Newport: A Novel

by Jill Morrow

  Adrian was his employer, not his master. Said employer could jolly well wait until the completion of his employee’s morning ablutions before demanding an appearance. Slowly, deliberately, Jim reached for his razor.

  Adrian was studying a pad of notes when Jim finally stepped from the bathroom and into the hall. If he thought his wait unreasonable, he said nothing about it. He merely fell into step beside his associate, as unflappable as if they’d just met for a day’s work at the office.

  “Are you well, Mr. Reid?” he asked. “We missed your presence at breakfast.”

  “I’m just dandy,” Jim said. “I wasn’t hungry.”

  “That seems to be the trend of the day. Both Miss Walshes chose to remain in their rooms this morning as well.”

  Amy hadn’t come downstairs? Jim made a note to check on her as soon as he could shake Adrian. “Perhaps Amy is still under the weather after yesterday’s scare,” he said, offering a noncommittal shrug.

  “Perhaps. Did you have an opportunity to speak with her last night?”

  The lies came far too easily by now. There’d probably be hell to pay somewhere along the line. “I sat in her room for a while, but she never woke up.”

  “I see.” Adrian paused as they reached Jim’s bedroom door. Jim waited there with him, hoping he’d been believable enough to be left alone until the afternoon. Instead Adrian reached out, turned the doorknob, and ushered him into what should have been a private sanctuary.

  “This evening is pivotal,” Adrian said, closing the door behind them. “We should discuss it.”

  Jim let his toiletry bag drop to the dresser with a loud thud. “I think I’ve got the schedule. Judge Bourne arrives around four o’clock and the wedding follows shortly after that. Then the happy couple executes the will. After that, it’s a wedding feast, followed by our departure to the ferry and home. Thank God. It’s about time.”

  Adrian remained planted by the door, his expression unreadable. “We may need to leave tomorrow instead.”

  “Oh, of course.” Jim did not even try to disguise the sarcasm in his voice. “We wouldn’t want to miss the wedding night, would we. Did you want to invite the late Mrs. C for that as well?”

  “Interesting reaction, Mr. Reid. I was thinking more that we may miss the last ferry out tonight.”

  “Then perhaps we should leave before dinner.” Jim folded his arms across his chest, chin raised in an unconscious challenge. “Lord knows I’ve had more meals at Liriodendron than originally planned. I could stand to miss another one.”

  Adrian hesitated before replying. “This may be one we can’t miss,” he finally said.

  Jim’s eyes narrowed behind his gold-rimmed spectacles. Then he turned his back on the man before him, tugging open his top bureau drawer with enough force to nearly pull it loose from its tracks. “That’s right,” he said, yanking out a pair of socks. “I’d quite forgotten. Duty demands that we stay here as long as humanly possible, no matter what effect this place seems to have on us.”

  Adrian raised an eyebrow. “Suppose you end this tantrum and simply tell me what’s on your mind.”

  Jim turned toward him, socks clenched tightly in his fist. “How is your wife, Adrian? Constance, remember her? Isn’t she starting to wonder what’s keeping you away for so long?”

  Adrian crossed the room, lifted the socks from Jim’s hand, and replaced them with a more appropriate color. “You may rest assured that I am in regular contact with Mrs. de la Noye. In fact, I plan to telephone her again when I leave your room.”

  His mild demeanor prickled. Jim slammed the drawer hard and paced toward the bed. “Oh, very good. Feed her the words you want her to hear before she figures out the truth.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “What did you do last night while I sat with Amy?”

  “I took a walk.”

  “Alone?”

  “Obviously you know otherwise. I was with Catharine Walsh.”

  No attempt to lie? No remorse? The honesty landed like a kick to the gut. Suddenly deflated, Jim sank down to the mattress. “What are you doing, Adrian?” he asked bleakly.

  “Jim.” Adrian approached the bed. “I’ve never given you any cause to doubt me, have I?”

  Jim could only shake his head. There was no way to deny that Adrian had always been a dependable rock.

  “Then I ask you to trust me now. I can’t say more just yet, but you must believe that I’ll tell you everything when the time is right. In the meanwhile, try to be patient. I’m afraid the road might get a little rough tonight, and I need your help.”

  “Help or complicity?”

  Adrian managed a faint smile. “Ever the wordsmith. Help. Nicholas Chapman means to ruin me if I don’t play by his rules.”

  “Can he?”

  “I don’t know. What I do know is that I can’t let him hurt my family while trying.”

  Jim looked away from his mentor’s direct stare. “I don’t know how helpful I can be,” he mumbled. “I don’t know what information he has to use against you. I suspect he has quite a bit, however, since I myself just learned that you changed your last name over twenty years ago.”

  Adrian didn’t even flinch. “I’m surprised you didn’t discover that fact earlier,” he said. “It wouldn’t have taken much to find out. You attended my alma maters; I graduated under the name Delano. I suppose it took an accomplished snoop like our young Miss Amy Walsh to awaken you to facts that have been right beneath your nose for years.”

  Despite his best intentions, Jim’s stare returned to the other man. “Excuse me?”

  “Of course I know that she’s our little spy,” Adrian continued calmly.

  “How did you . . .”

  “Oh, good Lord. I have eyes. I knew the first time I got a close look at her retreating form. You’re smart, but still a bit green. Or perhaps Mrs. de la Noye is correct: it’s time to find you a sweetheart.”

  The reference to Constance wrenched Jim back to the uncomfortable dishonesty of the situation. “Why did you change your name, anyway?”

  Adrian’s mouth twitched slightly, but he quickly regained his composure. “Personal reasons,” he said. “We won’t discuss them here.”

  It was oddly reassuring to see that the question could crack his mentor’s stoic façade. At least Adrian’s conscience still worked. “Perhaps the reasons aren’t even mine to know,” Jim conceded. “But surely you’ve shared them with Constance?”

  “Yes.” Adrian finally averted his gaze, studying his hands as if they were the most interesting objects in the room.

  “Ah,” Jim said. “You haven’t told her the complete story, have you?”

  “No.”

  Jim let those thoughts tumble through his brain. He’d seen with his own eyes the tenderness between Catharine and Adrian last night. Perhaps Adrian was correct about his naïveté, but he knew in his gut that there was more between those two than mere acquaintanceship, and that secrets kept from one’s wife concerning another woman could only bode ill.

  Adrian seemed to read his analysis. “Jim. You’ll know more in time. I give you my word, and my word has always been good.”

  The images Jim had seen last night clashed with the words he heard now. “Give me something else to hang on to,” he pleaded. “Please.”

  Adrian slowly rose from the edge of the bed. “I love my wife,” he said, starting toward the door.

  “But you have feelings for Catharine Walsh as well,” Jim countered, strangely gratified when the other man stopped dead in his tracks. “I’m not as green as you think I am.”

  Adrian’s shoulders slumped. “Just follow my lead tonight. And, if by the end of the evening you still question my character, I will provide the references necessary for you to obtain an excellent legal position elsewhere.”

  He exited the room with a quiet click of the door, leaving Jim to realize yet again that the rational analysis so useful in resolving legal issues left much to be desired when applied to m
atters of friendship and the heart.

  CHAPTER

  40

  Constance answered the telephone immediately, although Adrian couldn’t determine if the breathlessness he sensed emanated from his wife or from a rogue crackle on the wire.

  “I could set our clocks by your promptness,” she said, and static or not, the teasing lilt in her voice sounded loud and clear through the line.

  “You’re on time, too,” he replied. “I’m impressed.”

  “As well you should be. Promptness is not the religion to me that it is to you.”

  He’d already closed the library window and surveyed the room for intruders, but he glanced beneath the desk again for good measure. “How are you, my dear? Has anything changed since we spoke last night?”

  “Not really. A man’s been by.”

  She delivered the words casually, but his muscles tensed all the same. “When?”

  “This morning. I thought it best to walk with the children to school—it’s a most delightful day here, so it was easy enough to convince them that I wanted nothing more than to take the air. I noticed him when I returned.”

  “Where?”

  “Across the street, hovering near the Nelsons’ mailbox. As if Eleanor Nelson would entertain anyone before noon, let alone a strange man. I watched him from behind the parlor curtains for a bit.”

  His fingers tightened around the telephone. “Constance, listen to me. Meet the children after school. I want all three of you to stay with your parents until I get home.”

  He could almost hear the roll of her eyes. “Don’t be silly, Adrian. How can I be of any service to you from my mother’s stuffy parlor?”

  “It’s more important to me that you remain safe. I can manage this matter on my own from this point.”

  “You most certainly cannot.”

  He recognized the tone from her days in the law office. It was her “Let me handle this, Mr. de la Noye” voice, the one that surfaced whenever she believed he hadn’t seen the whole picture. It had been perfectly acceptable in the relatively secure setting of a day’s work, but this was an entirely different situation. “I need to know that you’re protected,” he said. “If that man was sent by Nicholas Chapman—”

  “Oh, he was.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I asked.”

  Adrian’s heart sank. He’d forgotten how independent his wife could be. “Constance . . .”

  “Well, it was just silly. There he was, pacing back and forth across the sidewalk, obviously surveying our house. I felt like a bug beneath a microscope. I dashed next door to tell Nellie Patterson I was inviting a salesman onto the front porch for a cup of coffee, but that I might need her to interrupt should he become tiresome. She was outside gardening, after all, in perfect earshot. She agreed to listen for a signal to come over and help me get rid of him.”

  Adrian leaned against the desk, not sure that he wanted to hear more, but knowing that he had no choice.

  Constance barely took a breath. “I walked across the street and told Mr. Parker—that’s the name the man gave me, although I don’t believe for one minute it’s real—that since he’d obviously been stood up by someone, he should come over for a cup of coffee and a piece of cake before moving along.”

  “Constance . . .”

  “Don’t sound so weary, Adrian. You know perfectly well that I’m able to take care of myself. You also know that nobody can resist my raspberry coffee cake. Would you like to hear about our conversation?”

  “Actually, I’d like to shake you for putting yourself in danger. But of course I want to know what was said.”

  He heard the clink of silver against china and remembered that Constance herself could not resist her raspberry coffee cake. “First of all,” she said, “he’s definitely in Nicholas Chapman’s employ, but he doesn’t think much of the man. I suspect he’d throw his loyalty behind anyone who paid him even a nickel more.”

  Adrian could not deny that Nicholas Chapman lacked the usual qualities that encouraged devotion from employees.

  “He was mostly interested in your personal life,” Constance continued. “That came as no surprise: although Nicholas Chapman takes issue with your legal decisions regarding his father, you are professionally beyond reproach. One would have to dig a little deeper in order to ruin you.”

  “What sorts of questions did he ask?”

  “Totally improper ones. How long we’d known each other, how we met, how a delightful woman such as myself had been captured by a dull, dreary lawyer . . . oh, he thought himself so clever, trying to insinuate himself into my good graces through idle flattery.” She paused to chew. “Mind you, he was quite good at it, and were I so inclined, it might have worked.”

  He couldn’t help it; he had to smile. “He just asked whatever he wished with no thought that you’d find the questions suspicious?”

  “Sometimes, Adrian, there are benefits to being a woman. Most men consider us quite stupid, utterly incapable of seeing through clumsy attempts at intrigue.”

  “I see.” Poor man; he’d had no way of knowing that Constance was not a woman to underestimate. “Go on.”

  “He wanted to know if I knew your family—the Delanos. He watched my reaction as he enunciated the name, trying to gauge if I knew you’d been born anything other than de la Noye. I ignored the question and prattled on about the difficulty of dealing with in-laws until his eyes glazed over with boredom. Then, when I finally stopped to breathe, he asked about Catharine Walsh.”

  The smile slipped from his face. “What did he want to know?”

  “If I knew anything about her.”

  “And what did you say?” His mouth felt dry. The library verged on stifling without a cooling breeze wafting through the usually open window.

  “I told him that I knew she was Bennett Chapman’s fiancée, but that you would never do anything as unprofessional as discuss a client’s business with me at length. I fluttered my eyelashes a great deal and said that I knew nothing more.”

  He shook his head at the image of his canny wife pretending vacuity. “And?”

  “And he said I was a charming woman whom he didn’t wish to bother further and could he please have another piece of cake? I gave him one, of course, then sent him on his way. I told him I’d pass you his regards.”

  Adrian pulled his collar away from his neck with a crook of his finger. The gesture provided only slight relief. “I’d rest more easily knowing that you and the children were safely out of the house. Just once, my dear, could we pretend you are the subservient sort of wife who follows her husband’s requests?”

  “No, Adrian, we could not. But don’t worry. Mr. Parker won’t be back.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “He’s accomplished his task. His only point in coming was to make his presence known to you. His questions to me involved matters of public record or information he would already have, and he did nothing to hide himself when observing the house. I told you, he looked a perfect fool loitering amidst Eleanor Nelson’s azaleas. No, he wanted me to notice and report his appearance to you. Since I told him I’d do that, he has no reason to return. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Adrian eased his handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his brow. Her analysis, as always, seemed sound. Of course, whether he agreed or not was irrelevant; his wife would do as she pleased. “I would. But, Constance, don’t take any chances. If you begin to feel nervous for any reason, you must promise me you’ll go to your parents’.”

  “Of course, Adrian,” she said sweetly. “I’d be so much safer there. My father can fend off intruders with his cane while my mother lobs dumplings at them.”

  “About the other matter we discussed last night . . .”

  “I took care of it. The envelope was in your desk drawer, exactly where you said it would be. You should receive it as planned.”

  Despite himself, he exhaled a long, relieved sigh. “Thank you, Constance. You are a jewel.”r />
  “And you thought you could handle everything yourself. Adrian . . .”

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard that hesitant note in his wife’s voice. He closed his eyes, anticipating her words before they could leave her mouth.

  “I respected your request not to open the envelope,” she said. “I must admit, though, that I’m curious to know what’s inside.”

  “I know you are, sweetheart. But this is neither the time nor the place.”

  She was well aware of the need for discretion on a telephone line. “I understand. But perhaps we might discuss it when you come home.”

  “I will answer whatever questions you have, Constance,” he said gently. “We have been partners for a long time, and I owe you the world.”

  “Yes, Adrian.” He was pleased to hear her usual resilience re-emerge. “I know that. Whatever would you do without me?”

  It was a thought he didn’t care to ponder.

  CHAPTER

  41

  The cloying fragrance of too many flowers wafted through the open bedroom door as Jim set his closed suitcase firmly on the floor beside his bed. He wrinkled his nose in response, trying to ward off a sneeze.

  “Packed and ready, I see.” Adrian stepped into the room, dressed for the impending wedding in a crisp ivory suit.

  “Yeah, well, I thought I’d be hopeful.” Jim fumbled for his handkerchief as the expected sneeze overtook him.

  “Bless you. And if it makes you feel any better, I’ve packed my bags as well. I’ll do my best to get us off Aquidneck tonight, but I can’t make any promises.”

  “Thank you.” Jim allowed himself a halfhearted smile. The jury was out as to whether or not he could trust Adrian de la Noye one hundred percent just yet, but it felt right to give a friend a chance. “I’ll observe closely tonight and try to follow your lead.”

  Adrian acknowledged the words with a brisk nod. “I’d appreciate that. I’d tell you more, Jim, but I think it would be best if your reactions were unrehearsed.”

  “I understand.”

  There was no hesitation about Adrian now. He wore his professionalism as easily as he wore his linen suit and finely pressed shirt. He shot a glance toward the bureau clock. “Are you ready?” he asked.