Bees in the Butterfly Garden (The Gilded Legacy)

by Maureen Lang

  Meg might not be able to figure out why, but she couldn’t help filling her brand-new prayers with pleas for Ian. Not only for protection in whatever place of detention they kept him, but for him to turn from his ways. If he did that, perhaps . . .

  It was no use hoping, though such thoughts refused to be ignored.

  Finally an unusual and uninvited evening visitor stole Meg’s attention. Kate arrived, her face awash with both hope and concern.

  “My dear, dear girl,” she said with an embrace—and her accent entirely absent, even though Claire stood at Meg’s side. “I had no idea things would take such a turn for Ian when he did the right thing for once! After he told me what he was planning, I waited for either one of you to come and give me the good news together. I didn’t know he’d been arrested until this morning!”

  Meg pulled herself away. “You’d be justified in saying ‘I told you so’ because you were right all along, about everything. I know that now.”

  Tears sparkled in Kate’s golden eyes. “You’ve no idea how blessed I am to hear it!”

  Meg took one of Claire’s hands along with one of Kate’s. “I’m afraid we have yet another confession, Claire.”

  “You’re not Lady Weathersfield?” Claire asked. When Kate shook her head, Claire laughed. “Oh! If only Mrs. Mason were here, to realize she’d been tricked as well.”

  Meg knew she ought not have laughed, but another visit from Mrs. Mason that afternoon had pushed her already-fraught nerves too far. The neighbor had arrived to apologize for not fulfilling her duty as surrogate parent, following quickly with a demand to know why Meg was still under the Pemberton roof. It was obvious no household in New York would welcome her now. Claire had quickly shown the woman to the door, afterward assuring Meg that she welcomed any changes to the fall season. In fact, Claire would be forever grateful if obligations to attend every party of the season disappeared.

  Claire showed no hesitation now about inviting Kate into the parlor, waving away Kate’s apologies for deceiving her.

  Kate took a seat beside Meg. “You know, don’t you, darling, that you’re welcome to come home with me? I confess the only talent I’ve cultivated nearly all my life has been duping generous people, but all of that is far and well behind me. As it turns out, my French flats are providing me with more than enough income, and we can live there comfortably without worry.”

  “Oh, Kate, that’s so very generous of you. I only wish I could accept.”

  Kate’s brows rose. “You had something else in mind?”

  Meg nodded, seeing both Claire and Kate looking at her curiously. “I have only one asset. My education. I intend using it to teach others.” She looked down at her hands. “Not in New York, of course. I must go where my reputation will not follow.”

  Claire leaned forward, excitement bursting through her bright eyes and wide smile. “Chicago is far from what happened here, Meg. I would love to have a friend there with me.”

  Meg reached for her friend’s hand and squeezed it. “Oh, Claire, you are ever generous.”

  “But New York is a big city!” Kate protested. “Surely you can teach here?”

  Meg shook her head. “I know you’ll understand better than anyone that memories can be precious and painful all at once. I think . . . I may have to leave New York if Ian . . .” She stopped because she knew Kate would never approve of her love for him. Not while she feared the two of them together would be as unhealthy a match as Kate had been with Meg’s father. “We wait, even now, for Nelson to bring news of him. I know he’s likely to be . . . away . . . for some time, but I can’t help loving him. I don’t think there could ever be another man for me.”

  “Yes,” Kate said, though her face had not taken on the censure Meg expected. Rather she looked as hopeful as Claire had a moment ago. “He might have begun protecting you for your father’s sake, but I know he’s loved you since the day he learned of you. How could he not, the way your father spoke of you?”

  “He—he never told me that.”

  “Oh, Meg, haven’t his actions said it well enough? Pubjug told me that Ian ran out of that cellar as if something were chasing him. I know what it was. His fear that the theft might hurt you. He did the right thing out of love for you.”

  Meg’s heart thrummed against her chest, in desperate longing for the words to be true. She’d refused to consider such a thing, believing he’d done everything in revenge against Brewster. But that never had explained why he hadn’t stolen the gold for himself.

  Yet she knew that until she heard such a confession from Ian himself, she couldn’t believe it.

  It was nearly midnight by the time Nelson returned. Kate had remained in their company, eager to hear news even though the hour grew late and their conversation dwindled until all three showed traces of drowsiness. Meg was the only one to hear the front door open, but when she stood and called Nelson’s name, the other two roused. He’d nearly passed them by, evidently not expecting anyone to have waited until so late into the night.

  “Lady Weathersfield!” He looked surprised to see Kate, though pleasantly so.

  Kate stood, taking the hand Nelson proffered. “Please, just call me Kate.”

  “We’ll explain all that later,” Claire said, addressing his instant confusion. “We want to hear news of Ian—and quickly for Meg’s sake, Nelson!”

  “He’s doing well. Better, I think, than he has in a very long time, from what I gathered through speaking to him. He’ll be out on bail by tomorrow.”

  Meg’s heart pounded so painfully that it seemed to demand all of the blood from her head. “Out—do you mean free?”

  “We’re hoping to avoid a trial in order to end all of this quickly, but until he sees a judge, we won’t know what’s to happen. In the meantime, I’ve been given custody.”

  “I . . . I thank you, Nelson.” Meg could barely muster more than a whisper. “Your generosity is beyond compare.”

  “You might think me as foolish as generous when I share with you what Ian and I have decided to do.”

  Any trace of fatigue had long since disappeared in Meg, but she saw that curiosity on both Kate’s and Claire’s faces had rid them of their sleepiness as well.

  Nelson turned back toward the foyer. “Come with me, will you?”

  Meg followed in step, and so did the other two women. To Meg’s surprise Nelson led them to the kitchen and through the service door. He stopped only when he’d descended the few stairs outside and turned back to the house, looking at the bushes on each side of the porch.

  To her astonishment, Nelson fairly dove into one of the thorny bushes. A moment later he pulled himself out, holding some sort of object.

  When they returned inside, a nightcapped and obviously groggy butler greeted them.

  “May I be of any service, sir?”

  “No, Deekes. It’s a family matter, nothing to concern yourself about.”

  The butler followed them from the kitchen, but only as far as his room beneath the stairs. Nelson led Meg and the others through the foyer and into his father’s study, turning up the gas lamp on the innermost wall. Afterward he offered a look at what he’d carried inside by unwrapping it on the center of the desk.

  The Pemberton seal.

  Looking at Meg, he said, “I arrived home the other night before Ian could return it.”

  “So you do believe he had no intention of stealing from you, then?” Meg asked.

  “Yes, that much was obvious when he left everything intact. The interesting fact is, if Ian is right, there is a certain Mr. Brewster who thinks Ian has this seal.”

  Meg was intrigued. “Something Mr. Brewster wants.”

  “Exactly. And you’re going to hand it over to him.”

  Ignoring Claire’s gasp and Kate’s sudden grasp of her arm, Meg smiled. “And why would I do such a thing?”

  “Because all he has to do is use it once and I can have him arrested.”

  “But won’t your seal be suspect by the ba
nking industry?”

  “The moment I discovered it missing, I started proceedings to have a new seal made, and every note we hold is to be kept aside awaiting new authentication.”

  “But Brewster must know you would do such a thing,” Kate said.

  Nelson shook his head. “With Ian in jail and he the only one Brewster thinks knows the whereabouts of the seal, he can be led to believe I think the seal is still safe to use. How can it be used fraudulently, if the one who stole it is safely incarcerated? Any thief would always have known the seal’s worth would be short-lived. We only need Brewster to use it once to be guilty as charged.”

  “But how do I give it to him?”

  “You’ll say Ian told you where he’d hidden it, but that all he wanted you to do was return it so he can be released, innocent of the charges against him. And this is where you might think me mad, Meg. You must convince Brewster that you chose the wrong partner in Ian and want to work with Brewster instead.”

  Meg swallowed hard. She’d seen what Brewster did to those who betrayed him. Memories of Ian in the alley, broken and bruised, were still vivid. “Did . . . Ian think of this?”

  Nelson shook his head, holding her gaze steady. “After hearing about this Brewster fellow, I was the one who suggested it. As a matter of fact, Ian insisted I keep this to myself. He liked the idea of setting up Mr. Brewster for arrest, but he wanted to be the one to hand over the seal. I disagreed; I believe no one with any sense would fall for it, after what Ian already did to the man. But you won’t be in danger. I plan to have men following you to see that you’re not harmed, and you’ll hand it over to him in as public a place as possible. A restaurant, perhaps.”

  “I can accompany her,” Kate said.

  But Nelson shook his head. “No sense risking more than necessary—not only your safety but any opportunity this man might have to interrogate two of you rather than one.”

  Meg picked up the seal, surprised by its weight. “Of course I’ll do it.”

  Nelson smiled grimly. “It’ll have to be first thing in the morning, before Ian is released on bail. It’ll have to appear as if you’ve turned your back on him.”

  “So . . . I can’t even see him?”

  “No, not until Brewster uses that seal.”

  40

  A young lady is more blessed to inherit from her parents their virtue rather than their money.

  Madame Marisse’s Handbook for Young Ladies

  Though the carriage came to a smooth stop before the St. Denis Hotel, Meg’s heart still pounded as if in rhythm with the fast gait of a racing buggy. She waited for the cabbie to open the door and help her alight, offering him her free hand and using the step he pulled out onto the curb. In her other hand she carried her reticule, heavier than usual though it contained only one item. The seal.

  The neighborhood was busy enough for late morning, for which Meg was grateful. Perhaps Jude, who’d insisted on being one of the men on her trail, would not be readily spotted.

  Walking into a hotel unescorted would have been deadly to Meg’s reputation, but as she’d assured Claire that morning, such a thing hardly mattered anymore. She went directly to the desk and without a word retrieved from her glove the card she’d held on to all these weeks from Brewster himself. She handed it to the clerk.

  He barely glanced at it before raising a surprised gaze to Meg. Then he studied her with a glint in his eye. “You don’t look his type, miss.”

  It was easy to ice her stare, since it readily claimed some of her nervous energy. Though it was too early in the day to meet in the dining room as Nelson had hoped, she had another idea. “Can you ask Mr. Brewster if he will meet me across the street, at Grace Church?”

  He laughed. “You don’t know Mr. Brewster, then? He isn’t likely to darken the church door.”

  She pursed her lips. “Then ask him to meet me just outside, on the steps in front of the church. I have something he’ll be interested in.”

  With far more confidence than she felt, she turned away and exited the hotel lobby, dodging carriages and horse-drawn trolleys full of shoppers to cross the street. Once there, she dared glance around. Jude was just outside the hotel, a newspaper in front of him, but she could tell he watched her. Another man was closer, just to the side of the church. She was sure he was no ordinary loafer, though he might be a bored husband waiting for a wife to finish her errands.

  She hadn’t been there more than a few minutes before a familiar figure crossed the street. But it was not Brewster. It was Jamie, dressed in as showy a jacket as ever, this one the color of an overripe tomato.

  “Well, if it ain’t Miss Davenport!” he said. “You make the sun pale in the sky.”

  “I want to see Brewster, Jamie. I have something he wants.”

  “And what’s that?”

  She clutched her reticule. “I plan to show only him.”

  “There some reason you won’t come up and share a cup a tea or something? This is a bit unfriendly, standing here on the street.”

  “You tell him I’m giving him the opportunity to prove himself a friend to me. Until then, I don’t trust him any more than I did Ian Maguire.”

  He folded his arms and grinned, assessing her with what appeared to be new appreciation. “So you and Maguire had a parting of the ways?”

  “That’s right. I gave him the opportunity of a lifetime and he threw it away because he didn’t think I could be like my father. Well, I’m every bit like my father, and it appears I should have trusted Brewster to believe me because Maguire obviously didn’t.”

  He looked at the purse she held. “What’s that you got in there, anyway? Can’t be much of that Pemberton gold. Too small.”

  “It’s something better than that. The gold has been dispersed to several banks in the city—the Bank of New York and others. With what I have right here, a banknote can be drawn up to demand the withdrawal of several of those bars. You tell him that and see if he won’t come down to these unfriendly streets.” How her heart pounded with each word, but her voice didn’t give her away.

  Jamie unfolded his arms, more serious than ever. He glanced across the street, up to one of the windows. “Here’s the way it’ll be, little lady. You see that open window on the second floor?”

  She did.

  “Just inside that curtain is a man with a gun on you right now. He can shoot you dead and before anybody figures out where the bullet came from, he’ll be gone. So either give me what you’ve got there or come on upstairs and give it to Brewster himself. But he ain’t coming down here.”

  The idea of having a gun aimed directly at her dizzied Meg. Never, ever, had she imagined the courage she would have needed to associate with the people her father must have dealt with every day of his life.

  “I—I need some assurance that you’ll give this to Brewster. How do I know you won’t let him down, the way Maguire let me down?”

  His brows met in surprised confusion. “You don’t double-cross Brewster, Meggie Davenport! You think I’m addlepated?”

  “I need to see him, then. So I can be assured he knows I’m giving you something.”

  Instead of leading her back across the street, somewhere Meg assuredly did not want to go, Jamie saluted toward the open window. A moment later the curtain was brushed aside to reveal Alwinus Brewster. On his face was a friendly smile.

  With a puff of his cigar, he waved at her.

  She had one more piece of advice for Jamie to feed Brewster—though she hoped her urgency wasn’t recognized as the desperation she felt. “You tell him this prize won’t be good for long. The Pembertons think Maguire still has it hidden somewhere. If they find out I took it when everyone was so busy counting those gold bricks, they’ll make it as worthless as the lead it’s made from.”

  Meg handed over the seal, reticule and all, then turned to walk down the street, hiding herself in the growing number of shoppers filling the walkway.

  41

  There is no greater tribute
a woman may receive than a man’s pledge of eternal love.

  Madame Marisse’s Handbook for Young Ladies

  Meg could barely keep herself from the window, in hopes of seeing Nelson arrive home—this time with Ian at his side. So distracting must her pacing have been that Claire suggested the three of them—Claire, Meg, and Kate, who had stayed the night—move to the garden.

  “You’ve made it so lovely out there, we really ought to enjoy it. Perhaps the air will soothe you.”

  Although Meg didn’t want to go, she knew it was silly to choose one spot to wait over another. The garden was not so much farther from the front door, was it? What did a few seconds matter, anyway, once Ian arrived?

  It had taken Alwinus Brewster no more than three hours to employ the Pemberton seal. Like the coward Meg believed him to be, he did not go himself but sent Keys to the Bank of New York, with a fraudulent banknote demanding the withdrawal of three of the famous Pemberton bricks. Once the theft was completed, Keys was arrested before he’d made it out the front door of the bank.

  It might have been challenging to indict Brewster as well, having only Meg’s assumption that he’d been the true recipient of the seal used to make the withdrawal. But Keys had been so eager to lighten his own sentence that he’d been happy to cast the blame on Brewster. Evidently having awakened the considerable resources of the Pemberton family had intimidated Keys enough to know they were a greater danger to his future than Brewster was.

  Now, with Ian free on bail, Meg could barely withstand the wait.

  The garden was indeed lovely, with tiers of colorful plants, a nest of exquisitely designed orchid pots, and the prized focal point, a monkey puzzle tree newly imported from as far away as Chile. It was just unusual enough to have become the most fashionable of the exotic fauna in any modern garden. Beside that, flowers had been especially chosen throughout to attract butterflies and their larvae for years to come.