The Lightkeeper's Bride

by Colleen Coble

  “I’m sorry, Constable. You’re quite right.”

  He continued to study her. “So that is why you offered to take Miss Eliza’s child. You suspected little Jennie was your sister.”

  She opened her mouth to say she didn’t consciously know why she’d wanted the child, but before she got out the words, she saw a shadow move.

  Her mother spoke from the doorway. “Child? What are you saying, Katie? That your father had another child?”

  Katie didn’t want to face her mother’s accusing stare, but she forced herself to wheel and look at her mother’s stricken face. “I’m not sure, Mama. We have no real way of knowing now.”

  “I’ll leave you to deal with her for now,” the constable said. “We will talk more tomorrow.” His voice held a note of warning.

  Her mother grabbed the door frame for support, and the doctor seized her arm to steady her. “I’ve administered laudanum,” he said. “She needs to go to bed.”

  “I’ll see she gets there.” Katie took her mother’s hand.

  Her mother jerked her fingers away. “Not until you tell me what you’re whispering about out here. I shall speak to your father about this. He’ll be most distressed at your accusations.” There was a wildness in her blue eyes, and her mouth pulled to one side.

  Katie pitched her voice to a soothing tone. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow. You’re about to fall down.”

  “The laudanum will let her sleep,” Dr. Lambertson said. “Let me help you get her to bed.”

  With Katie on one side of her mother and the doctor on the other, they managed to get her to the high bedstead before she collapsed. “Will she remember any of this when she awakens?” Katie asked.

  “I hope her head is clear after resting a few hours,” the doctor said. “But it’s been a hard blow to her mind. I’ll check in on her later in the morning. Stay with her until then.”

  He took his leave, and Katie arranged for the groom to take Mr. Jesperson’s horse back to him. She dragged her pillow and quilt to the floor by her mother’s bed. Nubbins followed Katie into the soft folds of the bedding. The kitten curled up on Katie’s chest and closed his eyes, but Katie watched her mother’s chest fall and rise. She prayed for a way to open out of this confusion.

  The sugar failed to cover the bitterness of the tea. Katie took another sip, hoping the beverage would sharpen her mind. The grit in her eyes reminded her of the tears she’d cried most of the morning. And the reason for them. She watched the sun illuminate her sleeping mother’s pale face on the pillow. If only she would awaken with the light of sanity in her eyes after sleeping for a few hours. Katie set her tea on the bedside table.

  When the blue orbs focused on Katie’s face, her silent prayer was answered. Her mother sat up and reached for Katie’s hand. “Have you been here all along, darling? What time is it?”

  Katie hung onto her mother’s cold fingers. “I didn’t want to leave you. It’s ten. How are you feeling?”

  Her mother’s eyes filled. “Your father wanted to leave us, didn’t he?

  I can’t fathom it.”

  “We don’t know that for sure, Mama. Someone broke in here and attacked you. What if that same person hurt Papa?” She’d rather believe that than that her accusations had driven her father over the edge of sanity.

  Her mother clutched Katie’s hand. “Don’t think this is your fault, darling. I didn’t want to worry you, but your father’s business is in trouble. I fear that was why he jumped off the falls, regardless of what this business with Miss Bulmer might lead us to believe.”

  Katie shook her head. The haberdashery had always seemed indestructible, bustling with customers. They had a good life, one of comfort and respect. “You mean in danger of bankruptcy?” The very thought filled Katie with horror. The shame of it all would destroy Mama. She’d grown up with the best of everything.

  Her mother twisted a lock of loose hair around her finger. “He told me two weeks ago. The bank had turned down his request for a loan on the business, and this house is mortgaged for the maximum amount.”

  Katie tried to absorb the dreadful meaning. “We shall have to move?”

  “We may have no choice.” Tears flooded her mother’s eyes, and she glanced around the lavishly appointed bedroom.

  Katie followed her gaze. Damask curtains hung at the windows. The fine blue rug had been imported from Persia. The bed linens were of the finest silk.

  Her mother’s lips trembled. “My father built this house, and I was born here. I don’t know how I shall bear this.”

  “I–I have my job,” Katie said. When her mother’s face didn’t change, Katie realized how ridiculous that sounded. Her meager earnings would never support this household. The servants, the upkeep. Not even with additional hours.

  “We could sell the haberdashery, I suppose,” her mother muttered. “Perhaps it is worth something. It is the only shop in town. Surely someone would like to own it.”

  “When Papa recovers, he’ll know what to do.” Her father always had a plan. And he would recover. “I shall go to the hospital and check on him this morning. Perhaps I can discuss the situation with our solicitor tomorrow,” Katie said.

  “The thought of it gives me a sour stomach,” her mother said, leaning back against the pillow. She focused her gaze on Katie. “Bart Foster is still pressing his suit, is he not?”

  Katie heard the hope in her mother’s voice and could see where this was going. “Yes, he is. I . . . but I don’t know him well yet, Mama. I have not thought of marriage.”

  Spots of color came to her mother’s face, and her grip tightened. “I’ve groomed you for a respectable marriage, my dear. You’re twenty-five, past time for marriage. You have no better prospects.”

  Katie nodded, but acid burned the back of her throat. Bart was handsome enough, but her pulse didn’t flutter when he took her hand or paid her a compliment. But did that matter when she’d always been expected to make a suitable alliance? She couldn’t bear to see her parents spending the rest of their days in a hot flat over the garment factory. Not if it was within Katie’s power to attend to the matter.

  Her mother glanced away. “Bart has approached your father about a partnership at the haberdashery. An infusion of new stock and new energy would save it.”

  Their maid, Lois, appeared in the doorway. “Miss Katie, Mr. Foster is here. He heard about your papa.”

  Katie tried to ignore the hope in her mother’s face. “Bart is here? Show him into the parlor, please.” Katie pushed her loose hair away from her face. Though she’d dressed, she hadn’t taken time to put up her hair or wash her face.

  Pink rushed to her mother’s cheeks. “Put on your blue dress and pinch some color into your cheek. And leave your hair down. I know it’s not proper, but your curls are very fetching. Men are quite fond of seeing a woman’s hair down.”

  Heat ran up Katie’s neck. “Under the circumstances, I thought this gray one most appropriate. I’m sure he’s here to offer his assistance, Mama. Besides, I couldn’t marry without a suitable engagement.

  A year at least.”

  “You must, Katie,” her mother said, flinging back the covers. She staggered from the bed and gripped Katie’s shoulders. Her eyes held a feverish glint. “It’s the only answer. You’re attracted to him anyway.

  He holds so much power and wealth.”

  Katie tried to twist away, but her mother held her firmly. “But what if he finds out who I really am?” If people knew she wasn’t really Inez Russell’s daughter, would her friends all desert her?

  “How could he possibly find out? My dear sister knows better than to show her face here after all these years.”

  “She might hear of my marriage and come back to demand money.”

  The idea had plagued Katie most of her life. She never wanted to see the woman who had abandoned her again.

  “Just let her try!” Katie’s mother stepped back and dropped her hands to her sides.

  “I wouldn’t
want to humiliate Bart.” Or to face such disgrace herself.

  Her mother’s face softened. “I’ve often wished we could wipe away the memories you have of your early years with Florence. I did the best I could to salve your wounds with love.”

  “You’ve been a wonderful mother,” Katie choked out. She hated to talk about Florence. The memories still made her ache.

  Her mother made a shooing motion. “Make yourself presentable, my dear. Your future husband awaits.”

  Katie made herself smile back into her mother’s serene face. “Yes, Mama, the blue dress.” She hurried to her room and changed into her new dress then raked her fingers through her curls so they lay on her shoulders in casual abandon. Tucking a hanky into the sleeve of her dress, she descended the stairs and stepped into the parlor where she found Bart Foster standing with his hands clasped behind him as he stared into the garden. Sunshine gleamed on his carefully combed blond hair.

  His appearance never failed to remind her of his status in the community. His navy suit had been tailored in the city, and he stopped to have his shoes shined every morning. His grandfather had been a Mercy Falls’s founder, and every unmarried woman in town cast longing gazes his direction. She should be thrilled he gave her more than a passing glance. And of course, she was. As his wife, the specters of her past couldn’t harm her. She could hold her head high.

  He turned and spied her standing in the doorway. “My dear Katie, I came as soon as I heard.” He crossed the Persian rug and took Katie’s hand in his.

  She returned the strong pressure of his fingers. “I’m so glad for your help and strength, Bart,” she said. Though they’d been on first names for two months now, she still relished the way the syllable rolled off her tongue. The admiration in his blue eyes never failed to lift her spirits, though today the warmth of his gaze only raised her mood slightly above the floor.

  Keeping her hand in his possession, he led her to the sofa. “How is your mother?”

  “She’s . . . resting,” Katie said. Her mother would be mortified if Bart became aware of how she’d fallen apart this morning at the news.

  He squeezed her fingers. “What is your father’s condition?”

  “I don’t know yet. I’m going to check on him shortly.”

  “I would be glad to accompany you.”

  “Thank you, Bart, but I have several errands to run as well. I wouldn’t want to take up so much of your time. I’m sure your father expects you at the sawmill.”

  “I have some meetings later this morning.” He pressed her hands far longer than was appropriate. “Telephone the office if there is anything I can do.”

  “I shall do that.”

  His gaze lingered in her hair. “You look quite lovely today.”

  The heat of his glance made her want to wind her hair into a French roll and cover it with a chapeau. “Thank you.” Her mother’s advice had been right. She only wished the touch of his hand would make her feel something beyond . . . invaded.

  He gave her fingers a final squeeze. “I should go and let you get to your errands.” He paused as though to give her time to object.

  She knew she should offer Bart refreshment, but she wanted to find out about her father. To confront him and see if he’d really tried to do away with himself. It was so difficult to have to shoulder the burden to try to make sure everyone was taken care of. She knew she had to figure out a way to meet everyone else’s expectations.

  She rose and smiled down at him. “Thank you for stopping by, Bart. You’re a good man.” He smiled his pleasure, and she ushered him out then leaned against the door and closed her eyes. Mama would expect a full report.

  NINE

  THE BABY’S HOWL awakened Will. He’d been dreaming he was in a hot air balloon floating along the clouds with his barometer. He opened scratchy eyes and got up. The clock on the mantel struck ten thirty. He’d slept since dawn when he’d extinguished the lighthouse lamp, and most fortunately, so had Jennie.

  “Are you hungry, honey?” he asked. “Want some bread and jam?”

  She gave him a toothy smile and reached up. “Ree,” she said.

  Did she just try to say hungry? He scooped her up. She’d wormed her way into his heart so quickly. In the kitchen, he deposited her in the high chair Katie had suggested he bring from the Bulmer residence, then spread a slice of bread with butter and jam. He cut it into pieces and placed it in front of her.

  She rammed a piece into her mouth. “Umm, umm,” she mouthed around her food.

  Cute the way she did that when she ate. He prepared some oatmeal for himself, and when she reached for it, he fed her a few spoonfuls. After breakfast he cleaned her up, changed her diaper, and carried her back to the parlor where he put her on the floor with some wooden blocks. Too bad Philip wasn’t here to bond with his baby girl. She was quite charming. He glanced out the window and saw a horse and rider at the bottom of the hill. Constable Brown dismounted and trekked up the hillside toward the lighthouse.

  Will sighed and went to open the door. “Good morning, Constable Brown. What brings you out here?”

  “I wish to speak with you, Mr. Jesperson.”

  “You’re looking a little tired. Busy night keeping the peace?” Will asked, stepping aside to allow the constable to enter.

  “Bad night,” the constable said.

  Will led him to the parlor. “Have a seat.”

  Brown sank onto the sofa. “I don’t suppose you have any coffee?”

  “I do.” Will went to get a cup for the man, and when he came back, he found the constable dangling his closed pocketknife in front of the baby’s rapt face. “I don’t think that’s the best thing for her to play with,” he said.

  “She can’t get it open. It’s much too difficult.”

  Will retrieved it from Jennie anyway and distracted her with the pan lids before she could wail. “So what’s the problem, Constable?”

  “Albert Russell was found half-drowned at Mercy Falls last night.”

  Will put down his cup of coffee on the marble-topped table beside him. “What happened?”

  “Attempted suicide, I suspect.”

  “He’ll be all right?”

  The constable hesitated. “He was still unconscious this morning when I checked at the hospital. The doctor isn’t sure if he will recover.”

  “I’m sorry.” He was too. He thought of Miss Katie and the pain she must be going through. Suicide. Did it have anything to do with Miss Bulmer and her call suggesting Philip investigate Russell? “How does that correspond to your visit here?”

  “Miss Katie mentioned her father came to see you yesterday.

  Looking for a pocket watch.”

  Will nodded. “He was here just a few minutes.”

  “Did he seem upset? Distraught?”

  “Not suicidal, by any means. He asked if I’d seen the watch, and I told him I had only taken baby items from Miss Bulmer’s house.”

  Brown took out a cigar. “Did he seem upset that it was missing?”

  “He did not seemed pleased. Look, Constable, I find it difficult to believe the man tried to kill himself. Especially in light of Miss Bulmer’s disappearance and the attack on Miss Russell.”

  Brown rolled the cigar in his fingers and nodded. “There is that. I was about to mention it to you. I spoke with the owner of The Redwood Inn. He described the man as in his midtwenties with dark hair and brown eyes. A nice dresser.”

  An image of his brother flashed through Will’s mind, but he pushed the thought away. Philip would never threaten Miss Russell. Besides, he’d gone back to the city. Hadn’t he?

  Brown took a gulp of his coffee then set it on the table beside him. “Where is your brother, Mr. Jesperson?”

  The man was no fool. Will might have implicated Philip in this mess by admitting he suspected Jennie was Philip’s daughter. Will kept his expression impassive. “He’s in San Francisco. Investigating the missing ship, as I mentioned.”

  Brown took out a not
ebook. “What’s the name of his agency and where can I find him?”

  Will told him and watched while the constable wrote it down. “If you suspect Philip of involvement in this, you’re mistaken, Constable.”

  “Of course, of course.” Brown put his notebook away and rose. “I shall be in touch.”

  “Constable, while I have you here—” Will began.

  The man turned with a questioning expression. “Is there another problem?”

  “Not a problem, necessarily. I wondered if you’d heard anything else about that missing ship.”

  “We found some more bodies floating in the bay. Barbarians, that’s what those pirates are.”

  “Any clues to solving that case?”

  “It’s as dead as the squid I saw on the beach. I’ve combed the roads and coastline for clues, but they’ve vanished.” Brown raised his brows.

  “Now see here . . . why don’t you leave the investigating to me?”

  Philip had told him that local law enforcement tended to be proprietary about their investigations. “You’re quite right. In the worry about Miss Bulmer, I forgot something my brother told me. I mentioned he’d asked me to speak with her. There was a man she thought might be involved in the taking of Dalton’s Fortune.”

  “The ship that was taken a month ago,” the constable said. “Who was the man?”

  “Albert Russell.”

  Light dawned in Brown’s eyes. “Perhaps his daughter is not as far off as I’d thought. She wondered if he might have been attacked.”

  “Or he was involved and would rather kill himself than go to jail.”

  “True.” Brown put on his bowler. “Thank you for your time, Mr.

  Jesperson. Our discussion was most interesting.”

  Miss Bulmer had said to check out Albert Russell. Was it only revenge or had the man truly been involved?

  Katie tiptoed into the room. She still trembled from seeing her father’s still form, settled under a crisp, white sheet. His chest had barely moved up and down and he hadn’t opened his eyes, though she’d called his name and held his hand until the nurses had shooed her out.