . . ?”

“Yes, I know that she . . .” He was laughing at her. “Really, Miss O’Neil, I thought that with your background you would be more worldly-wise than this. You didn’t really believe that romantic nonsense of my aunt’s, did you? That Kenna and I were once in love?”

“But you said you were,” Temperance said, looking at him in shock.

“I said no such thing!” he said in a voice of injury.

“You told me that you were in love with a village girl and that your father made you marry someone else.”

“Oh,” James said, smiling. “That.” He picked up a couple of papers and looked at them. “I was probably trying to make you jealous, which would probably get you into bed with me. Did you give me the receipt for the sheep-dip you bought in Edinburgh? I can’t find it anywhere.”

Angrily, Temperance bent over, rummaged through the papers and withdrew the receipt. “Is that all you were after?”

Looking up at her, he raised one eyebrow. “Aren’t you a little old to think that men are after anything else?”

At that Temperance threw up her hands, then turned her back on him. “If one more person mentions my age, I’m going to—” Taking a breath to calm herself, she turned back to look at him. “Have you thought about what you’re doing? I think that Kenna may have had . . .” She lowered her voice. “Paying customers. I’ve seen what’s in her eyes many times. I don’t think she just ‘fell on hard times.’”

James looked at her in silence. “Are you finished?” he asked after a while. “I do know about her. She was left a widow, some man stole all the money her husband left her, and she had to earn her living how she could. Can you tell me what’s the difference between her and Grace?”

“I don’t know,” Temperance said honestly.

“Why do you champion one woman who was down on her luck and want another one thrown out on her fanny? Why are you telling me she’s not good enough for marriage?”

“I don’t know,” Temperance said again, looking at him. Lately, she’d been saying that a lot. Truthfully, it seemed that she’d been confused since the day she met this man.

Standing, James moved to the other side of the desk and companionably put his arm around her shoulders. “You didn’t really believe that she agreed to marry me out of love, did you? She can help me fulfill the terms of the will, and I can help her. It’s quite simple, really.”

He was walking her toward the door. “And after the marriage?” Temperance asked quietly.

“She’ll probably go back to Edinburgh, and I’ll send her an allowance. I’m sure both of us will be quite happy with the arrangement.” At the door he halted and looked down at her.

“But it’s so cold. What about the people of McCairn? They’re expecting a lot from her.”

“If they get to keep their homes, that’s enough, isn’t it?”

When Temperance didn’t say anything, James put his fingertips under her chin and tipped her face up to him. “Thanks to you, we now have the hat business and Lilias is going to make her liqueur and Blind Brenda has her books, so McCairn is better off than it’s been in many years. You can go back to New York and help other people. You’ve helped us all we need. Now go and plan the wedding. Give my people a party to tell their grandchildren about and make it cost Uncle Angus thousands.”

Bending, he gave Temperance a fatherly kiss on the forehead. “Now go and do some work. And stop worrying about Kenna. She’s my concern, not yours.”

At that he opened the door and gently shoved her into the hallway. And once he closed the door behind her, James McCairn leaned against it and closed his eyes for a moment. It was difficult being that near her and not grabbing her to him and kissing her with all the desire that was inside him.

For a moment, he rolled his eyes skyward. “Please make this work,” he prayed. “Please make her choose us.” He glanced at the desk covered in papers, then decided that what he needed was a long, hard run on a fast horse.

Temperance avoided the crowd that was still downstairs and went to the peace of her bedroom. At the foot of her bed was a trunk full of clothes that she hadn’t worn since she’d arrived in McCairn: beautiful clothes, but when she touched them, they seemed out of place here.

Tossing the clothes aside, she pulled out a scrapbook that her mother had made for her. In it were clippings of all the newspaper articles in which Temperance had appeared. Stretching out on the bed, she slowly turned the pages, reading every word of the articles. In New York she had done good work, she thought. She’d helped people, many, many people.

She looked at a photo of herself on the day she opened her first tenement that rented only to women in need. In the photo was a Temperance whom she hardly recognized now, wearing an elegant silk suit, an enormous hat on her head, laughing in a flirtatious way with the many reporters and politicians surrounding her. In the background were half a dozen women with children in their arms or hanging on to their skirts.

Temperance was smiling at the picture and about to turn it over, but then she lifted it and looked harder at the women in the background. She’d never thought of it before, but she knew the names of every newspaperman in the picture and all the politicians, but she didn’t know anything about any of the women who were to live in the building that she owned. She had chosen the residents from life stories that were taken down by women who voluntarily worked for Temperance. Personally, Temperance hadn’t met even one of the inhabitants of the building she owned.

Personal, she thought. Wasn’t that the key word? In New York she’d helped people, but there had been nothing in it for her personally. Closing her eyes for a moment, she remembered the three days in the village. On the second day, one of the children had fallen down a rocky slope, and immediately Temperance had stepped forward; after all, she was used to taking charge of situations. But she’d been brushed aside as the whole village, as a unit—like one large, living organism—stepped in and took over. Ramsey carried the child back to the village and as he put the girl down on a bed in a cottage, someone said, “She’s on her way.” Temperance, in the back with the others, started to ask who “she” was, but moments later young Alys came into the cottage. Temperance had stood by, openmouthed, as she watched the girl demand boiled water, thread, and a needle that had been washed in carbolic acid. In openmouthed astonishment Temperance had watched Alys tell the worried mother what to do as Alys gently stitched the four-inch-long cut in the girl’s leg. Temperance hadn’t known that Alys had a talent for healing. She’d known the girl was intelligent and good with numbers but not that she was also a healer.

But now, Temperance looked back at the photo of herself of two years ago and she felt an emptiness inside her. Today she was still young enough and pretty enough to flirt with the politicians and the press and have them flirt back. But what would happen to her when she was forty? Fifty? And when she went home at night, what was going to be waiting for her?

Slowly, she closed the scrapbook and looked at the leather cover for a moment. Her mother had said to her many times, “Temperance, you take care of everyone but yourself, and always giving and never receiving can oftentimes be very lonely.” Each time her mother had said something like that, Temperance had laughed, but now that she’d been here in McCairn, she’d been more involved with people than she had ever been before in her life. And she’d experienced moments of true, genuine happiness.

“If I had a child, I’d want her to grow up here in McCairn,” she said softly, then told herself to quit being maudlin. She didn’t have a child, and right now it looked as though the people of McCairn didn’t want her.

“Work to do,” she said, then got off the bed and put the scrapbook away.