“For a fee, I hope.” Elisabeth was well aware of Titus’s tendency to do favors for friends. And strangers, for that matter.
He reached across his body and squeezed her hand, which was resting on his forearm. “For a fee, Elisabeth. I knew you’d be cross with me if I didn’t ask him for one. You can type up an invoice for him first thing Monday morning.”
That was better.
By this time, they’d arrived at the Chapman house, a mammoth structure overlooking the ocean. A white picket fence marked off the property and kept the common folk from cutting across it to go for a swim. A trellis covered in not-yet-blooming climbing rose bushes arched over an open gate, inviting them in. A woman in a lovely pink dress holding a parasol to match stood on the path surrounded by a purple mist of sea lavender.
“Come in, come in,” she called out.
As they drew closer, Elisabeth observed the smooth face of a young lady with blonde hair and green eyes, surely too young to be the wife of the gentleman Titus had met last night. Or perhaps not.
“I’m Melissa Chapman. I apologize for my mother, but she grew tired standing in the wind off the ocean and has gone inside to rest for a while.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Elisabeth Wade, and this is Titus Strong. The sea lavender is lovely.” There was just one problem with it. Sea lavender only grew in salt marshes. If it grew here, that tended to say the house was built on marshy ground, not at all a fortuitous location.
Miss Chapman must have anticipated that concern, because she answered, “Lovely, yes, but very high maintenance. The gardener has to bring buckets of sea water up daily to keep it fresh. I’m afraid I’ll have to join him in the summer, when the heat parches the ground.”
“That will be a chore,” Elisabeth sympathized.
“But come around to the back of the house and see the tulips! They’re ever so pretty this year.”
Titus hadn’t said a word so far. She glanced at his face, wondering if he’d prefer not to visit this stop on the garden tour, but he seemed content, so she stopped worrying about that. They followed Melissa Chapman along a path around the cottage. The sea lavender gave way to beach plum, and then to pansies lining the path to a fine greensward large enough to accommodate a croquet game. Flowering dogwood with its pink blossoms provided some shade where the players might retreat from the sun. Beds of tulips in red and white and yellow bordered the lawn.
“Oh, they are lovely!” Elisabeth enthused.
“I wonder if they would grow in the garden of my townhouse.” Titus spoke at last.
“I’m sure they would, Mr. Strong, but you’ll have to wait until fall to put in the bulbs.”
“So I couldn’t have flowers until next year?” He sounded disappointed.
“Well, not tulips, but you might plant Mayflowers or lady slippers, or even some hepatica.”
While Elisabeth enjoyed walking through someone else’s garden, she found it hard to imagine spending the time to tend one of her own. As she gazed over the Chapman’s yard, she spied a table in a shady spot under a dogwood tree. There was something on it that she wasn’t able to make out, so she slipped her hand free from Titus’s grasp and made her way across the lawn.
When she got closer, she saw there were flowers from the garden, bits of fern and moss, some thin wire, and paper doilies. A small, trumpet-shaped tube of silver with a jade handle at the base lay on its side next to the other items, but somewhat separate. A pin hung from an attached silver chain. She held the cylinder up to examine it, then felt embarrassed as Melissa Chapman appeared by her side
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist taking a closer look. What is it?”
Miss Chapman’s eyes widened. “Why, it’s a posy holder. You put a tussie-mussie in it.”
“Whatever is a tussie-mussie?” Titus, who had followed Miss Chapman, asked.
“A posy. A nosegay.” When Melissa Chapman saw Titus had no more understanding of what she was talking about than if she’d been speaking Arabic, she picked up one of the flowers and began grouping ferns around it, securing them with the wire. When she finished, she slipped a doily over the bottom of it. “See? A posy. Of course, this isn’t a very good one because I didn’t take the time to make it so, but you get the idea, don’t you?”
He nodded. “I suppose I do.” Having gleaned that piece of information, Titus lost interest in the topic. His eyes roamed over the plantings, as if looking for an escape hatch. Another couple had entered the garden, slightly older than themselves. The woman twirled her parasol over her head, a nervous habit some women adopted. “I believe that’s our landlord. I should have a word with him.” He nearly sprinted across the yard.
“It appears as if Mr. Strong doesn’t have much interest in tussie-mussies.” Melissa’s eyes sparkled and her lips twitched as if battling with a smile.
“But I do.”
“Do you know that each flower has a meaning?”
“No.”
“It’s true.” Melissa nodded. “For instance, tulips can mean several things, but most often stand for love. If you present a tussie-mussie with a tulip at the center, particularly a red one, it tells the person you’re giving it to that you love them.”
Elisabeth blushed at the thought of leaving a tussie-mussie with a tulip on Titus’s desk. “I don’t think I’d be that bold.”
Melissa’s eyes strayed over to Titus. “You might start with something a little gentler, say a carnation for admiration or a marigold or pear flower for affection.”
That sounded promising.
“They do come in handy.” A far-off look passed over the girl’s face for a moment before she returned her attention to her guest. She lowered her voice. “It’s often the only way Duncan and I can communicate, given that my father disapproves of the relationship.”
“Duncan?”
“Duncan Muir,” Melissa clarified.
The name sounded familiar, and then she remembered where she’d heard it before. “Is he Arthur Muir’s son?”
“He is. Mr. Muir and my father have never gotten along. I’m not sure exactly what happened, but it may have had something to do with my father’s investment advice. While he always seems to come out on top of a transaction, not everyone he recommends his methods to does the same.” Melissa gave herself a little shake. “And that’s one of the reasons I learned to make tussie-mussies. I can leave one on the porch of the Muirs’ home to let Duncan know I can meet him at the bandstand, and he can leave me a small nosegay with the number of flowers confirming the hour. We’ve developed our own sort of code, all made of flowers.”
“That’s very clever of you.” She wondered if something like that might come in handy for their investigations. “I’d love to learn how to make one,” Elisabeth said, “although I’d have to put it in something other than silver.”
“You could put a posy in a small vase,” Miss Chapman said agreeably, “or a bowl. There are even pins made so you can wear one on your gown.”
“That would be lovely!” She might even decide to start a garden so she’d be able to make these tussie-mussies without purchasing blooms from a florist. “Would you be willing to teach me? I’ve never seen anyone in Whitby with a tussie-mussie, so I have to assume no one who lives here makes them.”
“We’ll have to remedy that, then. Perhaps I could give a class at a meeting of the garden club.”
“If you did, I’d be sure to attend. That is, if it’s not on a work day.” She frowned.
She hadn’t noticed that Titus had rejoined them until he spoke. “Even if it is, I think I could spare you for an afternoon.”
Melissa Chapman looked from one to the other. Obviously, she had made an assumption about their relationship that was proving to be false.
“Miss Wade is my confidential secretary,” Titus explained, “as well as a delightful companion for a walk on a Saturday afternoon.”
CHAPTER 5
“Where do we go from here?” Titus asked, hoping the
re weren’t too many more stops on the tour. While he enjoyed a walk in the garden as much as the next man, which was to say it was the perfect excuse to join a lady for a few hours, he’d prefer an activity with a little more excitement.
“The next stop is the Payne house,” Elisabeth said.
“I don’t suppose we can skip that one.” There was no “suppose” about it. Not touring the garden of the wife of the chairman of the board of selectmen would be an unforgivable slight. “How many more after that?”
“The tour ends at the Baumanns’, as we might have expected since Mathilda Baumann is now president of the Whitby Garden Club. I had hoped to spend some time walking other streets in the area to see what the common residents have done.”
She had noticed his lack of enthusiasm. He forced a smile to his lips. “We could meander about for a little while, if you like. After all the formal affairs I’ve pressured you to take part in, the least I can do is view a few more gardens.”
“Do you really think you’ve coerced me?” She sounded alarmed. “Because you haven’t. I admit that I am intimidated by all the fine ladies and gentlemen at them, but I’ve always wanted to see how the upper class lived, and it’s been an opportunity to do that.” She smiled up at him as her fingers applied a slight pressure to his arm. “If you hadn’t asked me to go with you, I never would have found out.”
He barely heard the last sentence; his attention was focused on the feel of her fingers and the physical response he had to that. All of a sudden, he had the almost irresistible urge take take her in his arms and kiss her. But he couldn’t very well do that on the street in broad daylight. He cleared his throat. “That’s good to hear. Because I’m sure there will be at least one more occasion coming up in the near future.”
Her eyelids fluttered for a moment before settling on being open enough to show the whites of her eyes. “And what would that be?”
“Have you forgotten that Whitby needs a new judge? I have to assume Ranson Payne will hold another dinner party to welcome this one, just as he did for his last choice. I just hope his current selection works out better than the prior one.”
“Have you heard who it will be?”
Titus shook his head. “No. Perhaps I’ll have a chance to ask Payne when we tour the garden. Speaking of which, it looks like we’ve arrived.”
Unlike the other gardens they’d visited, no one waited to greet them or escort them around the grounds. He was disappointed he wouldn’t have a chance to talk to Payne. On the other hand, it meant they could sign the guest book and do a cursory walkthrough before moving on to the next one.
It made the stroll down a number of thoroughfares more tolerable, which was a good thing since it seemed Elisabeth intended to view every house between the Paynes’ and the Baumanns’. They weren’t the only ones, as the streets had filled with couples and groups of ladies eager to see the plantings. Of course, they stayed east of Mayfield because the western side this close to town was the red light district. Although it was a bit early for the madams to be receiving customers, Titus wouldn’t have felt comfortable bringing Elisabeth into the area.
A sign outside a house on Washington Street pointed toward the entrance to the yard. Susanna Baumann waited at it, a white parasol decorated with a pattern of cutouts and a large border of white lace shading her face. Titus had noticed many of the women carrying parasols today, even though he’d barely given most of them a glance, but this one was distinctive in its excess of frippery. He wondered how something so diaphanous managed to protect its owner from the sun. Susanna Baumann’s smile was as extravagant as her brolly.
“Elisabeth! Mr. Strong. It’s so good to see you.”
“Do you think I’d miss your mother’s garden?” Elisabeth said as she peered around the grounds. “Is she not here? I wanted to congratulate her on becoming president of the garden club.”
“I do apologize. After all the preparations for the event, she’s thoroughly exhausted now that it’s here. She came down with one of her awful headaches and went inside to lie down for a while.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Please convey my congratulations to her.”
“I will.”
“And my wishes for her recovery,” Titus said. “Your forsythia are doing well.” It was a lie. The blossoms were past their prime, but it was the only plant that was in bloom. It was too early in the season for the yarrow, columbine, and asters he’d observed on his previous visit to the yard.
“Thank you, Mr. Strong.” Miss Baumann pressed her lips together as she glanced at another group of bushes which showed only buds. “I’m disappointed the weigelas haven’t bloomed in time. I was sure the warm, sunny days we had this week would coax them into showing their glory, but it was not to be.”
“You can’t force nature to follow a schedule,” Elisabeth said, always trying to see the bright side of things. “Perhaps next year. Will you be coming to the next meeting of the Chautauqua Club?”
“Oh, dear, I know I promised I would…”
Had her cheeks reddened? Odd.
“I know I promised you I’d come to the next one, but I don’t think I’ll have time to attend the meeting, much less read a book beforehand.”
“Not because of your mother’s health?” Elisabeth said.
“Oh, no. Quite the opposite.” A smile replaced her distressed expression. “I’m planning a wedding.”
“How wonderful,” Titus said. Had Susanna and Dan Reeves finally reconciled? He’d thought Dan had ruled out any resumption of his relationship with Susanna, but the heart often did not follow the head.
“And who is the lucky man?” Elisabeth asked.
“Philo Peck.” Now the girl was definitely blushing. Was it not just the warm feelings for her fiancé causing the color in her face?
“The owner of Peck’s Landing?” Elisabeth asked.
Susanna nodded.
“A splendid match, indeed. I’m happy for you, Susanna. You’ve been through so much heartache. You deserve the pleasure of a husband and family.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that. It’s how I feel as well, although it sounds self-centered.”
“Not at all,” Elisabeth said. “When is the wedding? I’ll need to keep my calendar clear. I assume you’ll invite me?”
“Of course I’ll invite you.” She glanced over at him. “And Mr. Strong, too. We haven’t quite set the date yet. I would love to be married in June, but I fear I couldn’t make all the arrangements on such short notice, so it will probably be late summer or early fall.”
“Something to look forward to.” Elisabeth smiled sweetly. “And now, I think we should be going if we want to see everyone’s flowers.”
“Of course,” Susanna said. “Thank you for stopping by.”
As they rounded the house, Titus said, “Aren’t we done yet?”
Elisabeth looked at him and shook her head. “What will I do with you? I was making excuses so you wouldn’t have to stay longer than necessary.” She tilted her head in the way she had when she’d first greeted him this afternoon and gazed at him from under her long, dark lashes. “Besides, aren’t you hungry from all this walking about?”
It was a little early for supper, but he supposed they could stop at the Seaview Hotel and enjoy a meal in its fine dining room. “I could be.”
“Good. I haven’t been to Peck’s Landing in years. I suddenly find myself in the mood for a shore dinner.”
He should have known. She wasn’t really interested in dinner. She was interested in the future bridegroom.
CHAPTER 6
“Miss Wade! And Mr. Strong. So very good to see you this evening.” The restaurateur, who had a large growth of facial hair that dominated his upper lip, greeted them heartily, picked up a couple of menus, then surveyed the restaurant. He stroked his mustache and knit his brows before turning back to the couple. “I’m afraid you might have to wait a little while. The Garden Tour has brought more diners than usual tonight. Not that I’m compl
aining.
“I’d been starting to wonder if it was a mistake to stay open over the winter. Business has been soft, and yet I’ve still had to pay the staff, customers or no.”
“I don’t mind waiting,” Elisabeth said. “As long as you promise me you’ll serve me a lobster at the end of my wait.”
“I can make you that promise,” Peck said with a smile. “Joe Kelley emptied his traps this morning and sold the whole catch to me.”
She gently elbowed Titus in the ribs, hoping he’d take the hint. This was the first businessman they’d spoken to today, and it was important to use this opportunity. When he didn’t, she saw she’d have to take the initiative. “With your business,” she began, “you must have some need for legal services.”
“Why, yes, I do.”
She perked up at the words, but was disheartened by what he said next.
“But not often, and old Edmund Clark in Hingham takes care of my needs.”
Not to be deterred, she smiled her sweetest smile at him. “I’m sure he’s a very fine lawyer, but it’s a long way into Hingham for some folks who might be looking for an attorney. Would you consider putting a few of Mr. Strong’s business cards on the counter here?”
“I’d be happy to do so, ma’am.”
She stared pointedly at Titus, and he took the stack of cards from his pocket and gave it to her. She handed it to Philo Peck, who positioned them next to the cash register.
“I’m sorry this is taking so long.” He fingered the edge of the menus he held.
Titus tapped her on the shoulder and gestured toward a table on the far side of the dining area. She peered at the couple sitting there, recognized Owen Campbell, the detective who often worked with Titus, and Agnes Yates, the boardinghouse owner he rented a room from. She nodded.
“It looks like there are a pair of empty chairs at Mrs. Yates and Mr. Campbell’s table. I’m sure they’d allow us to join them,” Titus said.
“Let me ask them,” Peck said. “I’ll be right back.”
The Case of the Troubled Tycoon: A Gilded Age Historical Cozy Mystery (Shipwreck Point Mysteries Book 5) Page 3
