Free Mercury's Rise (Silver Rush 04) by Ann Parker Page B

up a replacement Smoot that I have ordered. Alas, you’re too late.”
    With that, she spun on her heel, walked to the door leading out to State Street, and exited the saloon.

Chapter Nine
    Harmony’s hand covered her mouth. “Mark. Alive?”
    “That’s not all,” Inez continued grimly. “He’s not only alive, he’s back. In Leadville. He will be coming to Manitou at the beginning of next week.”
    “Oh no,” Harmony whispered from between her fingers. “That changes everything.”
    Inez frowned. “What do you mean, ‘everything?’”
    From behind Inez, a precise female voice drifted up the hall, saying, “Inez Marie Underwood. Now that you are here, we can finally stop all this ridiculous business and make arrangements to all return home to New York.”
    The voice hit Inez like a slap to the face.
    In fact, she could almost feel the hand that accompanied that voice, the voice that had more than once delivered a sharp rebuke simultaneous with a flat-palmed physical blow.
    Through her shock and disbelief, Inez kept her gaze on Harmony, trying to ascertain the truth before turning around. The widened eyes, the sudden flush accompanied by a guilt-stricken expression, and the previously confident, decisive young matron seemed to melt back into a child. Harmony’s response confirmed what Inez already knew in her heart of hearts.
    Harmony stepped forward. Her breath brushed Inez’s cheek as she whispered, “I thought she would be waiting for us in the dining hall, that I could tell you before we went down so you would have a chance to prepare yourself.”
    “Harmony Elizabeth Underwood DuChamps,” the voice was even closer. “You were not raised to whisper in front of others in such a rude manner. Nor, Inez Marie, were you raised to present your back to someone in their presence. Particularly if that someone is an elder. If I do not count as one of your elders, then you have forgotten more in this misbegotten corner of the country than your manners.”
    Inez arranged her features into a semblance of calm and agreeableness before obeying the implicit command and turning around.
    Agnes Underwood, older sister to Inez’s father, sailed forward, arms outstretched, beaming.
    Willowy, of medium height, she was clothed in a loose flowing gown, quite unlike anything Inez remembered her aunt ever wearing in public. Aunt Agnes, an aesthete? Well, she always did have a mind of her own. Her hair was still abundant and black, her blue eyes still as piercing as a knife but nowhere near as sharp as the words she wielded to fearsome effect over every member of Inez’s family for as far back as Inez could remember. As far as Inez could tell, Aunt Agnes hadn’t changed an iota in ten years. She kept her age buried as deeply as her strategies, all deployed from behind the calculated smile.
    Inez held out her arms in a returning embrace. “Dear, dear Aunt Agnes. Please excuse my rudeness. I must plead the shock of your unexpected appearance here in Manitou. You see, I was also not raised to present myself without notifying the host that I would be accompanying an invited party. Hence my momentary lapse of courtesy.” As she pressed her long-lost aunt to her breast, Inez murmured, “I never use the name Marie, nor do I ever refer to my maiden name of Underwood, so please do not do so here. My last name is Stannert and has been for more than ten years. I am a married woman, as I’m certain you recall.”
    Agnes broke away and held Inez at arm’s length. She smiled indulgently. “Of course I recall, silly girl. How could I forget, given the distress your untimely marriage caused the entire family. Why, Harmony cried for months and pined for years at your abandonment. Your father, as you probably know, refused to allow anyone to even speak your name, an order that stands to this day, I am sad to say. Your dear mother has never ever recovered from the neurasthenia resulting from your flouting of the family.”
    Agnes’ gaze