The Lightkeeper's Ball

by Colleen Coble

  Olivia shuddered. “I hate to involve someone like that in our private affairs.”

  “He wouldn’t have to know the reason. You could simply say you suspect your father is still alive. And he’d be very discreet.”

  “Perhaps.” Olivia stared at the letter. “I need to see the will that’s in Mr. Fosberg’s possession.”

  “He didn’t show it to you?”

  Olivia shook her head. “At the time I didn’t think much about it. But after speaking with Molly, I wonder why he did not reveal it. I suspect his motives.”

  A smile tugged at Katie’s lips. “You really don’t want to believe anything bad of Harrison, do you?”

  “I believe Harrison is honorable.”

  “Your attitude about him has turned around completely. When we first met, you suspected he murdered Eleanor. Now you are his staunch defender.”

  Olivia heard the amusement in her friend’s voice and had to smile herself. “I know him better now. Or do you think I’m deceiving myself?”

  Katie selected a trifle from the dessert tray. “I’ve never believed him capable of murder. He’s been a friend to Will and me for years. I don’t care much for his father, but Mr. Bennett’s actions are hardly Harrison’s fault.” She nibbled on a chocolate éclair, then eyed Olivia. “You said Harrison offered to announce your engagement. What are you going to do?”

  Olivia had thought of little else. “I agreed to the engagement. The ball will be an engagement ball as well.”

  Katie clasped her hands together. “Olivia, that’s wonderful!”

  “Don’t rejoice too much just yet. He’ll break the engagement when I tell him I’m Olivia Stewart.”

  Katie’s smile faded. “What do you mean?”

  Olivia held her gaze. “Eleanor was not . . . true to him. He is rather bitter about the Stewart family and told me that his father is insistent that he marry Olivia. But he said he would never do such a thing.”

  “I believe he cares for you, Olivia.”

  She wished she could hold such a happy view of the situation. “Mother sees nothing wrong with stringing him along until the scandal dies down.”

  “What does she have planned for you if you do break your engagement?”

  “She intends to haul me to Europe. She has it in her head that Bennett and Harrison are responsible for Eleanor’s death.” She held up her hand when Katie smiled. “I know, I believed the same thing a few days ago. I’ll convince her when I get to the truth.”

  “So what happens when you get to Europe?”

  “Mother hopes to marry me to someone more suitable.” Her spirits dipped just repeating her mother’s plans. She didn’t want to be married for status. Not to Harrison or to anyone else. “Sometimes I wish I were a common person, just a milliner or a dressmaker. It’s dreadful to be sought after for what you possess.”

  “You should be careful what you wish for,” Katie said.

  “Oh, I realize how fortunate I am. And I’m grateful.” She realized she sounded anything but grateful.

  “God has you right where he wants you,” Katie said. “He provides for our needs no matter how much money we have. Any money you have is from his hand.”

  Olivia had never really considered that God had given her family their money. Her father had been quick to take credit for their family’s astute business sense. “I think I shall call on Mr. Fosberg tomorrow and ask to see the will.”

  “Do you want Will or me to go with you?”

  Olivia shook her head. “I can handle Mr. Fosberg. I shall take Mother with me. He can’t deny our right to see the document.” She yawned. “I’m exhausted. It’s been a grueling day. I think I shall ring for Jerry to carry me upstairs.”

  “I’m going up too. Jennie must be awake, or Will would have joined us.”

  Katie rang for Jerry, and the footman carried her up to her bedroom. “I can make it from here, Jerry. Thank you,” she told him at the bedroom door. He put her down on the end of the bed and laid the crutches beside her, then left her alone.

  If only she could shut her thoughts off. And her feelings. She wanted to talk to Harrison. Tonight. Right now. She rang the bell for Goldia.

  Goldia stepped into the room. “There you are, miss. I have your nightdress laid out.”

  Olivia stood and balanced herself on the bedpost, turning her back to her maid. She allowed Goldia to undo the buttons and help her step out of the dress. She stood shivering as Goldia dropped the nightdress over her head, then sat in front of the dresser as the maid released her hair from its pins and began to brush it. The rhythmic touch of the bristles through her hair eased the tension in her shoulders.

  “I thought I saw your father today,” Goldia said.

  Olivia tensed and turned to face the girl. “Father? Where?”

  “At the general store. I was buying some ribbons for your new hat and saw him through the window. I ran out, but he was gone.”

  “Do you think it was really him? In broad daylight where he might be recognized?”

  Goldia resumed brushing. “I only caught a glimpse so I can’t be sure. But the walk was so familiar.”

  Olivia’s heart lightened. “Perhaps he will be in touch with us soon.” Maybe she would do as Katie suggested if he didn’t show himself. A detective would track him down in no time. She thanked Goldia, then hobbled to bed and crawled under the covers after her maid pulled them back. Goldia extinguished the gaslight at the door, then exited, plunging the room into darkness.

  Olivia snuggled under the sheet and her eyelids drooped. It seemed only moments later when her eyes popped open, but the moonless night told her at least an hour had passed. It was likely about eleven. She bolted upright in bed as a voice came from the speaking tube beside her again.

  “Olivia. I need to talk to you. Come to the kitchen.”

  She grabbed the speaking tube. “Who is this?”

  “Don’t you recognize your own father, Olivia? Come to the kitchen. Now.”

  The imperious voice was clearly her father’s. Without another thought, she reached for her dressing gown, belted it around her, then hobbled to the door on her crutches.

  TWENTY-SIX

  HARRISON MANAGED TO avoid Fosberg until the party began to disperse about eleven. It was difficult to keep smiling and talking to guests when he wanted to take the man by the collar and toss him into the street. He chatted with the Norths until he thought Fosberg was gone, then walked them to the door and said good night. When he turned to go back to the parlor, however, he spotted the man still inside. Fosberg stood talking to Harrison’s parents by the fireplace.

  Harrison stopped in the doorway and turned to exit, but his mother called to him. He turned back and approached the three. “I believe I’ll say good night now.”

  His father clapped his hand on Fosberg’s shoulder. “Good news, Harrison. Mr. Fosberg is leasing the building on Main and Sunset.”

  Their premier leasehold. Harrison looked at Fosberg’s smug face. “I’m not leasing anything to him.”

  His father’s smile faded. “Well, I am.”

  “Then you’ll do it without me. I’m not signing any paperwork for it. The man has publicly accused me of murder.”

  His father stared from Fosberg to Harrison. “What are you babbling about?” he snapped.

  “Ask him.”

  Fosberg was stone-faced. “You’re speaking nonsense.”

  “Lady Devonworth told me of your belief that I killed Eleanor.”

  “I don’t have to stay and listen to such nonsense.” Fosberg brushed past Harrison.

  Harrison followed him. “Do you deny your accusation? And you didn’t even tell her the full story.”

  His father was on their heels. “Harrison, that’s enough. I’ve already accepted Mr. Fosberg’s offer. I have his check in my pocket.”

  “Then you have my resignation. I’ll have nothing to do with helping him get established in this town.” Harrison strode past Fosberg and slammed the door behind hi
m. He heard his father bellow his name, but he ignored it and stalked down the driveway and down the street to his own house.

  Now what? He had some money in the bank, but it would only pay his expenses for a few months. Though finances would be tight, he could devote all his energy now to researching flight. He could look for investors without being hampered by his father’s expectations and the responsibility he felt toward the family business.

  Now was his chance to follow his dream. Fosberg had just done him a favor.

  When Harrison stepped into the hall, Eugene met him at the door. “Your mother is on the telephone,” he said, taking Harrison’s jacket.

  Harrison’s gut tightened. He went to the hall where the telephone was and picked up the earpiece. “Hello, Mother.”

  “Your father is quite upset, Harrison. Come over and talk this out.”

  Her tearful voice got past his defenses. “I can’t. There is nothing to talk out. I’m not going to lease Frederick Fosberg anything.”

  “Your father says he’s paying a good sum. It’s just business, after all.”

  “And I’ve found such business practices aren’t for me.” He inhaled and hoped to gather courage. “This has been coming a long time. You know where my heart lies. I want to spend time on my aeroplane.”

  “Son, you have a God-given gift for numbers and business. How can you throw that away?”

  Her reminder made him sag against the wall. It was the one thing he hadn’t thought through. The gift. Was he throwing away something God intended him to use? He thought of the way he felt when he was working on a new acquisition. Getting the new business on a solid financial footing, finding its strengths and bolstering its weaknesses. He was usually able to focus and be involved, yes, but his mind often wandered to the design of his machine. So which was God-given?

  “Harrison, are you there?” his mother asked.

  “I’m here.” He rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know what to tell you, Mother. I’m not signing any lease with that man.”

  “What did you mean about his accusation?”

  “He suggested to Lady Devonworth that Eleanor broke our engagement and I killed her in a rage.” He’d told no one about what he’d seen at the cottage. No one but Lady Devonworth.

  His mother gasped. “Surely the woman misunderstood him.”

  “She did not,” he said.

  “Did Eleanor break the engagement?” his mother asked.

  “No. I did. But I don’t wish to discuss the reasons.” He exhaled heavily. “It’s late, Mother. We’re all tired. I’m going to bed.”

  “At least pray about this,” his mother pleaded.

  “I shall do that. But I think God has been leading me in this direction for a long time.”

  “Mr. Fosberg might have been upset about something. I’m sure his words were not as serious as you are making out.”

  “And I’m sure they were. Good night, Mother.” He hung up the phone and went upstairs where Eugene waited.

  His valet helped him off with his vest, then hung it up with his coat. “I quit Bennett and Bennett tonight.”

  Eugene paused in his brushing lint off the jacket and vest on the form. “Totally quit? For good, sir?”

  “Yes. And it feels great. Tomorrow I’m going to go to the club and see about finding some investors to rebuild the aeroplane.”

  “I’m not sure it will be easy. Not after crashing the last machine.”

  “I have a great new design that I want to work on. I want to land it on water and prove it can be done.”

  “Should I look for another position, sir?”

  Harrison stared at his valet. “Of course not, Eugene. I’m going to make a go of this. And I have enough savings to see us through for a while. You’re indispensable to me.”

  But the reminder that others depended on his decisions tempered his elation. His entire staff looked to him for their support. He had to make this work. He looked at the bed, then grabbed casual clothes.

  “I’m going for a walk,” he told Eugene. He called to Nealy and stepped into the night air.

  Olivia nearly slipped on the slick surface of the stairs. Little moonlight came through the windows, and the servants had extinguished all the lamps. Holding on to the banister, she made her way down to the first floor by scooting on her bottom with her crutches in one hand. In the hall, she got the crutches under her arms, then lit the gaslight in the hall. Its hiss was nearly as comforting as the warm yellow glow it cast.

  She moved through the labyrinth of rooms to the kitchen, a room she wasn’t sure she’d ever been in. The cook was usually jealous of his domain, and she tended to leave him to his territory. She thought it was through this hallway, but she found herself in a place that dead-ended at a servants’ bathroom.

  Retracing her steps, she went down another hall. This time she saw a sliver of light under a closed door. She pushed the heavy door, and it opened into a large kitchen lined with cupboards, a mammoth stove, and a large chopping table. A small lamp only barely illuminated the space, but there were lots of shadowy corners that left her uneasy.

  The room was empty. It held a lingering scent of garlic and cinnamon. “Hello?”

  She stepped into the room, and the door swung shut behind her. She jumped and whirled when the latch clicked. Stepping back, she turned the knob and it opened easily. When she peered into the hall, there was no one there. The window in the back door drew her. She peered out into the sprawling yard, but it was too dark to see past the first two feet.

  She turned back to the seemingly empty room. “Father?” she called softly. No one answered.

  Where was the speaking tube he’d used? She glanced around the room and saw it by the door. There was a similar apparatus in most rooms in the house. Could he have used one in the parlor and intended to get here before she did? Pulling out a chair by the battered table against the wall, she sat down to wait.

  Though it was late, all thoughts of sleep had fled. Where was he? She didn’t know how long she waited. At least fifteen minutes. Toying with a fork, she listened for any sounds in the quiet house.

  “I might as well go back to bed,” she said aloud. She rose and pushed the chair back in. As it scraped against the floor, she heard something.

  “Olivia,” the voice called from outside. It was right outside the back door. Or so it seemed.

  She limped toward the door, then paused with her hand on the doorknob. Why would her father want to talk outside in the dark? Was it even him?

  “Olivia, come here,” the man said again.

  She listened closely to the voice. It was her father. She unlocked the door and hobbled with her crutches onto the back stoop. The ocean waves crashed in the distance, and she smelled the tang of salt in the air. “Father?” The dew drenched her cloth slippers as soon as she stepped onto the grass.

  She moved farther into the yard. “Father?” The darkness was complete, and she couldn’t see more than a foot in front of her face. If only she had a lamp. A bench should be to her right, so she moved in that direction.

  A sound came from behind her. Before she could turn, a cloth covered her nose and mouth, and a sickeningly sweet smell made her cough and gag. She fought the strong arms that held her tight as the man dragged her backward. She was dizzy, so dizzy. She fought to stay conscious. She was dimly aware he was dragging her toward the cliff. Was this how Eleanor had died? Drugged and thrown into the sea right outside the house?

  With renewed vigor, she dug her nails into her attacker’s skin and heard him swear under his breath. Even now he sounded a bit like her father, but she knew he couldn’t possibly be. Whipping her head back and forth, she managed to catch a fresh breath of clean air that cleared her mind. She tore into his skin with her nails again and wished she could sink her teeth into his wrist, but the cloth still partially covered her mouth.

  His grip loosened, and she ripped free of his hands. The cloth fell away from her mouth. She screamed but all that came out was a chok
ed cry. The chemical he’d used on the cloth had tightened her throat and dried her lips. She stumbled toward the house, but he was on her again before she’d gone two steps.

  “You little hellion,” he muttered in her ear.

  That voice wasn’t her father’s. The cloth came toward her mouth again and she screamed. This time the sound was a little louder, but she didn’t think anyone in the house would hear her.

  “Harrison!” The suffocating smell enveloped her again, and the strength drained out of her legs. She sagged, and the man dragged her back toward the drop-off again.

  She wasn’t ready to die. It was her last thought before he pitched her over the edge.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  THE MOON WAS out, illuminating the shrubs and flowers along Pacific Way. Harrison hadn’t intended to walk this far. And he especially had no intention of walking past the mansion where Lady Devonworth slept behind the stone walls. He paused at the driveway to the Stewart estate. No lights winked in the windows. The only movement was the wind through the live oak tree branches.

  What was he doing here? He’d thought a walk would clear his head, but it only made him more confused about what the future held. The night was silent, broken only by the distant sound of the surf on the rocks and the click of Nealy’s nails on the sidewalk beside him. There was no voice from God telling him what he should do now. He didn’t have much to offer a lady. No security, only his dream of building a flying machine that would make a difference.

  It was only when he turned to retrace his steps that a troubling sound broke the night air. He paused, listening. A cat in distress? Had her dratted kitten gotten into trouble again? Shrugging, he took another step toward home, but Nealy whined and went a few feet closer to the house.

  “Come on, Nealy,” Harrison said, continuing to walk away.

  He’d gone only three feet when he heard a woman cry out. The utterance sounded like his name. Nealy barked and ran toward the manor. Harrison whirled and looked toward the house to see if Lady Devonworth had spotted him and wanted to talk. The house was still dark and motionless. Now that he thought about it, the cry had been distant, apart from the house.