“Perhaps,” Mama replied. “But not all bridges should be mended.”
He nodded toward Elena. “Oliver’s son asked if he could escort our beautiful daughter to the dance on Thursday night.”
Her mother’s hands balled on the table. “Most certainly not.”
“I hope you don’t mind, Elena,” he said. “I told Parker you could go.”
“Oh, Papa,” she groaned.
His face suddenly looked older than his forty-eight years. “I will send your regrets, if you’d like.”
Claude removed Elena’s goblet to make room for the main course. Could Elena spend a whole evening in Parker’s company after all his parents had done to disparage her family? Papa’s earnest eyes were on her as he waited for her answer. And Mama awaited her answer as well, wanting her to decline spending the evening with a family she’d grown to despise. Elena hated being in the middle, caught like a snared rabbit between the two people she loved.
She turned her head toward her mother. “Perhaps I should go with Parker.”
“Most certainly not!”
Elena continued. “That way Mr. Darrington won’t think I’m attending the dance solely to meet him, like so many of the other girls.”
Mama considered her words. “But you don’t want to appear intent on marrying Parker.”
“Nor do I want to appear intent on marrying this Mr. Darrington.”
Mama thought for a moment. Elena knew that as long as her mother thought she had developed the plan herself, she would implement it with vigor. “I suppose there is wisdom in accompanying another suitor for the evening. So you don’t frighten Mr. Darrington if he’s not yet ready for matrimony.”
Papa nodded his head. “A most wise choice.”
Elena ate a few bites of her chicken cordon bleu. She would need the strength for later tonight, when her parents finally went to bed.
Claude assured her that the bicycle was still waiting for her outside, hidden at the top of the stone terrace.
Nothing would stop her tonight.
Chapter Five
The Darrington family suite overlooked the sun-glazed waters of Lake Michigan. The Grand Hotel wasn’t nearly as long as the exaggerated picture displayed in the advertisements, but it was still quite large. Fifty or so columns stretched across the veranda, and inside was an ornately decorated lobby and dining room and a ballroom that Sarah said hosted the season’s most important events on the island.
When Chase arrived at the hotel with Sarah and her maid, a board on the lobby’s wall listed the activities for the afternoon and evening. A concert on the porch. Lawn tennis lessons. A dog race. He’d laughed. Who had time to watch dogs race?
The island seemed to be as charming as his sister had promised, but if he were forced to attend the list of leisure activities, it would be the death of him.
Once in his room, Chase carefully placed his satchel on the burgundy bedspread. The bed itself looked like a giant sleigh with its curved headboard and footboard.
He flung his jacket beside the satchel. For the remainder of the day, he sat at the desk, writing letters and reading through the stacks of papers Richard had sent with him.
Someone knocked on the door, and when he opened it, Sarah’s dark green skirt brushed across the floor as she hurried inside. Ringlets of auburn hair were piled on her head like sugar ornaments on a Christmas tree, and they bounced as she glanced around the room and then focused back on him. “Why aren’t you dressed yet?”
He looked down at his trousers and the suspenders over his white shirt. “I believe I am dressed.”
“For dinner,” she groaned. “At the Fredericks’ home.”
“Ah, the residence of the homely Miss Gracie.”
“She’s comely, Chester, not homely.” She put her hands on her hips. “I told you we were going tonight.”
He glanced at the clock hanging beside the wide window. “You said we were leaving at five.”
“It’s a quarter till.”
He waved his hand. “There’s plenty of time to dress.”
She glanced at his attire. “I’m taking those clothes to the steward to burn when you change.”
He looked down again at his trousers and shirt. They looked perfectly fine to him. “What’s wrong with these?”
“Your trousers are practically threadbare, and your shirt—” She pointed at a spot on it. “What is that, an ink stain?”
“Probably.”
Her eyes grew wider. “And it’s missing a button.”
“You can sew on a button, can’t you?”
She folded her arms over her chest. “I’m not sewing on a button!”
“These clothes are perfectly comfortable and entirely wearable.”
“For a pauper,” she mumbled.
“Perhaps I will wear them to dinner.”
“Hurry, Chester.” She eyed the worn satchel on the bed. “And don’t bring that ugly bag with you.”
He smiled. “I most certainly am bringing it.”
“Chester Darrington—”
He gave a mock sigh, looking back at the satchel. “I suppose I can send my regrets.”
“You are more like a child than an adult,” she huffed. “A disobedient child at that.”
He sat down on a chair. “I truly don’t mind staying in my room.”
“Oh, bring your bag,” she said, exasperated with him. “But hurry. The carriage is supposed to arrive in ten minutes.”
He laughed to himself as Sarah rushed out of the room. He didn’t mind her hedging him into a social outing or two, even if she wanted to find him a mate suitable to her standards, but he was in no rush to attend this dinner.
At twenty minutes after five, their carriage pulled up in front of an imposing stone mansion hidden back in the trees on Mackinac’s western bluff. The iron arch, long avenue, and sloping lawn were built to impress visitors, but structures never impressed Chase, not like a grand idea did. It would be a very long evening if the Fredericks were the kind of people who tried to impress their guests by the size of their house.
His sister waved a hand in front of his face. “Please be nice, Chester.”
“Of course I will be nice.”
“And please don’t spend all evening boring the Frederick family about some new invention.”
He grinned. “I can’t make any promises.”
Edward tapped his walking stick on the floor of the carriage, though his head was turned to the window. “Don’t be a cod, Darrington.”
Chase looked at his brother-in-law across the enclosed carriage; Edward avoided his gaze. Some women might think Edward’s dark, curly hair and trimmed mustache attractive, but there wasn’t much substance under his neat facade. Sarah and her husband looked out opposite windows, the inches between them more like a fissure.
Edward first called on Sarah six years ago, and even then Chase had wondered what his sister saw in him. Sarah had found him charming and dashing, and at the time, the Powell family was a rung or two higher on the ever-changing ladder of Detroit’s society. None of them realized at the time that the Powells were clutching to maintain their status. Two years later, the ladder tipped when the senior Powell squandered the last of the family’s fortune. Edward’s father ended his life with a single gunshot, and his mother moved to New York City with her new husband.
Even before they knew about the Powell family’s shaky financial status, no one in the Darrington family encouraged the marriage. Perhaps that in small part sparked Sarah to continue the relationship. She was a deliberate social climber from her youth, while their parents inadvertently climbed the ladder without trying.
Chase hadn’t been privy to the conversations behind closed doors during Edward’s days of calling—he referred to them as the End Days—but his mother hadn’t welcomed Edward as warmly as she had Sarah’s other suitors. Edward married Sarah for the Darrington family money and was sorely disappointed when he realized that his father-in-law wouldn’t be investing in his new s
on-in-law’s ideas. So, much to Sarah’s chagrin, Edward began investing in his own schemes. She tried her best to keep them honest.
Women still swooned over Edward as if he’d never married, and though she hid her irritation well, Chase often saw the spark of jealousy in his sister’s eyes. Sometimes he wondered how she put up with his unfaithful attention, along with the women who encouraged his roaming eyes.
Edward tapped the stick again, turning his head back toward Chase. “The hotel is hosting their first dog race tonight.”
He tried to swallow his smirk. “A worthy venture, I’m sure.”
Edward watched him like he was trying to determine whether Chase was being genuine. Chase didn’t offer him the pleasure of a smile.
“I don’t suppose you want to go with me?”
Chase rested his arm on the satchel. “I’ve got other things to do after dinner.”
Sarah glanced at the satchel and then back at him. “Are you certain you’ll be on your best behavior tonight?”
Chase straightened his waistcoat. “It all depends what you mean by best behavior.”
Sarah sighed. “You’re impossible.”
“Behavior is relative.”
“If you can’t be nice,” she said as she crossed her arms, “perhaps it is better for you not to talk at all.”
“Then I would be perceived as a bore.”
“Better a bore than a fool.” His brother-in-law didn’t even have the courtesy to mumble.
The carriage crawled to a stop, and the driver opened the door. Chase helped his sister and her yards of dress descend the narrow steps. Then he reached for his satchel and escorted Sarah into the house, since Edward was too busy admiring the gray stone stables nearby.
Mrs. Frederick met them in a drawing room heavily decorated with Oriental rugs, sculptures, and paintings. She eyed his bag as they exchanged pleasantries, but she was polite enough not to ask about it.
Gracie Frederick breezed into the room like a warm summer wind. She was beautiful, to be certain, like one of the room’s valuable sculptures or paintings, and as any observer of good art, Chase appreciated her fine silk dress and hair as black as night.
After her mother introduced them, Gracie tilted her head, studying him as well, before she offered him her hand.
“You look lovely, Miss Frederick.”
She smiled at him as she shook his hand, but she didn’t blush like some women would at the compliment. “I hope you had a pleasant journey to the island.”
“Quite pleasant.”
She eyed the satchel in his hand. “Did you bring entertainment for us?”
He admired her for not ignoring his bag like the others. “It is a personal belonging.”
Sarah made a groaning noise. “He carries the silly thing everywhere with him, but he won’t give anyone a hint as to what is inside.”
“Well, now I’m curious, Mr. Darrington.” Gracie’s fingers brushed over the leather. “What could possibly be so valuable as to not leave your hands?”
“Ah,” he said, still smiling. “It’s a secret.”
“Ooh, I simply love secrets.” She clapped her hands. “I shall have to guess.” She thought for a moment. “Is it some sort of exotic animal? Perhaps it’s a snake or a lizard.”
Sarah’s eyes narrowed. “I should hope not.”
“Or maybe you are carrying some sort of secret papers for the government. I’ve heard they have spies all over.”
He shrugged. “You never know…”
Gracie arched her fingers together. “But I suppose it’s not government work at all. I would guess it’s some sort of new invention, and I am intrigued, Mr. Darrington. What could possibly be so important that you wouldn’t let it out of your hands?”
“Something that could change the world.” He clutched the handle a bit tighter. He would smile and attempt to be charming for Sarah’s sake, but no amount of charm or coercion would force him to confide in this woman.
Edward stepped up. “Chester doesn’t appreciate the company around him like he should.”
Gracie shifted her smile to Edward. “Most men won’t admit to enjoying the company of ladies.”
Edward gave a slight nod. “There are few men who wouldn’t enjoy your company, Miss Frederick.”
Chase stepped toward Edward, flashing Gracie a smile of apology. “I believe my brother-in-law must have left his mind and his manners back at the hotel.”
Edward glared at him. “I was only complimenting Miss Frederick.”
“He meant, of course, that most men would enjoy the presence of each of the fine ladies in our midst.”
Edward’s silence seemed to echo around the room.
Sarah cleared her throat. “Do I smell lamb?”
“With a mint sauce,” Gracie said, reaching for Sarah’s arm to escort her into the dining room.
Gracie’s father and two younger brothers—Peter and Matthew—were waiting for them in the dining room. Candlelight glowed on the long table, and Chase sat down on a dark-red-and-gold upholstered chair. Oil paintings hung on the wide panels around the room, and two uniformed servants stood waiting by a door he assumed went into the kitchen.
The first course, Mrs. Frederick announced, was a wild mushroom pastry, but when he took his first bite, he thought it tasted more like leather than mushrooms. He put his fork down and turned to the boy next to him.
“Do you like to ride horses?”
Peter nodded.
Instead of eating their pastry, they talked about the hundreds of horses on the island.
“It won’t be long before we don’t need horses to transport us,” Chase said.
Edward shook his head across the table. “That’s nonsense.”
“Have you seen a horseless carriage?” the older brother, Matthew, asked.
“I actually rode in one last summer.”
Matthew’s eyes grew wide at the revelation, and Chase smiled at him—he’d had the exact same reaction after the ride.
“What was it like?” Matthew asked.
How could he describe the exhilaration to the lad? The wind rushing through his hair as he bumped along the road in the gas-powered vehicle, moving faster than a carriage and with more control.
“Oh, Mr. Darrington doesn’t want to talk about horseless carriages,” Gracie scolded her brother. And in that moment, his mind flashed back to Sarah’s reprimanding him for his dull conversation when they were children.
Chase winked at the boy. “Actually, I love talking about them.”
Gracie’s fork lowered to her plate. He didn’t care if she was offended at his subtle rebuke, nor did he care whether Sarah was angry with him. The world was changing quickly, and Matthew needed to embrace the latest in technology if he was going to succeed one day in the business world.
“What was the weather like when you left Detroit?” Mrs. Frederick asked.
“Terribly hot,” Sarah complained. “And it’s not yet July.”
He leaned his head down to the boy. “Perhaps we can discuss it later, if you’d like.”
Matthew grinned. “I’d like that very much.”
“There is nothing like the cool weather on Mackinac.” Their hostess took a sip of water. “How long will you be staying on the island, Mr. Darrington?”
He caught Sarah’s gaze across the table. “I have a meeting in Chicago the middle of next week.”
Mrs. Frederick slipped her hands into her lap to allow the servant to take her crumb-filled plate. “So you’ll be attending the dance on Thursday night?”
Another servant set a tiny bowl of soup in front of him.
“Which dance is that?”
“At the Grand Hotel,” Gracie explained. “They have a dance every Thursday night.”
He glanced at Sarah again, who had her eyes on her soup. Even if his sister continued to annoy him, he still loved her. He couldn’t live his life for her and her snake of a husband, but he could attend a dance for her.
He smiled again. �
�Now how could I miss that?”
Sarah glanced up with him, her face relieved.
“Next week is the Independence Day ball,” Gracie continued. “That’s the biggest event of the season.”
Edward dipped his spoon into his soup. “I hear the lumber business is good in Chicago.”
Mr. Frederick wiped his mustache with his napkin. “It’s been very good to us.”
Edward sipped his soup, speaking low. “I recently came into the ownership of five hundred acres of property in southern Michigan. Prime land for lumbering.”
Mr. Frederick watched him. “Who sold you this land?”
“I acquired it…from a friend.”
Chase watched Sarah cringe at Edward’s explanation and then focus intently on her soup. Had his brother-in-law “acquired” his new property at a horse race, or did he win it in a gambling hall back in Chicago?
Mr. Frederick leaned toward Edward. “What sort of timber is on it?”
“Mostly cedar and oak. The land’s worth almost eight hundred thousand dollars.”
Mr. Frederick arranged his napkin in his lap. “I’ve got plenty of land for timbering.”
“But this land is—”
“Oh, Edward,” Sarah interrupted, “it’s so distasteful to talk about business at the dinner table.”
Silence pervaded the dining room, and Chase wished Sarah hadn’t interrupted her husband. He was curious to hear how Edward would attempt to sell Mr. Frederick this property, land he’d never seen before.
Chase ate a spoonful of the soup, a salty broth with no vegetables or meat. Even with five courses, he wondered if he would leave the Frederick home hungry.
“It’s flavored with fennel,” Mrs. Frederick explained.
Sarah lifted her spoon again. “Most delightful.”
Chase finished his soup in four spoonfuls and glanced around at his companions. What else were they going to talk about if they didn’t discuss innovation or business? This was the exact reason he avoided these types of social functions in Detroit. They were duller than dishwater.
“It might rain this weekend,” Mr. Frederick offered.
The women all nodded.
Chase stifled a yawn under his napkin as the soup bowls were whisked back to the kitchen and replaced by a salad made of spinach, strawberries, and pecans. If they didn’t find a more exhilarating topic for conversation, he might have to crawl under the table and nap.
Love Finds You in Mackinac Island, Michigan Page 5
