Spoils of Eden

by Linda Lee Chaikin

  Silas was taking a great risk. Surely he was shrewd enough to realize that connecting Townsend’s name in the Gazette with a scandal would abruptly end any position of favor within the family?

  “The Chinese won’t rise up. They’ve no reason to involve themselves. Their livelihood is with the planters. And if there’s any rebellion in the cane fields they’ll end up out of work and starve to death.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t speak of death so lightly, Townsend,” Dr. Jerome said as he came into the hall.

  Townsend brushed the remark aside. “C’mon, Jerome. There’s millions of em to spare in China.”

  “Millions, yes. In need of their Creator’s forgiveness in Christ. Each one a unique individual, with hopes and tears and an eternal soul.”

  “You’re off the subject,” Townsend snapped. “The planters are determined, all right. Even some of the Englishmen and Germans are riled up. What’s more,” he went on, “if Liliuokalani thinks she’s going to stack her cabinet with men in favor of tossing out the Constitution of ’87, she’ll have a war on her hands.”

  “War!” Herald Hartley said, startled. “Oh, surely not, sir.”

  “The Hawaiian League is talking about buying up every rifle in Honolulu just in case things blow up. Some of the monarchy supporters may try a revolution of their own to end the ’87 Constitution. I already have rifles and ammunition stashed away. If we need to teach them a few lessons, we will!”

  “Can I quote you on that, sir?” Silas asked his father, with pencil and pad in hand.

  “No,” came a calm but firm voice. “You may not.”

  They turned. Ainsworth stood there, having come from the library. Tall and straight as a pillar, he fixed his cool blue eyes on Silas.

  Silas looked like a schoolboy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

  “I don’t think it wise or conducive to Hawaii’s present circumstances to have your father on the front page of Nora’s newspaper, threatening war. Do you, Silas?”

  The noticeable emphasis on father surely spoke a veiled warning to Silas. He was either to show loyalty, or he would find the door to the Derrington family, with all its benefits, barred to him.

  “No, sir, absolutely not.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  Townsend flushed heavily. As if to save face for his blundering tongue, he thrust himself back into the debate with defensive energy. “We can’t back down, Father. We don’t want a monarchy breathing down our necks.”

  “Nor do we want to sound the trumpets of war.”

  Ainsworth looked pointedly at the intrusive note pad in Silas’s hand, indicating that its presence was an offense at the family dinner. Silas must have come to the same understanding, along with a realization that he wouldn’t be attending a second family dinner if he hadn’t. He hastily stuffed it into his jacket. Eden thought they wouldn’t be seeing Silas acting the nosey journalist again anytime soon, if ever.

  “Well, shall we all go in for dinner?” Ainsworth suggested, glancing around. “Where’s Rafe?”

  “He’s coming now, with Celestine.” Candace, with her New England brittleness, came briskly into the room. She walked up beside her grandfather. He seemed especially considerate tonight of his favorite “firstborn” granddaughter, knowing her objections to marrying Hunnewell. Eden didn’t think Candace had stood up for Keno yet, but she would. Oh, yes, she would!

  Celestine arrived a moment later on the arm of her son, Rafe Easton, looking gracious in a simple evening dress with a crimson flower corsage. Eden had worried that there might be a mark on Celestine’s face from Townsend’s vile temper. She was relieved to see there was none. Either some feminine cosmetic had concealed a bruise, or it hadn’t yet developed. Eden was upset over Townsend’s presence at dinner, apparently more so than Celestine, for she showed no anxiety, and oddly enough, there was an excitement in her eyes. She hardly appeared mindful of Townsend. Strange, Eden thought, am I imagining all this?

  Eden avoided looking at Rafe when at all possible, so handsome was he in his white dinner jacket, the only style for Hawaii. For his part, he ignored her. She had no right to be offended by his action, but she was. The engagement ring on her finger was a charade after the emotional drama that had occurred between them less than half an hour ago on the lanai.

  Did Rafe think the dilemma between them was easy on her? Did he believe her to be playing the silly heartless creature who enjoyed controlling a man’s emotions? He should know me better than that, she thought, despondent. I should go back upstairs, change into my nursing uniform, and return to Kea Lani.

  But since her father was guest of honor, how could she leave?

  Ah, yes, for your father you’ll do anything, she could hear Rafe saying with a sting in his voice. Always for your father. Yet when was he ever there for you? When we were growing up, who was it that came to your aid, time and time again?

  And of course, Rafe had always been there for her, even defending her against Zachary’s melancholy moods and ardent missteps.

  Eden entered the large dining room on the arm of her father. Even while her heart beat with excitement over the medical future she would have with Dr. Jerome on Molokai, she felt miserable over Rafe.

  That Silas had remained for dinner suggested that his meeting with Grandfather Ainsworth, arranged by Great-aunt Nora, had gone better than expected. Eden was still hoping that Silas would find a place of acceptance at the proverbial family altar.

  Who was the man in the book of Judges who’d been illegitimate, rejected by all his half-brothers, and barred from his family inheritance? Then, in the end, due to affliction by Israel’s enemies in the land, they had sought him out to be their judge and to lead their army?

  She pondered, trying to recall his name.

  Zachary entered late, mumbling an apology as he took his chair beside Candace. His unfriendly mood also told Eden that yes, Silas was now accepted by the family patriarch.

  “Jephthah,” Eden said softly to herself, satisfied.

  Her father leaned toward her. “You were saying, my dear?”

  She smiled and whispered, “Jephthah. In the book of Judges.”

  He thought for a moment, then gave a nod and appeared to follow her thinking, for he looked at Silas, who looked subdued. He’d had his wings clipped tonight, but his eyes were alive, and he seemed content.

  “Silas needs our prayers,” Jerome told her in a low voice. “He and Zachary, both. Two brothers at odds are not good, or maybe I should say three brothers?”

  Eden followed his gaze to Rafe, who was just then studying Silas with a pensive gaze.

  “Now, what was the history on Jephthah—ah, yes,” Jerome said. “I remember. In the end he made his family eat humble pie, did he not? He made a rash vow to God, however, the result being that his daughter would never marry. A tragedy in those days.”

  Eden wondered if there was a message for her as well as Silas in the history of Jephthah. Am I going to Molokai to serve Christ? Myself? Or my Father? Whatever you do, do heartily unto the Lord and not unto men. Meaning not for men alone, but to bring ultimate praise and honor to the One whose name alone was Good and Holy.

  Search my heart, oh God. Lead me in the way I should go. You know I love Rafe, and I don’t want to hurt him. You also know I feel drawn to Molokai …

  But, who or what was wooing her? God? Or a strong conviction born of a need, or a quest? Was it God’s quest?

  The table was complemented by a dozen oval-backed, dark-wood chairs upholstered with a woven tapestry in the warm colors of pecan, mango, ebony, and gold. Celestine’s Viennese crystal lamps were lit and gleaming, and in the midst of the table there was a bird-of-paradise flower arrangement. The various dishes were cooked to everyone’s delight.

  “So, Silas,” Dr. Jerome said in a friendly tone from across the table. “I’m told your home was in California for the last several years?”

  “Why, yes sir, it was.”

  “I’d prefer you call
ed me Uncle, or just plain old Jerome.”

  “Thank you, Uncle. Originally, it was Nevada. Have you heard of Virginia City, Reno, and Carson?”

  “Indeed. Silver country. During the War between the States, the silver in the Comstock Lode helped finance the Union army.”

  “I see you’ve maintained an interest in American history even in faraway lands. Yes, you’re right about the silver bonanza and the War between the States. Actually, I grew up in the South … so I don’t know how I feel about the outcome of that war. As I told Cousin Eden earlier today, I’m also a Louisianan.”

  Zachary turned his golden head. His mouth curved. “You could also say those old western towns you mentioned all have something in common. Virginia City, Reno, Carson, New Orleans, are all gambling towns.”

  Eden tensed.

  “You’re so right,” Silas said easily.

  “Leave it to my young son Zach to fail to appreciate the wealth of experience gained by interacting in the real world,” Townsend said with amusement.

  Zachary’s gambling slur had been turned against him. He said nothing.

  Eden glanced at Rafe and saw his dark eyes flicker.

  “Since when does tossing your money away over a deck of cards prepare anyone to handle the seriousness of life?” Rafe asked Townsend, a veneer of coolness in his voice.

  Eden was amazed that Townsend did not attempt to counter Rafe’s critical query.

  “Well said.” Candace spoke up, lifting her glass. She looked pointedly at Grandfather Ainsworth. “Oliver Hunnewell is known to attend gambling parties in Honolulu.”

  “Oliver? Nonsense, Candace. He’s a church-going man. Always was.”

  She looked at Rafe. “Does Keno gamble, Rafe?”

  Before Rafe had a chance to answer, Dr. Jerome said calmly, “I hope everyone realizes I’m not smiling upon the evils of gambling, but it is possible to play cards and still be a true Christian.”

  “Please,” Great-aunt Nora said, snapping her spoon against her glass like a dowager instructor. The clear ring caused everyone at the table to look at her. Silence momentarily prevailed. “Let us not open a theological debate at dinner. Have we not problems enough? Ainsworth,” she said, leaning past Candace to fix him with a steady gaze, “how friendly are you with that overly zealous American Minister Stevens?”

  Oh no, Eden thought. If Great-aunt Nora brings that up again, and after the episode in the hall between Silas, Townsend, and Grandfather …

  Eden said quickly, “Those particular towns you mentioned in California all have some fairly good newspapers as well,” as though she hadn’t heard Nora.

  “Yes,” Rafe said, backing her up. “Tell us about them, Silas. Where did you work as a journalist?”

  Silas looked around the table. “About four months ago, I came to San Francisco, writing for the Bay City Times. Fortunately for me they needed someone to research the tong wars going on in Chinatown.”

  “Tong wars!” Zachary made a point of looking at Candace to vindicate his previous mention of them.

  “Were fortunate to have Silas willing to spend some time writing for the Gazette,” Great-aunt Nora chimed in, turning to Ainsworth. “I firmly believe Silas will be an asset to the Derrington name.”

  “By all means,” Ainsworth said calmly. “I hardly think he’ll find his place in the sun writing propaganda for the Gazette, however. I should probably announce that Silas also has experience managing a sugarcane plantation in Louisiana. Is that not so, Silas?”

  “Yes sir, that is, I was assistant to the top overseer.”

  “So Silas will be working closely with Townsend from now on. He’ll learn what it means to manage a real sugarcane plantation,” Grandfather Ainsworth said with a smile. “We need to train the younger generation to take over the enterprise after us. Right, Townsend?”

  Townsend grinned. “You’ve made the right decision.”

  Silas looked struck by lightning.

  “Well.” Great-aunt Nora set her water glass down with a tinkle. She lifted her head. “I’m shocked, Ainsworth. Is this not a bit hasty?”

  “Not at all, not at all. I do not make hasty decisions, dear Nora.”

  “And I had such high hopes for Silas writing for the Gazette.”

  Silas finally got hold of his voice and said to Ainsworth, “Sir, I’m astounded at your generosity. Coming into the grand Derrington family like this to be a part of the sugar enterprise is more than I would have hoped for.”

  “You are a Derrington,” Ainsworth said quietly. “You’re my grandson. Besides, we need strength of purpose and fresh blood in the family. I can’t very well expect my two granddaughters to run the Derrington Enterprise one day unless they marry good names, men of leadership. Were pleased about Eden and Rafe Easton, and now Candace and Oliver Hunnewell.”

  Zachary thrust back his chair and stood. He started to say something, but was hindered as Rafe, too, stood and caught his eye.

  Herald Hartley, Dr. Jerome’s assistant, mumbled a profuse apology as he recovered his water glass from the edge of the table where it had tipped over. It wasn’t clear to Eden whether his hand had knocked it over, or Rafe’s. The servant, Wong, quickly came to the rescue with a cloth.

  “Oh, Madame, it was indeed clumsy of me, my deepest apologies,” Herald Hartley spoke to Celestine, who now also rose to her feet, some water on her dress.

  “It was my fault for not moving before it ran down, I fear,” Celestine said. “No matter, Mr. Hartley, it was only lemon-water, but I think I’ll run upstairs and change. Do excuse me, everyone?” she said to those around the table. “There’s been too much excitement tonight, I think. Candace, dear, perhaps you could carry on? Have Wong arrange coffee on the lanai?”

  “Yes, of course.” At Grandfather Ainsworth’s proud mention of Oliver P. Hunnewell, Candace had lapsed into a cool mood, as though she’d come indoors from a New England winter.

  With dinner over, Eden’s spirits, at a high point all day, now sagged. She’d held her breath when Ainsworth mentioned her marriage to Rafe Easton. That toppled glass had come at a fortunate moment—not only for her, but for Zachary who’d been on the verge of an angry outburst.

  The mood at dinner had been appalling. The way in which Grandfather Ainsworth had nearly crowned Silas heir of Kea Lani in front of Zachary was heartless. Zachary seemed all but left out of the succession for controlling the Derrington enterprise in the future. And he was the legitimate son of Townsend and his first wife, a kind, Christian woman who’d died young.

  Why did Grandfather make the announcement at the table? He wasn’t a cruel man, but decent and reverent of God. So many of the things that had occurred during this momentous day had been in her mind. Odd.

  She soon lost sight of Rafe. He’d slipped away like a shadow during coffee and dessert on the lanai, and had not reappeared when the hour came to depart for Kea Lani. Eden and Candace waited in the front hall for Candace’s bags to be brought down from the guest bedroom shed been using these past few weeks. Zachary had left immediately after dinner without taking desert, and Silas disappeared some twenty minutes after Zachary.

  Horse hooves sounded out front as the large Derrington carriage drew up to the front yard. Grandfather Ainsworth and Dr. Jerome went down the steps together and were standing in the moonlight talking quietly while waiting for her and Candace to board.

  “Isn’t Nora returning with us to Kea Lani?” Candace asked. She glanced back up the stairway.

  “She’ll be going to Tamarind House,” Eden told her. “She left a section of her manuscript there.”

  “Oh? I’m surprised she would have left it behind. Celestine is helping her arrange the chapters.”

  They expected Celestine to come down and send off her guests, but she’d not reappeared after the lemon-water accident. Perhaps the busy day was leaving her weary. Still, it wasn’t like her Victorian manners not to make that final effort to bid her dinner guests good-bye.

  Celestine justified
her stay at Hawaiiana with her alleged poor health and a need for quiet and rest. While Eden knew Celestine was not strong, she also understood the deeper reason why she did not return to Kea Lani. For the last six weeks Celestine had been attending counseling sessions with Ambrose, studying the Word and wrestling over what to do concerning Townsend.

  Eden wondered what she would decide. Could Celestine be forgiven for marrying Townsend, when all along she’d known he wasn’t a committed believer? Then again, had Townsend ever been a genuine believer? And could a true believer live in almost constant disobedience to Scripture as Townsend did?

  These thoughts were interrupted as Wong hurried in from outdoors, agitated and gesturing behind him into the yard. Addressing Eden, he called, “Ling Li outside make much noise. He very upset. Say number seven son very sick to leave Rat Alley. May die. He change mind, he say. He want haole medicine right now!”

  “Rat Alley? You can’t go there at this time of night,” Candace said.

  “No, I’ll have to get a doctor to come with me. We must talk with Ling. Is he outside now?” she asked Wong.

  “Ling outside, very upset.”

  “Tell him I will be right there. Then go ask Dr. Jerome to speak with Ling and learn whatever he can about his sons sickness.”