The Lightkeeper's Ball

by Colleen Coble

  She began to work the rope but it refused to loosen. Straining to see in the dark, she realized her mother was slumped unconscious against the other door. Olivia’s scream tried to work its way past the rag, but all that emerged was a choked gasp.

  The next moment she heard something splash. The stench of gasoline choked her. They were going to set the carriage house on fire!

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  HARRISON SAT FOR a long time just staring into the flickering fire. All his bright hopes for the future were gone. His father was a swindler, maybe worse. He still wasn’t convinced his father hadn’t orchestrated Mr. Stewart’s death. The man he would have trusted with his life had betrayed him. Worst of all, the woman he’d meant to spend the rest of his life with believed him capable of killing her sister and plotting her own death. And she’d deceived him.

  “Sir.”

  He looked up to see Eugene—Richard—in the doorway. The proper response would be to leap to his feet and restrain him until the constable could be summoned, but Harrison couldn’t dredge up the will to do it.

  “Why, Eugene?” he asked simply. His valet would always be Eugene to him, not this Richard fellow.

  Eugene stepped into the office. “I’m not behind Eleanor’s murder. I know that’s what Miss Stewart thinks. You believed her too. I saw it in your face. That’s why I ran.”

  “The constable is looking for you. Why have you come back?”

  “To make sure you know the truth. I had nothing to do with any of this.”

  “Then who has?” Harrison asked.

  Eugene hung his head. He went still, then picked up the forged signatures on Harrison’s desk. “What is this?”

  “My father forged the paper giving him control of the mine.” Harrison rubbed his throbbing head. “If you didn’t kill Eleanor, then maybe he did.”

  Eugene shook his head. “My cousin did this, not your father.”

  “What? How do you know?”

  “It’s known in town that if you want a well-done forgery, you go to Jerry.”

  “Jerry? He’s your cousin?”

  Eugene nodded. “Your father wouldn’t sully his hands by doing this himself.”

  “And the one from Mr. Stewart to Eleanor? He would have done that one as well?”

  “It would make sense.”

  Harrison frowned. “What would be Jerry’s connection to this? Was he simply hired to do the forgery? Why would my father want Eleanor dead? Or Olivia? He forced Eleanor out here to marry me. He had much to lose by their deaths. But you didn’t.”

  Eugene held his stare. “I would not take their money or their lives, sir.”

  “Then who is behind this? Who else stands to gain from eliminating the Stewarts?” He saw Eugene pale and glance away. “Who, Eugene?”

  Eugene put his hands in his pockets. “Jerry himself. When Mr. Fosberg told Eleanor about the new will, Jerry came to me chortling about how life would be different when I possessed all the Stewart money. That we could take over the estate and be as good as anyone else in town.”

  “That’s not proof,” Harrison said.

  “There’s more, sir. A few minutes ago I overheard Jerry in the Stewarts’ garden. He was talking in another voice.”

  “Probably practicing for the vaudeville play he’ll be in. The same one he performed tonight at the ball.”

  Eugene shook his head. “He sounded like my father. I heard him say, ‘Olivia, come down here.’”

  “Why would he say that? You mean he was practicing to coax her from her room again?” The pencil in Harrison’s fingers snapped. “He was the one who lured her outside, then tried to kill her?”

  “That’s what I suspect,” Eugene said. “I came straight here.”

  Harrison leaped to his feet. “He’s in the house with Olivia! I must get to her immediately.”

  “I’m sure he would do nothing with a houseful of guests.” But Eugene followed him to the hall.

  Harrison called Nealy, then went directly to his car. He slid behind the wheel of the car that was parked along the street. The engine didn’t turn over. “Come on, come on,” he said.

  “We’d better walk,” Eugene said.

  Harrison got out and followed his valet as they ran toward the Stewarts’. Nealy raced after them. As they rounded the corner, a red glow lit the predawn sky.

  “Fire!” Harrison seemed to be moving in slow motion though his legs pumped beneath him and his chest burned with exertion. “The carriage house!”

  The property seemed impossibly far away. As he raced up the driveway, he detected no shouts of alarm. All the guests were probably sleeping off their exhaustion from being up all night. “Fire!” he screamed again at the top of his lungs. He prayed the servants would hear him.

  What if Olivia was in that building? Considering the danger she faced, an unrelated fire would be an unlikely coincidence. Horror seemed to encase his legs in ice. Was he never going to arrive? Panting, he reached the end of the house and ran for the backyard, shouting for the servants as he ran. He rounded the back corner.

  The carriage house roof was in engulfed in flames. Embers shot into the air and fell like the falling stars they’d seen that night he first kissed her. He ran for the door and tried to open it, but the doorknob was scorching hot. He took off his shirt, wrapped it around his hand and tried again, but it was locked. With his hand still encased in his shirt, he punched his fist through the glass, reached inside and unlocked the latch, then managed to get the door open.

  Smoke and heat poured out of the doorway. He screamed her name above the roar of the flames. Stepping into the inferno, he choked on the smoke and peered through the hideous scene straight from a nightmare. “Olivia!”

  Someone touched his shoulder and he looked back to see Eugene in the blazing building with him. “She has to be in here!” Harrison yelled. Holding his arm across his nose and mouth, he began to kick at the flames.

  He wouldn’t find her alive. The inner conviction nearly made his knees buckle, but he refused to give in to despair. Nealy began to bark. The dog grabbed Harrison’s pants and tugged. He let the dog drag him forward. “Olivia!” he called again.

  A movement caught his eye in the seat of the roadster. He leaped to the automobile and found Olivia, her eyes half closed and her head lolling against the seat. Her mother was beside her.

  “Eugene, here!” He tried to pick her up, but she was tied. It took precious moments to loosen the rope, then he raised Olivia in his arms and ran with her toward the exit. “Get Mrs. Stewart!”

  Fire crackled overhead. Burning timbers began to rain down on their heads, and the doorway seemed too far away. He leaped over a blazing rafter and felt the heat of it on his legs as he reached the other side. Looking down, he realized his trousers were on fire, but he felt no pain. He didn’t stop to beat out the fire but rushed for the clear air he could now see outside. He burst through the space into the yard where a group of guests were huddled together watching the blaze.

  Laying Olivia on the grass, he made sure her clothing wasn’t on fire. It was only then that one of the guests took off his jacket and smothered the flames on Harrison’s trousers. Harrison caught a glimpse of burned flesh and wondered when the pain would start.

  He spotted Mrs. Bagley and Jerry watching the blaze from the porch. Her face fell when she saw Olivia on the grass. She grabbed Jerry’s arm, and they disappeared inside.

  Eugene exited the carriage house with Mrs. Stewart in his arms. The hem of her nightdress was smoldering, and Harrison tossed the jacket to Eugene, who beat at it until the fire was out.

  Olivia seemed unhurt. He cradled her in his arms and took the gag from her mouth. Her eyelids fluttered and she swallowed.

  “Water!” he called to the shocked crowd. “Shh, don’t talk,” he told Olivia. “I’ve got you.” He held her close. “I can’t lose you, Olivia.” He rocked her back and forth.

  “I prayed you’d come,” she said, her voice hoarse.

  He pre
ssed his lips to her forehead and thanked God they’d been in time.

  Her lungs burned with every breath she drew. Olivia opened her eyes and coughed. She tried to sit up, but gentle hands pushed her back. She realized she was in her bed. The scent of smoke still clung to her even though someone had removed her smoky clothing and replaced it with a clean nightdress.

  “Lie still, darling.” Harrison’s face shimmered in her vision.

  She blinked and his face came into focus. “Mother!” She tried to rise again, but his hands on her shoulders held her down.

  “She’s fine. Eugene got her out.” Time enough later to tell her about her mother’s burns. They weren’t life threatening and would heal without disfigurement.

  “Richard didn’t try to hurt me,” she said past the pain in her throat. “It was his aunt and cousin.”

  “Eugene told me.”

  “Where are they?”

  “In custody. Brown caught them fleeing town. Jerry is telling the constable everything.”

  She clutched his forearm and drew it away so she could take his hand. “Harrison, I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me?”

  “I already did, the second I realized I might lose you.” He raised her hand to his lips.

  “There was no excuse for how I acted.”

  “I’m not without blame. I was too proud to make you listen to me. I believed the worst about Eugene too, and I was wrong.” He slid his hand under her back. “I’m going to raise you up. Ready?”

  She nodded, and he lifted her to a seated position. Her vision swam again, then cleared. “I need to see my mother.”

  “She’s resting. I spoke with her. The doctor is with her now.”

  “Did she have many burns?”

  He shook his head. “Mostly on her ankles, but they will heal. He was concerned because of her age. He wanted to check out her heart and lungs, but he said he thought she’d be fine. He treated your burns and the one on my leg.”

  She coughed, her lungs still hurting. “You were burned?”

  “Just my leg. I’ll be fine.”

  “What’s going to happen to them—the Bagleys?” she asked.

  His lips flattened and his eyes narrowed. “They’ll be tried for your sister’s murder. And for trying to kill you and your mother.”

  There was a tap on the door, and he turned. “Come in.”

  His valet poked his head into the room. “I wondered if I might speak to Miss Olivia?”

  Richard stepped into the bedroom when Harrison nodded. Olivia stared at him. In the daylight he looked even more like her father. And he was her brother. She struggled to wrap her mind around that fact.

  “I wanted to personally apologize,” Richard said. “And to assure you that I had no idea what was happening until this morning when I heard about the forgeries. I really thought Eleanor killed herself.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said.

  Harrison smoothed her hair. “Eugene says Jerry is the person to go to when someone needs a forgery.”

  “So he forged my father’s signature onto the agreement with Bennett?”

  Harrison nodded. “And he wrote the letter we thought was from your father.”

  “Why would he tell Eleanor to cut off all ties with the Bennetts?”

  “The constable said Jerry was trying to cozy up to Eleanor. He had hopes he could win her. He didn’t know of her relationship with Fosberg,” Harrison said. “When he found out, she had to die to prevent the attorney from laying any claim to her money.”

  “What of hearing my father’s voice? Was that you, Richard?”

  He shook his head. “I went to talk to my cousin Jerry early this morning as the guests went off to bed. I found him in the garden practicing speaking in your father’s voice.”

  “I don’t understand,” Olivia said. “Jerry was the person I heard?”

  Richard nodded. “He’s always been good at mimicking voices.”

  “He did an excellent job in the play,” she said. “All this for money.” She would have given the Bagleys all the money they wanted if they’d only spared her sister’s life. Olivia rubbed her head. There were sore spots. Burns most likely.

  “They wanted revenge more than money,” Harrison added.

  “She hated our family so much,” Olivia marveled. “It seems extreme.”

  Richard nodded. “My aunt had a hard life that was made even harder after my mother died. When your father built the grand house here, the only job she could get at the time was as his housekeeper. The more she saw the differences between his life and the life we lived, the more deranged she became. I often heard her say she could do a better job running the estate than the Stewarts did.”

  “Did they have anything to do with my father’s death?” She had to know.

  Harrison shook his head. “If anyone did something wrong there, it was my father. He maintains your father’s death was an accident and I tend to believe him. But even if that’s true, he took the opportunity to swindle your mother. I found evidence in the books that the diamond mines are producing millions of dollars, and my father is paying only a fraction of that into your accounts.”

  It was all so overwhelming. “Now what?” she asked.

  “I told Father he has to fix it. All of it. And turn himself in.”

  “Will he?” Richard asked.

  Harrison’s jaw hardened. “If he doesn’t, I will.”

  Olivia stared at her new brother. “Now what, Richard? We need to get to the bottom of the will.”

  He shook his head. “The document makes no difference to me. I’m not going to take your money. It’s not right.”

  “I think Father wanted to right a wrong,” Olivia said softly. “It’s clear that you will never let my mother want for anything. You’re a good man. I believe we can trust you.”

  He swallowed hard and looked down. “I can’t take your money.”

  “I’m going to talk to our attorney. Will you accept whatever just settlement he suggests?”

  He raised his eyes and stared at her. “If you insist, Miss Olivia.”

  “Just Olivia,” she said. “You’re my brother, and you saved my life tonight.” She tightened her grip on Harrison’s hand. “You and Harrison.”

  A sheen of moisture gleamed in Richard’s eyes. He bowed. “I’ll take my leave now, Olivia, and let you rest.”

  “Wait!” She held out her hand. “I want to know why you don’t hate us like the rest of your family.”

  “I used to,” he admitted. “After my mother hung herself.”

  Olivia squeezed his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed and he blinked rapidly. “Thank you. I got into trouble as a teenager. Petty theft, breaking windows. A cop in the San Francisco suburbs caught me, but instead of arresting me, he made me go to church with him.”

  “And you came to know Jesus,” Harrison said.

  Richard nodded. “That changed everything. I couldn’t harbor bitterness like that. So I just . . . let it go. I was free. Bitterness binds you. Look at my aunt and cousin.”

  She shuddered and released his hand. “Don’t go too far. I want to get to know my brother better.”

  A ghost of a smile flitted across his face. He nodded and closed the door behind him.

  “I did the same thing to him that you did to me,” Harrison said. “Even though I’d known and trusted him for years, I believed he had duped me.”

  She tugged on his hand until he sat on the edge of the bed. “So are you still going to marry me even if I’m poor? And a Stewart?”

  He grinned. “I thought you were poor until I saw the accounting books. I’d rather support my wife myself. Are you sure you still want to marry me knowing we are going to have to work hard to make a go of the business?”

  “Trying to talk your way out of it?” she teased.

  He leaned down until his face was just inches from hers. “Not a chance, darling. I’m not letting you get away. When will you marry me?”

>   “Today?” she suggested.

  “I’ll get the preacher.” His eyes were serious.

  Heat settled in her cheeks. “We could make it soon,” she whispered. “But just a small wedding after everyone is gone. I’m done trying to impress people.”

  “We’ll have it on the beach at night. Right where I kissed you under the falling stars. If we’re lucky, it will happen again.”

  “There are enough fireworks when you touch me that we don’t need falling stars,” she said, pulling him down to kiss her.

  A LETTER FROM THE AUTHOR

  DEAR READER,

  I hope you’ve enjoyed this third excursion to Mercy Falls as much as I have. I’ve learned about Halley’s Comet, the first cars and airplanes, and what people at the turn of the last century ate right along with you. Such fun!

  I’m so thankful you were all willing to take this little sidestep with me to historical romantic mysteries. I hope it delivered my usual blend of mystery and romance while giving you a glimpse of an earlier time.

  I love and appreciate every one of you and the way you spread the word about my books. I love hearing from you, so e-mail me anytime at colleen@colleencoble.com. And if you are a Facebook or Twitter fan, you can find me there as well. I love to interact with my reader friends!

  Much love,

  Colleen

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  IS IT POSSIBLE that The Lightkeeper’s Ball is my eighteenth book with my Thomas Nelson family? They are truly my dream team! Publisher Allen Arnold (I call him Superman) is so passionate about fiction, and he lights up a room when he enters it. Senior Acquisitions Editor Ami McConnell (my friend and cheerleader) has an eye for character and theme like no one I know. I crave her analytical eye! It was her influence that encouraged me to write a historical romantic mystery, and I’m glad she pushed me a bit! Marketing Manager Eric Mullett brings fabulous ideas to the table. Publicist Katie Bond is always willing to listen to my harebrained ideas. Fabulous cover guru Kristen Vasgaard (you so rock!) works hard to create the perfect cover—and does it. And of course I can’t forget my other friends who are all part of my amazing fiction family: Natalie Hanemann, Amanda Bostic, Becky Monds, Ashley Schneider, Andrea Lucado, Heather McCoullough, Chris Long, and Kathy Carabajal. I wish I could name all the great folks who work on selling my books through different venues at Thomas Nelson. Hearing “well done” from you all is my motivation every day.