Respectful silence reigned until Mr. Tolland finished writing out the president’s words. Even after his fingers went still, the people assembled around him held their breath, amazed at the miracle of communication taking place. This moment would glimmer in Lucy’s memory for as long as she lived.
“How long will it take for a reply to come back?” someone asked, and Mr. Tolland only shrugged. They weren’t even one hundred percent certain the undersea cable would work, and how long it would take for a reply to cross the frigid, deep waters of the Pacific was anyone’s guess.
They had their answer at 11:19 p.m., when a message from William Howard Taft, Governor of the Philippines, arrived over the wire.
The Filipino people and the American residents in these islands are glad to present their respectful greetings and congratulations to the President of the United States, conveyed over the cable with which American enterprise has girded the Pacific.
A cheer went up from the crowd. It had worked! In twenty-nine minutes, the president’s message had been sent from a sleepy village in Long Island to the other side of the world and back again. Roy scooped Lucy up in a hug and whirled her around. The moment her toes touched the ground, stuffy Mr. Tolland reached out and did the same. Even the people from Reuters joined in the celebration, waving miniature American flags and toasting the accomplishment.
And amidst this temporary joyous moment of sleepy-eyed hysteria, she wondered where Colin was.
She forced herself to smile. It was going to take some time for Colin’s memory and her ill-advised romance to fade, but it would happen. Life was too grand to waste it chasing after old grievances or impossible dreams.
It was after midnight as Lucy walked home. Even this late at night, the city was illuminated with the blaze of streetlamps and revelers carrying sparklers. She continued to relive the excitement of the first transpacific cable, playing it over in her mind so she could tell Nick about it. He’d probably be in bed by now, but she would report each moment of the historic event for him in the morning.
Her footsteps echoed in the stairwell as she climbed to the fourth floor of her building. A beam of light shone from beneath their door, so Nick must have left the front lamp on for her. She tried to be quiet as she turned her key in the lock and stepped inside.
“Where have you been?” Nick roared. “We’ve been worried sick.”
She reeled back, stunned to see Nick and Colin Beckwith glowering at her from a few feet away.
“I’ve been at work,” she stammered. “Tonight was the debut of the transpacific cable. I told you that.”
“You told me you’d be back by ten o’clock!” Nick said. “We were just about to go on a search-and-rescue mission for you.”
She cast a worried glance at Colin. “What’s going on? Why are you here?” She didn’t want to sound rude. Colin had been a hero over the past few weeks, but his presence here was worrisome. Before Colin could answer, Nick tore into her again.
“He spent the day in Albany, overseeing the arrest of our idiot cousin, since you couldn’t be bothered to show up. Aunt Margaret pitched a fit when they led Tom Jr. away in handcuffs. She tried to bribe Agent Wilkes to let Tom go. When that didn’t work, she slapped him in the face, then started kicking and screaming as another agent dragged her away.”
Lucy was aghast, looking to Colin for confirmation. He nodded. “Your uncle seemed stunned, watching in horror as his world collapsed around him. He did nothing, letting your aunt lead the charge. I’ve always suspected your aunt was the more vicious of the pair. Sadly, we know of nothing illegal she can be charged with, but your uncle is another story.”
Colin held aloft a piece of paper. “In questioning Dr. Schroeder, the police learned that the order to incarcerate you at Ridgemoor came from Thomas. Once Tom Jr. learned you had overheard the wire transmissions, he wanted you out of the picture and leaned on his father to make it happen. I’ve already filled out the paperwork. All you need to do is sign the complaint.”
Merely looking at that form sapped the last of Lucy’s energy. She’d just spent an exhilarating few hours alongside wonderful people while they got a tiny glimpse of the future. For those few hours, she hadn’t worried about Uncle Thomas or the debilitating resentment that clouded so much of her life. Now Colin held a document that threatened to stoke the smoldering rancor back to life, making her feel old and tired.
She plopped onto the sofa, unable to meet the hopeful look in Colin’s gaze. “I have no interest in pursuing that complaint,” she said.
Colin’s mouth compressed in annoyance. “You’re the only one who can sign this document,” he said. “The authorities could arrest Dr. Schroeder because he accepted a bribe to commit a sane woman and that’s a violation of his professional ethics. With your uncle, it will require a complaining witness to bring charges against him. The police will ask nothing of you. After you sign this document, the case will be turned over to the district attorney for prosecution.”
When she hesitated, Nick knelt on the floor beside her. “Don’t you understand what that is?” His voice trembled with confused agitation. “That piece of paper is the key to bringing down Uncle Thomas. It’s everything we’ve ever fought for.”
This was awful. She hated disappointing Nick, but putting Uncle Thomas in prison wouldn’t solve their problems.
“It’s not everything we’ve wanted,” she said softly. “All I really want is for the Italian widow at Mr. Garzelli’s tenement to have running water in her apartment. I want the valve sold to the people who will never be able to afford it so long as Thomas Drake is determined to bleed every possible cent from our grandfather’s invention. If we send Thomas to jail, he will still control the company through Aunt Margaret, and that woman will never lower the price.” She paused as a new idea struck her. “I can negotiate with Thomas. We hold the linchpin, and he knows it. We can demand an affordable price for the valve as the condition for ignoring this document.”
“And what about the fortune he and Jacob cheated us out of?” Nick pressed.
“We’ll never see it. And I don’t care. God gave me two hands and the ability to make my own way in this world. I don’t think I ever appreciated that gift until this very day.”
Nick’s sigh was heavy, but that didn’t stop a reluctant smile from gracing his face. “I still want to drive a stake through Uncle Thomas’s heart, but you’re a better man than I, Luce. And you’re probably right. If we play our cards right, Thomas might cave about the price of the valve, but he’ll fight hard to keep that pile of money he’s been sitting on all these years.”
Colin’s anger had not faded. He stalked back and forth before the window, and his words were tight with aggravation. “You’re quitting before the game is over,” he snapped. “You’ve got the king in checkmate and won’t finish the deed.”
Except this wasn’t a game to her. It had never been about the money so much as fulfilling her grandfather’s wild, generous dreams.
“I’d rather declare victory by lowering the price of the valve. If we try for a share of the money, it will drag things out for years. I want this to end now.”
Colin looked flabbergasted. “Don’t you understand what winning this lawsuit could mean for you? Mean for us?”
She flinched, for it was impossible to mistake his meaning. Even Nick looked appalled. Now that Amelia Wooten had thrown Colin over, it seemed he was already hankering over the Drake fortune to spend on Whitefriars.
Her mouth twisted in disappointment. “I’m not interested in being courted by fortune hunters. However charming or however fine his title might be.”
Colin looked as if she’d struck him, and his voice lashed out like a whip. “I have been nothing but honest with you from the beginning. You know my every mortifying weakness and desperate need. I thought we trusted each other. I love you! And I thought maybe we could find a way forward—”
She cut him off. “If I roll the dice and go after the money too, how could I trust that
it’s really me you want, and not just saving Whitefriars?”
His shoulders sagged as the fire went out of his eyes. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded exhausted. “Strange. I would have trusted you with my life, and actually did so at Oakmonte. I’m sorry you don’t feel the same.”
He headed out the door without a backward glance. Every instinct urged her to rush after him, wipe the hurt from his face, and proclaim that she loved him too . . . but it was time to end this hopeless affair. The door shut behind Colin with a gentle click, but the sound still hurt.
Nick’s face radiated with sympathy. “You’ll feel better in the morning,” he said gently.
She doubted it. Knowing that Colin might have married her if she’d managed to win the Drake money made her hurt even more. It was a scar she would carry until her dying day, but at least she had Nick’s loyalty. He understood her bone-deep need to put this demoralizing lawsuit behind them forever, even if it meant walking away from a fortune.
There was only one more battle to fight. The police complaint Colin had left on the table was the weapon that could force Uncle Thomas to sell the valve at a decent price. The deck was stacked in their favor; she was ready to pull the trigger and make it happen.
At long last, her grandfather’s dream was about to come true.
Chapter
Twenty-five
Lucy’s hope for a quick victory over Uncle Thomas came crashing down the next day when she and Nick met with their lawyer. The battle was going to be bigger and more dangerous than she’d realized.
“You can’t threaten your uncle with imprisonment in exchange for lowering the price of the valve,” Mr. Pritchard said. “That’s called extortion. Your uncle is smart enough to know that. He’ll send his team of attack-dog lawyers at us, and before the week is out, all three of us could end up in jail. I can’t have anything to do with this.”
“But we have honorable motives,” Lucy pressed. She was prepared to walk away from vengeance and a fortune, all in exchange for requiring her uncle to do the decent thing. It didn’t seem fair that the law could come down on her for such an action. Just speaking about the valve and contracts caused the weight to descend on her again. Already she could feel the tentacles of old nightmares snaking up to drag her back beneath the waves.
Frustration nearly suffocated her as she and Nick stepped out onto the street. She wanted this over but couldn’t abandon the fight until she’d won the battle for her grandfather.
“I’m not giving up,” she vowed. “We’ll get a better lawyer. One who understands criminal law and can help us navigate these waters without getting sunk.”
“We don’t have that kind of money, Luce.”
“Yes, we do.” In the form of a pearl necklace her grandfather had foolishly given his wife the night before leaving to fight in the Civil War. The only thing that necklace had ever brought their family was anguish, but Nick always resisted letting it go. “We need to sell the necklace,” she said softly.
Nick said nothing as they walked along the sidewalk, but the way his shoulders slumped made it obvious he’d heard her.
“When I was a kid, I used to imagine how that necklace would look on my wife. I dreamed about squiring her around town, wearing that necklace and looking so fine.” His voice was so low she could barely hear it. “Stupid. I know that, but still . . .”
It was the same rush of masculine pride that had prompted her grandfather to splurge on the necklace in the first place, and Nick seemed to realize that.
“I suppose I’ll never have a wife and kids if I get sent to the slammer,” he said. “Let’s get rid of that necklace.”
Twenty-four hours later, the deed was done. They sold the necklace and had enough money to hire one of New York’s best attorneys. How ironic that the money they got from the necklace would ensure that the Drake valve would finally be sold for a reasonable price.
After paying the new lawyer’s fees, they used the balance of the money to hire a private investigator to track the movements of Uncle Thomas. Ever since Tom Jr.’s arrest, their aunt and uncle had been spending their days meeting with attorneys and visiting Tom in jail here in Manhattan. They were both distracted and distraught. It was the perfect time to strike.
Attorney Vincent Ruskin was cagey, smart, and tough. He was also cunning enough to cover his own hide when preparing the contracts. Knowing full well he was helping Lucy carry out an extortion attempt, he drew up all the paperwork without once signing his name or listing the title of his firm anywhere in the documents. After their initial meeting, he even came to their apartment to finalize the plan, for he wanted to keep an arm’s length away from the quasi-legal incident.
“The pair of you are smart enough to carry this out,” he said as he handed them the two stacks of paperwork. “Just follow my instructions to the letter, and you’ll have your uncle painted into a corner.”
She swallowed hard. It was time to bring down the dragon who’d haunted her childhood. The stack of legal documents looked official and intimidating, and New York’s finest attorney assured her the contracts were ironclad. It was time to slip a noose over the dragon’s head.
It would take place at the Waldorf Astoria, the most elegant hotel in the city. It was where Uncle Thomas always stayed when he was in Manhattan, but it gave Lucy the chills. The last time she’d been here was when Tom Jr. locked her in the dumbwaiter.
Nick carried the paperwork as they crossed the lobby, drawing stares. They’d worn their best clothes, but Nick’s too-long hair looked out of place, and Lucy’s white lace gown couldn’t compete with the satins and silks the other women wore. The check-in counter was a massive slab of curving marble jutting out into the stately lobby, its shape as impressive as the prow of a ship.
“We are here to meet with Thomas Drake,” Nick told the clerk. “And I’d like to reserve a conference room for the meeting.”
The clerk looked skeptical, but since their uncle was a regular guest and Nick was paying in cash, the clerk permitted them to reserve one of the meeting rooms. Their private investigator had said their aunt and uncle spent their days dealing with Tom Jr.’s legal quagmire and returned to the Waldorf Astoria sometime between five and seven o’clock each evening. Lucy picked a seat in the main foyer to keep an eye on the front door. Their lawyer had advised them to intercept Uncle Thomas immediately upon his return to the hotel. If he got to his room, he would have access to a telephone and might summon an attorney if he suspected what Lucy intended.
At least the seating was comfortable. The cushions on the baroque chairs were covered in velvet and felt like sitting on a cloud. Her gaze wandered over the marble columns that soared to the coffered ceiling. Everything in this foyer was gilded, lacquered, or draped in silk.
Nick leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Can you believe that an hour ago you were tending a telegraph machine and I was a hundred feet underground fitting sewer pipes?”
She stifled a snort of laughter. Neither one of them belonged here, and she’d much rather be opening a can of beef stew in the comfort of her own apartment, but she needed to get this agreement signed. Only then could she put the past behind her and venture into a new chapter of life.
As impressive as the surroundings were, the guests were even more so. The women were poured into custom-tailored gowns and wore broad-brimmed hats piled high with feathers and gemstones. They looked like exotic pieces of art. They didn’t walk, they glided. They didn’t work, they socialized. It was probably just as well Lucy wasn’t going to marry Colin. She didn’t feel comfortable in this lavish hotel and could never pretend to be a grand lady capable of presiding over Whitefriars.
She looked down at her hands clasped in her lap. Envy was such an ugly emotion. It wasn’t that she envied these ladies. She didn’t covet their silks, their status, or their leisure . . . but she envied that they were the sort of women Colin would have courted for more than an afternoon flirtation in the park.
She couldn’t wallo
w in regret about Colin, not when she had a dragon to confront. Her palms itched and her heart raced. She wished their lawyer was here. She wished the sight of her uncle didn’t intimidate her so. She wished she was as smart as her grandfather or as brave as Nick, for the longer she sat in this opulent lobby, the harder it became to breathe. Everything depended on the next few minutes.
“Here they are,” Nick whispered.
This was it. Lucy rose to her feet and spotted her aunt and uncle striding through the front doors. Margaret peeled off her gloves and hat, passing them to a bellhop without breaking stride or glancing at the young man. Lucy swallowed hard. The next few minutes would determine if poor people crowded into the towering buildings of Manhattan could enjoy fresh water the way rich people at this hotel took for granted.
Her boots clicked on the glossy tile as she and Nick scurried past the front counter to block Thomas and Margaret just before they got to the elevators.
“Uncle Thomas,” Nick said in a loud voice that echoed across the marble lobby. “We have business to discuss.”
Thomas looked surprised, but Margaret was incensed. Her eyes narrowed, and her voice was just as loud. “We have no business with you,” she said. “We’ve just come from our son’s side. He is prostrate with anxiety, unable to rise from his bed, unable to mount a defense against your despicable lies.”
Heads swiveled, and the clerk at the front desk raised his hand, summoning a group of the hotel porters standing near the front door. Getting thrown out of the hotel would be a disaster, and they had to move quickly.
“If your husband doesn’t cooperate with us, he will be equally prostrate with anxiety.” Nick’s voice was soft, making it even more threatening.
“Of all the loathsome things to say,” Margaret spat. “I shouldn’t expect better from a sewer rat, but I had hoped you would have the common decency—”
Thomas cut her off, raising his hand. “What are you suggesting?”
A Dangerous Legacy Page 27