Duncan stood at the foot of the stairs. Brigit wanted to spin around and run back up in the pretense of having forgotten something—but that wouldn’t be the truth. She squared her shoulders and continued down.
He gave her an appreciative smile. “You’re a comely lass, Brigit Murphy.”
“Thank you.” She tried to brush past him.
“Brigit.” He captured her hand and stopped her. “Stop avoiding me.”
“I’ve work to do.”
“Yes, you do, don’t you?” His deep voice flowed over her. “Emily tells me you made that fine new shirt I like so well. I told her I want a dozen more—all made by you.”
She snatched that as an excuse. “With all that stitching to do, I’d best get right on it.”
He squeezed her hand, then turned loose. “I’ll let you go for now—but we’ll talk later.”
Brigit shook her head. “We’ve nothing to discuss.”
He dared to reach over and touch a tendril at her temple. “I disagree.”
“I’m needed in the kitchen,” she stammered. With a total lack of grace and decorum, she dashed for safety.
❧
John glanced up from the newspaper. “Pennsylvania Telegraph didn’t mince words today. Listen to this: ‘We have no notion or idea that Abraham Lincoln will be defeated as a candidate before the American people for the presidency of the United States; but if such a calamity should occur, it would be the worst blow that ever was inflicted on the laboring men and mechanics of this country. It would arrest our progress in every improvement, by opening all the paths of industry to the competition of foreign and domestic slavery.’ ”
Duncan nodded and set down the ship’s log he wanted to review. “Strongly put.”
John folded the paper and slapped it down on the desk. “I’ve never prayed as hard for our nation as I did when I cast my ballot today.”
“I need to go vote.” Duncan looked about. “Things are far calmer than I expected. How did you manage to make the men keep their opinions on the vote to themselves?”
“Franklin passed the word: Anyone stirring up dissension or stumping for votes is fired. The men need their jobs too much.”
Duncan rested his hands on his hips. “I’m supposin’ Gerard O’Leary protested you were curbing his right to free speech.”
“Yeah, but Old Kemper nipped that in the bud. Told O’Leary his speech wouldn’t be free if he was drawing wages when he said his piece.”
“Commonsense men like Kemper would straighten out the political mess in no time.” Duncan arched his back to stretch out a few kinks. Em often rubbed John’s shoulders to banish the tautness. Soon Brigit will be my wife, and I’ll relish that kind of closeness myself. He thought for a moment to inform John of his decision to wed, then squelched the notion. He’d given Em his word that she’d be the first to know.
❧
“Miss Emily,” Brigit asked that afternoon, “I’m wondering where that lovely little figurine went—the one of the lass in the pretty gown and a lamb at her side. ’Tisn’t on the hall table anymore.”
Emily looked startled. “That’s where it always is. I chose that spot because it’s farthest away from the children’s rooms and won’t get bumped. I hope one of the girls didn’t borrow it. It belonged to my sister, Anna, God rest her sweet soul. I’d be heartbroken if something happened to it.”
No one confessed to knowing where the pretty porcelain piece went. For a brief instant, Brigit wondered if the man she occasionally saw from her attic window might have taken it; but she dismissed that thought. He’d never even come close to the house. In fact, the times she spied him, he was always by a shrub or next to a tree. Hadn’t she overheard Mr. John say he hired men to patrol the grounds? Whoever the guard was, he’d be competent—John Newcomb would engage a bulldog of a man for the sake of his family.
Brigit forgot about the missing statue because she was due for her evening off, and she planned to go visit her parents. Bless Cook’s heart—she remembered Mum loved apricots and wrapped a jar of them along with a small crock of whipped cream for Brigit to take home.
Surrounded by her warm cashmere shawl and holding the sweet bundle to give to her parents, Brigit felt blessed. She loved to be able to give even the smallest thing to help them. As she hurried home, she whispered, “Lord Almighty, I’m thankin’ You from the bottom of my heart for the ways You provide for my family.”
“Hey, there, Brigit Murphy! What are you doin’ here?” a lass asked as Brigit turned a corner and headed down the side street toward her parents’ building.
Brigit stopped and smiled at the young girl she’d met on the boat as they’d voyaged here. “I’m paying a visitation.” She cradled the apricots and cream in her arms and tilted her head toward them. “I’ve something small that’ll be sure to please my mum.”
❧
Duncan stood in the shadows around the side of the tenement building as he heard Brigit speak. When he left the polling place, he’d spotted her bright blue dress and contrasting yellow shawl in the distance and recalled Emily mentioning it was to be Brigit’s evening off. Duncan quickly followed Brigit to the edge of town until they reached here and counted his blessings that the Lord presented him with this unexpected opportunity. He needed to know where her father lived so he could obtain permission to court her and seek her hand in marriage. Duncan smiled to himself. He’d rather the courtship part of the arrangement be quite brief and hoped Brigit would feel the same way.
He’d thought ’twas fitting that the woman he intended as his bride would catch his attention. And why wouldn’t she? A comely lass she was and quick minded. But in the last few days she’d avoided him. In fact, she’d ghosted away whenever he entered the room. Once she’d been underfoot all the time. No matter where he turned in that house, she’d be there. He smiled. He’d been attracted from the start, and the fact that he’d been so aware of her was ample proof. He suspected the reason why she’d begun hiding from him, and he’d help her get over that shyness. He’d likely scared her with that playful romp at Phillip’s party. Soon as he made it clear he had honorable intentions and would safeguard her reputation, the woman would light up his world with her smile once again.
He’d overheard her say something about having a little something to please her mother. Duncan lounged against a tree and folded his arms across his chest. His bride was a dutiful woman. Devoted, too. The mental list he’d started of her fine character qualities kept growing.
He’d have to do something at once about her parents’ housing. They’d be his family now, too; and he didn’t want them living in this dangerous, squalid place. Duncan didn’t even want her in there right now. He thought to ask which room her parents rented, but a trollop approached him and offered her services.
Duncan shook his head. “I’d like information is all.”
“It’ll cost ye.” The tart gave him a coy smile.
“Brigit Murphy—do you know what room or floor her family is on?” He placed a coin in the woman’s hand.
“I couldn’t say. There are Murphys aplenty, so I don’t bother to keep them straight. Brigit doesn’t live here. She’s hired out in service to a fancy family.” The trollop gave him an assessing look. “You’ll have to tell me. Has old Mr. Murphy done something wrong? Is there a reward for him?”
“No. Not at all.”
She heaved a sigh. “I didn’t think so. They’re one of the goody-good families. Her da walks her back to the grand place where she’s a maid; my da turned me out to make money.”
Duncan looked past the rouge and gaudy clothes. “If you were offered a decent job, would you give up this way of life?”
She shook her head. “Sinnin’ suits me fine. Money’s not bad, either.”
Her attitude left him feeling soiled. Duncan straightened up and walked off. He’d found out what he needed to know. Brigit’s father would return her safely this evening, and Duncan planned to wait for him.
He went home with a
sense that his life was about to change—and for the good. Aye, ’twas a grand feeling. He’d have a wondrous wife, a fine ship, and if the election went as he’d voted, the country would have a wise man at the helm.
The minute Duncan entered the house, Goodhew took his coat and told him in a grave tone, “Mr. John and Miss Emily wish to speak with you at once. They’re in the upstairs parlor.”
Well and good. I’ll tell them of my plan to wed Brigit. “Thank you, Goodhew.”
The minute he entered the small upstairs room, Duncan knew something was wrong. Em’s eyes were puffy and red. John stood by the window, tension singing from every last inch of his frame. Duncan shut the door. “What is it?”
“We have a thief in the house.”
Thirteen
“A thief?!” Duncan echoed the words in disbelief.
The fire in John’s eyes made it clear he’d determined the truth.
“Who is it?” Duncan demanded.
“I haven’t pinned that down yet.” John grated, “But as soon as I do—”
“I’m really not sure anything’s been stolen,” Emily confessed. “I could have misplaced my cameo, and I recall allowing Anna Kathleen to borrow my fan. She mightn’t have returned it.”
Duncan let out a relieved gust of air. “Is that all?”
“No.” John cleared his throat. “I’ve left money out on purpose—and, I confess, not a single cent of it has been taken.”
“I’d think money would be the first thing to be taken. If it’s left alone, then perhaps Em’s right and those other things are simply misplaced.”
John sat next to his wife and took her hand in his. Duncan could see how hard he was trying to contain his anger so Emily wouldn’t suffer any more upset than necessary. He waited. John wasn’t a man to jump to conclusions. He was probably doling out the bad news a bit at a time to soften the impact on Emily.
“A book I’d been reading seems to have grown legs and walked off, and you know about my grandfather’s fountain pen. Anna Kathleen told Emily today that her locket is missing, too. None of those things alone amounted to much of anything. In fact, most of them could have simply been misplaced. Emily and I decided to keep watch, but we said nothing since we’ve never had cause to mistrust the household staff.”
Emily whispered, “We were hoping things would turn up again.” She gave Duncan a look that melted his heart. “But now our Anna’s pretty little statue is gone.”
He jolted. “The shepherdess?”
Emily tearfully confirmed, “Anna cherished it so.”
John thumped his fist on his thigh. “Julie’s china doll is gone. The truth is clear enough: The stolen goods are ones a woman would want. Whoever’s taking them has to have free access to the house. That means—”
“The thief is on staff,” Duncan finished. He shook his head in disbelief. “Let’s try to put together the pieces of the puzzle.”
“Goodhew and Cook have been with me forever.” John stared at the door. “My grandmother hired them, and they’ve served faithfully for decades.”
Duncan agreed. “No suspicion could be cast in that direction.”
“That leaves the maids,” John said grimly. “Em and I were trying to apply some deductive reasoning before you came in. Trudy and Fiona can scarcely read, so it makes no sense that they’d take a book or a fountain pen.”
“But since you might have just misplaced those, we can’t rely on that.” Emily tugged on his hand. “You’ve been so busy that you’re a wee bit absentminded, you know.”
“Fiona is patient as can be with the girls, so she’d have ample opportunity to take a doll; but she’s awkward as a pelican,” Duncan thought aloud. “I can’t imagine her tiptoeing around—she’d crash into something first.”
“Trudy’s made a pest of herself mooning over Duncan,” Emily told John. “I’ve been keeping my eye on her or assigning her to tasks along with another maid so she’d be supervised. I’m doubting she could have managed to pilfer anything.”
“That leaves Lee and Brigit.” John’s face tightened. “They can both read.”
“We have to trust them.” Emily looked from John to Duncan and back again as she asserted, “I do, I’m telling you.”
Duncan shoved his hands in his pockets. It had to be Lee then. His sweet little Brigit wouldn’t ever—
John forged ahead. “I’ve been trying to put the facts together. Lee was gone on her days off when the locket and cameo were taken. That leaves Brigit.”
Sick anger washed over Duncan. I trusted the lass. I was ready to make her my wife. How could I have been such an idiot? She’s been playing me for a fool all this time. She’d been clever and quick about helping him over a rough spot or two with Emily’s matchmaking—but now he realized she might well be a woman well accustomed to keeping secrets. ’Twas also a way she turned him into an ally so he’d drop his guard and not be suspicious. Oh—and that habit she had of slipping her hand into her apron pocket that he’d thought was so endearing—was it a sinister thing? Had she been swiping things from under his very nose?
Recalling the bundle she’d carried into the tenement tonight only fanned the flames of Duncan’s mistrust. Hearing her boast that she had something sure to please her mother—well, that about cinched it.
Brigit—she’d duped him as easily as John’s brother, Edward, had gulled Anna. At least I discovered the truth before the marriage. Thank the Lord for that small miracle. This is already debacle enough as is.
Duncan felt as if he’d swallowed a fistful of barnacles as he agreed, “It’s Brigit.”
“No, it can’t be,” Emily insisted. “I trust her. You must, too.”
“Trust? You expect me to trust her? Em, I saw her carry a bundle into a building tonight. Before she disappeared, she boasted about how she had something to please her mother. It’s plain as can be what’s happening.”
John stood. “I’ll dismiss her this minute.”
Emily tugged him back down. “You’re jumping to conclusions—that’s what’s happening. Why, Brigit is the one who pointed out the figurine and the doll are both missing.”
“It sure seems like more than a simple coincidence that Brigit ‘discovers’ the items are gone. It’s nothing more than a smokescreen. It’s her way of looking innocent while she’s probably pocketing the goods and pawning them.”
“It doesn’t make a lick of sense. We’ve countless things a thief could take that would bring a far better price than what’s come up missing.”
“Let’s talk about what’s missing.” Duncan struggled to get Emily to face the facts. He felt as if he’d been gut-punched and understood her shock; but pain was best dealt with right away so they could get rid of the problem. . .get rid of Brigit. “Think about it: Nothing ever got taken until she came to work here.”
“Brigit has a pure heart. She’d not take a thing, I’m telling you.” Emily folded her arms across her bosom and glared at him. “I know my staff.”
“She has you bamboozled.”
“Do I come down to your vessels and pass judgment on the men you hire for your crews?”
“Em,” John said in an I’m-trying-to-be-patient tone, “that’s an entirely different matter.”
“Indeed it is.” She agreed all too quickly. “Here at home if I employ a bad staff member, the worst that can happen is that some little trinket is taken; if you sign on a man who does something wrong out at sea, it can cost lives.”
Duncan refused to try to reason further with her. Until his sister came to her senses, he’d have to protect the family from Brigit’s pilfering. “I’m going to shadow her and see what she’s up to. What we need to do is keep this quiet. The best way to catch a thief is to let her think she’s safe. If she doesn’t suspect we’re wise to the problem because she’s taking only paltry items, she’ll keep at it. I’ll catch her red-handed.”
“Josiah is hale again.” John nodded. “You can stay home, and he’ll take the Contentment out since you just did
his run with the Cormorant.”
“It won’t be necessary. I’ll do this next run with my crew. Mark my words—it won’t take long to get proof on”—he saw the look on Emily’s face and hastily changed the end of his sentence—“the thief.”
Emily heard his plan and let out a humorless laugh. “You’ve far better things to do with your time. I’ll make no bones about it: You’ve lost your mind. If you’re searching for anything at all, your wits ought to be at the top of the list.”
Duncan stood and left the room. As he shut the door, he thought, If only it was just my wits. I’ve lost my heart.
Fourteen
Da walked her back to the Newcomb estate and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Brigit hugged him tightly and whispered in his ear, “I love you, Da. Take care of Mum.”
“I worry about you.” He looked up at the mansion and shook his head.
Brigit’s heart beat heavily with the sadness she felt. Not so long ago, Da had been the owner of such a fine home. Aye, he had. Now he couldn’t even land a steady job. She gave his hand a squeeze and tried to lighten her tone. “Worry? Now there’s a fine waste of your time. You’re supposed to lay me at the Lord’s feet and not fret a bit.”
She went upstairs to her attic room and waved out the window until Da was out of sight. A quick splash at her basin, a quick change into her warm flannel nightgown, and she had a bit of time to read her Bible. After she closed it, she blew out her lamp, walked to the window, and stared out at the ocean as she prayed.
The Lord’s world was vast. Aye, and He could reach out His mighty hand and do anything. Tonight, heavenly Father, I’m asking You for just a small thing. Insignificant really. Well, it is important to me. Please, will You help Da to come into his own here in America?
After she finished praying, Brigit continued to look outside. A sudden movement caught her eye. There he was again—the man who sometimes crept to the very edge of the trees and shrubs before the clearing around the house. He stood there in the dark of night. Once she’d seen him there at the break of dawn.
Redeemed Hearts Page 9
