Stolen Remains by Christine Trent Page B

opened one eye sleepily. “You know I’ll never be able to afford something like this for you on a lawyer’s wages.”
    Violet removed her hat and tossed it onto her dressing table without a care as to straightening out the tails. “I didn’t expect you to follow me here. What a lovely surprise. How did you know where I was staying?”
    “I went to Windsor and talked to the master of the household.” Sam struggled to his feet, reaching for the eagle-headed cane he’d started using since his Civil War injuries, claiming to be grateful that such accoutrements were fashionable. He held out a hand. “You’ve been gone mere hours and already I’m starving for the sight of you.”
    Violet went to him to be folded in his free arm. She inhaled deeply of her husband, a habit she’d never broken since the day he’d shown up unexpectedly on her doorstep following the war. She gazed up into his face, one that was etched almost like a map from everything he had suffered during the war that ended in America just a few years ago. A scar cutting through his right eyebrow was the least of his bodily dents and abrasions. They were a perfectly matched pair of cracked vases, though, since Violet herself had suffered severe burns on her right arm during a train crash several years ago. The hideous mass of scars had faded some, but she would always have them. More troublesome was the periodic tightening she felt in the arm, and the lack of full use of it.
    “More like you were starving to get away from our recovering patient. Was Mother terribly distraught that I left?”
    “Not nearly as distraught as your father and I were. Actually, you departed in such a swirling vortex of activity that there was no time for her to realize what your leaving would mean to her. More importantly, this came in the post as soon as I returned from taking you to the train station.” Sam pulled a letter from inside his jacket.
    “From Colorado?” Violet said. “Oh, a letter from Susanna.” She opened the letter and quickly read the contents.
    Dear Mama and Father,
    How is Grandmamma getting along? I’ve only had one letter from you and I’m quite cross.
    The Johnson family had a tragedy. Both of their boys killed in an accident while working on the Union Pacific Railroad tracks being laid as far west as Weir. Their so-called transcontinental railroad is supposed to link up with the Central Pacific Railroad in Utah in just a couple of years. How sad that Ernest and Thomas will not live to see it. I comforted their mama as best I could as well as laying out their boys, but Mrs. Johnson will never be the same.
    Ben has been very busy with Father’s clients. I think you would be quite impressed with his manner and everyone says he has apprenticed well. He says he will write to you about some pressing client matters.
    When will you be home? I miss you, and there is so much to discuss. Bring Grandmamma and Grandpapa with you.
    Mrs. Softpaws recently discovered a colony of mice in the attic, and has taken seriously to cleaning them out. She is quite fat now.
    Susanna went on with some newsy tidbits about the townsfolk, then signed off with her typical curlicue signature. Violet never knew how much a signature could make her long for home.
    Except that England was home, too.
    Violet lifted the letter to her nose and sniffed. It smelled faintly of the jasmine perfume Susanna favored.
    “Would it surprise you to know that I received a separate post from Benjamin about his ‘pressing client matters’?” Sam said.
    “Is it . . . ?”
    “Indeed it is. He wants my permission to marry Susanna. Shall I give it?”
    “Sam, be serious, of course you should. Oh, this is terrible. My mother is improving, but now we’re bound here in England until Lord Raybourn is buried.”
    “Surely that will be within the week?”
    “Maybe. But then there is all of that horrid travel back to Colorado.”
    “A steamer ship followed by a train ride?” Sam smiled and