Bees in the Butterfly Garden (10 page)

11

Those of the female persuasion must strive to develop a quick sense of discernment so that a young lady may accurately assess who is worthy of her attention, friendship, respect, or trust.

Madame Marisse’s Handbook for Young Ladies

“And how are you doing this afternoon, Miss Davenport? I hope the pain of saying farewell to your father hasn’t weighed too heavily upon you.”

Meg diverted her gaze from watching Ian, who remained oblivious to her as he conversed with another man across the dining room. She’d heard others talking about some kind of job Ian was working on, and she could only guess that was what he discussed so earnestly now.

She looked at Mr. Brewster, who’d approached just as Kate left to see off the minister and his wife.

Brewster was near her father’s age, perhaps a year or two older if the gray hair along his wide, rounded forehead was any indication. His brows were gray as well, thick and close set, over brown eyes that slanted slightly downward and lent authenticity to his expression of concern.

Meg had no desire to pretend grief. “I’m sure those of you who were closer to my father will miss him more than I shall.”

“I offer my help in any way you need, should there be anything I can do. I’m more than happy to be of assistance. Your father would have expected nothing less of me. We were like brothers, so please consider me family, as he did.”

Meg considered his words. “You . . . worked with my father, then?”

“Regularly.”

“And you were in his confidence?”

“In everything.”

“Then I’d like you to tell me something.” She glanced again around the room, first at Ian, who was still in conversation, then at the door through which Kate had disappeared. “Did my father place me in the school where I was raised so he might have access to wealthy people? Was that his goal?”

Brewster appeared both surprised and amused by her question. “Your father, my dear, dear Miss Davenport, placed you in that school because he wanted you to grow up exactly as you are. A lovely young lady with limitless opportunity.”

“Limitless, Mr. Brewster? I know those in Boston or New York with new money are more forgiving than those with old, but everyone has a pedigree. Mine has been hidden for a reason, kept a strict secret from anyone in legitimate society who has expressed the slightest interest in me.”

His gaze roved her face, her hair, even briefly skimmed the rest of her in a way that might have made her uncomfortable if she allowed herself to think about it very long. “You’re a vision of loveliness. That ought to go a long way in reducing curiosity about family backgrounds that make little difference.”

“I’ve always been taught it’s impossible to make a silk purse of a sow’s ear.”

Brewster laughed loud and boisterously, out of place with the rest of the somber room. “You’re hardly a sow’s ear, my dear.”

“Something funny?”

Ian’s voice was closer than she’d expected, just behind her. He stood next to Meg and placed a hand at her elbow, as if by doing so he claimed not only the right to touch her, but to defend her.

Meg would have preferred keeping this conversation between herself and Brewster, hoping to find her first—and so far only—ally. But she decided there was no place to go but forward. “We were discussing the opportunities my school acquaintances might have provided to someone such as my father . . . or you, Ian.”

“What kind of opportunities?” Ian’s question, quietly spoken through barely moving lips, couldn’t have been issued with more tension. Perhaps the approach of several others, Pubjug among them, had something to do with his obvious frustration.

Even Brewster looked surprised. “That’s not precisely our topic.”

“Oh, but that’s where the discussion was headed, wasn’t it, Mr. Brewster?” Meg looked at the curious faces surrounding them. “I’m sure anyone present would be very interested in knowing the people I know. Some of the wealthiest daughters of New York and Boston are among my very closest friends.”

Her words were only a slight exaggeration. . . . Well, if she was completely honest, at least to herself, the statement was an utter fabrication. She’d cultivated few friendships over the years. Never before had she found lying as simple as she did just now. Obviously such behavior
was
in her blood, just as she suspected.

A whisper of caution crossed her mind; perhaps she was too eager to offer up those daughters she’d grown up with, that endless parade of debutantes and debutantes-to-be. But the hesitant voice attempting to speak in her mind was not nearly as loud as it might have been within the sanctuary of her school. Her father had traded her real heritage for that of a lady. Hadn’t he realized hiding such a history didn’t mean she could be part of the society he’d longed for her to claim? As far as she saw it, she had only one option: to inherit the society in which her father had belonged. If there was justice in the world, her father could see her this very moment, and she could prove once and for all that she’d have been every bit as valuable to him as Ian Maguire was.

Pubjug’s snicker drew her eye. “Oh, we got ways of getting to all the wealthy families we want. Servants come and go easy enough and are easy to plant inside, too.” He rubbed his chin. “There’s one family, one we all knew was connected to your school. Brewster dared sendin’ in a scout once, even though John said no. But it didn’t do no good because they ended up no use. There ain’t a soul here who wouldn’t give up a year or two a their life for a shot at that Pemberton money.”

Pemberton . . . Pemberton. Of all the names she’d expected, she recalled that one with some distaste. Both Pemberton daughters had been residents of Madame Marisse’s at one time or another. One just a few years older than Meg herself, and the other a few years younger. The older one was the very image of haughtiness. But it was the younger Meg most preferred forgetting. Meg had been instrumental in having the girl expelled for all the rules she seemed intent on breaking.

“I know them well.” Despite the memory of the girls, Meg reminded herself that her involvement in the younger sister’s inevitable expulsion had been behind the scenes. Just as quickly, she recalled their mother expressing an interest in Meg’s talent for garden design, once she learned it had been Meg who’d designed the garden around the gazebo at the school. “In fact, I have a standing invitation to visit the Pemberton family any summer I wish.” Only a slight overstatement . . .

The reaction around the circle was so visible it sped her pulse even faster. Brewster lost his smile of simple enjoyment and studied her intently. Pubjug’s jaw dropped, while others exchanged curious, serious glances. Ian glowered.

“That’s very nice.” Ian took one of her hands in his and slipped his other palm to the small of her back. Meg heard a couple of whispers spout up around the circle, but Ian spoke above them as he attempted to lead her away. “But we’re not at all interested in any of your connections.”

“Aren’t we?”

The two words instantly quieted everyone else.

Meg looked at Brewster, ignoring the warning she detected from Ian. “Is there a specific reason you would like someone to befriend the Pemberton family?”

Brewster’s brows rose. “Surely you’ve heard? Surely you know about the Pembertons?”

“I know two Pemberton sisters, Claire and Evie. I know their money came from their grandfather.”

“The Pemberton gold, Miss Meg!” Pubjug nearly shouted. “You ain’t heard a that?”

Although Meg had seen more students come and go at Madame Marisse’s than anyone not on staff, she had to admit money—or at least the measure of it—had never sparked her interest. Certainly she’d heard rumors about where the Pemberton money had come from; she even knew the Pembertons were among the richest of the families connected to the school. But whether those riches came from gold, goods, or gifts of inheritance, she’d never cared.

Rather she’d learned from Madame’s example to separate families into the three groups that made up high society: those who valued wealth, those who valued ancestry, and those who valued cultivation. Because of their obvious ease with their own money, Meg had put the Pembertons in the camp that valued cultivation above all else. Which of course made Evie Pemberton’s expulsion all the more disastrous. She’d been thrown out of a school offering the very commodity they most wanted to either attain or keep secure.

“The fact is I’m well acquainted with the Pembertons. If my father were here and I expressed an interest in working with him, I see no reason why he would have refused me. So now I extend that offer to those of you who worked with him.”

Ian chuckled, but the sound was unsteady, a bit too breathy. “Just what sort of help could you be offering, Meg? To leave the door unlocked so one of us might sneak in and clean them out?”

“Yes, of course.” Too late, she realized he’d been joking. “Or whatever you need.”

If Ian had been about to speak, Brewster spoke louder, commanding everyone’s attention. “That’s very generous of you, Miss Davenport. But quite a shift in direction for you, wouldn’t you say?”

“A shift made the moment I learned the secrets my father kept from me all these years. I have no more right to be an accepted member of polite society than any of you do. He had only one legacy for me, and I have no qualms about receiving it.”

“Spoken like a martyr if ever I heard one,” Ian said.

“Then you would be willing to have these friends of yours turned into victims of a crime?” Brewster asked. “One in which you play a part?”

Meg refused to be afraid of what she’d just volunteered to do. “I can’t believe anyone here would actually harm another person.”

“We avoid violence at all cost.” Brewster spoke with what she could only call an amused smile.

She couldn’t help but be relieved. “Then if you would simply be lightening the considerable Pemberton coffers, I see no reason not to do something my father himself would have wanted to do.”

“This is the last thing your father would have wanted.” Ian’s gaze wandered the circle much as Meg’s had, then settled and remained on Brewster. “Every last one of you knows John never wanted his Meggie to be involved in any of this. He wanted her to live the happy, comfortable life he designed for her.”

“She’s too young to be merely comfortable.” Brewster aimed a wink directly at Meg.

She smiled because he was precisely the ally she needed. And his words so clearly spoke for her. Who wanted to be comfortable? Not Meg. Comfort was all she’d known her entire sheltered life.

She might have spoken, but Ian took her hand so suddenly, fairly pulling her from the dining room, that she would have had to make a scene to resist. None of the others protested, although Meg saw Brewster’s interest follow her from the room.

In the hallway, Ian nearly collided with Kate. “Come with us, Kate.”

Ian still held Meg’s hand, although she had to admit his grip felt more like a grown-up’s hold on an errant child than the gentle touch of an equal he’d used when they stood at the water’s edge.

But the prospect of imminent battle neither deterred nor intimidated her. She hadn’t felt so hopeful since the day she’d set out to run away from school all those years ago.

Ian led the two women to the library on the far side of the rotunda. He seldom invited anyone into the library—it was, in fact, the holy of holies in this house that was a sanctuary to him, so far from the city. The walls were lined with shelves that he imagined would be full one day. As it was, after only a year of occupancy, they were still mostly empty.

But there was a couch in the center, where he took Meggie. She did not sit, and he guessed he would have to push her into it to see her comply. Tempted as he was, he did not.

“That was the most foolish act of bravado I’ve seen.” He let go of her hand but stood over her, closer than ever. If she wouldn’t sit, she would have to withstand his face nearly pressed to hers.

“It wasn’t meant to be. I was in complete earnest.”

“What happened?” Kate demanded, joining the little huddle Ian had established.

Sensing his closeness to Meg wasn’t intimidating her in the least, though it was inspiring unwanted feelings inside him, he turned away and threw his hands up. “She offered to join in with Brewster!”

“And with you,” Meg added softly. A glance told him what he suspected: she’d said the words with a smile. A gift he knew he’d have to spurn, though it addled him just the same. Her smile stirred something in him he’d be hard-pressed to deny . . . as did the Pemberton gold.

“Meg!” Kate’s reaction was exactly as he expected, the precise reason he wanted her here. “You can’t possibly know what you’re proposing, especially with Brewster! Not to mention what it would have done to your father. Just what, exactly, did you offer?”

“Only to spend time with the Pemberton family in New York and see what I can do to . . . Well, just to see if there are any opportunities . . . Oh, I don’t know exactly, except that Pubjug said they have some kind of gold, and it occurred to me that I might easily find out where such a thing is kept and provide an opportunity for someone to simply . . . take some of it.”