Joe shrugged. “I have no idea. Amabelle didn’t strike me as the kind of girl anyone would be afraid of, merely emotional and silly, but I definitely felt that Noreen was frightened.”
“Perhaps she is frightened for Amabelle and afraid that any intervention from outside would be harmful to her?”
“I have no idea,” Joe said.
“But I do think you should share that with Will, though I think perhaps you can leave out the part about Deanna being locked in the linen closet.” His grandmother’s eyes twinkled.
Joe’s lip twitched, then he laughed out loud. “Only Dee.”
“You may laugh,” his mother said, “but Dee is probably in her room crying her eyes out.”
“Just because I told her what to do? She’s never let that bother her in the past. And someone needs to be thinking about her future.”
He was greeted by three silent, serious faces.
“Well, they do.”
“I shall go up to her later,” his grandmother said. “And I think you should go home. You have committed an unforgivable sin today.”
Joe’s stomach turned. “Me? What—”
“A man can do many things, Joseph. He may scowl and rail, he may scold and yell; he may even break wind in public and be left unscathed. But when he fails to compliment a lady on her new dress, that is beyond the pale.”
Joe knew—thought—she was kidding him. He looked from Grandmère, in her pale aqua tea gown—he’d seen that before—to his mother, wearing a wine-colored tea dress. And though it was a bit too daring for afternoon calls, it was one of his father’s favorites.
“The two of you look lovely,” Joe said while he tried to make sense of their outrage. “But neither dress is new.”
They both continued to look at him.
“I apologize for not complimenting you both sooner. I’ve had much on my mind. No excuse for bad manners, I realize.”
Neither of them moved. Like two Sphinxes from that play, waiting for him to come up with the correct answer. And then enlightenment hit. “Dee?”
His grandmother sighed heavily. “Dee was wearing her new tea gown and it was quite becoming on her. I would say elegant. But did you even notice?”
He hadn’t noticed. He’d been so angry.
His mother stood. “It’s very chivalrous of you, my dear, to be concerned for Deanna’s safety, but not to the degree that you forget to compliment her wardrobe.” She glanced at her husband.
He agreed with a dip of his chin.
Surely they were having a joke at his expense.
“And,” she continued, “not if your concern pours over into the typical male boorishness of thinking we women can’t take care of ourselves.”
“I think I’ve learned by now not to do that.”
“I believe I taught him that,” his father said, smothering a smile.
Grandmère’s eyebrows rose, but his mother’s high-handedness was no match for his father’s affection. She tightened her lips, but her shoulders shook with a quick silent laugh.
“Yes, yes,” Grandmère said. “Chivalry is all fine and good, and I don’t relish Deanna putting herself in danger’s way any more than you do. However, so far, the worst thing that has happened is she’s been locked in a linen closet by a troupe of actors. And you have to admit, she might not have learned a lot from them, but I bet she learned more than Will Hennessey did. Or you, for that matter.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Did you even ask her?”
Joe thought back. He must have, but . . . he hadn’t.
“I realize your concerns, but Deanna is not reckless.”
“How do you know?”
“She’s enjoying her newfound freedom; what’s the harm? Riding a bicycle is practically de rigueur among the younger set—they’re golfing, swimming, and traveling the world.”
“But they don’t do detective work, even in an amateurish way. If she gets a reputation for unladylike behavior . . .”
“Joseph.” His mother threw her napkin on the table. “I never thought to hear a son of mine—”
“Leave him alone, my dear. He is only concerned for what is best for Deanna. He’s not making a moral judgment.” Joe’s father frowned. “Are you, son?”
“No, of course not.”
“There, that’s settled, and now I would like to spend the last few minutes of my weekend enjoying the company of my wife.”
Joe’s mother actually blushed. “I beg your pardon, Lionel. I was on my high horse again. And I beg your pardon, too, Joe.” She stood.
“I think we can forgo after-dinner port today,” his father said.
Joe couldn’t agree more.
“If you’re planning to return to the workshop and can wait a few minutes, I’ll have the carriage drop you off on its way back from the pier.” His father followed his mother out of the room.
In three-quarters of an hour, good-byes had been said, and Joe and his father were in the carriage on their way to the ferry.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Lionel began as the carriage rolled over the cobblestones of the street. “But I wanted to talk to you.”
“About?”
“About what’s really bothering you these days.”
“You mean besides the sugar industry, the vandalisms . . .”
“About Deanna.”
Joe took off his hat, pushed his hair back, returned his hat to his head. “I can’t get any work done worrying about what trouble she’ll get into.”
“I see. I don’t think Bob would expect you to lose sleep or work time over worrying about his little sister.”
There was a strange note in his father’s voice. But when Joe looked at him, he was perfectly expressionless.
“It’s not about Bob. I care about Dee, I do, but I can’t have her disrupting my life all the time.”
“Then stay away from her. You don’t really have to escort the ladies to their evening festivities. They do quite well without an escort.”
“I’ve tried.”
“Well, tell her to stay away from you.”
“Father, how can I? And I don’t want her to go away, exactly, I just wish . . . I’m not like you. I couldn’t sleep knowing Mother was off getting into trouble, possibly being injured. Even if it is for a good cause.”
Lionel laughed quietly. “Is that what you think? That your mother leaves and I don’t give her another thought until she returns?”
Joe shrugged. “I know you miss her.”
“Ha.” His father’s laugh was so loud and sharp that Joe flinched.
“You’re more like me than you realize, son. Do you think it’s easy for me to stand by and not beg her not to go, when I’m petrified that she’ll get her head bashed in during one of her suffragette marches, or taken to jail and have a feeding tube forced down her throat?
“I know other men think that she rules the roost. They counsel me to put my foot down and keep her at home where she belongs. I could do it. All I have to say is ‘Stop doing this.’ And she would because she loves me and wants me to be happy, but I wouldn’t have her make that sacrifice . . . for the same reasons.
“We sometimes argue but we argue as equals. It’s the only kind of marriage either of us wants. Perhaps we are an aberration. But neither of us would stand for an insipid, constrained marriage.
“So if you can’t take Deanna’s spirit—and Lord, does she have one—you’d better cut her loose. Find yourself a perfectly behaved little wife to have your dinner ready. Or set up a mistress and learn to cook for yourself.
“But love? I think it’s already too late for Dee to love a man who would hold her back, and I don’t believe that you would love any other kind of woman. Perhaps I’m wrong.”
Joe wanted to say that he was wrong. But he couldn’t. Joe was afraid
it might be too late for him, too.
The carriage drew up to the ferry. “It’s up to you, but think about it before you burn any bridges. There’s no hurry.”
They shook hands, and his father climbed down, but turned back and rested his hand on the carriage door. “Do you want me to speak to her father about taking Dee away for the summer? He can find someone to travel with her to Switzerland, or isn’t there an aunt in Boston?”
“No! Sir, I already threatened her with that.”
“And?”
“And she asked why I hated her and ran away.”
“I see. Well, perhaps we’ll give her a little more time?”
Joe nodded.
“Then I’ll see you in a few days unless I can persuade your mother to join me in New York. Keep an eye on things here if . . .” He trailed off.
“You think I’m being selfish.”
“No. Actually, I didn’t finish my sentence because I just saw Judge Grantham’s carriage. Gwen said he had something he wanted to discuss with me on the trip.” He took a deep breath. “It could be a long ferry ride.”
“Surely not to caution you about that actor being killed in the conservatory. His family is the one that brought the troupe here.”
“Not to worry. I know how to handle the Judge. Now I must go.” He nodded to Joe and tapped the side of the carriage.
As the carriage drove away, Joe leaned out to watch his father stride down the pier to the ferry; tall, straight, a man in control and in love with his wife and life. Then he sat back to enjoy the luxury of the carriage drive to the warehouse.
It was a cool, late afternoon, and for a moment he thought of continuing on to Bonheur. It would be an excellent night for sitting on the lawn listening to the waves while the stars gradually appeared. But he would have to face Dee, and he wasn’t ready. His father was right, as he often was. Give it some time.
When he reached Richmond Street, Joe said good night to the coachman, then nodded to the man sitting on a barrel outside the pub—the lookout for the warehouse until dark, when he would be joined by several other large and armed men—and let himself inside.
* * *
Deanna was sitting in the embrasure of the window in her room when Elspeth came bustling in. She hadn’t bothered to turn on a light. And anyone who did come in would have thought she was asleep.
She was confused and torn between doing what she wanted and doing what she thought might be expected of her. And she felt terribly alone.
She heard the door to the dressing room open, then the dressing room light glowed on.
Deanna sighed.
“Miss Deanna?” Elspeth called quietly. “Miss Deanna, are you here?” She turned on the light.
“Miss Deanna. Where are you?”
Deanna gave up. “Over here by the window.”
Elspeth let out a shriek. “Lord, you gave me a turn. What’s happened here?”
Getting no answer from Deanna, she marched over and stuck her face close to her mistress’s. “What happened to you? What’s the matter?”
Deanna sighed. “Nothing.”
“Nothing? There’s a tray of uneaten food, you look like you’ve been bawling your eyes out—”
“Ladies don’t bawl.”
“—Bawling your eyes out. So don’t tell me nothing is wrong.”
“Joe and I had a fight.”
“Oh, is that all. I was afraid somebody had died. Why didn’t someone come take this food away? I’ll have Cook send up something fresh.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Well, if you aren’t, I am.”
Deanna peered past Elspeth to the clock. “Why are you back so soon?”
“I couldn’t wait. I have news. I think.” She stopped. “But I’m not going to tell you about it if you don’t get rid of that ‘poor me’ attitude. I think maybe I cracked the case.”
Deanna shook her head. “We can’t investigate anymore. Belle will just have to manage on her own. If she’s even alive.”
“What? What’s wrong with you? Are you coming down with something?”
“No. Joe says I’m an embarrassment to his family. He hates me.”
“He didn’t.”
“He did. He hates me. And he said if I didn’t stop, he was going to make Father send me to Aunt Harriett.”
“He wouldn’t dare.”
“He said he would.”
“Did you tell Madame Manon?”
“No. What could she say?”
“She could tell you it was a crock.”
Deanna smiled in spite of her mood. “She’d probably say just that, too. But only because she wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings.”
“Then who am I gonna tell what I learned?”
“No one.”
Elspeth gave her a very inappropriate servant-to-mistress look. “You just gonna stop, because Mr. Joseph said to? Cad Metti wouldn’t never let anybody tell her what to do.”
“That’s because she’s your favorite story detective.”
“I don’t even think Kate Goelet would, either, though she’s not nearly as clever as Cad.”
“She is, too. I can’t go live with Aunt Harriett; she’s worse than Mama.”
“Fine. I’ll just go get out your corset. You know the one? The really heavy one with all the bones on the inside that poke your ribs? The one your mama made you wear at the Christmas ball and you almost swooned.”
“I thought you threw it away.”
Elspeth slowly shook her head. “I suppose I’ll just call for the trunks and send all your brand-new clothes out to the Sisters of Mercy. Though for the life of me, I don’t know what they can do with a lawn tennis outfit, or the new bathing costume, or the split skirt for riding your bicycle. Oh, and you won’t need the bicycle, neither.
“Can I give it to Orrin? He’d like a bicycle. Him and Mr. Joseph could join one of those clubs like you belong to . . . though I guess you’ll have to unjoin that one.”
“That’s just what I’m saying. Either I behave or I’ll have to give all this up.”
“If you behave, you won’t be able to wear any of this stuff anyway, because I know your mama won’t think one new thing you have is what a proper young lady should have.”
“But if I don’t give it all up, I’ll be in disgrace, probably sent away to a convent or something. And you’ll be out of a job. Though I’m sure Gran Gwen would help you find another position.”
“I don’t want no other position.”
Deanna pulled up her knees and hugged them. “What are we going to do?”
Elspeth didn’t say anything.
“Cat got your tongue?”
Still she didn’t speak.
“You’re making your mistress angry.”
A minute shrug.
“Okay, I give up. What did you learn today?”
“I went home for lunch and afterward I met some girls from the ward to go to Easton’s Beach. A couple of them work at the big houses, like me. We met a few other friends there. We were drinking lemonade and eating tater pie. Midgie O’Sullivan’s ma makes the best tater pie, and there was enough for all of us.
“So we got to talking about the goings-on last weekend. And they know that poor Charlie was found dead in the conservatory.” She hesitated. “Everybody knows, miss. I didn’t tell them that.”
“That’s all right, Elspeth. I suspect everyone in town knows the details by now.”
“Well, pretty much so. They wanted to know everything about it. And you remember once I told you about how when you’re a servant you have to gossip some or nobody will trust you?”
“I remember.”
“So I told them what it looked like and everything. And Phoebe O’Doul said she heard it was a lover’s quarrel and one of the actresses bashed him over the
head so she could run off with someone else.”
Deanna frowned. “Run off with somebody else? Elspeth. How much of that do you think is sheer fantasy?”
“Oh, most of it, but I haven’t gotten to the good part yet.”
“Okay, get to it, then, please.”
Elspeth frowned. “Nobody knew the name of the actress, so after a while I announced that I knew her name. That got their attention. So I told them, Amabelle Deeks, just as plain as you want, then I said, but her friends call her Belle. That’s when Midgie—the one whose mother makes the pies—”
“Yes, I know which one Midgie is.”
“She says Deeks ain’t no name for an actress. It ought to be more glamorous. And the other girls started thinking about better names. And I broke in and said Deeks was good enough, because Belle was an actress and that was her name. And Midgie laughs and says it’s the name for crazy old people. And we’re about to come to blows and she says ’cause her little sister does day work for one of them.”
“For an old person?”
“Don’t be dense, miss. For an old lady named Deeks. Do you think they might be kin, her and that actress?”
“I don’t know. Deeks isn’t that unusual of a name.”
“Well, I think we should find out more.”
“I don’t know.”
“This ain’t like you, Miss Deanna.”
“Don’t say ‘ain’t,’ and I know it. It’s just . . .”
Elspeth sat down beside her. “It’s just we are at a crossroads, miss.”
Deanna nodded. “But which road to take?”
Chapter
10
Sleep didn’t come easily to Deanna, and she woke many times in the night; she tossed and turned and tossed. Should she apologize to the Ballards and stay put? Should she just say she was missing her family and have Elspeth pack her belongings—her considerably pared-down belongings—for New York? She felt sick and alone and she had a responsibility to her family, to the Ballards, and to Elspeth.
She’d tried that excuse when Gran Gwen came to her room a little while later.
“I see,” she’d said. “If that’s true, I suggest you give it a few more days. It sometimes takes a while to accustom oneself to being away from one’s family, especially under circumstances such as these.”
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