The Bracelet: A Novel

by Dorothy Love

  “Worrying about it won’t change anything, Uncle David,” Ivy said.

  “You’re right about that. No sense in borrowing trouble.”

  Sutton smiled and changed the subject. “So what about you, Ivy? Have you chosen your costume for my party yet? It’s only two weeks away.”

  “I’m not sure I will attend.” Ivy pushed her plate away.

  “Oh, but you must,” Sutton said. “I’ll be terribly disappointed if you don’t.”

  Ivy brightened. “You will?”

  “Yes, indeed. The whole evening will be much more enjoyable if you’re there. Won’t it, Celia?”

  “Of course.” Celia sent her cousin an encouraging smile. “Besides, Ivy has been so much help with the planning, it would be a shame for her not to see how everything turns out.”

  Brows raised, Papa helped himself to another glass of Madeira. “Dare I ask how many guests we are expecting?”

  “Fewer than a hundred,” Celia said. “Only our closest friends—and Sutton’s, of course. We’ve arranged for the flowers and the musicians, and several of Mrs. Maguire’s friends are helping with the food. It will be simple fare that can be served on the terrace. That way we can keep the ballroom clear for the dancing and the promenade. And—”

  Celia stopped, suddenly aware of Sutton’s intense gaze. “What’s the matter? Have I forgotten something? Do I have gravy on my nose?”

  “Not a thing, I was just marveling at what an accomplished hostess you’ve become.”

  “Losing my mother so soon, I’ve had lots of practice.” Celia looked up at the life-size portrait of her mother hanging above the fireplace. With her dark hair and violet eyes and her stylish entertainments, Francesca Butler Browning had been widely admired as the most beautiful woman and the most accomplished hostess in the Georgia Lowcountry. Celia had inherited her mother’s sense of style and her unusual coloring. As she grew into womanhood, people had often remarked upon the close resemblance.

  Mrs. Maguire came in with the coffee service and a coconut cake. “I’ve brought your afters.”

  The four waited while the housekeeper cleared the dishes and served the dessert. At last she draped a linen towel over the tray of dishes and lifted it.

  “This looks wonderful, Mrs. Maguire.” Papa picked up his silver dessert fork. “Thank you. Dinner was delicious.”

  “Indeed,” Sutton said. “I enjoyed every bite, Mrs. Maguire.”

  “’Twas my pleasure, I’m sure.”

  When she had gone, Sutton sipped his coffee and regarded Celia over the top of his cup. “What about you, our esteemed hostess? What kind of costume do you have in mind for the masquerade?”

  Celia hesitated. She had meant to broach the subject with Papa in private, but perhaps this was as good a time as any. She turned to him now. “Do you remember the gold silk costume Mama wore to the Christmas ball the year you and she went as Antony and Cleopatra?”

  “I do indeed. Your mother looked every inch the queen. I wish now I’d had her portrait painted in that gown. It was quite remarkable.” He smiled. “Though I also recall her complaining about the weight of it.”

  “I was thinking I might wear it.” Celia watched Papa’s face. He was unlikely to deny her wishes, but she would attend the party in rags before hurting him. “But I won’t if it would make you sad.”

  “On the contrary.” Papa set down his fork. “I would enjoy the sight of a beautiful girl in a beautiful gown. Remind me, and I’ll fetch your mother’s diamond necklace from the bank vault.”

  Celia pushed back her chair and rounded the massive table to embrace her father. Sutton rose with her.

  “Thank you, Papa. I’ll be careful with it. I know how much it means to you.”

  “The necklace was my gift to my wife upon our engagement,” Papa told Sutton. “One day it will be Celia’s, of course.”

  “And Celia will look like a queen as well,” Sutton said, his eyes warm with affection.

  “So long as she doesn’t confuse the role with reality.” Ivy spoke lightly, but Celia detected a veiled barb in her cousin’s voice. “Anyway, I’m sure the two of you will make a splendid pair.”

  “I’ll have a hard time coming up with a costume worthy of her,” Sutton said.

  “I don’t care if you come dressed as a rag picker.” Celia looped an arm through his. “I’m simply glad to have you home.”

  Papa rose. “Would you care for a cheroot and a brandy in the library, Sutton?”

  “Thank you, but I promised Mother I’d be home early. She’s worried about Father.”

  “He did seem a bit under the weather when I saw him at the club yesterday. Perhaps he needs a few days away from Commerce Row to rest.”

  “Mother and I have both suggested as much, but he won’t hear of it. After so many business failures last year, he’s afraid to take his eyes off our interests for even a day.”

  Celia felt a stab of sympathy for Mr. Mackay. Last year’s financial crisis had dried up many sources of credit for the cotton trade, forcing nearly a hundred Savannah businesses—including factors’ houses, insurance companies, even the main branch of the Bank of Georgia—to fail. Papa had been terribly worried about Browning Shipping Company too. She didn’t blame Mr. Mackay for his diligence. But she worried about him for Sutton’s sake.

  The four of them moved from the dining room to the entry hall, where Sutton retrieved his hat and thanked them again for dinner.

  “Sutton, can you wait a moment?” Ivy asked. “I have a present for you.”

  He laughed. “I always have time for a present, but what’s the occasion?”

  “Just a little something to welcome you home. I won’t take a moment.” Ivy hurried up the stairs and soon returned with the red woolen scarf she’d spent the last weeks knitting. “Sorry I didn’t have time to wrap it up. I finished it only this afternoon.”

  Sutton’s brow furrowed as he ran his fingers over the wool. “Well, it’s wonderful, and I sincerely appreciate it. But I . . .”

  Her face fell. “You don’t like it. I can tell.”

  “I do like it, and it was very kind of you to go to so much trouble.” He lifted Ivy’s hand and kissed it. “I’ve always thought of you as the sister I never had. Sweet and generous. And now, every time I wear this scarf, I’ll think of you.”

  He turned to Celia. “Will I see you tomorrow at church?”

  “Of course.”

  “Celia wants to ride her horse tomorrow,” Papa said. “Perhaps you’d like to join us at the track after church?”

  “I’d love to. Poseidon and I need to get to know each other again after all this time. And I’ve been looking forward to meeting your Zeus.”

  “I can’t wait for you to see him,” Celia said. “He’s quite wonderful, but more spirited than I expected. He gets hard to handle if he’s idle for too long. The boys at the track take him out every day, but I’d rather do it myself. And lately I’ve neglected him.”

  “We’ll give him a good long workout tomorrow,” Sutton promised.

  They said their farewells. Celia watched from the front door as Sutton set off toward his home on Lafayette Square, the red scarf draped jauntily about his shoulders.

  Sitting between her father and Ivy the next morning in their pew at St. John’s Church, Celia turned to look over her shoulder. Where was Sutton? All night she had tossed and turned, too excited about the prospect of an afternoon ride with him to sleep. Since his return they had had only a few moments alone. It seemed something always happened to keep them apart.

  The service continued, and she forced herself to concentrate on the familiar prayers and the hymns, made all the more beautiful by the sound of her father’s rich baritone. Beside her, Ivy mouthed the words, but no sound came out. No doubt her thoughts were on other things as well. Maybe she had decided to attend the ball after all and was mulling over her costume choices. Or was she disappointed that Sutton had not seemed more excited about her gift?

  Celia rose
with the other worshipers for the final hymn and stole a glance at her cousin. Ivy had taken particular care with her hair this morning, fashioning her shining blond locks into a mass of ringlets that brushed her shoulders and set off the black lace shawl pinned with the cameo brooch Papa had given her for Christmas last year. At twenty-five, Ivy was an attractive woman, well-read and with a fine education. There was no reason, apart from her prickly nature, why she could not find a suitable match.

  Celia gathered her own shawl and reticule and followed her father up the aisle and into the church yard, Ivy trailing behind them.

  “Celia, there you are. I was hoping to see you this morning.” Sarah Lawton made her way to Celia’s side and clasped her hand. “I don’t have but a moment, my dear. Alexander is waiting in the carriage, and I must get home to the baby, but I desperately need a favor.”

  “Anything.” Celia regarded the older woman with affection. Mrs. Lawton was everything Celia herself hoped to be—gracious, compassionate, and beautiful even in maturity. With her copper-colored curls and bright blue eyes, Mrs. Lawton looked far younger than her thirty-odd years.

  “You remember, of course, that Nellie Gordon is about to become a mother,” Mrs. Lawton said.

  “Yes. Any day now, or so Mrs. Wade said just before the service this morning.”

  “I had so counted on Mrs. Gordon to finish collecting for the Christmas drive for the Poor House and Hospital, but with both of us confined these past months, I’m afraid we’ve fallen behind.”

  Celia nodded absently and peered over Mrs. Lawton’s shoulder, hoping to spot Sutton. Clouds were building, promising rain, and she wanted to finish working Zeus before the weather changed.

  “Nellie has done much of the preliminary work,” Mrs. Lawton continued. “It’s mostly a matter of collecting the promised donations and delivering them to the hospital in time for Christmas. I know you’re working on the fund-raising for the Female Asylum and helping Mrs. Clayton with that new young woman too. But could you possibly take on one more thing?”

  Though Celia dreaded the prospect of anything that would take more of her time away from Sutton, she couldn’t disappoint a woman she so ardently admired. “Of course,” she said.

  “Oh, my dear, I am so relieved.” Mrs. Lawton’s eyes shone. “Sometimes it seems we will never catch up after being away all summer. I’ll bring the list by in a day or two. Perhaps Ivy will lend a hand.”

  “Doing what?” Ivy halted beside them and bobbed her head at Mrs. Lawton. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning, Ivy. Your cousin has just agreed to deliver Christmas to the poor unfortunates at the hospital.” Mrs. Lawton patted Celia’s gloved hand. “I wonder whether Savannah fully appreciates what a dedicated young woman she is.”

  “Well, Uncle David and I are certainly proud of her,” Ivy said. “I can’t begin to keep up with her.” She inclined her head to indicate the older woman’s colorful jeweled necklace. “What a beautiful piece. I don’t think I’ve seen anything quite like it.”

  “It was an anniversary gift from Alexander.” Mrs. Lawton unfastened it and draped it over her gloved palm. Six square-cut jewels in a variety of colors glittered in the light. “The first letter in the name of each jewel spells out a message. Amethyst, diamond, opal, ruby, emerald, diamond. A-d-o-r-e-d.” She blushed like a schoolgirl. “His way of telling me he loves me.”

  “How very clever,” Ivy said.

  “Isn’t it just? They say it’s becoming quite the custom these days. I read an article about it in the Lady’s Book this summer. ‘The Secret Language of Jewels’—perhaps you saw it?” Mrs. Lawton refastened her necklace and planted a swift kiss on Celia’s cheek. “I must go before Alexander sends out the police to search for me. Thank you again, my dear. You have taken quite a load off my mind.”

  Celia waved as Mrs. Lawton crossed the church yard. Most everyone else had gone, save a young couple with two small children in tow, Papa, and his banker, Mr. Waring.

  Ivy looked around. “I wonder what happened to Sutton.”

  “I don’t know. It isn’t like him to break an engagement. I’m worried that perhaps his father has fallen ill.”

  Ivy’s expression grew serious. “That thought crossed my mind too. But surely Sutton would have sent word to us if that were the case.”

  “Maybe he was too late for church and is waiting for me at home.” Celia gathered her skirts, and they crossed the yard to the carriage, where Joseph waited to drive them the short distance home. “Even if he isn’t there, I still want to ride Zeus. I’ve missed him.”

  Ivy grinned. “You and that horse. What a pair.”

  “You should come with us.” For some reason Ivy’s mood had turned sunny, and Celia wanted to make the most of it.

  “Thank you, but no. It’s my turn to read with Louisa this week, and I want to choose a book for her.”

  “Maybe you’ll have better luck than I did. The girl seems to have arrived here with an agenda that does not include improving her mind.”

  Papa concluded his conversation with the banker and helped the cousins into the carriage before climbing in and settling on the seat opposite them. One look at his face told Celia the conversation had not been a pleasant one.

  “Something the matter, Papa?”

  “Nothing that can’t be remedied.” He smiled, but she was not convinced. “Would you mind terribly if I begged off from the trip to the track this afternoon? I promised to meet with Mr. Waring again tomorrow, and I need some time to prepare.”

  “Of course not. Are you sure there’s nothing wrong? Sutton didn’t come to church as promised, and now this—I can’t help but feel you’re both keeping bad news from me.”

  Papa sighed. “This discussion is to remain within the confines of this carriage.”

  “Of course, Uncle David.” Ivy reached across to pat his hand.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “One of the Mackays’ ships is overdue and feared lost.”

  Celia’s stomach lurched. “Maybe it encountered bad weather and put into port somewhere. Sutton said one of their ships had to wait out a bad storm last year that put him almost a week behind schedule.”

  “Even if that were the case, it should have been here by now. Cyrus Wheaton’s captain brought in his brig last night and reported sighting debris off the North Carolina coast.”

  Ivy smoothed her skirt. “I can see why the Mackays would be worried. But what has this to do with you, Uncle David?”

  “I guaranteed the loan Burke Mackay took out for that shipment. Or a good part of it, anyway.”

  “Through the safe fund?” Celia asked. Some time ago Papa had told her of the money the elite men of Savannah kept aside to lend out when one of their number encountered financial difficulties.

  “No. Burke refused to ask for help from the fund. He came to me privately and asked me to guarantee his loan at the bank. He didn’t want Sutton to know the company is in trouble. But the cat is out of the bag now, of course.”

  “Won’t the insurance company pay for the loss?” Celia asked.

  “The company went bankrupt last fall. Burke intended to buy a new policy, but so many insurance companies failed last year that the few that are left are charging outrageous premiums. Burke decided to take a chance on this one shipment. Now it looks as if both the schooner and the cargo are lost.”

  “And the bank is looking to you to absorb the loss,” Celia said.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Can we weather such a loss, Papa?”

  “That’s for me to worry about.”

  “Poor Sutton,” Ivy murmured. “No wonder he didn’t feel like showing up for church.”

  The carriage drew up at the door.

  “Remember,” Papa said, handing Celia and Ivy out of the carriage. “Not a word of this to anyone.”

  “Of course not.” Celia kissed his cheek.

  Papa’s blue eyes held hers. “You are not to let this news spoil your day, darling
. Joseph will drive you out to the track when you’re ready. The Warings’ daughter is going riding too. The groom is there now, taking care of the horses. He’ll help you tack up Zeus if Sutton doesn’t make it.”

  “All right.” She tried to smile as she mounted the steps to the front door, but the joy had gone out of the day. Anything that worried Papa worried her. And now she was concerned for Sutton too.

  Mackay Shipping Company was his life. His passion. His hope for their future. What would happen if it all fell away?

  5

  CELIA CHANGED INTO HER RIDING CLOTHES AND HURRIED downstairs. The house was quiet. Mrs. Maguire had left early for mass and now was off on her usual Sunday afternoon visit with friends. Ivy had retired to her room. The door to Papa’s library was firmly closed.

  Joseph was waiting at the gate. He handed her into the carriage and fixed her with a baleful stare. “Not a fit day to go riding, Miss Celia. We gon’ have rain ’fore this day is done.”

  “I’m afraid you’re right, but I haven’t had a chance to ride in days. Maybe the rain will hold off for a while.”

  “Maybe so.” The driver climbed up, spoke to the horses, and they began the three-mile drive to the track. The Ten Broeck Race Course had opened last year to much fanfare. The track formed a large oval anchored on one side by a long, low grandstand. On the upper level a sheltered platform provided a viewing stand and a judges’ booth. Down below were sheds where horses were stabled or readied for races. The Brownings had attended a few races, but Celia preferred solitude to the noisy confusion of race day. The deep woods surrounding the track provided a tranquil place for riding.

  The stables were roomy enough, and clean, but Celia disliked having Zeus kept so far from home. After they’d acquired her beloved gelding, Papa had mentioned razing the boarded-up carriage house behind their house to build a proper stable for Zeus and for the family’s carriage and horses. But so far that hadn’t happened. Papa paid Joseph to look into the carriage horses at Mr. Sweeney’s livery. But Mr. Sweeney, who ran the best livery in town, didn’t have room for Zeus.