Envy the Wind

by Anita Davison

  “Hello, dear,” the older one spotted Grace at the last moment. “We're a little early, I know, but we're quite famished. Aren't we Mathilda?” She addressed the younger one, whose features were almost identical. “We plan to take a trip to Victoria Park today to watch the military band. We so like outdoor music, don't we, Mathilda?”

  “Yes, Mama,” Mathilda confirmed in a bored, long suffering tone. “And it cannot be described as a trip. The park is on the other side of town.”

  “I’m sure you’ll have a lovely day, Mrs Lennox.” Grace interrupted the older lady’s stammered protest. “Would you excuse us?” She lowered her voice to address John. “Shall we go onto the veranda? We’ll have more privacy there.”

  “Good idea,” he whispered back. “I hope you enjoy your day, ladies.” John delivered a theatrical bow to both women, rewarded with their shy blushes.

  A pre-dawn rainfall lingered on the gazebo roofs that glittered with droplets, the grass and trees looked clean and greener, the sun having dried the patio and pathways in the already warm morning air.

  “I heard about your heroic efforts with Isla.” He waited for Grace to take her seat before lowering himself into the peacock backed chair at the far end of the veranda. “Mary tells anyone willing to listen that you single-handedly saved her daughter's life. She cannot praise you highly enough.”

  “Hardly heroic. I happened to be there at the time and stayed to support them. How is Isla?”

  “She's recovering nicely. They hope to bring her home in a week or so.”

  “I'm so glad. Diphtheria is such a dreadful illness.”

  “Andrew said you slipped away from the hospital the other morning without a word to anyone.” His warm smile removed the sting from what might have been an accusation.

  “I-I didn't want to intrude.” She ran her fingernails along a fold in her skirt, her head down. Seeing him comfort Mary had grated at her heart.

  “Did I misjudge the situation, Grace?” he asked gently.

  “I’m not sure to which situation you refer.” She brought her gaze back to his face, aware she blushed.

  “I think you do. I detected a strong attraction between you and Andrew Jardine while we were on the SS Elizabeth. However, he says he has barely seen you since your arrival in Charlottetown. That on the few occasions when your paths have crossed, you appeared less than pleased to see him.”

  “There was a misunderstanding when I first arrived, but lately we’ve been quite cordial.” Grace fidgeted. “I've also been busy with the hotel, and in any case, he’s done nothing to seek me out. And indeed, why should he?”

  “Andrew talks of you often. Was I wrong and in fact you have no affection for him?”

  “What do you expect me to say? Surely you don’t see me as a woman who would come between a man and his wife?”

  “Wife?" John’s eyes darkened with genuine confusion. "You must be mistaken, my dear. Andrew has never been married.”

  “I-I don’t understand.” Her pulse raced, her mind filling with questions. “Emily told me that-”

  “Ah, Emily.” He sighed and leaned back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other. “My wife is - mischievous. She likes to be the center of attention and regards Andrew as her personal acquisition. I should have seen this coming as she saw you as a rival from the beginning.”

  “But there's Mary. And Isla?” Grace tried to make sense of what she was hearing. “At the hospital Andrew was frantic. They both were.”

  “Of course they were. It’s natural that he should be distraught about a niece he has raised like his own daughter.”

  Like his own daughter. All her fears of Keogh, rum and policemen flew from her mind as one thought dominated. Andrew isn't married.

  “How could I have been so wrong?”

  “If Emily had a hand in things, I doubt it was your fault.” John gave a cynical laugh.

  “To be fair to Emily,” Grace began, “she didn’t actually say Mary was his wife. I must have misunderstood.”

  “Hah! You have no reason to be fair to her, she’s rarely fair to anyone else. No, my dear, you were manipulated. As I said, Andrew talks about you often. A fact which annoys my petulant little wife a good deal.”

  A couple of hotel guests passed by the veranda on a leisurely stroll around the garden. Glad of the distraction in which to marshal her thoughts, Grace inclined her head in acknowledgement. She waited until they moved on before speaking.

  “Even if what you say is true,” Grace said when they were alone again. “Andrew has never made any approach to me.”

  “Did it occur to you that he’s a shy man where you're concerned? You give the impression of being an independent, strong-willed young woman. A challenge for any man.”

  Shy? Andrew? Was he talking about the same person who had literally swept her off her feet, on the quayside? The charming man who had been so animated at The Waverley and then again on the steamboat? The day outside Wright’s Furniture store came back in full force and she cringed. “Oh dear. Come to think of it, I might have also been at fault.”

  “It appears that you have misunderstood each other. May I suggest you talk to him?”

  “I’m not sure what I would say.” Suddenly the door which had been closed to her opened up and she could see a very different path in front of her. “But if Mary is his sister-in-law, what happened to Andrew’s brother?

  “Ah, there’s a story.” He stared out over the garden for a moment. “Alasdair was the younger, indulged son who left school early; always looking for the pot of gold which didn’t exist. He married his childhood sweetheart, Mary in '97 and they had Isla a year later. He bought a large house, filled it with expensive furniture, bought a fancy carriage, all with the inheritance his mother left him, and some which Mary came into from her grandfather.”

  “I presume they exhausted the inheritances?” Grace said.

  “Yes, they did. It resulted in the house being sold to pay his debts. Jardine senior wasn’t prepared to throw good money after bad, no matter how much he loved his son. Alasdair rejected his father's suggestion to join the family business. Instead, he decided to search for gold in the Klondike. Leaving Mary and Isla in his father’s care, he went to Alaska. To everyone’s surprise, including his own, I imagine, he struck gold. He returned months later with his pockets bursting, threw parties and played the part of the conquering hero.”

  “What happened?”

  “He had to return to Alaska to organize the mining operations and booked passage on The Islander in August ’01, intending to be away three months, but the ship hit an iceberg. Alasdair was one of the forty people who drowned.”

  “Oh, how awful!”

  “Indeed. Mary was inconsolable, and Jardine senior became a broken man, shutting himself away on his silver fox farm. Andrew didn’t like to see such daily misery, especially for a child, so he brought Mary and three-year-old Isla to live with him.”

  “Surely he doesn’t blame himself for Alasdair’s death?”

  “In a way he does. He believes he should have supported his brother financially and not let him go off to die.”

  “Then Alasdair would have expected Andrew to support him forever.”

  “Probably, but Andrew’s view is that his brother would still be alive. Isla would have a father and Mary a husband.”

  “What about Alasdair’s gold claim? Or was that just a story?”

  “Oh, it was real all right, but the seam ran out during the second year. Andrew invested the money for Mary, and for Isla when she's older.”

  “What a sad story. Somehow, I forgot other people don’t have perfect lives any more than I do. Sadness makes people very insular. If I did speak to Andrew, what would I say to him? That I've been cold because I thought he was insincere?”

  “Give him credit, Grace." His repetition of what Aoife had said gave her pause. "You'll know when you begin. Actually, that wasn’t the only reason for my visit.”

  “Which is?”

/>   “I believe you are acquainted with a man named Charles Keogh?”

  Grace's heart did a painful leap. What did John know? “Distantly. He arranged the purchase of this house.”

  “Is that all? Have you had contact with him since then?” His eyes seemed to see right through her. Dare she tell him? Or was it a trap?

  “I've had little to do with him. I don't trust the man.”

  “I'm pleased to hear you say that, my dear. If I were you, I would continue in that vein. The man has a certain reputation.” She was about to reassure him, when he added, “I'm aware of nothing definite, I've never met him, but one hears things.”

  “Then why are you warning me against him?”

  “Because Andrew asked me to.”

  “Oh!” Grace frowned.

  “Now, I must go.” He pushed himself to his feet. “I have a meeting to attend this morning. I’m glad we managed to get things sorted out.”

  Once Grace had waved off his carriage, she collected her hat and bag from her room.

  “Where are you going?” Aoife waylaid her in the hall.

  “I won't be long. I need to see someone. Can you and Tilly manage the breakfasts while I'm away?”

  “I’ve already said we can. But what about-” She pointed a finger at the floor, whispering, “You know.”

  “I don’t know, but I hope to have a better idea of what to do when I get back.”

  Grace strode along West street, where medium sized merchants and builders’ homes made way for imposing residences with large covered porches, multiple turrets and front drives on expansive plots of the more affluent. Having identified the Jardine house, she checked the street for curious bystanders, but the wide tree lined road looked empty. While waiting for a response to her knock at the vast black-painted front door, the memory of her previous visit made her glance across to the Cahill house opposite, just in time to see a figure step back quickly from an upper window.

  Emily.

  Suppressing an urge to wave, she turned back just as the door was opened by Andrew Jardine in dark trousers, waistcoat and rolled up shirtsleeves.

  “Oh, I-.” She swallowed the speech she had prepared for a reluctant butler. “I didn’t expect-”

  “To see me open my own front door?” He regarded her with mild surprise. “Today is my manservant’s day off. Come into the library.” He stepped aside to allow her entry into a light and elegant hall decorated in earth and cream tones. Less flamboyant than the Cahill’s, the house gave the impression of comfort and warmth with a glass lantern in the ceiling of an upper floor that allowed light to flood the hall.

  “I assume you’ve spoken to John?” He held open a door to the right which led into a book lined room. Smaller than the one in John Cahill's house, it was an entirely masculine domain, the same cream and buff shades with touches of burgundy, green and gold in fabrics and the rug on the polished wood floor.

  “Yes, he called on me first thing this morning. He explained about Mary being-”

  “My sister-in-law.”

  “Yes. Why didn't you tell me?”

  “I had no idea you thought so until yesterday, when Emily let it slip to Mary at the hospital. Emily tried to pass it off as a joke, but she forgets, we know her very well. Mary told her exactly what she thought of her. You would have been proud of her.”

  “I treated you so coldly when you were so nice to me. What must you have thought?” It also explained Emily’s panic when she saw her talking to Mary at the tea room.

  “I was puzzled, but not vain enough to feel I had any rights over you. I was content to be your friend.”

  “Were you?” The way he looked at her said otherwise.

  “Actually no. I don't know why I said that." His shoulders lifted in a wry shrug. "I called at the hotel on Saturday to see you, to ask you why you left the hospital without a word, but that girl with the red hair-”

  “Tilly,” Grace supplied.

  “Is that her name? She told me you had gone to visit a friend."

  “You came to the Grace and Favor to see me?” At his nod her shoulders slumped. “I had no idea. No one said anything.” But there hadn’t been much time, and everything had been frantic since she returned the night before. “Where is Mary this morning?”

  “At the hospital, of course. She stays all day at Isla's bedside.”

  “John said Isla was recovering. I would love to go and see her.”

  “She’s still very weak and uncomfortable but is improving daily. I’m sure Mary would welcome a visit. And of course, so would Isla. Now, please sit.” He indicated two wing-back chairs on either side of the fireplace. “I’d like to explain a little about-.”

  “No, not yet if you don't mind.” She stepped away from him to the window that looked onto a garden, larger than the one at the hotel, though less cultivated.

  It was more like a park with a circular lawn surrounded by shrubs and trees. On the far side of the lawn, an irregular shaped pond with an arched bridge straddling its narrowest part, shimmered in the sunlight.

  “I didn’t come here to demand explanations. Well, I did, but there’s something else.” She turned to face him, her fingers gripped around her bag. “I need your help. But first, I want you to say you trust me.”

  “Of course I trust you. You can confide in me about anything, Grace.” He remained standing beside the fireplace, his folded arms resting on the back of a wing chair. “If I didn’t make that clear in the past, I do now.”

  “You’d better wait until you hear what it is first.” She paused, licked her lips and inhaled a deep breath. “I have twelve cases of illegal rum in my cellar.”

  “Oh, good grief.” He straightened, his arms falling to his sides. “I didn’t expect that.”

  “I didn’t have anything to do with it. I promise you. I-”

  “I believe you. Really I do.” He closed the space between them in two strides and grasped her upper arms, holding her away from him. “Is this the work of that man Keogh?”

  She nodded, tempted to sway towards him and rest her head against his shoulder. Embarrassed, she pulled away, determined to tell him everything before she crumbled.

  “These men turned up at the hotel with a cart and unloaded the cases into my cellar despite attempts from my staff to prevent them.”

  “If you recall, I tried to warn you against that Keogh chap, but you gave me the impression I was interfering.”

  “It wasn’t your advice I was rejecting, but the manner in which you gave it. The first time I saw you after the SS Elizabeth, you pretended not to see me and the second, you practically ordered me to have nothing to do with him but didn’t explain why.” All the pent up frustration of the last weeks entered her voice.

  “Ah, yes. I apologize for that. I didn’t handle things as diplomatically as I might have.”

  “No, you didn't! Although it appears we've both caused each other unnecessary anguish.” She repeated John’s comment earlier. “Had I known I could count on you, I might have been less scared of Keogh.” She gave an involuntary shudder as she recalled the way he taunted her.

  “He frightened you?”

  “It’s not important. But what am I going to do?”

  “Had you previously made it clear to Keogh that you wanted nothing to do with his illicit liquor?”

  “Of course I did!” She hesitated. “Well - I might not have actually said so. He implied I wouldn’t have any business if I did not, but he wasn’t very specific. It was all suggestion and vague threats.”

  “Which might make it more difficult to prove he's behind this when you have had previous dealings with him. It's your word against his.”

  “I’m not involved with him, no matter what you might think.”

  “I accept that, Grace, but I need to know the facts. Since I heard the name, I’ve asked questions about him. He can be charming and manipulative when he chooses but he's quite ruthless.”

  “You don't have to tell me! He was nice at first but
changed when I made it clear I wasn’t interested in him or his dubious business practices.”

  “You're angry?” His gaze roved her face and he smiled.

  “Furious!” She gripped her bag tighter, dismayed when the stitching on the fringe gave. “I've had a very difficult night. My staff are all terrified and looking to me to sort out this problem. That man is coming back for his payment tonight and I have no idea what to do.” She left out the midnight part, which seemed too comical to repeat. “There’s something else. Both Aoife and I believe someone is watching the hotel. Aoife thought he was a policeman, but what if he’s one of Keogh’s men?”

  “That's more likely, but whoever it is creates a problem which we have to take into consideration. How many people know about this cache of yours?”

  “It’s not mine!” She brought her chin up and glared at him. “There’s Aoife and Jake, Leon, Tilly probably knows if her nervousness last night anything was to go by. Other than that, no one.”

  “Have you told John Cahill? He might be willing to help.”

  “I thought about it. But to be honest, I was ashamed to admit I had got myself into such a situation. What if he called the police?”

  “John would never do that. He could be your ally if you let him.”

  “He's helped me in the past and I don’t want to take advantage of his good nature.” Besides, she did not want to generate more hostility from Emily.

  “My first instinct was to hire a cart and have Jake take the lot to the harbour and throw it in the sea.”

  “Who is Jake?”

  “Oh, sorry. He’s a friend of Aoife’s who is eager to help. I suspect he knows more about rum running than he admits to, but I don’t want to involve him.”

  “I agree. Should Jake be stopped by a patrolman, or observed disposing of the bottles, it would seem he was trying to destroy the evidence of illegal rum running. Not only that, but you would still owe Keogh money - then you’ll never be rid of him.”

  “Leon, that's my cook, and Aoife said the same thing. What do you suggest I do?”

  “I don’t know - yet. I have to think about it. In the meantime, don’t do anything.”