The Lightkeeper's Ball

by Colleen Coble

  His father’s effrontery took his breath away. Harrison reminded himself that he was to honor his father even when the man did something this unfathomable. “I want it back. Where is it?”

  His father advanced toward him. “Be reasonable, son. Let loose of this ridiculous dream. You have a bright future ahead of you in business. Don’t let this hobby distract you. My father was like you. I went hungry many nights because he cared more about playing pool than about feeding his children.”

  Harrison had never heard the pleading note in his father’s voice. Nor had he shared this information about his growing-up years. It explained a lot—why his father was so driven to succeed, why recognition mattered to him.

  He fought the pity that might have excused his father’s incredible behavior. “I’m not changing my mind. I’m done at Bennett and Bennett. Where is my machine?”

  His father’s coaxing smile faded. “In the scrap heap.”

  A crushing weight came down on Harrison’s chest. He nearly couldn’t breathe past the pressure. “I’ll just rebuild it.” He turned to the door before he could say something he might regret. John North had several carriage houses. He’d see if his friend would allow him the use of one.

  TWENTY-NINE

  THE SUNLIGHT WARMED Olivia. She stretched, then groaned as every muscle protested. She’d lain abed all day yesterday, but she was not going to stay down today. Even her ankle felt better. She sat up and rang the bell for Goldia. Breakfast would fortify her for the day ahead.

  Harrison had left the other night without a word. She tried not to let his departure bother her. He knew she was going to be all right, so why should she have expected him to dance attendance on her until dawn?

  Katie poked her head through the doorway. “I heard the bell so I thought you must be awake. How are you feeling this morning?”

  “Nearly human again.” She smiled to dispel the dark reminder of what had happened. “Has Harrison called this morning?”

  Katie stepped into the room. “I haven’t heard the telephone ring.”

  Her mother came through the door in time to hear Katie’s last words. “I met that young man, Olivia. He’s quite a handsome devil.” Her mother handed her the dressing gown from the foot of the bed. “We’ve received an invitation to a ball at Buckingham Palace. There will be no shortage of wealthy nobility looking for brides. Once your engagement to Harrison is at an end, we shall find you a husband who deserves to marry into the Stewart family.”

  Olivia winced as she got out of bed and shrugged into the dressing gown. “I want more from life than that.”

  “Your father and I were married because it was the wise thing to do. And our life together was quite lovely,” her mother said, her voice firm.

  She’d thought her parents doted on each other, though her father was often off on his adventures to Africa while her mother made frequent excursions to Europe. But that matter of her father’s infidelity changed all her perceptions. Her mother seemed to have forgotten that. Olivia wanted a marriage like Katie’s. It was clear her husband wanted to be with her more than he wanted to be gone.

  “I’m going to wear the blue silk today,” she told Goldia.

  “Are you going out?” her mother asked.

  “I’m going to go see that will.” Olivia sat in front of the dressing table and began to undo the plaits in her hair. Goldia picked up the silver brush and began to brush out the strands before styling it atop Olivia’s head.

  “Should I accompany you?”

  Olivia could tell by her mother’s tone that she’d rather step in dog dung. “I believe you need to come with me. You have more right to see it than anyone. But I will do the speaking.”

  “What if Mr. Fosberg refuses to let us read it?”

  “Then I shall call our attorney and he can handle it.”

  “In that case, perhaps we should let Mr. Grayson take care of it all. No need to sully our hands.”

  Olivia turned to face her mother. “Don’t you want to know what is going on, Mother? I know I do. If we have to involve our attorney, it could take weeks, months.”

  “There is that,” her mother agreed. “Very well. I shall be in the parlor.”

  Freed of her mother’s nervous energy, Olivia quickly finished her toilette. With her hat firmly pinned in place and the new dress swathing her slim figure, she sailed forth to do battle. Or as well as she could manage with every muscle aching from her adventure. Her mother had already called for the limo. The chauffeur drove them to town. Olivia planned out her strategy as the automobile navigated the narrow streets. As the motorcar passed Harrison’s house, she strained for a glimpse of him. How was his knee faring?

  She had the driver stop for a moment at Oscar’s Mercantile while she ran inside for some stationery. Mrs. Silvers’s face lit when she saw Olivia.

  “My dear Lady Devonworth, how are you? I was quite distressed to hear of your accident the other night.”

  “I’m fine, thank you. A little sore, but that is all.”

  “Thanks to Mr. Harrison.” Mrs. Silvers pressed her hand to her bosom. “So romantic, the way he saved you.”

  She suppressed a smile. “Indeed.”

  “The whole town is buzzing about the ball! How good of you to invite all of us. I’ve always wanted to see inside Stewart Hall.”

  “I’ll be honored to show you around,” Olivia said, smiling. Though the ball was turning into even more work than she’d anticipated, for once she was planning something that was of greater value than showing off the newest dress.

  The car pulled up in front of the Fosberg residence. “Wait here and I’ll see if they’ll receive us,” she told her mother when the chauffeur opened the back door of the limo and helped her out.

  With her card in hand, as well as her mother’s, she rang the doorbell of the modest two-story home. On a tree-lined street in a nice neighborhood, it wasn’t as grand as Olivia had expected. A middle-aged woman opened the door, and Olivia stated her business and dropped her cards into the silver tray.

  “One moment, Lady Devonworth.” The maid ushered her into the narrow foyer, then went down the hall.

  A few moments later Mrs. Fosberg rushed out of the door on the right with her arms outstretched. “My dear Lady Devonworth, how kind of you to call! And your mother too?”

  “She’s in the car. Let me summon her. Is your son at home?”

  His mother beamed. “He is indeed! I’ll call him while you fetch your mother.”

  For an instant, Olivia had hoped he might be gone. She hated confrontation. But this was a discussion that had to be held.

  Olivia sipped her tea and waited for a lull in Mrs. Fosberg’s stream of conversation. Mr. Fosberg leaned against the wall by the window as he listened, but she sensed a watchfulness in the set of his shoulders and the reserved smile in his eyes. He knew they were here for a purpose.

  When Mrs. Fosberg paused to draw a breath, Olivia jumped in. “Mr. Fosberg, I wonder if I might have a word with you in private?”

  He straightened. “Of course.”

  “Mother, I’ll be right back.” She saw the relief in her mother’s face as she followed Mr. Fosberg to the library. Her mother could be the backup if he refused to hand over the will.

  He sat behind the polished desk and indicated the chair on the opposite side. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

  She settled onto the creaking leather and clasped her gloved hands together. “I’ve come to take a look at my father’s will.”

  He regarded her over the top of his steepled fingers. “I suspected as much.”

  “I admit I’m surprised you didn’t show it to me right away.”

  “I thought it best to have your mother present. In fact, I think she should be here for this now.” He rose. “Let me escort her in, and I’ll read the will.”

  Olivia nodded, and he left the room. Perhaps she should have called their attorney and waited for him to come from New York so he could be present for this. She gla
nced around the room and took in the leather-bound books and certificate from Harvard. Several moving boxes were strewn about as well.

  He entered the room with her mother in tow. Shutting the door behind them, he seated Mrs. Stewart beside Olivia, then went to the desk and opened the top drawer. He removed an envelope and slid a sheaf of papers from it. “This is the will.”

  Olivia nearly asked to read it herself, then decided against it. She could always ask to peruse it when he was done. She glanced at her mother, who was biting her lip. There was no real reason for them both to be so nervous, but she couldn’t still the shiver that ran up her back.

  Fosberg cleared his throat. “This is the last will and testament of Marshall Stewart. I’m not going to read every provision. You can read it for yourself shortly. However, I want to bring your attention to the part that will be the most contentious.” He trailed a finger down the page, then laid it aside and went on to the next. “Here it is. You and your daughters have been designated a yearly stipend of ten thousand dollars. He goes on to say, ‘To my son, Richard Pixton, I leave the rest of my estate and ask that he take care of my wife and daughters with any additional needs as long as they are living.’”

  Olivia sat with her hands together. Her father had stripped them of nearly everything. Ten thousand dollars a year wouldn’t begin to cover her mother’s normal expenses.

  Mrs. Stewart wetted her lips. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m afraid so. You can see why I’ve been torn over how to proceed.”

  Torn? Olivia saw no remorse on his face. Would he be happy to see them impoverished? Did he have some personal stake in this?

  “And where is this mysterious Mr. Pixton?” her mother demanded.

  “I have been unable to locate him.”

  Her mother waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Then this changes nothing.”

  “I’m afraid it does. The estate will have to be transferred to his name. My firm has been designated to oversee the funds, which we will do until he can be found. I’ll need you to submit a list of your living expenses so we can draw up a suitable budget.”

  Her mother rose. “You’re telling me that we are now beggars? That our money will have to be funneled through your office?”

  “Not beggars, ma’am. But, yes, any monies will need to be approved. We are trustees until Mr. Pixton is found. Then he will take over that duty.”

  Olivia found her voice. “We shall contest this, of course. Our attorney will be in touch. The money is still in our bank, and it will stay there. I fear you are only involved to earn the executor fees.”

  Fosberg’s expression turned grim. “You would fight your father’s wishes?”

  “I am not convinced it is even his will.”

  He held out the paper. “Do you wish to see it?”

  “I do.” She snatched the will and scanned to the signature. It appeared to be her father’s handwriting, but she didn’t trust this smooth man. How much her opinion had changed in a few days.

  “There are three copies in my possession,” he said. “You are welcome to keep that one and show it to your attorney. I’m sure he will tell you that it is perfectly in order.”

  She tucked it into her handbag. “We shall see. Come along, Mother. I want to call our solicitor immediately.”

  Her mother rose as though her bones hurt. Her eyes were wide and frightened. Olivia refused to allow herself to believe the situation might come to pass. Her father couldn’t possibly have wanted this to happen.

  THIRTY

  THE JUNKYARD HAD not yet disposed of his flying machine. Harrison arranged for it to be taken to the Norths’ carriage house this morning, and he stopped to tell John it was coming. The Norths were outside. Addie wore gardening gloves and was puttering in the flower bed by the porch. John was playing baseball with Edward while Gideon ran barking between them. Nealy leaped out of the motorcar and ran to join Gideon.

  Addie stood with a smile. A smear of dirt smudged one cheek. “Harrison, how good to see you! Have you time for refreshments? Lunch will be ready in fifteen minutes.”

  “I wouldn’t turn it down,” he said, returning her smile. “If you’re sure I’m not too much trouble.”

  “Never! I’ll tell the cook to lay a place for one more.” She hurried to the door and went inside.

  John tossed the baseball to Edward. “Play with Gideon and Nealy for a while, son.” He joined Harrison at the porch.

  “My aeroplane will be here this afternoon,” Harrison told him. “I can’t thank you enough for allowing me to store it here.”

  “My pleasure. I talked it over with Addie, and we want to invest in your new company too,” John said. “We both believe the flying machines are going to be our future mode of transportation. I’d like to be a full partner if you’re willing.”

  His friends’ faith in him made a lump form in Harrison’s throat. If only his own family had that kind of trust. “I could use a partner with your kind of business savvy,” he said.

  John clapped him on the shoulder. “We can talk about it after lunch. I have several other possible investors I would like to discuss with you. And a location for a factory to build our aeroplanes. We have much to do before the air show in a couple of months.”

  A factory. He hadn’t dared dream that big. “Thank you,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  The rumble of an engine came from behind him, and he turned to see the Stewart limo stop in the driveway. He saw Lady Devonworth and Katie Jesperson in the backseat. Essie’s smile was tentative, and he stepped off the porch to open the door for her.

  She took his hand. “I didn’t know you were invited for lunch. Perhaps Addie is matchmaking.”

  “I just stopped by. Addie didn’t tell me she was having a party.” He released her hand and helped Katie out as well.

  “It’s just us, not a party,” Katie said, smiling up at him. She moved past, leaving him alone with Lady Devonworth.

  She seemed tongue-tied and didn’t look at him. He offered her his arm and she took it. They moved toward the house. “All recovered today?”

  “A little sore. I see you are still limping a bit.” Her tone indicated she was asking only as a courtesy.

  Had her mother convinced her he’d played some part in the attack on her? Her eyes were shadowed and her mouth was strained. “You look as though you’re still in shock,” he said.

  Her gaze met his then, and her eyes were filled with anguish. “I’m quite recovered from the other night. Th-The Stewarts received distressing news this morning.”

  They reached the foot of the steps. Katie and the others had already gone inside. He pressed her hand. “Can I help?”

  She rubbed her head. “Mrs. Stewart doesn’t know what to do. She discovered her husband has left his entire fortune to an illegitimate child. At least according to Mr. Fosberg.”

  “Fosberg told her this?” He shook his head. “I don’t trust that man.”

  “I don’t either, but I saw the will that he produced. It is supposedly a newer will than the one in the possession of the Stewarts’ solicitor.” She hesitated, and her fingers tightened on his arm. “There’s more, Harrison. I’m not even sure Mr. Stewart is dead. I found a note sent to Eleanor just before her death. Mrs. Stewart is sure it’s his handwriting.”

  He liked hearing his name on her lips. “This is almost too much to take in. I would do nothing about the money yet. It’s still in Mrs. Stewart’s possession, is it not?”

  “Yes, but Mr. Fosberg is planning to take control of it.”

  “This seems entirely too convenient. Could Fosberg have forged the will? And the note to Eleanor from her father? What did it say?”

  She glanced away from him, and he could tell she didn’t want him to know the note’s contents. “Tell me, Essie.”

  She sighed. “It warned her to run from you and your father. That you meant the Stewarts harm.”

  He pressed his lips together. “And you believed it?”

 
“At first,” she admitted. “I know you better now.”

  Why would Mr. Stewart be hiding somewhere and allowing this to go on? “We need to find the man if he’s alive. Unless this is all a forgery. Does Fosberg know you found the note to Eleanor?”

  “No, I don’t believe so.”

  “It’s possible he warned her away from us Bennetts because he wanted her for himself.”

  The tightness in her mouth eased as they talked. “Katie is going to have Will’s brother look into it.” She glanced at the door. “I have to tell Katie and Addie that we might as well call off the ball. My friends won’t come under the present circumstances, and I doubt we can raise enough money with only the townspeople in attendance.”

  He pressed her hand again. “What if we announce our engagement today? Would they come then?”

  Her eyes filled with hope. “Maybe. Unless they hear that the Stewarts have lost all their money.”

  “I don’t like your friends. They are fair-weather ones only.”

  “I never realized that until now.” Her dark eyes studied him. “You’re still willing to do this?”

  Words of love hovered on his tongue, but he reminded himself this was an arrangement to save her reputation. She’d shown no indication she thought of him warmly.

  He nodded. “Shall we tell our friends first? Then we can call the newspaper and put in an announcement. I’ll call the New York and San Francisco papers as well. That will put an end to the gossip and, hopefully, your friends will be happy to attend the ball.”

  “We can call it an engagement ball as well. They will have even more motivation to attend.” Her eyes sparkled. “It’s a masquerade ball. I find I’m most interested in what you will wear.”

  “I’ll have to give that some thought. And what about you? How shall you be dressed?”

  “Perhaps Juliet. You can come as Romeo. It seems suitable for an engagement ball, does it not?”

  She would need suitable jewelry for that, and he knew just where to buy it. And the exact piece.

  Still warm from the congratulations of her friends, Olivia rode with Harrison in his motorcar to tell her mother what they had done. Though the dog was in the backseat, she was no longer afraid of him. Nealy had saved her twice now.