“We’re just about to have some tea. I do hope you’ll join us.” Katie led her to the room on Addie’s right.
Wasn’t Katie going to ask why she had come or how she’d found the house? She hadn’t called ahead to find out if this was their at-home day. She followed the young woman into a parlor decorated with a blue velvet settee and chairs arranged around a fireplace. The Eastlake tables were a bit heavy for Addie’s taste, considering the delicate chairs. A piano occupied one corner of the room.
The woman on the settee had a throw over her legs. Her smile was as warm as her daughter’s. She wore a pale-blue gown, and her hair was up in a French twist.
“Mama, this is Addie Sullivan,” Katie said. “The new household member at the Eaton estate.”
“I recognized the name the moment you said it,” Mrs. Russell said. She put her feet on the floor and patted the space beside her on the settee. “What a delightful surprise.”
Addie perched on the cushion. “I know this is quite an imposition,” she began.
“Nonsense,” Katie said, pouring tea into a cup. “Sugar?”
Addie nodded. “One, please.” She accepted the tea after Katie stirred in the cube. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m here,” she said. There was an awkward pause, and Addie searched for a way to ask the questions burning on her tongue. “I was allowed the use of Laura Eaton’s desk,” she said. “It’s so beautiful.”
Neither of the other women remarked at her comment, and she knew it was going to be difficult to explain. Mrs. Russell might be an ally. She’d been best friends with Laura. An inner conviction grew that she needed to be honest. There was no other way to explain her appearance here.
“Maybe I should begin at the beginning,” she said.
NINETEEN
ADDIE TOOK A gulp of tea so hot it scalded her tongue. Her heart hammered loud enough she was sure they had to hear.
Tell them.
She resisted the impulse to pour out her circumstances, but the compassion in Mrs. Russell’s eyes held her riveted. The entire story surged to her throat. She set her tea on the table beside her. “I’m not here because Mrs. Eaton sent me. She has no idea how I’m spending my afternoon off.”
The two women exchanged glances. “Is something wrong, my dear?” Mrs. Russell asked.
Addie clutched her gloved hands in her lap. “You must set aside all you think you know,” she said.
“About what?” Katie peeked at her mother. They both wore puzzled frowns.
“About what happened twenty-three years ago.”
Mrs. Russell’s brows gathered, and she stared at Addie. “Twentythree years ago,” she said. “My daughter was born. My best friend drowned. It’s a time I remember quite vividly.”
Surely Laura’s best friend wouldn’t betray her daughter. Addie so desperately needed a friend, someone she could lean on. She held Mrs. Russell’s gaze for a long moment. “I believe I am Julia Eaton.”
Mrs. Russell’s eyes seemed to swallow up her face. Her hand wadded up the throw on her lap. “Julia died. Drowned with her mother. How dare you come here and say such a thing?” She searched Addie’s face, and her tone lacked conviction.
“I assure you I was shocked as well,” Addie said.
Mrs. Russell rubbed her forehead. “Julia. Julia was only two wh-when it happened.”
“My father found a baby onshore after a horrendous shipwreck,” Addie said. “He believed that baby was Julia Eaton.”
“Why would he believe that?”
“Someone paid him to keep the child. Me. And he was curious enough that he subscribed to the San Francisco newspaper to read about any missing persons. I have the article about the boat going down, about the search for Laura and Julia Eaton.”
“Is this some kind of plan to blackmail Henry? You should know he’s a hard man to cross.”
Addie shook her head violently. “I just want the truth, Mrs. Russell. You loved my mother. That’s why I’m here. I have nowhere to turn, no one to help me find out what happened.”
Mrs. Russell’s eyes softened and grew luminous as she studied Addie’s face. “You have the look of Laura in some vague way I can’t put my finger on. The dimple, the eyes. Your hair color is different, but . . .” She put her hand to her mouth. “What of Laura?” she whispered.
"I don’t know.”
Mrs. Russell winced. “My poor Laura,” she said. “She loved her baby so much.”
Addie’s eyes burned. “That’s what I’ve heard. I want to know about her.”
“Laura was a lovely girl. Just lovely. Full of life and fun. All the men were quite mad over her. She was invited to a party nearly every night.”
“What about my father, Mr. Eaton?”
“Henry was smitten the moment he laid eyes on her. I was surprised when Laura responded to his pursuit.”
“Why?”
Mrs. Russell took a sip of her tea. “He was a tradesman, and she was from money. But Henry always had big dreams, and he inspired her with his goals and plans.”
Addie’s pulse leaped, and she leaned forward. “My mother had the money? Not my father? I knew he didn’t come from money, but I thought he had amassed a fortune by the time he met her.”
“Oh my, no. But Henry knew what he wanted.”
“Did he marry her for her money?”
“No, no. He was crazy in love with her. There was never any doubt about that.”
Katie picked up her tea. “Where have you been all this time, Addie?”
“On a lighthouse station. North of here. My father was the lightkeeper. My mother took over the job when he died of consumption five years ago.”
Katie sipped her tea. “When did you find out that you were really Julia?”
“Not yet two weeks ago. The day before I came here.” A lifetime ago. All she thought she knew, the memories, the heritage, was gone. Her future was just as uncertain.
“Does Mr. Eaton know?” Katie asked.
Addie shook her head. “No one knows but Mr. Driscoll. And Lieutenant North.”
“Why haven’t you told Henry?” Mrs. Russell asked.
Addie bit her lip. “Mr. Driscoll wants to find out who had paid for my upkeep all these years. He thought keeping quiet would be best, until we found out what was going on.”
Mrs. Russell stared into space. “Laura came to me the day before she left. She said she’d discovered something terrible. Something she couldn’t live with.”
“Did she say what it was?”
Mrs. Russell shook her head. “She refused to tell me. She promised to write, but I never heard from her after that.” Her voice grew choked, and she pulled a flowered hankie from her sleeve and wiped her eyes. Her lips thinned. “Rumors went around town that she was crazy. That girl was the most sane person I knew. Something dreadful happened. You can count on us, my dear. We will defend you with our last breath. Isn’t that so, Katie?”
“Absolutely,” Katie said. Her blue eyes glowed.
Why had Addie even questioned the Lord’s prompting? He had always guided her. Having friends infused her with new strength.
What a way to end a day off. Addie would rather not have had to face her mother. The foghorn sounded as the sun sank over the ocean, and it would have been a lovely sound to Addie if she’d been sure of her welcome. The glare from the lighthouse washed out over the white foam hitting the rocks. She inhaled the salty air.
Her stomach plunged. She turned and glanced at the lighthouse. Addie waved. What would she call her now? Mama? Josephine? Addie wished she’d never come.
Her mother waved back and navigated the rocky path from the lighthouse to the buggy where they stood. “Girlie, you don’t look any the worse for wear.”
“I’m not,” she said, hugging her mother before she could help herself. Josephine held herself stiffly as always, her arms at her sides.
“Come along,” her mother said, stepping away almost before Addie had a chance to inhale the familiar scent of kerosene that clu
ng to her mother’s clothing.
Neither she nor her mother spoke until they were settled in the parlor with a plate of cookies and milk. The cookies were fresh, and she knew Josephine had made them just for her. The cold milk left a creamy taste on her tongue that banished the bitterness of facing a mother who disliked her.
“What have you discovered, Addie?” her mother asked. “Do you know yet who paid for your upkeep?”
“Not yet. Mr. Eaton is a man who demands his own way. He’s married to my mother’s sister, Clara.” She wanted to call back the title “mother” when she saw Josephine wince. Though the woman had hurt her, Addie didn’t want to cause any pain. “She enjoys the money and privilege. Lieutenant North was married to her daughter, Katherine. She died in a trolley accident three years ago.”
“Does anyone suspect who you are?”
“I told John two days ago. My employer,” she added.
Josephine gave her a sharp look. “John? He has given you permission to use his first name?”
She bit her lip. “Not exactly.” She rushed on to change the subject. “Did you want to see me for a special reason?”
“You’re my daughter. Isn’t that enough?”
“You’ve never really accepted me as your child. That much is finally clear to me.”
Josephine’s lips tightened. “And I regret that. I was too harsh, girlie. Your father frowned at me from heaven.”
“I tried everything to make you love me.” Addie’s throat closed.
Her mother sniffed. “Love can’t be forced. We are too different. You have a tender heart. I fear the Eatons will try to mold you into one of them. Your father would hate that.”
“I’ll still be his daughter. They can’t take out what he put in.”
“Power has a way of corrupting, and few people are immune.”
She laughed. “Power? That’s hardly a situation I’ll discover myself in. When Mr. Eaton finds out the truth, he’ll be more likely to discharge me.”
“You’re his flesh and blood, Addie. That means a lot to a man like him.”
“Edward is much more likely to be the apple of his grandfather’s eye.”
“What is your evaluation of Henry Eaton?”
Addie stiffened. What was the point of all this questioning? “He is nothing like Papa. He’s loud and flamboyant. Likes all the toys his money can buy. Why, he even has an automobile! The house is filled with things. Expensive paintings and figurines. Silk lampshades and sofas. Rugs that cost the earth.”
Josephine gave a disapproving humph. “Sounds too grand for the likes of you. Do you feel out of place?”
She considered the question. “Not really. I’ve been too busy trying to see what I could find out.”
“It doesn’t appear you discovered much.”
“I will, though.”
Josephine glanced at the clock, then rose. “Need to wind the light,” she said.
“I’ll come with you.” Addie followed her out the back and to the door leading to the light tower. The metal steps clanged under their feet as they ascended. Josephine checked the kerosene light and filled it, then pulled the chain on the clockwork mechanism that rotated the lens.
“All set for two hours,” she said. She squinted in the twilight. “That railing needs to be secured better. It’s about to fall off.”
Addie studied Josephine’s face. “Why did you really ask me to come?”
Josephine pressed her lips together. “Someone broke in before I left Battery Point. Whoever it was riffled through Roy’s desk. I fear it had something to do with you.”
Addie raised her hand to her throat. “Was anything taken?”
Josephine shook her head. “Not money. I think some of the things Roy had saved about your situation are missing, but I’m not sure.”
“They took no valuables?”
Josephine laughed. “What was there to take? I have no valuables, girlie.”
“Your wedding ring and Papa’s watch.”
“They were in the lap drawer. The intruder left those.”
The wind picked up as the sun sank in the west. Addie’s dress billowed as they started back to the front of the house. “So it didn’t appear to be a normal break-in,” Addie pressed.
Josephine gripped her arm. “I admit I’m frightened.”
“You weren’t harmed?”
“I wasn’t home. That’s why I decided to take this station. It’s closer to town and has a few more neighbors.”
Addie had never known Josephine to show fear, not even in the face of a howling storm. She prayed for Josephine’s safety as they walked through wisps of fog swirling about their feet.
TWENTY
BY THE TIME Addie returned to Eaton Manor, it was time for Edward’s evening meal, but he wasn’t in his room. Addie checked the playroom, then the bathroom. No small boy. After yesterday’s scare, he wouldn’t be outside. The servants now guarded the doors. Her fingers trailed along the smooth redwood of the banister on her way to the first floor. She stopped his nurse, who was carrying a basket of Edward’s laundry toward the back kitchen, and asked if she’d seen Edward. The nurse told her he was in his grandfather’s study.
Mr. Eaton was in the salon, having his evening claret. He would not take kindly to his grandson’s intrusion. Addie went past the drawing room to the third door on the left. Mr. Eaton’s study. Peeking past the open paneled door, she saw Edward seated behind the polished desk. “Edward, what are you doing in here?” she asked, approaching.
“Looking for Gideon,” the boy said. “I couldn’t find him anywhere.” He stood and clapped his hands, and Gideon padded to him.
She held out her hand. “Come, dear, before your granddad finds you in here. I suspect he wouldn’t be pleased.”
A picture on a shelf of the bookcase caught her eye, one she hadn’t seen last time she was in here. She picked it up. A young woman in a white dress sat on the porch steps with a small girl in her lap. Addie caught her breath and stared into the child’s face. The curly hair, the wide eyes, even the dimple in the right cheek told her she was looking at herself. She saw the same dimple on the woman’s face, but her hair appeared lighter and straighter, her face more rounded.
Her mother. The certainty grew along with the lump in her throat.
A locket around the woman’s neck caught her attention, and Addie’s fingers outlined the one nestled inside her dress. She tugged it out, and the heat of her skin warmed it in her hand. Every flourish, every detail, was as familiar to her as the lines in her palm.
Gideon whined, then began to bark. She turned from the desk in time to see the dog take hold of the waist of Edward’s pants and tug him to the ground. “Edward, are you all right?”
The dog licked Edward’s face, and the boy giggled. When he started to get up, Gideon nudged him, then put his paws on the lad’s chest. Edward lay down, and his smile faded.
“I don’t feel good,” he mumbled.
She dropped to her knees beside him. “Edward?” His hand grabbed at her as his eyes rolled back in his head.
“Help! Somebody help!” she shouted. With the boy cradled in her lap, she breathed a quick prayer. Was this another episode of epilepsy or something else?
Footsteps pounded in the hall. Mr. Eaton careened through the door with his hair tousled. “What is it?” His gaze went to his grandson. “He’s having a fit!” He fell to his knees and pulled the boy off her lap to lie flat on the floor.
As Mr. Eaton slid Edward away, Addie felt a pain in her neck and realized the child had her locket clutched in his hand. The chain gave way, and the pain subsided, but the necklace dangled from Edward’s clenched fingers.
“There, my boy,” Mr. Eaton said, smoothing the hair back from his grandson’s forehead. “Wake up, Edward.”
The child’s eyelids fluttered, but he didn’t awaken. His hand flailed, and the gold chain hit Mr. Eaton in the cheek. Addie gasped and tried to grab it, but the man’s fingers pried it from the lad’s fist fir
st.
Mr. Eaton stilled as he examined the locket. “Where did he get this?” he demanded.
Addie put her hands to her throat, where the skin burned. She couldn’t force a word past her dry lips. Waves of heat rose in her chest.
“It’s yours?”
“It was my mother’s,” she said.
His fingers clenched around the locket. “Your mother’s,” he echoed. “Who are you?”
“Addie Sullivan.”
He pried open the locket to reveal the picture inside. “This is Vera’s picture in your locket.” His voice was hoarse.
His eyes widened, and his gaze went back to her face. “Where did you come from?”
Should she tell him everything she knew? She eyed his tight mouth. He might throw her out. “The man I know as my father was a lightkeeper. I grew up at Battery Point.” She caught herself before she revealed Mr. Driscoll’s involvement. “My mother recently revealed that my father found me after a shipwreck.”
Mr. Eaton gasped and reared back. “Laura,” he whispered. “My dear Laura.” Moisture filled his eyes.
His obvious emotion brought tears to her eyes. Everything she’d heard was true. He’d loved her mother very much, but what about her? “That necklace was around my neck.”
“So you’re . . . Julia?”
She swallowed past the tight muscles in her throat and searched his expression for a hint of joy. “I suspect that is so.”
Sternness replaced the longing in his eyes. “Is this a scheme to take my money?” he asked. “How did you get this locket? The truth, now!”
“I told you everything I know, sir,” she whispered. “My mother swears it is so. I myself have no memory of that night, though I have a dreadful fear of storms.”
“It might be true,” he said. He glanced at the still-sleeping Edward, then stumbled to his feet. “Your father. I must speak with him.”
“He died of consumption five years ago. My mother took over for him, but she transferred to Mercy Point Lighthouse this week. Her name is Josephine Sullivan.” She touched Edward’s warm cheek. “What of Edward?”
“He will awaken soon. I’ll send his grandmother to him. I want you to come with me.”
The Lightkeeper's Daughter Page 14
