Piano music tinkled out from the parlor. “Your mother?” Lady Devonworth asked.
He nodded. “She’s very accomplished.”
He led her to the parlor, where he found his mother seated at the grand piano. Her fingers danced over the keys in Liszt’s “Dante Symphony,” and her eyes were dreamy. She wore her hair up and even had a hint of rouge on her face.
His mother stopped playing when she saw them in the door. A smile brightened her eyes. “Hello! I lost track of time, my dear.”
The dog rose when he saw them. Lady Devonworth flinched, and he ordered the dog to lie down. “He won’t hurt you,” he said. “Collies are great dogs.”
“It was a collie that bit me.”
“That’s quite unusual. Were you teasing it?”
She frowned. “I don’t remember. I was a child. But it should have been trained not to attack.”
“True enough,” he said.
“Give me a moment to get settled on the sofa,” his mother said.
“Of course.” Harrison raised a brow in Lady Devonworth’s direction, then led her back to the hall. “She doesn’t like others to see her struggle,” he said. “Shall I show you around the house until her attendant helps her to the sofa?”
“I should like to see it.”
With her fingers on his forearm, he felt tongue-tied and awkward, but he escorted her toward the morning room. The house was so large and grand, he often felt lost in it, but Lady Devonworth would be quite at home with its silk-covered walls and plush carpets.
“Did your mother get along with Eleanor?” Lady Devonworth asked.
Her preoccupation with Eleanor truly annoyed him. “This is where Mother does her morning correspondence,” he said, indicating the white desk by the window. Her questions were entirely inappropriate. A lady of her caliber should have realized by now that her persistent questions were the definition of rudeness.
“It’s quite lovely,” she said, glancing around the blue room.
Mary Grace appeared behind them. “Mrs. Bennett is ready to receive you,” the nurse said.
At least he didn’t have to hear any more of Lady Devonworth’s questions. He escorted her back to the parlor. His mother was pouring out the tea. Blueberry scones were arranged on a silver tray. “Mother, this is Lady Devonworth. Lady Devonworth, I’d like you to meet my mother, Mrs. Esther Bennett.”
“I’ve been longing to meet you, Lady Devonworth,” his mother said. “Come sit beside me and tell me all about yourself.”
He suppressed a smile. This had been a grand idea. His mother could pry the slightest secret from the most reticent person. Once Lady Devonworth was seated beside his mother, he dropped into the leather chair by the fireplace and settled back to watch his mother do her magic.
Wariness flickered in Lady Devonworth’s eyes as she sipped her tea and studied the older woman. “You have a lovely home, Mrs. Bennett.”
“I’m sure you’re used to much grander surroundings,” his mother said. “My son tells me you are a longtime friend of the Stewarts. What does your father do, my dear?”
Lady Devonworth took a sip of tea. Harrison was sure it was a delay to gather her thoughts. And he was certain her cheeks paled. His tense muscles relaxed. Watching this unfold would provide much entertainment. He’d been no match for the lady’s questioning, but his mother was a master.
“Might I have a scone?” Lady Devonworth asked.
“Of course.” His mother lifted the silver tray to the young woman, then put it back on the table after Lady Devonworth had selected a pastry. “About your father?”
Harrison’s lips twitched. His mother was not about to let the young woman slip out of the net.
“Business is so boring, don’t you think? My father has often spoken of his various interests, but it goes right over my head.” She laughed daintily. “I’d much rather talk about this charming town. I quite adore Mercy Falls already. I’m sure Eleanor Stewart loved it the moment she saw it. I’m surprised she didn’t stay here with you, though. To help you in any way she could.”
Spots of color appeared on his mother’s cheeks at the implied condemnation. “Of course I invited her! But the girl loved parties and wanted to plan several luncheons and evening soirees. It was too much for a lady in my condition. We both agreed it was best for her to have her own space.”
Harrison gaped, then shut his mouth. Lady Devonworth had slipped through the snare with no effort.
“Oh, Eleanor loved parties. I can see how such merriment day and night would be quite wearing for you,” Lady Devonworth said. “She was quite the chatterbox.”
“The girl talked incessantly,” his mother said. “In quite an entertaining way, of course,” she added hastily.
“Of course. Eleanor was a most charming girl,” the younger woman said.
Harrison had no idea that his mother hadn’t liked Eleanor. He stared at Lady Devonworth and saw the frown crouching between her eyes. The silence was beginning to be awkward.
Lady Devonworth sipped her tea. “Do you know Frederick Fosberg?” she asked him.
“The attorney from the city who owns a house up the mountain?”
“Yes, the attorney,” she said.
He shook his head. “Not personally. How did you hear of him?”
She nibbled on her scone. A delaying tactic, of course. She was quick to ask questions but less apt to answer them. “I may need his services, and I wondered if you would recommend him.”
“I’ve met Fred a few times,” his mother said. “He has done some business with your father on occasion, Harrison. A fine young man. In fact, he’s due to come to town in a few days. If you’d like to meet him, Lady Devonworth, he’ll be our dinner guest on Friday night. Do come.”
“I’d be delighted,” she said quickly.
“My husband thinks the world of him. He’s a hit with the ladies in town. A most eligible bachelor.”
Lady Devonworth smiled. “I’m only interested in his business acumen.”
Harrison resolved to find out what he could about this Fosberg. The lady had a purpose in her questions.
ELEVEN
OLIVIA HAD LIKED Harrison’s mother, but the stress of navigating dangerous questions had drained her. She rubbed her aching head. She’d been prowling the second floor since the servants retired for the night. She should seek some rest herself, but she needed to find the letter. Eleanor was a pack rat, and Olivia knew she wouldn’t have destroyed it. It had to be in this house somewhere.
She glanced around the last bedroom on this floor. Goldia had made subtle inquiries of the other servants, and this room had never been occupied. It was at the end of the hall. The hissing gaslight cast a yellow glow over the burgundy wallpaper. She’d poked through the empty closet and pulled out every drawer in the dresser but found nothing.
“Olivia.”
She flinched and her head came up. The whispered voice came from nowhere. She strained to see through the shadows in the room. “Who’s there?” The man had called her by name, a name she’d taken great care to conceal.
“It’s me, Olivia.”
Her heart leaped against her ribs. Her throat went tight. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, almost like her father. Was it a ghost? She backed toward the door. She needed to get to safety. She grasped the doorknob and yanked on it. The door refused to open. She tugged on it again, the muscles in her throat still blocking any sound.
“Olivia,” the voice whispered again. Something clanged.
It was no ghost. That’s when she realized whoever it was had to be using the mansion’s speaking tube. She yanked on the door again, but it refused to budge. Had he locked her in? She knelt on the redwood floor and peered through the keyhole. No light. Something blocked it from the other side. Her breath came fast. Could someone be hanging on to the doorknob, laughing at her puny efforts to escape?
The mental image washed away her fear and released the tightness of her throat. She pounded on the door. “Let me ou
t!” She twisted the knob again but the door held fast. The window. She rushed to the window and threw up the sash. Salt air tugged loose strands of her hair.
Leaning out the window, she searched the dark yard below her. There was nothing to enable her to climb down from this height. She would find no purchase on the smooth stone of the facade. When she pulled her head back inside and went back to the door, she thought she heard a slight click. She twisted the knob again, and this time it turned easily. Her initial impulse was to yank the door open, but what if the man waited on the other side?
She snatched her hand back and stared at the closed door. She couldn’t stay here all night. Forcing herself to turn the knob again and pull, she peeked into the shadowed hall. Empty. She twisted the knob to extinguish the lamp, then rushed down the deserted hall toward her bedroom. The hallway was better lit here, and the tightness in her chest eased as the shadows fled. Outside her door, she paused. What if he was waiting inside? She needed assistance.
The servants were already abed, but there was a speaking tube in all the bedrooms. She could summon Jerry or one of the other footmen. Will was nearby also. She could call for him, but the thought of rousing the entire family deterred her. She went past her door to Eleanor’s bedroom. She felt along the dark wall. The knob for the lights should be here somewhere. Her fingers encountered the round switch and she twisted it. Light illuminated the room. It was empty. She went to the speaking tube by the bed.
“Thora, we have an intruder in the house. Please send Jerry or one of the men to my room immediately.” She didn’t like the way her voice shook.
There was silence, then her housekeeper’s sleepy voice answered her. “Right away, Lady Devonworth.”
Olivia went back to the hall and waited under the wash of light. She was safer out of the shadows. Moments later footsteps pounded down the steps from the third floor.
Still buttoning his shirt, Jerry burst out of the enclosed stairway. He was barefoot. “Lady Devonworth, you said there is an intruder?”
Her limbs had begun to tremble. Olivia nodded and fought the burning in her eyes. It was just a reaction, but she couldn’t give in to it. “He spoke into the speaking tube.”
“What did he say?”
She bit her lip. “He just whispered my name.”
He herded her to her room and opened the door. “Wait here until I check the house.”
“What if he’s in my room? I . . . I was elsewhere.”
He glanced at her with a question in his eyes but didn’t ask where she’d been. Flipping on the light, he left her standing in the doorway while he examined her bedroom, including the closet. When he found nothing, she entered and sank onto the chair by the dresser.
“Thank you,” she said. “I shall lock the door after you.”
“I’ll report back after examining the rest of the house. The other footmen are scouring the grounds.”
When he left, she rose and threw the lock on the knob. It couldn’t have been her father’s voice. He had been dead for six months.
The tree would provide the perfect frame for his new aeroplane. Harrison pointed out the specimen he wanted, and the lumberjacks set to work. He would never admit it to his father, but he enjoyed getting out of the office and seeing how men worked with their hands. When he was a teenager working here to learn the ropes of his father’s latest acquisition, he’d liked exercising his muscles hauling timber and running his end of a saw. It gave him a chance to clear his head and be one with God. Even now, he liked doing more than pushing papers.
His valet, Eugene, worked alongside him as he loaded some boards for the wings onto a trailer. “You’ve been quiet today, sir,” Eugene said.
“Just thinking about the new flying machine. I’ve come up with a new idea. What would you think about something on the bottom? Like skis. Something that allowed it to land on water?”
“On water? You mean the ocean?”
He shook his head. “Probably not the ocean. The waves would upend it. I was thinking about a lake. The weather would have to be calm.”
Eugene paused and wiped his brow with a red kerchief. “It might work. Are you going to attempt to build it on this machine?”
“I believe so.” Eugene’s calm gaze lingered on Harrison’s face. “What is it?” Harrison asked.
“You’re a true visionary, sir. I never realized until now.”
Harrison stopped and tugged on his collar. “Hardly a visionary, Eugene. It’s interesting though, no?”
“The world is changing, as you’ve said,” his valet said. “Men like you will help shape it, if you have the courage to lead.”
Harrison thought of his father’s hard face. “Some expectations are hard to break.”
“They are. Even your father’s expectation for you to marry a Stewart lady. What will you do now, sir?”
“I know one thing. I’m not going to marry some highbrow just to satisfy my father’s desire to be part of the nobs.”
“What will become of Mrs. Stewart?”
“I wouldn’t want Mrs. Stewart to be deprived of her fortune.”
“Perhaps your father will give her a fair part of the mine anyway.”
“I don’t see him ever being willing to do that.”
“Did Mr. Stewart ever discuss this matter with you personally? The marriage, I mean.”
“No.” That fact had always bothered Harrison. Arrangements had been made while his father and Mr. Stewart were in Africa. His father had come home from that trip with the agreement in his pocket. And Mr. Stewart was dead.
“I’m going to tell Father to pay her anyway,” he said.
Eugene nodded.
Harrison pressed his lips together. In the past five years he’d seen the desire for more and more money consume his father. They were comfortable. There was no need for more. But his father wanted to be accepted as one of the premier families in America. He lusted after that power to an unhealthy degree.
TWELVE
THERE WAS A brook around here somewhere. Olivia could hear it gurgling and churning over the rocks. Redwoods towered overhead, their leaves so high she nearly couldn’t see them. Addie held little Edward’s hand, guiding her son as the women picked their way along the path through the forest. His German shepherd, Gideon, nosed after a ground squirrel, and Olivia kept an eye on the dog.
“Are we almost there?” Olivia asked. Something about the mist curling around her boots and the lack of city noise had her glancing over her shoulder.
“Nearly there,” Katie called. She was the vanguard of the little group.
Olivia heard it then—the roar she’d mistaken for the wind in the trees became more prominent. The falls came into view. Clear water tumbled from the black rocks to the pool of water at the base. The dog barked and raced to leap into the clear lake.
“The perfect spot to plan the ball,” Addie said. She set down the basket she carried and withdrew a red-and-white checkered tablecloth from it. Once she spread it on the ground, she began to lift sandwiches wrapped in waxed paper from the basket.
Olivia settled beside her and watched the little boy and his dog frolic in the water. She glanced into the shadows of the trees. Their location was exposed and dangerous. She needed to tell her friends about last night’s intruder. At least Jerry had come with them. She felt safer with a man in attendance. He hovered a discreet distance from their little picnic.
“Have you had any success in finding the letter?” Katie asked.
Olivia shook her head. “I’ve poked through every corner of Eleanor’s room, and most of the other bedrooms. I can’t imagine where she hid it. I’m beginning to consider the possibility that it might not be in the house,” she admitted. “If I don’t find it, I’m not sure how I shall find out what so disturbed her. But there’s more.”
She told Addie about finding the dance card. “I thought you might offer insight, Addie, since you attend more parties. Katie doesn’t really know Mr. Fosberg. Do you know the man?”
“He has accepted all the invitations?”
Addie handed her a sandwich. “Indeed he has, though I haven’t heard he’s paid any particular attention to one young woman over another. He’s opening a branch of his law office in town, and he’s happy to make the acquaintance of anyone who might need his services.”
“You’ve met him personally?”
Addie nodded. “I spoke with Eleanor in the garden the night he came to that dance you mentioned. I asked her about him when we spoke. She said they were discussing business.”
“That was Katie’s impression too,” Olivia said. Katie nodded. “What kind of business could she possibly have? Our attorney handles everything. Even Mother has no head for business.”
“She didn’t elaborate,” Addie said.
Olivia bit her lip. “There was an intruder in the house last night,” she said. She told her friends about the whispers from the speaking tube.
Katie shuddered. “I’m most fearful for you, Olivia. You should have roused Will.”
“I should have done just that.” She tipped her head to the side. “Do you hear something?”
“What did it sound like?” Katie asked. “I hear only the wind.”
“Almost like a child crying.” The noise came again, a plaintive wail that lifted the hair on the back of her neck. “It sounds like it’s coming from that tree.” She rose and went to the base of a giant redwood. The trunk’s diameter was so wide that if she stood with her arms outstretched, her fingers would not reach the outer edges.
She peered up the rough red bark. The pungent odor of the crushed needles under her feet filled the air. Something moved in the high branches. Squinting, she tried to make out what it was.
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