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Sirena’s eyes dropped to her blue gown, inconsistent with any stage of mourning, let alone the two years of full mourning social rules dictated by a husband’s death.
Sitting up straighter, she replied matter-of-factly. “About a year.” It felt like much longer.
She had worn this gown only once before her mother-in-law had knocked at her front door, more pinched-faced than usual. In 1848, Robbie sailed to San Francisco with a cargo hold full of food and clothing to be sold to gold prospectors at great profit. The ship returned to Boston without him in early 1849, the captain reporting to the Grays that Robbie had disappeared into an opium den and could not be persuaded to leave.
The Grays exerted their influence to secure last minute passage for Helen and Elijah onParadise,just built by Gray & Co. By then, news of gold discoveries meant that tens of thousands, driven by fervor, were competing to book passage in anything that could float.
When California had become a United States territory in 1848, the San Francisco population numbered about one thousand. When Helen sailed through the Golden Gate Straight a year later, the population had increased twenty-five fold, and she spied a harbor littered with vessels at anchor. Many were abandoned, forming a floating graveyard of rotting and skeletal ships, stripped for their wood to build ramshackle structures on land, the crews disappearing to seek elusive fortunes along with the passengers.
A crowd had gathered at North Beach to watch the sleek clipper’s arrival. All Helen and Elijah had wanted from the town of shack- and tent-covered hills was Robbie; they disembarked as feverish to find him as the others were for gold.
Like the ultimate fate of most of the passengers, they had known disappointment. Sailing into the East Boston harbor four months later, Robbie wasn’t in a stateroom; stowed like cargo, his body was in a store room.
No, Helen hadn’t fully observed mourning customs, but then her marriage had not been traditional. She wouldn’t explain, and she wasn’t ashamed. She raised her chin as Sirena looked at her dress, then back up.
“Brave girl, you are, to sail to a new place. I know what that’s like. Good. It’sgoodyou are here.”
Helen frowned slightly as the unexpected pronouncement settled over her like a cozy blanket. She didn’t need anyone’s approval, let alone this stranger’s!
But the woman’s honesty and near tenderness were surprisingly welcome. Before she could stop herself, she put her hand over her brooch; a growing glow of warmth spread inside of her.
“Pen,” Sirena continued, turning to her daughter now. “What do you say to inviting Helen and her brother to our dinner later in the week for your Papa? A grand idea, no?”
“Grand, Mama. I’d like to hear all about the dramatic voyages your brother has surely made as a captain! To hear about your crossing. It made the papers, you know! Please, will you come?”
Helen opened her mouth but couldn’t generate a denial, as she knew she ought. If it was a family dinner, Nicholas would be there…
“That’s it, they’re coming!” Sirena clasped her hands together, again bearing a kaleidoscope of colors on the side of her finger. “And please, tell me you’ll stay at Adrian’s. It would ease my mind to know the house isn’t sitting empty.”
Pen sent a rueful look to her mother, then looked at Helen, shrugging with an amused smile.
“I…not without compensation. I couldn’t.”
“Proud. What did I tell you, Pen? I shouldn’t like to offend you, Helen. If you want to compensate us for the house, I have an idea. What if you donated a sum to our church? We’re raising funds for a cathedral. Yes? It’s decided!”
Helen blinked, unsure what exactly they had decided and why she wasn’t objecting.
You do need safe lodgings,she justified.
But dinner with the Sideris family? That was unnecessary. A pesky social engagement with people she had no business becoming better acquainted—and thus bonded—with? She already felt undue attachment to these two women, who had shown more interest and kindness toward her than anyone in London so far. More than anyone in some time.
You’ll see Nicholas again if you go to dinner.
She swallowed. That wasn’t why she was so close to giving in. No, not at all. It appealed only as an opportunity to assess him and how much of a threat he posed.
“I haven’t a decent evening gown, so I’m afraid I can’t accept your invitation.”
Pen beamed. “If it’s a question of a gown, then ofcoursewe won’t see each other next for dinner. We’ll see each other tomorrow, when I fetch you for an outing! My modiste can workmiracles.”
Helen laughed. “Would it take a miracle to gown me properly?”
“No! That’s not what I meant! It’s only that most shops wouldn’t accommodate an order in such a small amount of time. Madame Robillard, with the right enticement, will have the gown ready.”
She couldn’t waste funds on such a cause…could she?
Again, the protestations melted before she could hold onto them. She looked down at her blue gown. She was still fond of it, but it wouldn’t do; she needed a London wardrobe.
Just a few new pieces.
“I suppose my gowns are very…Boston. And very…1849. Or perhaps 1848.”
Pen giggled. “Time for some 1850, isn’t it? A spot of London, too?”
Helen found herself nodding, feeling unaccountably happy as she shared a look with her two visitors, who gazed upon her with equal joy.
