The stable door opened and Dr. Kirby walked in. He smiled at Peter, but it quickly faded.
“What is it?” Dr. Kirby looked toward Spice, who dozed in her stall. “Where’s Anne?”
Saying nothing, Peter handed the professor the letters he’d found.
The more the professor read, the graver his face became. He looked at Peter. “You knew about this?”
“About her natural father, yes, but I had no idea she was making plans to take him and head out West.” He explained how Anne had found out about her father. “Why does she feel the need to leave? I know most people can be unkind about things like this but—” He stopped at the look on Dr. Kirby’s face. “What is it?”
Dr. Kirby motioned him toward the bench. “You should probably sit down, son.”
On Christmas Eve, Peter stood at the mirror in the professor’s room, tying one of his famous four-in-hand knots. When he finished, he stepped back and looked at himself. He hadn’t worn such fine clothes in—had it really been only months? It felt like years. He shrugged into the frock coat he’d borrowed from the professor and turned to face him. The professor stood just behind him, a small smile on his face.
“You know this is ridiculous, don’t you? It’s never going to work.”
“Yes it will,” the professor said, adjusting his own tie. He pulled at his vest to smooth out nonexistent wrinkles and brushed at his coat. “We should get downstairs. My family will be arriving soon.”
Peter sighed and followed him down the stairs. He shouldn’t have let the professor talk him into this. He certainly had a better understanding now of just why Anne felt she had to leave, but the solution Dr. Kirby had suggested—Having me propose to her? In front of her family? Wouldn’t telling her pa make more sense?
They reached the bottom of the stairs and walked into the parlor. A yet-undecorated Christmas tree stood in the corner near the front window, and bunches of holly and fir boughs lined the mantel. But Peter’s eyes noticed only Anne, who stood in front of the tree.
Despite that it was Christmas Eve, when he saw her, all he could think of was autumn. With her deep green dress, red hair, and doe-brown eyes, she looked like fall in all its magnificent glory. He’d never seen her so beautiful, yet the picture was marred by the way she looked at the tree. She had that sad, wistful look in her eyes again, and if it hadn’t been for the professor adjusting the logs in the fire, he would’ve yanked her into his arms and kissed her until that look vanished. He walked over to her, hands clasped tightly behind him.
“Your uncle tells me your parents are bringing more decorations,” he said. He’d helped Mrs. Werner bring down Dr. Kirby’s small crate of decorations the other day. It sat on the floor next to the tree.
She turned to him, her eyes widening. There was no mistaking the admiring look in them as she took in his appearance, but she quickly looked away, as if remembering herself.
“Yes,” she replied. “We’ll start as soon as they arrive.” She turned her head toward him but didn’t look up. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Ward, I better go see if Mrs. Werner needs my help with anything.”
Peter frowned as she left the room. He was Mr. Ward again? “This is hopeless.”
“Why Peter, I never knew you to be so faithless,” the professor said, checking his pocket watch against the time displayed on the mantel clock.
“I have plenty of faith in God, sir, just not in this plan.”
Dr. Kirby snapped shut his watch. “Don’t worry. ‘All things work together for good to them that love God.’” Outside, a carriage pulled up, and he walked to the window. “It’s my brother and sister-in-law.”
Peter followed the professor to the entrance in the parlor and watched as he opened the door and greeted them. He was relieved to see that Jonah Kirby appeared much more pleasant in person. The stern picture of him from the professor’s mantel had haunted him ever since Dr. Kirby suggested this crazy plan. His wife and Millie, Anne’s sister, accompanied him. A lanky young man with a shock of brown hair, who could only be her brother, Jacob, completed the group.
“How are you all, Jonah?” the professor asked, slapping him on the back. “How was your trip?”
“Fine.” He handed his coat to his brother. “Are you too high and mighty to hang this up for me?” It must have been an old joke between them, because Dr. Kirby laughed.
“Jonah, don’t treat your brother so,” Mrs. Kirby said, smiling. She took the coat from the professor, and she and Anne’s sister hung their wraps on the coat tree.
“Let me introduce you to someone,” Dr. Kirby said and led them over to where Peter stood. “This is Mr. Peter Ward.”
Mr. Kirby and his wife seemed startled for a moment.
“How do you do, sir?” Peter held out his hand, glancing at the professor, but Dr. Kirby simply smiled.
Mr. Kirby blinked then took his hand. “I’m well, thank you.” He turned to his wife. “This is my wife, Mrs. Adele Kirby.”
Mrs. Kirby’s eyes were wide as she shook his hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Ward.”
Dr. Kirby introduced Anne’s sister, Millie, and her brother, Jacob. As he finished, Anne came down the hall from the kitchen. She smiled when she saw her family.
“Ma, Pa,” she said, hugging each of them. Noticing Peter, her smile faded a fraction. “I see you’ve met Mr. Ward.”
“Yes.” Mr. Kirby eyed him carefully and Peter found himself looking at his feet.
“I’m sure he and Jacob will have a lot to discuss this evening,” Anne said pointedly. She gave Peter a meaningful, almost pleading, glance before taking her mother’s arm. “Mrs. Werner is in the kitchen, Ma. She’s eager to meet you and Millie.”
“Take Millie with you for now, Anne,” Dr. Kirby said. “I need to speak with your ma and pa for a moment.”
“Sir,” Peter said with rising alarm as the two young women left for the kitchen. “Don’t you think—”
“Peter, why don’t you take Jacob into the parlor?” Dr. Kirby interjected. “If you recall, he has some questions for you.” He led his brother and sister-in-law into the sitting room across the hall and slid the doors shut behind him.
Peter looked at Jacob, who grinned at him.
“Uncle Daniel says you’re a horse expert. What do you know about Percherons?”
Unfortunately, Peter knew little about the breed, but he was able to give Jacob a wealth of information about horse care.
“I haven’t quite decided whether to commit to raising them,” Jacob said. “I’ve talked to some people at Grange meetings, and now you. I hope to make a decision in the next few months.”
“Let me know if I can help again.” Peter’s gaze wandered to the parlor door. He could just see the closed doors to the sitting room. What were they talking about? Dr. Kirby said this evening would be a surprise for Anne’s parents.
“It’s sad what happened with Scioto,” Jacob said.
“Yes, I wish there had been more I could have done,” Peter replied.
“How has my uncle been about it? And my sister? Uncle Daniel’s letter to Pa was very brief.”
Peter nodded. “They’re doing pretty well. I’m sure you couldn’t have heard yet about Dr. Townshend’s Christmas gift to them.” He told Jacob about Spice.
“Dr. Townshend is a good man,” Jacob said, smiling broadly.
The sitting room doors opened and Peter swallowed, anticipating the look of disapproval sure to be on Mr. and Mrs. Kirby’s faces. After all, he had hardly a penny to his name. How was he supposed to support Anne? But when they came into the parlor, they smiled at him, seeming curiously pleased. He tried to get Dr. Kirby’s attention, but the professor ignored him.
“Well, if we are to decorate the tree before dinner, we’d better get started,” Dr. Kirby said.
Mrs. Kirby went to the kitchen and gathered Anne, Millie, and Mrs. Werner while Mr. Kirby brought in their box of decorations from the vestibule.
They clipped candleholders onto the bran
ches, strung beads, and tied bows all over the tree. In spite of his nervousness, Peter enjoyed it. Granddad had been generous in his gift giving, but they’d never had a Christmas tree. He reached up to hang a little toy drum and found himself standing very close to Anne. He looked down at her.
“This is my first Christmas with a tree,” he said.
She kept her eyes focused on adjusting a string of beads. “Really?”
“Yes, Granddad wasn’t quite sure of them. But I had stockings, growing up.” Instead of getting another ornament, he continued looking at her. “Has your family always done this?”
“Yes, I think the first one was”—her hands stilled—“the year they adopted me.”
Peter glanced behind him. The rest of the family was busy on the other side of the tree. He lifted Anne’s chin, forcing her to look at him. “I meant what I said out in the stable, Anne, all of it. He doesn’t matter. I love you.”
Her eyes darted away from his, and she opened her mouth to say something, but her uncle’s voice stopped her.
“Well, I think that looks wonderful,” he said.
They all stepped back to look at it. Anne carefully moved away from Peter and stood next to her brother, who smiled down at her and squeezed her shoulders.
Millie cocked her head. “I think I see a bare spot.”
“Whether you do or not, it doesn’t really matter,” her pa said with a smile. “We’re out of decorations.” He nudged his brother good-naturedly. “You and your big, fancy trees.”
Dr. Kirby chuckled. “Yes, well why don’t we all sit down?”
Everyone took a seat. Peter found himself next to Anne on the sofa. She twisted her hands in her lap.
Mrs. Werner was the only one who hadn’t taken a seat. “I’ll be going to see about dinner,” she said.
“Let me help you,” Anne said quickly and started to rise.
“No, lass, you stay with your family. It’ll be ready shortly, Dr. Kirby.”
Mrs. Kirby looked at her brother-in-law. “Where are Rebecca and Joseph, Daniel? I thought they would be here.”
“They’ll be here tomorrow. In fact, I have good news from both of them.” He rose from his seat, picked up the picture of his children on the mantel, and smiled down at it. Looking at his brother, he said, “I’m sorry to beat you to this, Jonah, but Rebecca wrote to tell me that I should be a grandfather in the spring.”
Amid exclamations of happiness, Jonah joined his brother at the mantel and hugged him. Peter glanced at Anne; her smile was strained. His heart ached for her. He fervently hoped the professor’s crazy plan worked. Even if it took him his whole life, he was determined to make sure that look never crossed Anne’s face again. Dr. Kirby spoke, and Peter turned his attention to him.
“As for my news about Joseph—” He took a deep, steadying breath. “As you know, after Katherine passed he felt it would be too hard to stay and attend college here in Ohio.” The professor’s beard bristled as he pressed his lips together. “But it seems he misses his mother even more keenly living so far away from home. He has decided to attend The Ohio State University, starting next term.”
Peter offered his congratulations along with everyone else, but even over the noise, he heard a sigh beside him. He set his jaw. You’ll be here to see him, Anne. With me standing right at your side. The merriment died down, and Dr. Kirby looked at him. If Peter had been nervous and unsure of this before, he wasn’t now.
“I have more good news,” the professor said. “It concerns a young man whom it has been my pleasure to know for the past several months.” Peter felt uncomfortable as Dr. Kirby looked him straight in the eye. “He introduced himself to me as Peter Ward, but I have discovered his real name is Peter Tobias McCord.”
Peter felt as if a horse had kicked him in the gut. In a daze, he looked around at them. Dr. Kirby, his brother, and his sister-in-law appeared calm, but the others looked confused, Anne most of all. The mantel clock struck the hour, and a carriage pulled up outside. Silently, the professor left the room. He returned, bringing someone with him. Peter’s jaw dropped, and he stood.
“Jimmy!” he exclaimed.
Chapter 17
Hello, sir.” The valet smiled and crossed the parlor to shake Peter’s hand. “Actually my name is James Brooks.” He glanced at the professor. “I’m a Pinkerton agent.”
“What?” Peter exclaimed. “Who were you working for? My uncle?”
Dr. Kirby laid his hand on Peter’s shoulder and urged him to sit. “Just listen to him.”
Peter looked at the professor as he sat down. “You’ve heard this, then?”
“Yes. All of it.”
Peter pressed his lips together and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “I never wanted anyone to know,” he said angrily. “It was all in the past.”
“I had to know who you were for reasons that you don’t understand yet. Please hear Mr. Brooks out.”
Peter sighed and looked at James.
“Your grandfather hired the agency,” James said calmly, “to watch over you.”
“To watch over me? Why?”
“He’d been getting death threats.”
Peter frowned and stared at James. “He never told me.”
“He didn’t want to worry you. The threats began years ago, while you were at Princeton, but he never took them seriously until one of them mentioned you. That’s when he called us in. He knew you’d never agree to have a bodyguard around all the time, so that’s why I posed as your valet.”
“He didn’t ask for anyone for himself?”
“No, you were his main concern.”
“Then his illness—” Peter began.
“Unfortunately, the threats were not unfounded,” James replied heavily.
Peter worked his jaw. “Who?” he asked, although in his heart, he already knew.
“Your uncle, with the help of your cousin Edward, slowly poisoned him. They also changed his will. Mr. Jamison, your grandfather’s lawyer, helped with that.” James pulled out some documents from his suit and handed them to Peter. “I found your grandfather’s real will. Your uncle, your cousin, and Mr. Jamison have been arrested.”
Peter slowly opened the will. It was the exact opposite of the document his uncle had shown him in May. As Granddad had always said, he left Peter nearly everything. An annuity had been set up for Uncle Randall and his family. He understood what had motivated Uncle Randall and Edward. They’d wanted the entire McCord fortune, not a yearly stipend. But what had motivated Mr. Jamison? Granddad had trusted him explicitly. Letty came to mind, and he looked at James. “How does Letty Jamison fit in to all this?”
A scowl crossed James’s face. “It seems she did get herself in the family way, but your cousin Edward was responsible. Mr. Jamison took the matter to your uncle, who agreed to have Edward marry her, if the attorney changed your grandfather’s will.”
“But once he’d done it, Edward refused to marry her,” Peter said.
“Mr. Jamison threatened to reveal the whole thing unless they provided a husband for his daughter. So they took advantage of your way with the ladies, hoping to trap you into marrying her.” James grinned. “You leaving before the wedding complicated their plans, but I’m glad you got away.”
Peter looked down, wishing James hadn’t put it quite like that. What must Anne think of him now?
“What happened to Miss Jamison?” Mrs. Kirby asked.
“After Mr. McCord left, his uncle paid Mr. Jamison to keep quiet, and she was sent away. The child came early, stillborn.”
“The poor girl,” Mrs. Kirby murmured.
James shrugged. “At least, she didn’t get ahold of these.” He handed a velvet box to Peter.
“You found them.” He opened the box to look at his mother’s pearl necklace. He sighed with relief.
“Yes, sir, with the note you left me.” He reached into his pocket. “I also managed to track down these.” He pulled out mother-of-pearl cuff links. “Your trail ended a
t the pawn shop where I found them.”
“That’s the last time I bet on a sure thing,” Peter said, taking them. He glanced at Dr. Kirby, shame-faced.
“That’s who you used to be, Peter. Not who you are now.” He nodded to James. “Please give him the letter, Mr. Brooks.”
Peter looked up at them. “What letter?”
“Your grandfather left a letter for you, sir, to be read when the will was read.” James retrieved an envelope from a pocket inside his coat and handed it to him.
“Peter,” Dr. Kirby said quietly. “I know this seems like an intrusion, but it’s important that you read it out loud.”
Peter hesitated, but seeing the sincere entreaty on the professor’s face, unfolded the letter and cleared his throat.
Dear Peter,
You are reading this now because I have passed and my legacy is now in your hands. I know that you never were one for business, but I trust your common sense and I am confident you will find an honorable man to run McCord Steel and Ironworks on your behalf.
But that is not the reason I am leaving you this letter. Guilt has a way of lying on a man’s heart like a hot steel beam, and such is the case with me. For your whole life, I have kept a secret from you. Coward that I am, I have never been able to tell you, fearing your anger and what you might do when you found out.
As you know, your mother, Sarah, was my only daughter. She was a great source of joy for me, and I wanted nothing but the best for her. I sent her to the finest finishing schools. She was the most popular young lady in Pittsburgh society. But the War between the States began, and it was then that Sarah strayed from my carefully laid plans for her.
She met a young man by the name of Tobias Kirby, a private in a Union regiment being mustered in Pittsburgh. I do not know the specifics of how they met, but he swept her off her feet. They married secretly after only a few weeks. Eventually he was sent off for service, and when Sarah discovered she was with child, she revealed to me what she had done.
My anger toward your mother was terrible, even more so when I discovered the Kirbys were no more than farmers in Ohio. I immediately sent her abroad, and when she returned with you, I circulated the story that she had married someone who turned out to be a fortune hunter and divorced her when he discovered he would get no money from me.
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