by Dorothy Love
Mr. Channing rubbed his unshaven chin. “That’s why I agreed to the plan. I was mighty curious as to why someone would single out a stranger like me to trust with a piece of valuable jewelry.”
“So you opened the package.”
He shrugged. “My reporter’s curiosity got the better of me. What puzzles me is how he knew I wouldn’t simply abscond with it.”
“The jeweler who made the bracelet told me it isn’t valuable. I suppose whoever ordered it felt he had little to lose if you didn’t keep your promise.”
“I thought it might turn into a story I could use for the paper, but in the end it seems it was only the pitiful tale of some fellow who was too shy and too poor to court you properly. As if any other suitor would have half a chance with Sutton Mackay in the picture.”
Celia hadn’t encouraged any man’s attentions. All her life she had cared for no one but Sutton, and everyone in Savannah knew it. The other young men of her acquaintance were old family friends with sweethearts of their own or gentlemen she met in the course of shopping and paying social calls. Mr. Loyer at the jewelry store downtown was old enough to be her father. Lucius Harland owned the bookstore she frequented, but he cared for nothing save books. Miles Frost was a year Celia’s senior and, like Sutton, a Harvard graduate and a member of the Chatham Artillery. When they were younger, she and Miles had engaged in a bit of harmless flirtation, but it had never been serious—and now, according to Alicia Thayer, Miles was seriously courting Mary Quarterman.
That left Papa’s clerk, Elliott Shaw. Celia hadn’t seen him since refusing his gift the night of the masquerade. Certainly he had embarrassed them both that night. Even so, it didn’t seem likely that Mr. Shaw would risk his livelihood in pursuit of the impossible.
Leo Channing squinted into the distance. “If I were you, I’d forget all about that cheap little bauble and stop trying to ferret the poor fellow out. At least leave him with his dignity.”
Celia nodded. She wouldn’t tell him about the hidden message in the jewels or the cryptic note written on the packaging. To do so would only increase his curiosity.
“I must go.” She brushed past him, heading for the street. She would have to hurry now, to make it back to the lecture hall before the reception ended and Ivy noticed her absence.
“You’re forgetting something.”
Celia sighed. “I told you, I don’t know anything that hasn’t been mentioned in the papers.”
“Surely you know the name of the woman who died in your carriage house. I was intrigued to discover that, in all the newspaper accounts of the event, her name was never mentioned.”
“Mr. Channing. For the last time, I don’t know her name.”
He leaned against the porch railing. “For some reason, I believe you. But you still owe me, and I always collect what’s coming to me.”
He grasped her arm as she turned away. “Find that diary.”
“Let go.” She wrenched her arm free.
“Find the diary, and you’ll find the name. I’ll be waiting.”
16
JOSEPH HALTED THE CARRIAGE OUTSIDE THE MACKAYS’ house. Earlier in the day a chilly rain had fallen, and now a brisk wind guttered the gas lamps flanking the entrance. Papa opened the carriage door and helped Celia out. He offered her his arm, and in the gathering dusk they passed through the wrought-iron gate and mounted the steps to the front door.
Mrs. Johns, the Mackays’ housekeeper, answered the bell and ushered them into the foyer. “Good evening, Miss Browning. Mr. Browning.”
“Mrs. Johns.” Papa helped Celia remove her dark-green cloak, then removed his hat and scarf and shrugged out of his coat.
The housekeeper draped the garments over her arm and nodded toward the parlor. “The Mackays are waiting for you.”
Burke and Cornelia Mackay rose in welcome as Celia and her father crossed the foyer and entered the parlor where a cozy fire burned in the grate.
“My dear.” Sutton’s father planted a cool kiss on Celia’s brow. “I haven’t seen you in a long while, but Sutton keeps me apprised of your plans. I’m grateful to you for settling that boy down.”
Celia smiled. “It’s my pleasure, sir.”
He laughed and shook Papa’s hand. “David. I’m glad you could come. It’s been too long since we enjoyed an evening together.”
“Yes,” Papa said. “I’ve been looking forward to it.”
“Ivy isn’t joining us this evening?” Mrs. Mackay asked.
“She has a terrible cough,” Celia said. “She spent entirely too much time out in the damp this week, I expect. She sends her regrets.”
“That’s too bad. I hate to think of her spending the evening alone.”
“She has some books from the circulating library to keep her company. And Maxwell, of course.”
Mrs. Mackay smiled. “Maxwell is a darling. Sutton brought him by for introductions before he took him to you. But please, sit down.” She motioned them to chairs before the fire. “Sutton’s upstairs, waiting to escort his grandmother down. She isn’t as steady on her feet these days, and we worry she might fall. Though we don’t tell her that.”
Papa settled himself before the fire and sniffed the air appreciatively. “Something smells good, Cornelia.”
“I had Mrs. Johns make your favorites. Roast beef and all the trimmings. And a pecan pie for dessert.”
Celia saw a look of concern flicker across Papa’s face and understood what he was thinking: after all of Burke Mackay’s business reversals and the loss of his ship and cargo, could he really afford to entertain at all? Perhaps the sale of his farm had been finalized. Or perhaps the new investor in Mackay Shipping had already come through with an infusion of cash.
“Tell me, Celia,” Mrs. Mackay began. “What did you think of Dr. Sharp’s lecture last week? There was such a crowd I didn’t have a chance to speak to you during the reception.”
Celia stared into the flickering fire. She didn’t want to lie to Sutton’s mother nor upset her father. And she could hardly admit to spending half an hour on Leo Channing’s front porch, trying to solve the mystery of the bracelet. “I thought beginning with the opening from Pride and Prejudice was inspired,” she said finally. “But I confess I stepped outside for a bit and missed a part of it.”
“I don’t blame you,” Mrs. Mackay said. “We were packed in so closely I could barely draw a breath. I could have used some fresh air myself.”
Celia was saved from further discussion by the sound of Caroline Manigault’s musical laughter. Arm in arm, Sutton and his grandmother descended the staircase, apparently enjoying themselves immensely. Celia rose with her father and the Mackays as Sutton led Mrs. Manigault into the parlor. In his dove-gray tailored jacket and trousers, a white shirt, and a deep-red cravat, Sutton reminded Celia of an illustration in one of her magazines. Surely she was about to marry the most handsome man in all of Georgia.
“Caroline.” Papa greeted Mrs. Manigault with a warm smile and a slight bow. “You’re looking very well.”
She cocked her head and studied his face. “Thank you, David. I’m as well as can be expected at my age. But I’m worried about you. I heard Dr. Dearing paid you a call.”
“I appreciate your concern, but it was nothing.” Papa smiled at her before turning to Sutton. “How are you my, boy? I missed seeing you at the club this week.”
“In fine fettle, thanks.” Sutton’s gray eyes shone. “Our new brig has arrived from Charleston. Mr. Rutledge came over with her, just to be sure she arrived without mishap.”
“I’m relieved to hear that, son.” Mrs. Mackay stood on tiptoe to kiss Sutton’s cheek. “I was afraid it might not arrive in time for this year’s shipping season.”
Mrs. Johns appeared in the doorway. “Mrs. Mackay? Dinner is ready.”
Mrs. Mackay inclined her head to her guests. “Shall we go in?”
Mr. Mackay offered his arm to his wife. Celia linked her arm through her father’s. Sutton and Mrs. Manigault fol
lowed.
“Mr. Rutledge was as good as his word,” Mr. Mackay said as they crossed the foyer and entered the candlelit dining room. “We’re lucky to have him as our partner.”
“Yes, we are, Father. The partnership provides some stability for us while we recover from the loss of the Electra.” Sutton paused while he pulled out his grandmother’s chair and helped her settle. “But make no mistake. Griffin Rutledge will benefit just as handsomely from our connections to the foreign markets and to my connections to investors in Liverpool.”
“Sutton Burke Mackay.” Mrs. Mackay addressed her son from her place at the head of the dining table. “I don’t want to hear a single word this evening about that blockade-boat scheme of yours.”
“Of course not, Mother,” he said gravely. “Tell me, what did you do today?”
The small talk continued while Mrs. Johns moved around the table serving the beef, potatoes, and cinnamon-infused carrots. She poured glasses of Madeira from the Mackays’ cellar, then quietly withdrew. Celia gave herself over to the enjoyment of Mrs. Johns’ excellent cooking and to the pleasant hum of conversation around the table. For a while it was possible to forget the bracelet and Leo Channing and the debt she owed him.
Papa and Mr. Mackay discussed the new opportunities for foreign commerce arising from Japan’s agreement to open more ports to American ships and to allow Americans to live there.
“Well, I’m sure I wouldn’t want to live in such a strange place halfway around the world,” Mrs. Mackay said. “Imagine not being able to speak a word of Japanese nor understand anything anyone said. How could you buy food in the markets? How could you order a new hat?”
“Now that,” Sutton said, pointing his fork at his mother, “would be a disaster of gigantic proportions.”
“Tease me all you want, Sutton, but I am much too old and set in my ways to even think of going off to someplace like Japan.”
“I think a trip to the Far East would be quite wonderful,” Mrs. Manigault said. “I’ve always wanted to see some place more exotic than London and Paris.”
“Tell you what, Grandmother,” Sutton said. “The first time one of our vessels sets sail for those climes, you’ll be aboard.”
Mr. Mackay lifted the decanter to refill his glass, the heavy crystal reflecting the light. “Between the opportunities in Japan and that new transatlantic cable system, the whole world is opening up to shipping concerns like ours.”
Mrs. Manigault frowned. “But didn’t I read somewhere that the cable broke? President Buchanan was terribly disappointed. I’m sure Queen Victoria must be no less so.” She shook her head. “Such a promising new invention.”
“The cable will be repaired, Grandmother,” Sutton said.
“So it will, son.” Mr. Mackay took a sip of his wine. “And in another five years, ten at the most, the sky will be the limit. We should see our profits double. Perhaps even triple.”
“If we can stay out of war,” Papa said. “But I don’t intend to mar this evening with talk of that problem.”
“You’re quite right, David,” Mrs. Manigault said brightly. “No sense in borrowing trouble, I always say. Did anyone else see the story in the papers about those gold prospectors in Colorado? They say there are fifty thousand people looking for gold around Denver, and the town is growing like a weed. The paper says Denver is planning on building a theater and a circulating library too.”
“Maybe so, Mama,” Mrs. Mackay said. “But Denver will never rival Savannah.” She smiled at each of them in turn. “There is no place on earth quite like Savannah.”
Mr. Mackay caught Celia’s eye. “You’ve been awfully quiet this evening, my dear.”
“I’m enjoying the conversation,” Celia said. Evenings like this, with those she loved most gathered at table, reminded her that, despite old misfortunes and present worries, she was among the lucky ones.
Mrs. Johns came in to clear the table and serve the pie and coffee. When dinner was over, they returned to the parlor. Mr. Mackay tended the fire and poured brandy for the gentlemen.
“Thank you, Father, but I’ll pass.” Sutton held up his hand, palm out, and smiled at Celia, who occupied the settee next to Mrs. Manigault. “I’d like to take Celia down to the waterfront and show her our new ship.”
“But Sutton, it’s the middle of the night,” his mother said. “It’s too dark to see very much.”
“It isn’t that late. The streetlamps are on, and the gaslights along the row are burning. This ship represents the future to Celia and me. I’d love for her to see it.”
“Celia, kindly talk some sense into your intended,” Mr. Mackay said, but the twinkle in his dark eyes told her he knew his cause was lost.
Celia rose and kissed both Mackays and Sutton’s grandmother, then clasped Papa’s hand. “You will forgive us for not staying longer?”
Papa nodded. “Take our carriage if you wish. But don’t forget to come back for me at a decent hour.”
Mrs. Manigault waved one mottled hand. “Go on, child. We are all old, but not too old to remember what it’s like to be in love and with an entire lifetime to look forward to. Just be sure to bundle up. It will be cold down on the river this time of night.”
Mrs. Johns retrieved Celia’s cloak, and Sutton helped her into it. They left the house and, moments later, Joseph turned the carriage toward the river.
Sutton leaned forward and clasped Celia’s hand, the heat of his palm radiating through the fabric of her glove. “Wait until you see my new ship. She’s sleek as an otter and bigger by a third than the Electra, so we can move the same amount of cargo in fewer trips. Despite our earlier losses, we ought to make a modest profit this season.”
“But won’t a larger ship mean hiring more men to load and sail her?”
“Yes, but Mackay Shipping has always paid a fair wage, and there are plenty of men who need work. We can offset the higher labor costs by getting our shipments out in greater quantities. And if I can find new customers in Japan, we’ll make even more.”
He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back, thrilled to see him so excited about the new ship and the future.
“And how is the pup?” Sutton grinned. “You still like him?”
“Oh, Sutton, he’s wonderful. We all love him. Mrs. Maguire complains about his muddy paws and all the table scraps he’s eating, but I think she secretly loves him too. Even Ivy has taken to him, though she would never admit it.”
“I was surprised your cousin wasn’t at dinner this evening. Mother told me Ivy was invited.”
“She has a cough, but I think mostly she didn’t want to attend without an escort.” Celia sighed as the carriage neared Commerce Row. “I do feel terrible that her romances never seem to lead anywhere.”
“Well, it has been my observation that any reasonably attractive woman who wants to wed can find someone suitable. Perhaps your cousin is more in love with the idea of love than with the realities of it.”
The carriage drew to a stop. Sutton got out and offered Celia his hand. She stepped onto the street. Gaslights illuminated the buildings along the waterfront. Light shimmered on the dark water, hanging like orange globes in the darkness. Ships rocked gently at their moorings. Beyond the wharf, the river was a gray, vaporous fog.
Sutton called up to Joseph, “We won’t be long.”
“Take your time, Mr. Mackay,” the driver said, taking out his pipe. “I ain’t in no hurry this evening.”
Sutton took Celia’s arm, and they walked the short distance to the pier where a sleek brigantine rested at anchor.
“There she is.” Sutton’s voice was soft in the darkness. “I know you can’t see too much, but what do you think?”
“I can see enough to know she’s a beautiful ship.” Celia tucked her arm through his. “I’m happy for you. And for your father.”
Sutton nodded. “The loss of the Electra hit him hard. She was the first ship he purchased when he started Mackay Shipping. When she went down, she took a part of
our family’s history with her.”
Two men, obviously into their cups, made their way along the waterfront. One of them called out a drunken greeting as they passed. Sutton drew Celia closer to his side, and they started back along the pier toward the shuttered buildings lining the waterfront. “When I was away at Harvard some of my Northern classmates teased me for making so much of my heritage. They didn’t understand how important tradition and our family ties are to Southerners. How important it is to guard the honor and respect our ancestors built, one generation at a time.”
Celia’s worries came rushing back. Leo Channing was bent on writing a book that might well destroy the very honor and respect her own family enjoyed. She had to find the diary he had spoken of, if in fact it existed, and hope it would put the rumors about her aunt and the unnamed laundress to rest once and for all. The sooner the better.
“. . . if you have no objection.” Sutton had stopped walking and was standing near the entrance to Mackay Shipping, smiling down at her.
“Sorry. What?”
“I said I’d like us to take this boat to England instead of the Carolina. And I want to name her the Celia B. Though you won’t be Celia B. for much longer.”
“I’m honored. But isn’t it bad luck to change the name of a ship?”
“I don’t believe in superstitions.”
She laughed. “You once believed in haints.”
“Nah. I just needed some reason to get you into that boat with me. I—”
The sound of breaking glass made them both jump.
“Wait for me in the carriage,” Sutton said. “It’s probably nothing more than those two drunks getting into mischief, but I’d better check.”
Though reluctant to leave Sutton, Celia started for the carriage, her rapid steps sounding hollow on the wooden pier. Joseph was bundled into his coat on the driver’s seat, the glow from his pipe a tiny spark in the darkness. She turned. Sutton had already disappeared around the corner. But reflected in the window of a cotton factor’s office, she saw a dark figure that seemed to be staring right at her, his image wavering like a flame. She blinked and looked again, her eyes straining against the dim light. The figure had disappeared.