The Bracelet (18 page)

11

C
ELIA REACHED HOME JUST AHEAD OF HER FATHER AND HURRIED
up the stairs, her mind whirling.
People know things
. Was Leo Channing trying to scare her into divulging facts that she really didn’t have? Was it true that behind her back all of Savannah was buzzing about the house of love and grief? Two horrid accidents within two weeks was unusual and certainly a regrettable spate of bad luck, but that is all they were. Accidents.

Weren’t they?

In her room, she tossed her shawl and reticule onto the bed, removed her hat, and sank into her chair beside the window. The street and the garden were in shadow. The distant, boarded-up carriage house brooded in the stippled light. Closing her eyes, she tried to summon the memory of the night in late spring when Ivy and Aunt Eugenia had arrived unexpectedly from their St. Simons Island plantation.

Aunt Eugenia had told Papa she had quit the island out of fear for Ivy’s health, that an outbreak of fever had taken the lives of several slaves already. Listening at the parlor door, Celia had wondered about Uncle Magnus. Wasn’t his life in danger too? But he’d stayed behind for three days before showing up in Savannah.

Celia vaguely remembered late-night discussions between her father and her uncle, discussions that had sometimes become heated. But in the mornings, peace had seemingly been restored, and the household had fallen into a new routine that accommodated Ivy and her parents.

“Celia?” Ivy’s knock at her door dispelled the memory. “Dinner is almost ready.”

“Coming.”

Celia checked her appearance in the pier glass and joined Ivy in the dining room. Soon Papa appeared, looking tired but also inordinately pleased about something. The three of them sat down to Mrs. Maguire’s roast beef, gravy, and roasted potatoes.

Papa offered a blessing and passed a platter to Celia. “How was your day, my dear?”

Avoiding the topic of Mr. Channing, Celia told him about her shopping trip with Mrs. Mackay and described the china and linens she had chosen. “Mrs. Haverford at the linen shop had some very pretty things.” She paused to eat a bite of potatoes. “I thought of Louisa from the Female Asylum when I saw the fine embroidery. She may well find a good position for herself in such a shop when she leaves.”

“That may happen sooner than we think,” Ivy said. “Mrs. Clayton told me today that Mrs. Foyle is looking for an assistant. Mrs. Clayton intends to recommend Louisa.”

Papa chewed and swallowed. “Mrs. Foyle? Do we know her?”

“She’s Mrs. Stiles’s modiste,” Ivy explained. “Very talented. She made the dress Mrs. Stiles wore to last year’s Christmas ball. It was quite the talk of the evening.”

“I see.” Papa’s eyes twinkled. “I suppose I ought to pay more attention to such things, now that Celia is in need of a wedding gown.”

“Well, I don’t think you can do better than Mrs. Foyle.” Ivy
spooned gravy onto her roast beef. “But I wouldn’t wait too long to engage her services. Mrs. Stiles says Mrs. Foyle stays quite busy.”

Papa turned to Celia. “Tell me. Were you able to finish collecting for the hospital Christmas drive? I saw Alexander Lawton at the club this afternoon, and he said his wife has been anxious about it.”

“All finished,” Celia said. “I’ll take everything to the hospital tomorrow.” She caught Ivy’s eye across the polished mahogany dining table. “I called on Mary Quarterman. We had quite an interesting conversation.”

“Oh?” Ivy paled, but her gaze was steady. “What about?”

“This and that.” Celia intended to get to the bottom of her cousin’s deception, but not in front of Papa. Though he claimed to be quite recovered, she didn’t want to upset him. “Mary says that her father has been corresponding with Mr. Robert Lee in Virginia. Something about a scheme to deepen the river.”

Papa nodded. “People have talked about it for years, but dredging the river will be terribly expensive and will require investments from many on the waterfront. Mr. Quarterman may well be onto something, but now is not the time. Too many people are still trying to recover from last year’s financial setbacks.” He helped himself to more coffee. “But at least we have some personal good news on that front.”

That explained his unusually cheerful mood. “What is that, Papa?”

“Sutton returned from Charleston this afternoon with news that he has secured a new investor in Mackay Shipping. One that will make it possible to replace the
Electra
and hire a new captain—and repay the loan I secured on their behalf.”

“That is wonderful news,” Celia said. “I’m relieved, as I’m sure you are. Though I should be cross with Sutton for not letting me know he’s home.”

“He’s only just arrived, darling. I’m certain he’s eager to see you.”

Mrs. Maguire came in carrying a lemon pie. “’Tis the last one of the season; there’ll be no more till we can get some decent lemons again. Will you be wantin’ a piece just now, Mr. Browning?”

“I never pass up a chance for your lemon pie, Mrs. Maguire.”

Mrs. Maguire served the dessert, collected their dinner plates, and returned to the kitchen.

Celia took a bite of pie. Cold and tart, just the way she liked it. “Did Sutton say how his shipbuilding proposal went?”

“There wasn’t time,” Papa said. “Just before I headed for the club, I had a visit from Mr. Thompson at the paper.”

“Oh?”

“He came by to let me know he has dismissed Leo Channing. And good riddance, I say. That piece in this morning’s paper was far beyond the pale.”

So that was why Papa had taken the
Daily Morning News
with him today. To shield her from its contents.

“Even Mr. Thompson was dismayed that Channing would go so far as to accuse a member of this family of murder,” Papa continued.

Celia’s breath caught.

“Who?” Ivy breathed.

“Channing wouldn’t say outright. It’s only more innuendo, aimed at selling papers and generating talk. Thompson feared, and rightly so, that I would suspend advertising in his paper and sue him for slander in the bargain. He’s prepared to print a retraction in tomorrow’s edition along with a notice that Mr. Channing has been discharged.” Papa pushed away his empty plate. “I sincerely hope this is the end of Mr. Channing.”

For a moment Celia was tempted to tell him about her encounter with the drunken newspaperman and to ask what the man had meant by his reference to a red diary. But Papa looked better tonight than he had in some time. Clearly he was buoyed by
the news of Channing’s dismissal and of the new investor for the Mackays’ firm that would absolve him of the burdensome loan he’d made. Besides, Channing was such a liar, who knew what to believe?

The faint chiming of the doorbell drew her attention back to the table. Papa was enjoying another cup of coffee, but Ivy seemed distracted. Lost in thought.

Mrs. Maguire came in, her cheeks pink. “Miss Celia. Mr. Mackay is waiting for you in the library.”

Celia shot to her feet. “I’ll be right there. Papa, will you excuse me?”

He laughed. “Would it make a difference if I refused? Go on. Ivy and I will adjourn to the parlor, perhaps for a game of chess.”

“Oh, Uncle David, would you mind terribly if I excused myself?” Ivy set down her cup. “The trip to the asylum today tired me out more than I realized. I think I’ll read in bed for a while if that’s all right.”

“Of course, my dear. I suppose I can entertain myself.”

Celia rushed to the library to find Sutton standing beside the fireplace. He turned as she entered and crossed the room, arms open in greeting. “Hello, my love.”

She relaxed into his strong embrace. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

“Mr. Rutledge had another appointment for tomorrow that he had forgotten. We had to conclude our business rather hurriedly, but conclude it we did.”

“Papa told us you found a new investor for Mackay Shipping too.”

They moved to the settee by the window. Sutton sat down beside her and took her hands in his. “Yes. Mr. Rutledge is investing in a new ship for us. It’s the answer to prayer, really.”

“Your father must be relieved.”

“We all are. Ever since the
Electra
was lost, Mother has tried to
keep up a brave front, but she’s been terribly worried. I’m glad she had her shopping expedition with you to take her mind off Father’s troubles.” Sutton kissed her temple. “Mother says you have exquisite taste.”

“That is true. I chose you, didn’t I?”

He laughed. “I can’t wait to make a home with you.”

She drew back to meet his eyes. “Will it be soon, Sutton?”

“I hope so. Mr. Rutledge wants to invest in my ship and to build one of his own. He’s going to England next month to talk to shipbuilders. Once we make a choice, I shall have to go, too, to see that construction is started.”

“Yes,” she said slowly, “so you’ve said.”

Recent incidents had awakened in her the desire for distance. If only it were possible to leave at once for Jamaica. To sail with Sutton among the sun-shot mangroves, the ship rocking on the waters of the Black River, the pink myrtle bushes baking in the heat. She longed for someplace where everything was foreign, where their future would unfold before them, unsullied and unfettered. But now, that dream would have to wait. Unless . . .

Sutton folded his arms and grinned at her. “What are you thinking, Celia Browning?”

“Let’s get married right after the new year, and I’ll go with you to England.”

“Liverpool is hardly the kind of place for a honeymoon, darling.”

“I don’t care. What if war breaks out while you’re gone, and you can’t get back to Savannah? I couldn’t stand it.”

“It could happen, I suppose. But I plan to be safely home from England long before the next election.”

“You promise?”

“Wild horses can’t keep me in Liverpool one second longer than is necessary.”

The mantel clock chimed. Sutton rose. “It’s getting late. I should go.”

“But you just got here.”

“I know. But I promised Father I’d go over the terms of our agreement with Mr. Rutledge this evening. He wants to get everything signed as soon as possible.”

Together they walked to the door. Sutton took her hands again. “Mother told me what happened at the hotel this morning. She said you were upset.”

“I tried not to show it, but I really wanted to kick that unctuous waiter’s shins.”

Sutton grinned. “He deserved it. But don’t let it bother you. People like him are always looking for someone they can look down upon, and when that someone is a Browning or a Mackay, the urge can be too powerful to resist.”

“That’s just what your mother said. Anyway, Papa says Mr. Channing has been dismissed from the paper and tomorrow there will be a retraction of today’s story. That’s something, I suppose.”

“Well, there you are then. The end of this whole silly business.” Sutton glanced down the hallway and then looked toward the gallery. “Are we alone?”

“Ivy and Mrs. Maguire have retired for the evening. Papa is probably still in the parlor, pretending to read.”

“Then we are as alone as we’ll ever be.”

Sutton bent his head and kissed her. She closed her eyes and clung to him, lost in his arms. When the kiss ended, she looked up at him, shaken, her heart brimming with love for him. All her life, Sutton Mackay had left her breathless.

“There’s a new play opening at the theater a week from Friday,” he said, his voice husky with emotion. “Would you like to go?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll come for you at seven. Wear something pretty.”

She pretended to consider. “I was actually thinking of wearing my old fishing costume. The one with the patched skirt and the distinct odor of trout.”

“And you will look splendid in it.” He kissed her forehead. “Go to sleep, my love. And don’t give this Channing fellow another thought.”

He left, whistling, as usual. She lifted the curtain and watched his rig moving down the gas-lit street.

If only she could let go of her worries about Leo Channing. He’d been dismissed from the newspaper, but he’d made it clear that he wasn’t finished with her family’s story. Not by a long shot. He would continue probing every nook and cranny for something to put into his book. Unless she could prove his theories were false, the cloud of suspicion would continue to hang over their lives, tainting their good name and harming their livelihood. Threatening the success of her work on behalf of the orphaned girls and diminishing her mother’s legacy. She couldn’t allow that to happen.

“The red diary,
” the man had told her. “
That’s the key.
” Was there really a diary somewhere that would explain everything?

Celia let the curtain fall and headed to the parlor to say good night to Papa. He and Sutton and this house were everything to her. She would not allow any of them to be sullied. However difficult and painful it might be, she would find a way to stop Leo Channing.

She peered into the parlor, but Papa had already retired, leaving his book lying open on the chair. Celia doused the light and headed upstairs. Ivy sat on the landing. In her pale-green dressing gown, her blond hair falling loose around her shoulders, she looked young and vulnerable.