Finding Madeline

Chapter One
The Wedding          

         “You were a beautiful bride,”  Hugh Sherford said to his oldest daughter as they danced around the great gazebo he had constructed especially for this event.
         “Why thank you daddy.  I can’t believe it’s almost over. I think this day just flew by,”  Victoria answered.
         “I certainly hope this is the first of many happy days for you,”  Hugh said.
         Victoria laughed, “I wish you had said that in your speech instead of all that ‘Statehood for Oklahoma’ nonsense.”
         Hugh smiled mischievously.  “I apologize, but there were three different newspaper men here.  We’ve got to make hay. Besides, young lady, you will have to accustom yourself to political posturing.  You are now a politician’s wife.”
         “I am a banker’s wife daddy.  Freddie hasn’t been elected to anything yet,”  Victoria said, her beautiful ivory complexion was rosy from the excitement of the day and the exertion of endless dancing.
         “Be sure and toss that bouquet at your sister,”  Hugh said seriously.
         “Oh daddy, honestly, she probably wouldn’t even catch it.  Can you believe her.  She stood there so somber, it was all I could do not to reach over and pinch her during my vows.  You would think this was a funeral or something,”  Victoria said with irritation clearly visible.
         The song wound to a close and Hugh hugged his daughter tightly.  “Smile dear, they are about to take our picture,” he said.  The two posed as gaily as two children.  “Now, be gentle with your sister.  It is a sad day for her, she will be lonely in that great big house without you.
         Victoria leaned in closer to her father’s ear and said, “Poor thing, as backwards as she acts, she’ll be living there with you until the day she dies.”
         “Well, I’ve got to keep one of you around to nurse me in my old age,”  Hugh said as he looked across the festive grounds.  His younger daughter sat alone at a table drinking punch.  He sighed as he left the gazebo to go speak to her.
         Dozens of well wishers were wandering around the Sherford’s carefully groomed grounds, now decorated with crepe paper streamers, bunting, and great white bows.  The huge mansion had been built in the style of a Southern plantation. The great doors were festooned with wreathes of ivy and white roses.  Garlands had been strung around it’s great balustrades. 
      Hugh greeted everyone he passed; he encouraged more than a few of the men to vote for the groom in the upcoming primary.  It took more than a few moments to cross the yard, and in that time, he noticed a young man was sitting across from his daughter.  He could only see the back of the man’s head.  A brief frown crossed Hugh’s brow as the two stood.  It was Paul Harter, he had taken Madeline’s hand and was leading her toward the gazebo. He caught his daughter’s hand as they would have passed him without even speaking. 
         “Madeline, your sister will be leaving shortly, you should be attending her with the others,”  Hugh said setting his face in a show of disapproval.
         “Just one dance, I won’t keep her long sir,”  Paul said.
         “Besides, daddy, she’ll be at least an hour changing into her traveling costume,”  Madeline added softly. Hugh turned her hand loose.  “Alright, but I expect you to be first in line to see them off,”  he said.
         “I will,” Madeline said, and then the pair were off to the dance floor.  Hugh watched the couple for a moment, wondering, but then turned his attention to his guests.  Their number had dwindled, but there were still a hundred or more waiting to see the happy couple off.
         And when the dashing, handsome Frederick Stahl whisked his beautiful bride Victoria away to a waiting handsome white carriage, Madeline was indeed first in line to see them off.  She applauded, if perhaps a bit less enthusiastically than the others, her smile barely faltered.

         The crowd had thinned significantly, the staff still stood around, idle, waiting for Hugh Sherford himself to retire, before they began the monumental task of cleaning up. 
        Paul surveyed the remaining few, looking in vain for Miss Madeline, Maddie as he liked to tease her.  Everything about her manner was so formal, that he liked to irk her with a cutesy moniker.  She had never admonished him for the liberty.  She was so polite, shy, seemingly aloof, he doubted she would ever correct anyone.  Where was she?  Had she retired with guests milling about?  Quite possibly, she wasn’t one for the society events he had noticed.  Just as he was about to give up the search and leave out himself, a giant powerful hand slapped him heartily on the back.
         “Paul, my boy, so glad you came in for the wedding,”  Hugh Sherford boomed, loud enough for any nearby guests to overhear.
         Paul thought briefly that he was already in town to see a lawyer friend on a business matter, and he certainly wouldn’t have traveled any great distance to see Freddie and Victoria jump the broomstick, but he didn’t think it polite to say so.  “I’m glad I could make it, beautiful wedding, beautiful girls you have,”  Paul said, feeling some obligation to comment.
         “That’s right,”  Hugh said as he draped his burly arm around Paul’s shoulders, a bit of an awkward gesture as the two men were nearly evenly matched for height, and Hugh Sherford had rounded out considerably over the years, his girth making suits and coats stretch precariously around his rotund figure, “You used to be sweet on my little Victoria,”  Hugh said. 
         Only the rather recent and intense tutelage of Ms. Madeline Sherford on social niceties prevented Paul from releasing a very inelegant snort. 
      Victoria Sherford, indeed, he thought. That young hussy had brazenly pursued him ever since she first laid eyes on him at her older cousins coming out.  He had avoided her like the plague for nearly three years, and apparently she finally gave up and decided to marry Freddie Stahl, who would have married any society girl.  It was well known among their circle that he wasn’t picky.
      Victoria’s moon-eyed and occasionally brazen overtures had embarrassed him thoroughly.  He told her repeatedly that they were not of the same class, her father the scion of an oil family, third generation millionaires. Whereas he was a wildcatter who had a lucky idea, a working class man.  Even now, he looked down, his hands were rough; the skin of his palms dark from perpetual dirt and grease stains. 
      Somehow, dodging Victoria, he had missed out on Madeline.  She was the real rose among the thorns.  Her quiet demeanor calmed him instantly, she was everything he ever imagined a woman could be, and she was real, genuine.  There was no coquetry about her, no falseness.  He wanted to lay his head upon her lap and listen to her sing him songs.  He wanted to kiss her senseless.  He wanted to be the one to disrupt her indefatigable sanguine nature. 
         Unfortunately, before he could do any of those things, he was going to have to make nice to her blowhard father.  “Sir, Freddie is a lucky man.  One daughter married off, the sister can’t be far behind,”  Paul said, hoping to change the subject to someone he wanted to talk about.
         “Oh, Maddie, I don’t like to—no sense in putting the cart before the horse and all that,”  Hugh said distractedly.  He took his arm from around Paul’s shoulders, and looked him in the eye, not more than a second or two, but it was oddly unnerving for Paul.
         “Please excuse me,”  Hugh said, “I see the Browns are leaving.”  Paul shook his hand automatically, then watched the man’s broad back as he departed.  He wondered what had flustered the usually unflappable man.  Perhaps he merely didn’t like the idea of both of his girls being married.
         He looked around the grounds one last time, hoping to give Madeline a proper goodbye.  He wondered if she had retired to the house at last.  He looked at that great behemoth as if somehow his eyes could penetrate it’s whitewashed walls and see her inside, toiling away at some gentle and frivolous activity, like proper ladies did.  He doffed his hat and walked across the lawn.

        Madeline had indeed retired for the evening.  From her favorite perch 
near the one of the parlor's hugely tall windows, she saw her father 
talking to Paul Harter.  Resentment filled her as she set her sewing 
notions basket upon her lap.  She smoothed the simple muslin skirt, 
she changed out of her bridesmaids dress the instant Victoria had 
driven from sight.
        She peered through the sheer drapes once more.  She felt certain her 
father was being a perfect bore to poor Paul.  She moistened 
a thread at her lips and assumed the intense concentration of one 
threading a needle.
      She longed for a sherry to calm her nerves, today had been most trying 
she thought, but it wasn't proper for a young lady to drink alone, 
and she assuredly was alone.  Alone in this great museum of a house.
She looked out the window again.  Longing filled every space of her 
being.  Paul was a beautiful man.  She blushed remembering the feel of 
his rigid shoulder as they waltzed around the dance floor.
He was so big, his hand easily consumed hers.  He was a head taller 
than her and his broad shoulders blocked out everyone on the floor, 
everyone but him.
      Madeline didn't mind, for even though there had been a proper distance 
between them, she felt as though she had been held in his arms.  He lead her through the steps with assurance and grace, his blue eyes twinkling in merriment at her every word.
      Madeline looked down at the swatch of fabric in her hand.  She hadn't 
made the first stitch, hadn't even stretched it over her small hoop. 
Instead it was clenched and crumpled inside her tight fist.
    She smoothed the fabric once more across her lap, then stretching it 
across the hoop, she allowed herself to wallow in self-pity, an 
indulgence she had banished from her life a scant six weeks ago, but 
just this once, she told herself she would allow it.
    She closed her eyes tightly and let images filter through her senses, 
like paper photographs, one after another. Paul twirling her about the 
dance floor, her sister looking like a queen in her wedding gown, 
Freddie walking her down the long drive to the house, their beautiful, 
and long dead mother.
         She felt as if bad timing were a constant in her short, and rather unhappy life.  She had the misfortune to be born second to that volcano of exuberance Victoria.  She had the unhappy fate of being the one to discover their mother had died when she crawled into bed with her sickly mother, only to find her cold and lifeless, her spirit flown away.  And lately, she had the utter bad luck to meet Paul, her perfect companion, a man she could love and cherish forever, just a little too late.
         Slow, fat, wet tears began sliding down her face from beneath her closed eyelids.  Inwardly, she chastised herself, for giving in to the self-pity, for crying like a ninny, for even talking to Paul, let alone dancing with him, laughing with him, when she had no right to, no right at all.

Chapter Two
The Interrogator

“Of all the stupid, selfish, asinine things a girl in your position could have done. . .Madeline, do you understand the ramifications of your actions?”  Her hulking father said, standing over her like an enraged grizzly bear about to disembowel its victim.  “No, you couldn’t possibly sit there so calmly if you had the faintest idea what you have done.”
         Madeline had been sitting in her once favorite chair, her hands folded demurely in her lap, her eyes trained upon a a small scar that bisected the knuckle of her little finger.  But  she looked up at her father, her expression was inscrutable, no sign of emotion did it betray, and inside she felt the same, drained, exhausted emotionless.
         “Father, I apologize, I did not intend to be the cause of any hardship.”  With that stately and brief apology, Hugh turned his face to the ceiling and began to laugh, not a sound of mirth, but a spine-tingling act of pure spite.  He laughed in irony.
         “You will not cause any hardships for any one but yourself, because I will not allow it.  You may not have had a care for your own reputation, but you certainly should have been mindful of your sister’s, or mine for that matter.  What if this shameful matter had come to light before her wedding?  Freddie might have called the whole thing off.  No one wants a family connection to a hussy,”  Hugh said with all the vehemence he could muster.
         Madeline paled a bit at his cutting words, but she did not cry, she would not cry.  In fact, she felt past crying, his words no longer had any bite for her.  She lifted her head up as high as she could muster and spoke in her ususal dignified manner, “Father, I am sorry, if I could undo what has been done, I certainly would.  If I could fly back to the past and prevent this . . . ordeal I certainly would, but I cannot.”
         Hugh snorted indignantly.
         “As things stand,”  Madeline continued in a stoic and dignified tone, “there is nothing to be done at present.  I shall remain confined here, and you shall have no further controversy from me.”
         “Nothing to be done!”  Hugh appeared very near an apoplexy.  “Nothing to be done indeed.  Do you think I want my wanton wastrel daughter wandering about the halls of my home embarrassing everyone in her acquaintance.  You know very well this is to be Freddie’s campaign headquaters.”
         Madeline looked up, a brief look of alarm crossed her usually serene features, she willed her countenance to be calm.  “I did not know,”  she said quietly.
         “Well, now you do, so you can see, the only solution is for you to be married,”  Hugh said, a measure of calm washing over him.
         “That’s not possible,”  Madeline said, her gaze now returning to her lap.
         “Not possible?  What on earth, do you mean by telling me it’s not possible.  I swear by Jove, you will make it possible—“
         “Pardon my interruption, sir,”  the sturdy housekeeper Mrs. Meechum had entered the study as silent as a fox, “But there is a Mr. Paul Harter here to pay respects to Ms. Sherford.”
         Hugh’s eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline.  His eyes never left Madeline as he answered the housekeeper.  “Indeed, well show the young man into the parlor.  Thank you very much Mrs. Meechum.”
         Madeline sat very still, he watched her closely, she was still examining her folded hands.  “Is there something you wish to tell me now?”  Hugh asked his daughter.
         “No, father.”
         “Damn you, you know what I want to know, is it Paul’s?” he demanded.
         “Please lower your voice.  If you are so concerned about a scandal in the family, one might think you would take guests into consideration,”  Madeline had never chided her father before for anything, it took him by surprise a bit.
         “You haven’t answered my question, girl.”
         “I apologize for being willful, but I am simply not going to.”
         Hugh came around the desk, quickly, if not a bit awkwardly for a man of his bulk.  He grasped his daughter’s chin in his hand, forcing her face up painfully.  He glared into her surprised eyes, menace filled the scant space between them.
         “As God is my witness, daughter you will not dictate to me what you will and will not do.  You will tell me who the father of that bastard baby is and then you will marry him.  I have never beaten a woman in my life, but by God, you have driven me to it, so you will speak, or God help you.”
         She raised a slender hand to his giant one, gently tugging it away from her face.  At the feel of her small hand, he relented.  Frustration ebbed from his being.  He went back to his desk chair and collapsed into it, defeated by a slip of a girl, a girl who he had loved since the day she was born.  He wouldn’t beat her, and she very well knew it.  But she wouldn’t tell him, and that tormented him.  Knowing she was pregnant was shock enough, for he had never even seen her with a beau, let alone suspected her of fornicating.  Now this Harter man was coming around, he was the first fellow to pay her any call, but the timing didn’t add up, unless there was something going on that he didn’t know about.
         He sighed heavily.  Madeline sat there, still as a statue, not a clue was written anywhere on her placid countenance.  Just like her mother, that one was, he thought.  Not exactly, perhaps, her mother never would have bedded a man she wasn’t married to, he knew, he had tried.
         He clipped a cigar, studied it for awhile before lighting it.  “Madeline, go see to your guest, but I expect an answer after dinner.
         Madeline rose and walked out without uttering a word.