“Who combs your hair?” I asked as we went out of the room.
She tossed her head resentfully. “I do. When I please. Mrs. Crawford is supposed to, but she hurts me, so I manage myself.”
This was something I might be able to change, I thought, but this was not the moment to suggest it.
When we reached the front parlor we found the others there and waiting. Mrs. McLean sat beside Mr. Osgood on the rosewood sofa. The shell carving of its back lifted behind her head in a lovely curved line—in contrast to her own stiff lack of grace. Mr. Osgood was large and more than portly and his bulk was lodged solidly beside her on the horsehair upholstering. An oval-topped table inlaid with mother-of-pearl had been drawn up for his use and upon it he rested a portfolio of papers. Brock stood near a window on the far side of the room, and at sight of him my attention quickened distressingly. I would have preferred to be less intensely conscious of the man who was my husband.
Nearby sat the captain’s wife, her unbound feet placed neatly side by side in their embroidered slippers, visible beneath the wide fall of satin trousers. Her head was slightly bent so that her face seemed foreshortened, her eyes hidden by powdered lids, her mouth a tightly folded red flower. What was she really like, this woman of China? I wondered. What did she think and feel? By what approach might she be reached?
Mr. Osgood had risen as Laurel and I came into the room. Mrs. McLean fixed me with her usual air of antipathy, while Lien did not look up at all. When Brock had seated me, he returned to the window and stood staring out across the veranda toward the road, as if he intended to show indifference for whatever the captain had done. Clearly he wished himself elsewhere and was here only because his presence was required. His mother, on the contrary, seemed fiercely involved and now and then she cast a look of repudiation at the silent, waiting Chinese woman.
Laurel curled herself upon a brocaded ottoman in the manner of one about to attend a play, and was very still, lest she be sent away. Once or twice she smiled rather shyly at Lien—almost as though she congratulated her on what was to come, perhaps allying herself deliberately against her father and grandmother. Lien, however, gave no sign that she noticed.
It was quickly evident that Mr. Osgood was in anything but a good humor. He bowed to me curtly, his manner implying that I had kept him waiting. When I was seated he took his place beside Sybil McLean and fumbled among the papers before him. In spite of resenting delay, he seemed to be postponing an unpleasant duty. In fact, he sat so long considering his words, that Brock turned impatiently from the window.
“Let’s get on with it, sir,” he said. “I’ve work waiting for me.”
The lawyer reproved him with a glance. “I must make it clear to you, Mr. McLean, and to Mrs. Bascomb—” he turned his look upon Lien, who stared at a ring of rose jade she wore on one finger, “—that I do not approve of such steps as Captain Bascomb took before his death. I understand the reason for them—to a degree—but I advised him against such risk. I would have preferred—and I so informed him—to have him make over the bulk of his estate to you at once, Mr. McLean, since that was his eventual intent. But he insisted that certain stipulations must be met first. Namely, of course, your marriage to the daughter of Carrie and Nathaniel Heath. While he accomplished this intention, it was his misfortune to die before the will could be changed to read as he intended.”
“We know all this, sir.” Again Brock spoke impatiently. “What is done cannot be undone. The sooner the matter is made clear, the sooner we can all rearrange our lives.” His gaze rested briefly upon Lien’s glossy black head and at once moved away.
What would she do, I wondered idly—this alien woman set down in stony New England soil—once she had power and wealth in her hands? Would she turn us all out and destroy Bascomb & Company? Somehow I could not care a great deal.
“Perhaps you do not as yet know everything,” Mr. Osgood assured Brock curtly. “I will read you the captain’s wishes and then you will understand.”
As his voice droned into the legal terms, my attention wandered back to my own problems and how I was to solve them. The account Ian had given me of what had happened aboard the Sea Jade satisfied me no more than what Brock had told me. I thought again of the seaman, Tom Henderson, and his claim to knowledge that might interest me. I disliked and feared the man, but nevertheless I would now have to talk to him. And soon, before he decided to leave Scots Harbor. A resolve began to form in my mind. This very afternoon I would go down to the ship and find out what might be learned from him. Since he was the only source of information to which I could turn, then I must see him at once …
Mrs. McLean’s gasp startled me from my thoughts and I realized that Mr. Osgood had spoken my name. He did not call me “Miranda McLean,” but had used the name of Heath.
I looked at him inquiringly. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t listening,” I said.
His exasperation was probably justified. He glared at me, blew his nose loudly with a large linen handkerchief, and retraced his steps through the last paragraph he had read aloud. This time the astonishing import was clear. Captain Obadiah had not left the bulk of his fortune and the control of Bascomb & Company to Lien, his wife. To her had gone dower rights only. He had left the rest—the far greater part—to me—to “Miranda Heath” to hold and possess as I pleased.
With this reading only Laurel drew in her breath sharply and I knew she was staring at me with the same fixed gaze she had adopted that first day when I had ridden home with her in the carriage. This small thing I seemed to grasp—and nothing else.
Brock had given no sign of surprise, but now he left the window and moved to the table beside Mr. Osgood.
“How is this possible? The captain’s will, as we all knew, left everything to Lien. What has happened here?”
“The change was made privately a few days before this lady arrived,” said Mr. Osgood, nodding at me. “Captain Bascomb wished it done in this way. As I have pointed out, he meant to change the name of the main legatee as soon as this marriage was effected. In the meantime, he thought he would safeguard his wishes by making Miss Heath, the younger Mrs. McLean, that is, his legatee.”
I felt shocked and somehow frightened. This was something I had been in nowise prepared for. Something I had never wanted. Sybil McLean was staring at me with unbelievable malevolence, while Brock’s gaze turned upon me in an oddly speculative way I could not fathom. I stole a quick glance at Lien and found that she had ceased to study her rose-jade ring. She was looking at me openly, and with knowledge in her eyes. In that illuminating instant there was just one thing of which I was sure. Lien had known this was to be. She had known that the captain had changed his will before my coming. Even while she had been required to do the captain’s bidding, she had not welcomed me to this house—and with very good reason.
“But I don’t want the money!” I cried. “I can’t possibly be in charge of—of a fortune, or of a business!”
“Fortunately,” Mr. Osgood reminded me dryly, “you are married to a man who is well able to advise you in the management of every detail. Which, I surmise, is what Captain Bascomb regarded as a safeguard. Had he not married you before, presumably Mr. McLean would marry you now.”
Brock made a sound like one of Lucifer’s growls. I would have spoken again, but the lawyer silenced us both with a look and went on reading. I was forced to sit as quietly as I could, no longer daring to catch the eye of anyone in the room while his voice ran on through the various legacies. Ian was to have the sum he expected—payment for the work he was doing on the Bascomb history and which he was instructed to complete. There was even a gift for Sybil McLean, who had so long taken care of the larger house. To Laurel, bringing from her a cry of joy, the captain had willed a small tiger carving of black jade.
“He knew how much I loved it!” she cried. “Now it will be my very own. Lien, Lien—may I go and fetch it right away?”
“If permission is given,” Lien said and looked at me.
>
Laurel did not wait to see the look. She took Lien’s words to mean permission and flew out of the room to get her treasure from the captain’s quarters. No one tried to stop her, though Mr. Osgood murmured that such haste was not seemly in a well-bred child.
For Brock there was nothing. No mention, no small stipend, nor words of gratitude for years of service. But then, as Mr. Osgood had mentioned, the will was considered temporary by the captain. When the expected change had been made, everything after Lien’s share and the small legacies would have gone to Brock McLean. As it was, he would receive nothing, except through his wife.
When the reading had been completed, Mrs. McLean rose, gesturing to Brock. Mr. Osgood shuffled his papers and spoke hastily.
“I trust the management of the house will be left in your most competent hands, Mrs. McLean. In fact I will advise that this be done.”
Mrs. McLean turned to stare at me deliberately, coldly. “It will not be done. I shall wash my hands of all responsibility at once. Whatever orders are to be given must be given directly to Mrs. Crawford by the person who has been placed in charge.” She moved toward the door. “Will you come with me, please,” she said to Brock.
She went out of the room and her son followed, leaving silence behind. When I glanced toward Lien’s chair I found it empty. I felt bewildered, stunned by what had happened.
Mr. Osgood considered me with sober intent. “Are you able to spare me a few moments, Mrs. McLean?”
I turned to him at once. “There must be some way to undo this will. Since this is not what the captain intended, as we all know, a change must be made so that everything can be turned over to Mr. McLean in his own name. Perhaps you can arrange this?”
I think he had not believed my earlier words of repudiation, or expected me to repeat them, for he looked faintly surprised. His manner softened a little.
“If, after considered thought, this is what you wish, then perhaps something may be worked out, Mrs. McLean.” He regarded the papers before him as though he wanted to say more, and found it difficult to form the words or meet my eyes. “If I am to handle your affairs—that is, if you should wish me to—”
“I hope you will, Mr. Osgood,” I broke in. “You know more about these matters than anyone else, and the captain trusted you.”
“That, I fear, is the point,” he said. “Whether or not I approve of the step Captain Bascomb chose to take, I recognize that he was in complete possession of his faculties and that he had a right to do as he wished with his money. He informed me that there was a letter to be found among his possessions which would clarify the reasons for this action. There seemed some indication on his part that he intended the righting of an old wrong. Do you know anything of such a letter?”
“Captain Obadiah tried to tell me something before his death,” I said, “though he mentioned no letter. It was something about a whaling stamp. But he did not finish and I don’t know what he meant.”
Mr. Osgood looked grave. “This morning, at my request, Mrs. Bascomb put her husband’s papers at my disposal. I had hoped to turn up this information before the will was read, but I found nothing. A more careful search will be necessary.”
“Then I hope you will go through his effects as soon as possible,” I urged.
“I shall come tomorrow if I am able. But to return to your suggestion, Mrs. McLean—that is, your thought of turning everything over to your husband legally, may I—ah—inquire if all is amicable between the two of you?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said. “Or why it should concern you. This is a matter of law, is it not?”
“It is, indeed,” he assured me. “Law and justice. Justice which must be considered from the captain’s viewpoint, rather than from your own, or from mine. If he wished to make it up to you for some harm done long in the past, then he would not consider that this had been achieved if you were married to a husband who might repudiate you as his wife, once he had inherited, and leave you in an unhappy and dependent position.”
I did not tell him that I could hardly find myself in a more unhappy position than now existed, with the trap closed and Brock furious about all that had happened. I sat staring at the wedding band that had replaced green jade on my finger, turning it absently, my head bowed.
Mr. Osgood cleared his throat and spoke in a more kindly manner than he had yet shown me. “There is another small legacy that the captain wished placed in your hands—though it is not mentioned in the will specifically. There is a box of old maps—charts of the voyages made by Bascomb & Company ships. The captain felt some sentimental attachment to these and thought they might interest you because of your father. I presume the box will be found among the other effects.”
I had little interest at the moment in such charts and continued in my trouble silence.
“Ah, well—everything will eventually work out for the best, I am sure,” said Mr. Osgood a trifle lamely, and began to gather up his papers.
I would have gone with him to the front door, but as he left the parlor, someone spoke behind me and I turned in surprise to see Lien standing in the shadowy corner near a window, where velvet draperies nearly hid her. My back had been toward her and I had not guessed that she was there. Mr. Osgood must have known, yet he had said nothing. Perhaps he thought it of no consequence that she should hear what was said. Clearly the woman had waited to listen, to learn, and now she meant to have her say with me.
The uneasiness I had sometimes felt in Lien’s presence returned full force as she came toward me on softly slippered feet.
TEN
“If you please,” Lien said, her manner humble, her eyes downcast, “is it your wish that I move from this house?”
“Why should you move?” I asked, taken by surprise at the unexpected question. “This is your home, just as it was before.”
She made a vague motion with her hands. “I am only a woman. My opinion is not worth anything. My wishes are of no account.”
I felt impatient with her. “I’m a woman too, and I don’t feel that your wishes are of no account. None of this has been my doing and I want to change nothing of the present arrangement in the two houses. As Captain Obadiah’s wife, your rights will surely not be overlooked. This is your home for as long as you want to live here.”
She slipped her crossed hands into opposite sleeves and bowed her head over them. “I am humbled to the earth before your goodness.”
I suspected that she was less humble than she seemed, and that a disconcerting mockery underlay her words. While I hesitated, at a loss for anything else to say, she bowed to me politely and went out of the room.
When she had gone, I stood in the empty parlor trying to understand what had happened to me, trying to fathom the turnings of Captain Obadiah’s mind. But the sense of unreality that I had so often felt in this house was upon me again. At every move some strange fate had forced my hand and brought undeserved distrust and hatred upon me.
There was only one person to whom I could turn in the face of these new events. Ian had said to come and tell him what happened. I would do so without delay. But when I looked into the library he was no longer there and I decided to see if he had returned to work on the figurehead.
I went to the lighthouse at once and found my supposition correct. In his workroom Ian stood before the figurehead, and I saw that a change in it was being wrought. Under mallet and chisel the rough planes of the head had begun to take shape.
“You’ve decided to finish her?” I asked. “You’ve decided about her face?”
He laid down his tools at the sight of me. “Perhaps. You look as though the sky had fallen, Miranda. What has happened?”
“For me it has. Except for Lien’s dower rights and a few legacies, everything has been left to Miranda Heath. I don’t know what to make of it. I find it most dreadful to contemplate.”
Ian whistled softly in astonishment. He seemed no happier than I as he regarded me. When he spoke he put something of his distres
sed wonderment into words.
“An hour ago you were as poor as I—perhaps poorer,” he mused. “You were a trapped, unhappy girl. I had even begun to believe that what has happened was none of your doing. Now you are heiress to the Bascomb fortune—an important and wealthy woman in your own right. We no longer occupy the same plane, do we?”
“That’s foolish!” I cried. “Everyone else has turned away from me—you can’t turn from me too!”
He regarded me in silence. Light from a window glinted on his fair hair, intensified the oddly unmatched planes of his face. For the moment all interest in his work had vanished.
“An hour ago you were my friend,” I pleaded. “Don’t change, Ian. Please don’t change.”
“How can I not?” he challenged me wryly. “Do you remember, how I wondered if Lien might grant me a few odd jobs to do after she came into control? Now it appears that it is you I must ask for such work. I’m not at all sure I like the change.”
“I don’t like it either,” I said. “I don’t like it at all.”
He turned from me to pick up a chisel idly. “How did Lien take this shock?” he asked.
“I don’t believe it was a shock. I think she already knew she would receive only her dower rights. I think the captain must have warned her of what he meant to do. That is why she took a dislike to me from the first. I’m sure of it.”
“What makes you think she knew?”
“Everyone else was surprised, but Lien seemed quiet and humble and watchful. Not at all surprised. When Mr. Osgood left she came to me and asked quite calmly if I wanted her to leave the house.”
Ian grimaced. “Humility is Lien’s stock in trade. A useful tool when she needs it. Somehow I’ve never believed it was quite honest. In her country she was accustomed to a position of importance as the wife of a wealthy merchant. What did you tell her?”
“That she has the right to stay, of course.”
“Of course,” he agreed. “Nevertheless, for both her sake and your own, it might be better if she went home to China.”
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