Shine Like the Dawn

by Carrie Turansky

  “Let me see.” Mr. Hornshaw pulled open his top desk drawer and shuffled through some papers. “Ah, here we are. This is the address.” He held up the card, then hesitated. “May I ask you something, sir?”

  Nate nodded. “Of course.”

  “Why all these questions?” Hornshaw glanced at Maggie, then focused on Nate again.

  Maggie shifted in her chair. Was she worried Nate would reveal her suspicions?

  He straightened, considering his words. “As you said, there are some things about the boating accident that don’t quite make sense, and we’re trying to understand why the boat went down.”

  Mr. Hornshaw leaned forward. “Do you suspect some sort of foul play?”

  Maggie’s eyes widened for a split second, then she lowered her gaze to her lap.

  Nate had known Mr. Hornshaw for many years, but he wasn’t certain where his loyalties lay. “We’re just beginning to look into it, so it’s too soon for us to draw any conclusions.”

  Hornshaw’s silver eyebrows rose, and he nodded slowly. “I see.”

  “This is a sensitive matter. I trust you’ll keep our conversation confidential?”

  “Oh, yes, sir. I won’t say a word to anyone.” He handed the card to Nate.

  “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.” Nate glanced at the address on the card. “I’d like to speak to Clyde Billington and see if he can help us. May I take this?”

  “I’d be happy to copy the address for you.” Hornshaw took a pen from his desk. Nate passed him the card, and the estate manager wrote down the address. When he finished, he passed the card to Nate. “I hope Clyde can help you.”

  “So do I.” Nate rose from his chair.

  Maggie stood beside him. “Thank you, Mr. Hornshaw. You’ve been very helpful.”

  “You’re welcome, miss. I hope you find the answers you’re looking for.”

  Nate led the way to the door and opened it for Maggie. They stepped outside, and he closed the door. He grinned and held up the card. “It looks like it’s time for us to take that trip to the seaside.”

  The next morning after breakfast, Nate walked with Maggie, Mrs. Hayes, and Violet into the great hall. Sunlight poured through the tall windows above the staircase, brightening the usually shadowed room. The sky appeared to be clear, and it looked like the perfect day for their outing.

  Nate turned to Maggie. “I need to dash off a note to Reverend Samuelson, then I’ll fetch the car and bring it around front.”

  Maggie nodded. “We’ll go up and collect our things from our room.”

  Violet swung toward Nate on her crutches. “How long will it take to drive to the ocean?”

  “It’s about thirty-five miles, so I’d guess about an hour and a half, maybe less.” He had taken the motorcar up to thirty miles per hour on a straightaway, but he doubted that would be wise on the narrow, winding roads to Lynemouth.

  Violet’s eyes lit up. “That’s not too long.”

  Nate grinned. “No, it’s not.”

  “I can’t wait!” She vaulted toward the stairs.

  “Violet, slow down.” Mrs. Hayes put out her hand. “You don’t have to go upstairs.”

  “I want to go up.” Violet was already clomping up the steps, looking as though she enjoyed the challenge.

  Maggie shook her head, but affection for her sister glowed in her eyes. “If we could only harness Violet’s energy, I’m sure we could light up the rest of the estate and the village besides.”

  Nate chuckled. “Violet’s enthusiasm for life is contagious. I enjoy her very much.”

  Maggie tipped her head, her eyes shining. “I’m very glad to hear it. Thank you for that, Nate, and for everything.” She sent him another heartwarming smile, then took her grandmother’s arm and they started up the stairs.

  His spirits lifted, his hope renewed. Ever since their conversation by the stream, Maggie’s attitude toward him had changed. His commitment to help her search for the truth about the boating accident seemed to have tipped the scale in his favor.

  She was opening her heart to him.

  A thrill raced through him, but then a question rose in his mind. Winning Maggie’s affections would be amazing, but what if their search led to a dead end? What if he failed to find the answers she wanted? What would happen then?

  He shook his head and dismissed those thoughts. He would do whatever he could to help Maggie, and that would be enough. Right now he needed to focus on his plans for the day, and the first thing on his list was writing to Samuelson. He turned and started toward the library.

  “Nathaniel, I need to speak to you.” Helen’s demanding tone scraped across his nerves.

  He clenched his jaw and looked over his shoulder. His stepmother descended the stairs, passing Maggie and Mrs. Hayes on the landing without acknowledging them.

  He held his peace until she reached the bottom of the stairs. “Can it wait until this evening? I’m preparing to leave for the day.”

  She crossed toward him, her face set in a stern expression. “Where are you going?”

  Irritation coursed through him. Since when did she take a personal interest in how he spent his day? He pulled in a slow, deep breath and reminded himself to be civil. “I’m taking Mrs. Hayes and her granddaughters to the seashore.”

  “What about your responsibilities here and at Clifton?”

  “I’m well aware of my responsibilities, and I know how to take care of them. You needn’t worry.”

  She gave an indignant huff. “How can you justify wasting a day on an outing like that? I thought you were working with the board at Clifton, trying to save the company from the possibility of a strike.”

  “I thought you disliked discussing business or hearing anything about my dealings at Clifton.”

  “It’s not appropriate dinner conversation, but that doesn’t mean I’m totally ignorant of our family’s business interests.”

  A footman entered the great hall with a tray of glasses and walked toward the dining room.

  Helen frowned at the footman, then focused on Nate. “I’d prefer we continue this conversation in private.” She started toward the library door without waiting for his reply.

  He swallowed his frustration and followed her.

  She swept into the library, then turned to him. “Close the door.”

  He clenched his jaw but did as she’d asked. He would listen to what she had to say, but he would not let Helen spoil the day with an argument.

  Helen took a seat on an overstuffed chair near the fireplace. “Sit down, Nathaniel.”

  “I prefer to stand.” He crossed to the fireplace hearth and faced her.

  “Very well.” She smoothed out her dress. “Now, tell me where you’re going.”

  “I have business in Lynemouth, and I invited Mrs. Hayes and her granddaughters to come along.”

  Her brow creased. “Lynemouth is at least forty miles away.”

  He stifled a groan. “It’s only thirty-five, but that’s the beauty of motorcars. You can travel great distances in a very short time.”

  “At a very fast speed.” She pursed her lips and sent him a disapproving look. “Racing around the countryside in a motorcar is dangerous and undignified. What will people say if they see you with that…Lounsbury girl?”

  Ah, so that was the real issue. “Her name is Margaret.”

  Helen lifted her hand. “It doesn’t matter what you call her. The point is, people will talk.”

  “Yes, they’ll probably say, ‘Look, there goes Nathaniel Harcourt in his splendid motorcar with his friends. Aren’t they a lucky set?’ ”

  She glared at him. “You may think you’re humorous, but this is no laughing matter.”

  “You’re right. It’s becoming less humorous by the minute.” He took his watch from his pocket and checked the time. “Is there some particular reason for this conversation?”

  She lifted her chin, but he read a hint of apprehension in her eyes. “Yes…this has been an unusual month, and
my allowance is simply not adequate to cover my expenses.”

  The conversation Maggie had reported overhearing between Helen and Roland flashed through his mind. Was Helen going to ask him for money to pay her blackmailer?

  “I’ve had extra expenses,” Helen continued, “and I’d like an advance on my allowance and an increase next month.”

  “What kinds of expenses?”

  Helen blinked a few times. “Well, I’m sure you’ll remember we hosted a very large luncheon after your father’s funeral. And now that we have three houseguests, whom you invited to stay with us, we have to pay for their food as well.”

  “Mrs. Burnell gave me the bills from the grocer and the butcher. I paid those myself. Those expenses didn’t come out of your allowance.”

  Her face flushed, and she glanced away. “Yes, but I had to order the flowers for the funeral, and I have to make the down payment on the headstone for your father’s grave.”

  “Give me the bills, and I’ll see that those expenses are paid.”

  Helen shifted in her chair. “I don’t receive a bill for every expense.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “When I go to the village and buy something at one of the shops, I must pay for my purchase.”

  He nodded. “That’s when you would use the money from your allowance.”

  She leaned forward. “But there are times I need something extra.”

  “Such as?”

  She pressed her lips together for several seconds, then looked back at him. “Last week at the Women’s Missionary Aid Society meeting, they were taking a special offering for the work in China. The offering plate was passed, and I wanted to give a gift, but I had nothing.” She closed her eyes and shuddered. “Everyone saw. I was so embarrassed!”

  A sense of regret pricked Nate’s conscience. Everything in Helen’s world had changed since his father’s death. She was difficult and could strain every nerve, but she was part of his family and he didn’t want her to be miserable. “How much did you want to give?”

  “At least twenty pounds. That’s how much the others were giving.”

  “Very well. Helping our missionaries in China is a worthy cause. I’ll speak to Reverend Samuelson the next time I see him and tell him we want to give a contribution.”

  She sprang up from her chair, her eyes bulging. “No! That’s not the point! I want to give the money myself in the meeting.”

  He stared at her a moment before he could reply. “Helen, I’m sure you remember what Jesus said. When you give an offering, do it in secret—don’t even let your right hand know what your left hand is doing. Surely you don’t want to lose your heavenly reward by making a public display of giving that money.”

  Her throat convulsed and her lips trembled. “You think you’re clever, quoting Scripture and forcing me to beg for money, but it’s not right! Your father never treated me like this. He gave me a generous allowance and never asked for an account of every penny I spent!”

  At the mention of his father, fire burned through Nate, and he stepped toward her. “If my father knew what I know about you, he would’ve taken much more serious measures than I’ve done by limiting your spending.”

  Her mouth dropped open.

  Nate tugged down the lapels of his jacket. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a letter to write before I leave.” He motioned toward the door, indicating she should remove herself from the room.

  Helen’s nostrils flared, but she spun away and marched out of the library.

  Nate’s pulse pounded in his temples. He’d said more than he’d intended to. That might not have been wise. If Maggie’s suspicions were true, Helen would not be afraid to go to great lengths to keep her secrets from becoming known. That could be dangerous for them all.

  He crossed to his desk and took out paper and a pen. What he’d said might make Helen uncomfortable, but it wasn’t enough to pose any real danger. They would keep looking for answers, and when they had the proof they needed, they would take it to the police and let them deal with Helen. Until then, he would keep his eyes open and tread more carefully.

  Maggie took Nate’s hand and stepped down out of the motorcar. Nate had parked in the shade of a large cedar tree; still, she felt a bit uneasy about leaving Grandmother and Violet there while they went inside to speak to Mr. Clyde Billington. But she didn’t want Violet to hear the conversation.

  “We shouldn’t be long.” Nate closed the car door.

  “We’ll be fine.” Grandmother waved him off with a smile. “This is a lovely spot.”

  Nate pushed open the gate and let Maggie pass through first. They walked up the path toward the old stone cottage. Maggie smiled as she took in the neat front garden and charming thatched roof. The cottage looked as if it came out of an earlier century, and that was probably the case.

  “I hope Mr. Billington is home.” She sent Nate a sideways glance.

  He offered her a brief smile, then knocked on the front door. “That would be convenient.”

  A few seconds later, the door opened. A middle-aged woman wearing a white apron over her simple blue dress looked out at them. “May I help you?”

  “Good morning. I’m Nathaniel Harcourt, and this is Miss Lounsbury. We’re hoping to speak to Mr. Billington.”

  The woman hesitated, a hint of concern in her eyes. “And how do you know my father?”

  “He used to work for my family at Morningside Manor.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, well, I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you, then. He’s in the back garden. I’ll go get him.”

  “There’s no need. We’ll walk around back.”

  “All right. Just take the path around the side of the house, and you’ll find him there.”

  Nate thanked her, and they followed her directions. As Maggie rounded the corner, she passed under a wooden archway covered with climbing roses. It was early in the season, but a few yellow blooms had opened. Maggie sniffed the air, enjoying the flowers’ sweet fragrance mixed with the scent of freshly tilled earth.

  Off to her right, an elderly man knelt beside a flower bed, digging in the soil with a small trowel.

  “Mr. Billington?” Nate crossed the grass toward him, and Maggie followed.

  The old man looked up and squinted at them. “Yes?”

  “I’m Nathaniel Harcourt from Morningside Manor, and this is Miss Lounsbury.”

  “Oh, my goodness.” Mr. Billington reached for his cane. Nate stepped forward to give him a hand.

  “Thank you.” The old man looked up at Nate with a smile. “I should’ve recognized you right away. You look like your father when he was younger. How is he?”

  Nate’s smile faded. “He passed away in April.”

  Mr. Billington gripped his cane more tightly. “I’m sorry to hear that. He was a fine master, always fair and generous to me.”

  Nate nodded. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  Mr. Billington straightened. “So what brings you to Lynemouth? Surely you didn’t come all this way just to see me.”

  “Mr. Hornshaw suggested we speak to you. He thought you might be able to help us.”

  Curiosity glowed in the old man’s brown eyes. “I will if I can.”

  “Do you remember Miss Lounsbury’s father, Daniel Lounsbury?”

  He nodded. “Of course. He was a fine man, very skilled at designing gardens. Even an old gardener like me learned a few tricks from Mr. Lounsbury.”

  Maggie smiled, pleased to hear him speak about her father in such a kind way.

  But Nate’s expression remained serious. “We’re looking into the events surrounding the boating accident.”

  Mr. Billington’s brow creased. “That was a sad day, a very sad day.” The old man pointed to the wooden bench nearby. “Would you like to sit down?”

  “Why don’t you and Miss Lounsbury take a seat?”

  The old man motioned Maggie toward the bench. She sat down, then he shuffled over and sat next to her.

  When the
y were settled, Nate focused on Mr. Billington. “I understand you kept the key to the boathouse.”

  “That’s right, sir. I did. Also those to the gatehouse and a few other outbuildings.”

  “When someone wanted to take the boat out, they had to speak to you first, is that correct?”

  “Yes, sir.” Mr. Billington gave a firm nod. “Your father trusted me to keep a good eye on things.”

  “So Daniel Lounsbury made arrangements with you to use the boat?”

  Mr. Billington nodded. “He came to see me a day or two before. He said he wanted to take the family across the lake for a picnic. I believe it was someone’s birthday.”

  Maggie’s throat tightened. “Yes, my sister Olivia turned nineteen that day.”

  “That’s right.” The old man pointed a knobby finger her way. “And I wrote it on the board to make sure I’d remember to come and unlock the boathouse for them.”

  Nate’s brows lifted. “You met them there that day?”

  “No, sir. I’m sorry to say I didn’t see them.”

  Nate cocked his head. “I don’t understand.”

  “I went down early that morning to meet your father. He took the boat out first that day.”

  Nate stilled and stared at him. “My father?”

  “Yes, he said he wanted to do a little fishing.”

  “He asked you that morning?”

  Mr. Billington rubbed his chin and thought for a moment. “No, I believe he came the evening before. I told him the Lounsburys wanted to use the boat for their picnic at ten. He said not to worry, he’d take the boat out about seven, but he’d bring it back in plenty of time for them to be on their way.”

  Nate nodded. “So you met my father that morning at seven and unlocked the boathouse for him. He took the boat out and then brought it back in time for the Lounsburys to use it for their outing?”

  “Yes, sir. I believe that’s right.”

  Nate turned to Maggie, his gaze intense. “Do you remember seeing my father that morning? Did he hand off the boat to your family?”

  She glanced away with a slight frown. She didn’t like to think about those events; in fact, she usually tried to block those memories, but it was important to recall them now. She thought a moment more, then looked at Nate. “We didn’t see Mr. Harcourt. The boat was up on the shore. Father and I pushed it back in the water. Then we all got in and started across the lake.”