A Gilded Grave

by Shelley Freydont

  Neville greeted her at the bottom of the stairs. “They’re in the parlor, miss.”

  “Thank you, Neville.”

  He crossed to open the door for her, and she went inside.

  Joe Ballard was sitting on the edge of a chair, listening attentively to whatever Mrs. Woodruff was saying.

  “Ah, here she is,” Mrs. Woodruff said. “Deanna, look who’s come to take you for a drive.”

  Joe stood and faced her as she came toward him.

  “Joseph, how nice of you to call,” Deanna said at her most poised—and stuck up enough to put him out of countenance, she hoped. She needed him, but he deserved a little comeuppance.

  She held out her hand and felt totally ridiculous, especially when she saw him trying to smother laughter. His eyes twinkled and she wanted to smack him. But, unfortunately, those days were gone.

  He leaned over her hand, kissed the air above it, and let it go, but not before he winked as he lifted his head.

  She felt the blush flood her cheeks. Damn him.

  Mrs. Woodruff beamed at the two of them. “Joseph has asked to take you for a drive and then to his grandmother’s. I don’t think your mother would mind.”

  Deanna shook her head minutely. Her mother would not mind if it were Lord David asking her out to drive, but Joe had fallen in her mother’s good opinion when he’d refused their engagement and moved down with the “riff and raff,” as Mrs. Randolph called the families who lived in the Fifth Ward.

  Her mother had never cared for Gran Gwen or Joe’s mother, Laurette, considered them too bohemian, despised them for their ideas on women’s suffrage, and suspected them of espousing free love. But even the latter had not been cause enough for her to turn her back completely on their society or their money.

  “Shall we go?” Joe said politely, but there was mischief in his eyes.

  Deanna gritted her teeth to keep from bursting out laughing at the stupidity of the situation.

  Joe bowed to let her pass through the door to the foyer, where Neville waited to see them out. He handed Joe his hat, and they went down the steps to Joe’s curricle, which was drawn by a pair of beautiful bay horses.

  Joe helped Deanna into the seat, slipped the post boy a coin, and then climbed in the other side. They were soon through the gates.

  Deanna immediately turned to him. “What the heck was that all about?”

  He glanced at her, surprised. “Which part? The part where you said, ‘How nice of you to call,’ sounding like an elocution teacher, or the part where Mrs. Woodruff said your mother wouldn’t mind?”

  “I meant the part where you kissed my hand and acted like Herbert Stanhope. Which is okay on Herbert but ridiculous on you.”

  “Alas.”

  “And who’s taking care of these horses while you’re living down at the warehouse?”

  “Ah, leave it to you to get to the important stuff.”

  “Well?”

  “I keep the stable hands on. And I take them out when I can, which isn’t often. I’ve been quite busy.”

  “So it would seem.”

  “Oh, Dee, cut it out. It’s one thing to act like Miss Priss in front of other people; they expect it. But can you drop the attitude with me?”

  Deanna frowned at him.

  “That’s more like it. I’ve missed that scowl.”

  “I’m trying to rid myself of it.”

  “Did your Mama tell you it wasn’t ladylike?”

  “For years.” Deanna sighed and dropped all artifice. “It’s been like a holiday, having her gone. I’m sorry Adelaide is unwell, but it’s such a relief not having to try to please Mama constantly—and failing most of the time.”

  He reached over and tugged one of the carefully controlled curls that hung about her ear. “Well, you can scowl at me anytime. As long as you don’t really mean it.”

  “How’s Orrin?”

  “Okay. But jumpy. He expects the police to come back and arrest him at any moment. I don’t like to leave him by himself for too long.”

  “Then why have you?”

  “Because you and I need to talk. Besides I sent him home.”

  “Oh.” She adjusted her seat. The magazine was beginning to slip, but she couldn’t very well take it out while they were on a public road.

  “Is something wrong? Are you uncomfortable?”

  “No, but—” Deanna templed her hands at her mouth. “Joe, maybe I did a bad thing.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time. What?”

  “Well, when we left you the other day, I stopped by my house to pick up some things. And there was a telegram for my father. I took it, meaning to give it to Mr. Woodruff.”

  “Did you give it to him?”

  “No. Something happened before I could that . . . well, it’s complicated. But I decided that if it was important, I would somehow get to the telegraph office this morning and send Papa one telling him what it said.”

  “After you read it, of course.”

  Deanna shrugged. “Well, how else would I know if it were important or not?”

  “Fair question. So, what did it say?”

  “It was from your father, saying that Mr. Havemeyer had made him another offer for his shares in R and W, and for Papa to come to New York immediately. But he’s already there.”

  “Yes, and they’ve met. I heard from my father.”

  “So I don’t need to send it on after all?”

  Joe shook his head. “My father sent it to urge your father to come back early, which he did on his own and went straight to my father. I think they will be able to handle this on their own.”

  They’d been traveling south on Ochre Point Avenue, but now Joe turned west.

  “Your father isn’t going to sell, is he?”

  “Of course not. But there are . . . troubles with the company.”

  “Troubles? What kind of troubles?”

  Joe looked straight ahead.

  “You can tell me. I know a little bit about business.”

  Joe gave her a smile that said he was humoring her.

  “I know if R and W goes under, we could lose everything.”

  Joe glanced over. “Not everything, Dee. You’ll be okay.”

  “Is the business in trouble because of something Mr. Woodruff has done?”

  Joe’s hand tightened on the reins. The horses came to a nervous stop. “What do you know?”

  “I overheard him and Charles talking.”

  The horses pranced in place, anxious to go.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To Grandmère’s. I hope you don’t mind. Will is meeting us there.”

  Deanna perked up. “A powwow.”

  Joe laughed out loud. “Something like. So you can tell us both what you overheard.”

  “I will if we can go down to the beach before the others come for tea.”

  Joe didn’t answer.

  “Joe, I haven’t been to the beach since we arrived in Newport except to that horrid magic show. I want to get my feet wet.” She heard herself and knew she sounded like the peevish brat she’d always been when she tried to get her way. Well, she didn’t care. She was being stifled by corsets and good manners. And following the rules. She wanted to get her way for a change. Even if just for a walk on the beach.

  Joe turned to look at her. It was a look that she didn’t recognize. Not sad, not like the old fun-loving Joe, but something that made her feel unsettled, heated, and very close to bursting into tears.

  “Please, Joe. Don’t you ever miss the old days? Remember when we would go down and go wading in the surf? You and Bob would swing me out over the waves.”

  He sighed. “Good days gone forever.”

  He sounded so resigned that it made her sad. Bob had been his best friend, and she had bee
n . . . his best friend’s little sister. She shook herself.

  “Why? Why are they gone forever?”

  “Because Bob is dead and you will soon become a society lady.”

  “And what about you, Joe?”

  “Me?” He smiled—wistfully, she thought. “I’m going to revolutionize the sugar refining business.”

  He turned away and settled back on the seat. Clucked the horses into a trot.

  Deanna didn’t try to talk anymore. It seemed they could never go back to the way things had been. Good days gone forever.

  A few minutes later they turned onto Bellevue Avenue and drove south again toward Bonheur. Joe stopped the curricle at the front steps and helped her down while the groom led the horses away. Joe followed her up the steps, but before ringing the bell, he said, “If we have time before the ladies come, we’ll go down to the beach. But don’t you dare let it get back to your mother.”

  “I won’t.” Deanna smiled, feeling truly happy, she realized, for the first time since the end of last season.

  Gran Gwen was sitting in the conservatory with Will Hennessey.

  “Ah, there you are,” she said, and motioned Deanna and Joe in. “I’ve told Carlisle that I’m not at home—to anyone. We’ll have lunch on the terrace. It’s a lovely day and no wind to speak of.”

  Was it a lovely day? Deanna had barely noticed it. Nor did she notice it now, because she was studying Will’s face. He didn’t look happy, and she was afraid he had more bad news to report.

  Will stood, shook hands with Deanna, and nodded to Joe. They all sat down again, creating a circle with Gran Gwen as its focal point. And Deanna remembered younger days, when Bob had been alive, how the four of them would sit at Gran Gwen’s feet listening to her spin tales of exotic places and people, never quite sure if she were telling actual happenings or making it up.

  But today wasn’t meant to be entertaining or spent reminiscing, and Deanna fidgeted in her seat thinking of what she knew she must tell them.

  “My dears, let’s get this nasty business taken care of so we may luncheon without black clouds hanging over our heads.”

  Joe and Will both turned to Dee.

  “Well,” Will said. “Tell us what you know and wouldn’t tell us at the beach the other night.”

  She swallowed or at least tried to. Her mouth was dry, and her throat seemed paralyzed.

  Gran Gwen gave her an encouraging look.

  Deanna told them about Charles wanting to speak to his father. “I was sure he was going to break his engagement, the way he’s been mooning over Madeline. And I thought, Forewarned is forearmed.”

  “Very right,” Gran Gwen said.

  “So I hid in the Seacrest library and listened.”

  “Oh my Lord.” Joe shot his fingers through his hair.

  Deanna ignored him.

  “But instead, Charles confronted Mr. Woodruff about the money he’d given Lord David without getting a binding contract, and that now he wants to give him more.”

  Joe leaned forward. “Mr. Woodruff planned to give him more?”

  “I think so. And Charles was upset about that and about the Manchesters dining with the Stanhopes since Mrs. Stanhope is a Havemeyer.” Deanna frowned at them. “I think Charles suspects a . . . a . . . double cross.”

  Her announcement didn’t have the effect she’d thought it would. Will put his hand over his mouth. Joe laughed outright.

  Only Gran Gwen looked serious. “When you two boys get over the giggles, you should mark Deanna’s words. That scoundrel Havemeyer will use anything at his disposal to get what he wants. Always has. Though he isn’t alone. Seems there’s not one honorable man in business these days.”

  “Excepting my father,” Joe said, suddenly serious. “And Dee’s father. And perhaps Woodruff, but that remains to be proven.”

  Grandmère raised a dismissive hand. “Francis has always been a fool. The only intelligent thing he ever did was to marry Nell Peabody and join forces with George Randolph and your father to create R and W, though I suspect she had a hand in that as well. It was her money to be sure.

  “He’s already gone through his own fortune, and he’ll go through Nell’s, too, if she doesn’t watch out. If he hasn’t already.” Gran sighed, a weary sound. “But women invariably choose to look the other way. Even someone as savvy as Nell Woodruff.”

  She pointed a finger at Joe. “But that’s her choice. As far as the business goes, Joe, if he’s playing fast and loose with the company’s money, he’ll have to be stopped. Sooner rather than later.”

  “That’s the other thing,” Deanna said, feeling a bit more courageous. “After he left, Charles looked through a ledger and whatever he saw in it upset him terribly.”

  “You didn’t get a look at it?” Joe asked, but Deanna knew he was just being facetious. She wished she could hand it over.

  “No. He locked it in Mr. Woodruff’s desk.”

  “Dee, you have to stop doing these mad escapades.”

  Deanna jumped up. “They’re not escapades. Elspeth and I have found out more than you and Will both.”

  “She’s got you there,” Will said from where he was lounging in an overstuffed chair.

  “Father and I will take care of it,” Joe said.

  “How? And what about my father? You don’t think he’s cheating the company do you? How could you?”

  Joe stood. “I don’t think that. But someone is monkeying with the company’s funds. There are rumors of R and W stock floating round. If they get into Havemeyer’s hands, we’re in big trouble.”

  “Stop yelling at me!”

  “I’m not yelling!”

  They realized at the same moment that they’d both stood and had been arguing over Gran Gwen’s head.

  “Oh, I am sorry, Gran Gwen.” Deanna sat down abruptly.

  Joe sat more slowly.

  Gran Gwen waved the air. “Don’t mind me. I love a good squabble.”

  “I think this is more than a squabble. Joe practically accused Papa of being a thief.”

  “I did not.”

  “Children, enough. Joe has said he doesn’t think that. But remember what that delightful character in Mr. Conan Doyle’s novels says.”

  Everyone looked at her.

  “Well, I forget exactly what he says, but it’s something about looking at all the possibilities, even if they don’t seem possible, until you come to the right one.”

  Deanna forgot for a minute what they were talking about. “You read Sherlock Holmes?”

  Gran Gwen put on a prim expression. “I read a lot of things.”

  “Excuse me, ladies,” Will said. “But could we get back to our own situation?”

  “Sorry,” Gran Gwen said.

  “So what happened after Charles returned the ledger to the desk?” Will asked.

  “Well, I don’t quite know.”

  Will waited.

  “I was tired, and emotionally . . . wrung. And he stayed so long. I was up in the balcony and I couldn’t get out until he left. I—I . . . fell asleep.”

  “You what?”

  “Shut up, Joe.”

  “Yes,” said Gran Gwen. “Do shut up.”

  “Anything else?” Will’s mouth was twitching, and Deanna thought if he laughed at her, she would just get up and leave. She didn’t need to be laughed at when she was trying to help, and besides she really wasn’t looking forward to telling them about the other thing she’d witnessed that night. But it might be important, though Deanna didn’t know how or why. Still . . .

  “Is that all?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Across from her, Joe groaned and hid his face in his hand. Which was just as well. She didn’t want to see his expression when . . . She cast an anxious look at Gran Gwen.

  “It’s all right, dea
r. You just tell them what you know.”

  Deanna took a breath. “When I woke up, it was late, and Charles was gone, so I climbed down and went to bed.”

  Will closed his notebook and started to put it back in his breast pocket.

  Deanna rushed ahead. “I was almost up the stairs when the front door opened. The Manchesters had been out to dine at the Stanhopes—”

  “The Stanhopes again,” Joe mumbled.

  “Shh,” Gran Gwen said.

  “So I hurried up the stairs hoping I could get to my room before they came up. I didn’t want them to think I was spying on them.”

  “Oh no, not that,” Joe said with a laugh.

  “Joseph, if you can’t mind your manners, you’ll be sent from the room.”

  “I beg your pardon, Grandmère. And yours, Deanna.”

  Deanna didn’t think he looked sorry.

  “And did you make it to your room?” Will asked.

  Deanna looked at him gratefully. He always was more serious than the other two. More sympathetic. More understanding.

  “Deanna?” he prompted.

  “No. They were coming up the stairs, but I knew I couldn’t get down the hall before they reached the landing, and they might see me running away, so I slipped behind a cabinet in the hallway.” She glanced at Gran Gwen, who nodded to her. The small gesture gave Deanna the courage to blurt out the rest.

  “When they got to the landing, they stopped and she—he—they—kissed. But not like a sister and brother kiss. Like lovers kiss. Then his hand . . .”

  “That’s quite enough, Dee,” said Gran Gwen. “And very succinctly told. I believe we all get the idea.”

  Will was staring at Deanna like she’d sprouted horns. Joe was staring at her, too. He wasn’t laughing now. But she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

  “Are you sure it was not brother-sister affection?” Will said cautiously.

  “Bob never kissed me that way. And I don’t think brothers and sisters kiss that way in Barbados, either.”

  “And then what happened?”

  Deanna thought back. She’d been so shocked, she hadn’t been paying attention. “She pushed him away and said they had to be careful, but that it would only be a little while longer.”