by Dorothy Love
Celia reached into her pocket for her handkerchief, and her fingers brushed the envelope that had arrived this morning. She tore it open.
Celia,
We are safely arrived in Havana. Louisa was ill for a good part of the journey but seems recovered now that we are once again on dry land. At present we are at a small hotel near the waterfront, but it is not an acceptable accommodation for the long term. I hesitate to bring this up, but our situation demands that I have whatever funds might be coming to me from Uncle David’s estate after he has passed on. Is he still alive? Or sleeping now with the saints? You can send money in care of the Hotel Tropicale.
On the voyage here I had time to read some of my old books. Remember when we were at the academy and struggling to make sense of the plays of Jean Racine? We laughed at his tragic heroines so blinded by love they couldn’t see that their affections were not returned, and we wondered how any modern girl could be so lacking in discernment. And yet that is precisely what happened to me. Of course you’re right that nobody can make another person love them, but I stood to lose everyone who mattered to me. I had to try.
I see now that it was hopeless. Sutton was never mine to lose.
Halfway through our voyage, our progress was halted for a day when the Percival was becalmed. I found myself with even more time than usual on my hands. Louisa was too ill to accompany me onto the deck, so I spent the day alone with my book of Mr. Shakespeare’s plays, skipping from comedy to tragedy to sonnets hoping to read something that would soothe my restless spirit. Don’t you find, Celia, that he was a genius in his ability to express so perfectly the yearnings of the human heart? . . .
“Celia?” Sutton strode across the wharf and linked her arm through his. “We’re almost ready to sail. Shall we go aboard?”
Celia tucked the letter away to finish later and smiled up at her husband. “I’m ready.”
Once they were underway, she would write to Ivy and tell her everything. It was just like Ivy to be scheming, planning ahead for her own benefit with little consideration for Celia’s own feelings. Still, Ivy was in for a shock. And despite it all, she deserved the truth. Perhaps learning about her parents and about Michael Gleason, who certainly must have seemed like Ivy’s last chance at love, would make a difference.
They went up the creaking gangplank, and Sutton showed her the accommodation he’d expanded just for the two of them. Situated amidships to maximize comfort in high seas, the cabin still smelled of new varnish. It was not overly spacious, but it was large enough for a feather bed, a small table and chairs, and a chest of drawers. Rectangular windows brought in the clear January light and framed her view of the wharf and the city beyond.
“This isn’t exactly Madison Square, but it will be home until we reach Liverpool,” Sutton said. “Do you like it?”
“It’s perfect.”
He smiled. “I hope you’ll still think so when the heavy weather hits. Shall we go up on deck?”
They joined several crew members at the stern of the ship. Standing beside Sutton watching the lacy whitecaps, the lengthening afternoon shadows, the winter light luminous above the river, everything suddenly quiet except for the lapping of water against the wooden pilings, Celia thought again of everything that had happened to her family, of the questions that would never be fully answered.
At times she felt as if the Brownings had been singled out for trouble. But the truth was that sooner or later misfortune visited every house. Grief and loss were the price one paid for being alive. Spending her days wary and afraid would only rob her of the good things life had to offer, of the thousand small pleasures just waiting to be discovered. Her imagination glowed with anticipation of all she and Sutton would share.
The breeze came up, chilling her face. And she felt new again, ready to let go of old worries and resentments and to embrace whatever came next. She didn’t want to wake up some morning fifty years from now and realize she’d mired herself in the past and missed out on everything that made life worthwhile.
The sails unfurled and filled. The ship rocked on the gentle pulse of the river, settling between the wind and the tide. In the company of a Danish brig bound for Copenhagen, the Celia B moved slowly toward the sea.
Turning, Celia saw that the balconies of the stores and countinghouses along Commerce Row were crowded with people waving hats and handkerchiefs in farewell.
Sutton drew her to his side. “Take one last look, darling. One last look at home.”
Celia wrapped both arms around her husband. “As long as I’m with you, Sutton Mackay, I am home.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
DEAR READERS,
You’ve probably noticed that in addition to all of the elements you’ve come to expect from my novels—romance, history, and mystery—The Bracelet contains an extra measure of suspense. But the suspense is based on history as well.
On March 27, 1860, Matilda Moxley Sorrel, wife of wealthy Savannah businessman Francis Sorrel, plunged to her death from the second-floor balcony of a house similar to my fictional one. Stories circulated in Savannah that Mrs. Sorrel had taken her life after learning of her husband’s liaison with one of the house servants, a girl called Molly who was said to have been found two weeks later, hanged in the carriage house on the property. Though there seems to be no credible evidence for Molly’s existence, Mrs. Sorrel’s tragic death is a matter of historical record. Today the story of Matilda and Molly has passed into legend and serves as a ghost tale for visitors to Savannah’s Sorrel-Weed House.
Though the Brownings and the Mackays are fictional (there was a prominent family of Mackays in Savannah, but none are portrayed here), many of Celia’s friends mentioned in the book were actual persons, among them Mrs. Stiles, Mrs. Low, Nellie Kinzie Gordon (mother of Girl Scouts founder Juliette Low), and Mrs. Lawton. The Savannah Asylum for Orphan Girls was a real place, as was the Pulaski Hotel, the Ten Broeck Race Course, and the Savannah Poor House and Hospital. And there really was a Captain Stevens who owned cargo boats that traveled between Savannah and the sea islands. The story of Charlie Lamar and the slave ship Wanderer is also true.
My second inspiration for this novel comes from a Victorian custom in which gentlemen sent hidden messages to their sweethearts through the language of the jewels. A suitor might send a brooch or a bracelet set with jewels, and the first letters in the jewels’ names would spell out such endearments as “adored” or “dear.” As you saw, Celia Browning received such a gift, but with a less than endearing message. The blending of this custom with the stories of Matilda and Molly resulted in the book you’re now holding.
I hope you enjoyed Celia’s story. You’ll meet her again when my next historical romantic suspense novel is released in 2015. Until then, thank you for choosing The Bracelet.
Warmest wishes,
Dorothy
READING GROUP GUIDE
1. Though Celia enjoys her station in life, she also chafes against the expectations of her family and her circle of friends. Ivy, too, is affected by societal norms. What roles do expectations play for each of the characters in this novel? Have you ever felt constrained or inspired by your family’s wishes or the norms of your community?
2. The relationship between Ivy and Celia is a complicated one. Which woman do you think understands the other more completely? Why?
3. Celia’s home on Madison Square represents very different things to Celia and Ivy. What do you think the house means to each of them?
4. Ivy believes that the Brownings have provided her with opportunity, but not love. Do you agree? Why or why not?
5. Celia decides to pursue the truth about her family’s past, even if her discovery proves uncomfortable. How is Celia changed by what she finds out? Have you ever discovered something in your own past that altered your perception of people and events?
6. What is Leo Channing’s role in the story? Do you think his personal circumstances justified his actions? Why or why not?
7. Were Mr. Br
owning and Mrs. Maguire justified in keeping the family secrets once Celia was an adult? In similar circumstances, would you want to know the details?
8. At her father’s funeral, Celia wonders how her father dealt with the secrets he kept. Was there a price he paid for his silence? What do you think?
9. In her diary, Aunt Eugenia states that she has become a secret abolitionist. What were her reasons for this statement? Does the depiction of the antebellum South in this book differ from your assumptions?
10. In what way is the city of Savannah itself a character in the novel?
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’M GRATEFUL TO EVERY MEMBER OF MY PUBLISHING TEAM for their encouragement and enthusiasm for this book. Two years ago, I pitched the idea for The Bracelet to my publisher, the amazing Daisy Hutton, who immediately told me to go for it. Thank you, Daisy. My editors, Becky Philpott and Anne Christian Buchanan, always make my work stronger, for which I am very grateful. Kristen Vasgaard, this cover is truly exceptional. Thank you! Thanks as well to my marketing team, my sales teams, and to everyone who works behind the scenes to bring my books to life. Working with you is my great joy.
Thank you to the incomparable Natasha Kern, who read an early draft of this book and made valuable suggestions. Natasha, I’m so glad you’re taking this publishing ride with me.
During the writing of this book, I said good-bye to Major, my beloved twelve-year-old golden retriever, who came into my life as a seven-week-old puppy and who gave me joy every day of his life. Though goldens were first bred in the late 1800s, they were not shown until 1908 and were not recognized as an established breed until 1913—too late for Celia’s little puppy, Maxwell, to be specifically identified as a golden retriever. But it was my Major who inspired the creation of Maxwell, and in the pages of this book, Major lives on.
To my author friends, whose humor and wisdom delight me every day, and to my family, thank you. I love you all.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A NATIVE OF WEST TENNESSEE, DOROTHY LOVE MAKES HER home in the Texas hill country with her husband and their golden retriever. An award-winning author of numerous young adult novels, Dorothy made her adult debut with the Hickory Ridge novels.
