by Erica Vetsch
Mama clutched her handkerchief and every so often picked up the piece of paper in her lap and scanned it again. “How could she do this to me? What will I tell Radcliffe? And you, Josephine, can explain to him just what your role in this catastrophe is. It’s plain as a pineapple you had something to do with this.” Mama waved the paper again.
The soft chime of the doorbell galvanized Josie. She rose, grateful for a valid reason to leave the room. Footsteps clattered on the upstairs hall, followed by a high-pitched little-girl giggle. Through the shirred curtain covering the oval of glass in the oak door, she could make out a man’s shadow, tall with a hat.
She opened the door and froze stiff as an icicle.
Eli swept his hat from his head and smoothed his hair.
Josie opened her mouth but couldn’t think of a thing to say.
Next to Eli on the porch, Abraham Kennebrae sat in his chair, his thin hands in his lap, his black suit and white shirt immaculate.
“Who is it, Josephine?” Mama seemed to have forgotten her manners completely, screeching the question from the front parlor.
Josie blinked, making sure she wasn’t seeing things, then shrugged. “It’s the Kennebraes,” she called over her shoulder, still looking at Eli from the corner of her eye while she spoke.
Josie winced at the wail that followed. When she heard a soft thump, her heart tripled its pace. She rushed to the parlor, leaving their callers standing on the front porch. Mama had fainted.
Grandma Bess took control in the same calm manner in which she did everything.
Eli helped lift Mama onto the couch. Her head lolled back and one arm hung over the side of the sofa and trailed the floor. He stepped back, eyebrows high, but asked no questions.
Josie tried to meld into the alcove beside the Boston fern.
Grandma dug in her enormous bag and produced a small vial of smelling salts. “Octavia, wake up. Pull yourself together and stop giving in to these histrionics. You’d think the world had come crashing to an end.” Grandma waved the little bottle under Mama’s nose.
The pungent odor worked, for Mama’s eyes shot open and she began to cough. Eli and Grandma helped her sit up. Mama clasped her chest, gasping for air, took one look at Eli, and wailed again.
“Madam, please.” Abraham Kennebrae wheeled his chair closer. “Do we need to call a doctor? Or perhaps your husband? Is Radcliffe at home?”
Mention of Papa stopped Mama’s cries like slamming a door. She snatched the handkerchief Grandma offered and dabbed her eyes and upper lip.
Eli stooped to pick up a piece of paper from the floor, and when Mama would’ve snatched it away, Grandma swatted her hand. “Let the young man read it. It concerns him more than you.”
Eli scanned the page, but Mr. Kennebrae jabbed him in the side. “Read it aloud, boy.”
Dear Mama and Papa,
By now you know I’ve gone. I tried to stay, to do what you wished of me, but I just can’t. You see, my heart belongs to another, and I could never be happy as Eli Kennebrae’s bride. I do wish you’d have told me your plans before involving Mr. Kennebrae. He’s a very nice man, but not for me. By the time you read this note, I will be married. I’ve eloped with my true love, Geoffrey Fordham. Please don’t worry about me, and please tell Josie thanks for everything. Without her, I wouldn’t have had the courage to do this.
Love,
Mrs. Geoffrey Fordham.
A hollow ache filled Josie for Eli. How did he keep his voice so calm, like he was reading about strangers instead of his fiancée and his good friend? She supposed Clarice couldn’t resist the urge to sign her married name, but that had to hurt Eli. When she glanced over at him, his face merely looked thoughtful and detached.
His grandfather looked anything but disinterested. He snatched the paper from Eli’s hand and read it himself. The spidery blue veins stood out on his hands and his fingers shook, while a dull red crept up from his celluloid collar and spread to his cheeks. Josie thought Mama might faint again when his black, burning eyes bored into her.
Before he could say anything, Papa walked through the front doorway. He strolled into view through the parlor doorway, newspaper tucked under his arm, hat set at a jaunty angle. He tapped his walking stick a couple of times on the rug, then tossed it in the air and caught it before sliding it into the hall tree with a flourish. When he spied the crowd in the parlor, his eyebrows shot up. “Kennebrae, good to see you. Beautiful day out, isn’t it? Stay for supper, won’t you?”
Instead of answering, Mr. Kennebrae handed Papa Clarice’s note. Josie held her breath. Papa’s jovial expression vanished, as if someone had wiped a hand down his face. In its place, shock, disbelief, and anger cycled through. The last lingered. Josie expected a reaction like a boiler explosion, but Papa’s words came out in a tight whisper. “Mother, go see to dinner. Abraham, Eli, Octavia, let us retire to my library to confer over this matter.”
Mama walked as if she couldn’t feel her feet on the carpet, lifting her legs high and coming down with more force than usual, and Father followed her.
Eli put his hands on the back of Mr. Kennebrae’s chair. To Josie’s surprise, a smile lifted the corners of Eli’s mouth once he was out of sight of his grandfather. He caught her looking at him and shrugged.
Now what was she to make of that?
Eleven
Eli had to restrain himself from laughing out loud. No wonder Geoffrey had been so touchy about Eli’s engagement to Clarice. He’d been in love with her all along. A condemned man escaping the hangman’s noose couldn’t have felt more elation than Eli did at that moment.
The scowl on Grandfather’s features told him he’d better keep that elation to himself. He figured he could just about fry an egg on the top of Grandfather’s head, the old man was so angry.
As soon as the library doors shut behind them, Grandfather started in. “Radcliffe, what’s the meaning of this? My grandson comes over here in good faith to put a ring—a very expensive ring, mind you—on your daughter’s finger, and what do we find? She’s eloped!” He pounded the arm of his chair with one hand in a familiar gesture.
Zahn rocked back on his heels at this attack and glared at Abraham. “With your lawyer, I might add.” He shifted his eyes to include Eli in his displeasure. “Did you put him up to it?”
“No, sir.” Eli’s lips twitched. “They did this all on their own. I had no idea Geoff had feelings for your daughter. If I had known, there’s no way I would’ve gone along with this engagement. I don’t poach on another man’s preserve.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against a bookcase.
Mrs. Zahn collapsed into a chair near the fireplace, her feet shooting out and kicking a pile of papers and books on the cold hearth. She seemed not to notice the mess she’d made, fanning herself with her handkerchief and staring into space. “What was she thinking? She’ll be ruined, that’s what. Running off to get married, and when she was engaged to another man.” The lady hiccupped and blinked, choking on the words.
“When did you first notice she was gone?” Zahn fired the question at his wife. “Perhaps it isn’t too late to fetch her back.”
For a moment hope dawned on her rounded face. Then her shoulders slumped and her eyelids fell. “I found the note this afternoon when I was getting ready to leave for Mrs. Grant’s garden party. I don’t know how I missed seeing it all day. Clarice wasn’t at breakfast this morning, but you know how she is.” Mrs. Zahn put her chin up defensively. “She rarely eats breakfast anyway, so I didn’t miss her. I couldn’t have known she’d do something like this. No one here has seen her since yesterday after the evening meal. She’s probably been gone since last night.”
Zahn paced the rug, his brows down like a thundercloud, his steps rigid.
Grandfather tugged on Eli’s sleeve. “Well, don’t just stand there like a lamppost. What are you going to do about this?”
“Me?” Eli shrugged. “I’m not going to do anything. I’m the wronged party here, rem
ember?”
Zahn stopped mid-stride. Inspiration lifted his features from hard, etched lines to something resembling his expression when he first entered the house. “I’ve got it.” His fingers snapped like a gunshot and brought Mrs. Zahn upright in her chair.
“What?” Grandfather hunched his shoulders and leaned forward.
“A Kennebrae-Zahn wedding.” Zahn looked as if the ideas tumbling in his head were all falling into logical order. “Of course. Just because Clarice isn’t here doesn’t mean we can’t go ahead with a wedding. There’s the next one in line.” He snapped his fingers again and looked to his wife.
“Josephine?”
“Yes, that’s it.” He turned to Eli. “You can marry Josephine.”
Eli’s thoughts boggled. The man couldn’t even remember his daughter’s name and here he was swapping one for another like a new tie or pair of gloves. “You’re not serious.”
“Of course I am.” He seemed puzzled at the statement. “It’s the perfect solution.”
“No, it isn’t.” Eli shook his head. Had Zahn lost his wits?
Grandfather turned his chair. “Radcliffe, I’d like a few moments alone with my grandson, if you please.”
Eli braced himself for whatever Grandfather would say. He took his hands out of his pockets and straightened away from the bookcase. Grandfather barely waited for the Zahns to leave before going on the attack. “This is all your fault.”
“Excuse me?”
“If you’d put more of an effort into courting the girl, she wouldn’t have eloped with Fordham. Who, by the way, will never work for Kennebrae’s again.”
Eli shrugged. “I think it took a lot of courage for Geoffrey to do this, and Clarice, too. Though I wish they would’ve come to me. I’d have released her from the engagement and given them my blessing.”
“And lost yourself the Bethany in the process!” Grandfather’s voice and color rose. “We had a deal.”
Eli’s anger charged forward to meet Grandfather’s. “A deal I no longer want any part of. It’s choked me for weeks. I’m not willing to exchange my freedom for a ship or money. I wanted to make my mark on Kennebrae Shipping, but the cost is too great. You can keep the Bethany. I’ll take my designs elsewhere. It isn’t as if I haven’t had other offers. You’ve manipulated me for long enough. Working for Fox couldn’t be as bad as being stretched on the rack by you every day.”
“You wouldn’t leave.”
“Watch me.” Eli started for the door, intent on putting a lot of distance between him and his conniving grandsire. He was free, released from his obligations, and it felt great.
“Eli, please.” The plea stopped him in his tracks. Grandfather sounded broken and defeated. “I want you to do this. . .for me.” Grandfather picked up Clarice’s letter from the corner of the desk and creased it with his thumbnail.
Frustration at his inability to just walk away from the old man made Eli’s voice raspy. “Why? Why is it so important to you that I get married right now? Why can’t you be happy that Jonathan and Noah are married and let me get on with my own life?”
“Because I gave my word.”
“It doesn’t matter now. Don’t you see? You tried to keep your word. I tried to keep your word, but the girl has flown the coop. No one will blame you for not following through this time. It’s impossible now that she’s married. Zahn can’t hold us to the bargain.” Eli sank onto the window seat so that he was at eye level with Grandfather. “I’m sorry about the shipping contracts, but maybe you can still work something out with him.”
“This isn’t about Zahn. It never was.” Grandfather scowled.
“Suppose you tell me then just what this is about.”
Grandfather pinched the bridge of his nose and rested his elbows on the arms of his chair. He stared past Eli’s shoulder for a long moment then breathed deeply, as if coming to a decision. “I promised your grandmother—God rest her soul—on her deathbed that I would see you boys all safely married to good girls before I died. I gave my word to her.” He spoke the last phrase slowly, as if to emphasize just what it meant to him. “And I’m running out of time.”
“You’re not that old. You’re going to live on for years yet. Look at how not even a stroke has slowed you down much. I plan to get married eventually. Why can’t you wait until then?” Eli kept his hand on the doorknob, wary of another of Grandfather’s traps.
“Time’s always shorter than you think, and mine’s dwindling fast.” His words caused Eli to turn around. “The doc gave me the long face a year ago, said I’d best be making my final plans. That’s why I’ve been after you boys to marry quickly. I promised your grandmother, and I aim to keep my word before it’s too late.”
“The long face?”
“It’s something with my heart. The doc says I could go at any time.”
“Your heart?” His mind refused to accept it. Life without his recalcitrant and calculating grandfather? Impossible.
“Help me, Eli. Help a Kennebrae keep his word to his own.”
The noose Eli had so easily slipped out of only a short while before dropped over his head and tightened.
❧
Josie bolted up the stairs to change for dinner. The turmoil of this afternoon’s events sent her thoughts tumbling.
Wild giggles emanated from her bedroom. She opened the door to see Giselle and Antoinette wearing her two best gowns and her widest-brimmed afternoon hats.
“Girls!”
They stopped pirouetting in front of the armoire mirror and looked up at her with wide blue eyes. Toni had tried to pin up her black tresses, and one long sausage curl escaped and bounced along her cheek.
“Hand it over.” Josie held out her palm.
Giselle gave her the ivory fan she’d been fluttering under her chin and began to peel off the satin gloves.
“You, too.” Josie waited for Toni.
The girls shed the dresses and necklaces, the hats and scarves.
“And put them away where you got them.” Josie was inclined to indulge them. After all, what harm had they done? It brought back memories of a small Josie and Clarice invading Grandma Bess’s bureau and trunk and trying on treasures.
The indulgence Josie felt evaporated the moment she saw her desk. “You little horrors, look what you’ve done!” An avalanche of papers and books had slid off the desk into a heap on the floor. Her carefully arranged drawings were under the desk, and the papers she’d intended to burn were mingled with the ones she needed to keep. “How many times do I have to tell you to keep your little paddies off my stuff?” She clapped her hands onto her hips and glared at her sisters.
Giselle’s lower lip began to quiver, and water formed on her lashes. “Josie, we’re sorry. We didn’t mean to.” The rose-colored satin and lace of Josie’s best dress drooped off Giselle’s narrow shoulders, and the skirts puddled around her on the floor.
Josie caved. “I’m sorry, girls. I know you didn’t mean to, but you have to stay out of my things. If you’d have asked me, I’d have let you play dress-up. I have some very important papers in here that can’t get messed up.”
The tears released from Giselle’s lower lashes and tracked down her pale cheeks. She sniffed and nodded, the ostrich feather on Josie’s hat bobbing with the movement.
Toni shucked Josie’s second-best dress and opened the armoire door. “We won’t do it again, Josie. And we’ll help you clean up.”
“Good, because we’re having guests for dinner, and I have to get ready.”
With the help of her sisters, Josie got the mess cleaned up. “Here, Toni, these are the ones I’m done with. Put them in this envelope, and I’ll throw them in the fire later.” She held out the large brown envelope Geoffrey had sent, and Toni slid the much-scribbled pages and notes inside.
Josie hurriedly scrubbed her hands, scowling at an ink smear that wouldn’t budge. Still, no one would be looking at her hands, not with the uproar Clarice’s elopement had caused. With trepidation, she
descended the stairs and entered the parlor.
Papa and Eli rose as she came in.
Mama popped up out of her chair and came toward Josie, smiles wreathing her face, her eyes suspiciously bright. “Here she is, and doesn’t she look a picture?” Mama clasped Josie’s hands, kissed the air beside her cheek, and whispered, “What took you so long?”
Josie glanced at Eli, who resumed his seat and stared at his hands. Worry lines wrinkled his forehead, and the relieved grin he’d worn the last time she saw him had vanished. Perhaps the reality of losing Clarice was beginning to set in. Josie’s heart went out to him, and she wondered why he had agreed to stay to dinner. When they entered the dining room, he sat in the chair normally reserved for Clarice, and Josie took her customary spot in the next seat.
Grandma Bess’s mouth looked pinched, as if she wanted to say something but refrained. And the way Mama avoided looking at Grandma made Josie wonder if verbal swords hadn’t already been crossed. Mama kept the conversational ball bouncing, but only Papa and Mr. Kennebrae hit it back.
Josie could think of nothing but Clarice’s defection and feared if she spoke she’d inadvertently draw attention to her absent sister. Eli’s silence unnerved her, and she kept glancing at him, hoping for some sign of how he was dealing with all this. The dessert dishes couldn’t be cleared fast enough to suit Josie.
Just when she thought she might gracefully escape—was, in fact, just pushing back her chair—Mama’s voice stopped her. “Josephine, please sit. We have some news for you.”
Papa cleared his throat and looked stern.
Anxiety clawed its way up Josie’s rib cage and danced in her head. She looked from one face to the next, all staring at her, except Eli, who again contemplated the edge of the table.
Mr. Kennebrae, though somber, had a glitter in his eye that caused the hairs on Josie’s arms to stand up. He couldn’t contain a triumphant smile.