“I was just telling your brother—” Elena started.
Sarah looked at her, and Elena saw anger in her eyes. “Who are you?”
“I’m Elena Bissette.” She shook her hand from Edward’s grasp and held it out for Sarah. The woman just looked at it.
“You’re the woman who fell on the pier.”
She sighed. “Unfortunately.”
“My name is Mrs. Sarah Powell.” She nodded at the man beside her. “Edward’s wife.”
“Wife?” Her voice squeaked the word even as her mind spun. How could this man be married? The married men were usually cordial, but they would never clutch her hand, not like Edward had, nor devour her with their gazes.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know—” She looked at Edward, but he didn’t seem embarrassed in the least. Parker, on the other hand, was studying his glass quite intently.
Sarah took her husband’s arm and pulled him away, as if Elena had been trying to entrap him. With a sickening feeling, Elena realized that was exactly what she had been trying to do. But she hadn’t realized she was trying to trap the wrong person.
She cringed again when Edward turned back to her, nodding his head. She looked away.
Parker set her glass on a tray filled with chinaware. “Do you still need to go to the powder room?”
She faced him, frustration burning inside her. “Why didn’t you tell me he was married?”
He shrugged. “I figured you knew.”
The way he said it, Elena wondered whether it was a pastime of Mr. Powell’s to attempt to charm unmarried women. Her mother was so concerned about the soldiers at the fort, but there were snakes living among them, as well. His poor wife.
“I most certainly did not know. If I had—” She took as deep a breath as she could muster. “You know I wouldn’t entertain a married man like that.”
Parker took her hand lightly and led her to the dance floor. As she whirled in his arms, she scanned the floor again.
If this Edward wasn’t the elusive Mr. Darrington—
Then where had Sarah Powell’s brother gone?
December 5, 1812
It’s been a month now and still you don’t return.
I want to leave the lighthouse. I want to look everywhere for you, but I can’t leave with Thomas and Molly.
If I lost one of them…dear God, I don’t know what I would do if I lost one of our children too.
Some nights I feel like I’m going crazy, not knowing where you went. In those terrible moments, when my mind goes wild, I imagine horrible things.
An animal attacking you.
A stranger coming to hurt you. Or a friend.
But there are no wild animals on Mackinac Island. Not even a poisonous snake.
And who would want to hurt you?
Did you fall someplace, in one of the island’s caves or crevices? Or did you drown in the lake?
But that makes no sense to me. You would never leave Molly to go down to the lake.
The wonderings tangle in my mind like a vine choking the life out of a tree.
Perhaps I have already gone crazy.
I keep thinking you will come back to me at any moment, but you do not.
Chapter Ten
The orchestra played at the other end of the long ballroom, partners whisking each other around the dance floor as if they were trapped in a whirlpool. Chase was in a corner of the ballroom talking with two businessmen from Chicago—a Mr. Lloyd Grunier and Mr. Arthur Bissette.
Mrs. Frederick had warned him about the intentions of Arthur’s daughter, but this man seemed to be a fine enough fellow. He never mentioned his daughter once in their conversation. Either Mrs. Frederick was exaggerating, or Arthur wasn’t trying to marry off his daughter as readily as Mrs. Frederick implied.
Either way, he enjoyed the conversation of both gentlemen. He’d only spent four days at the World’s Columbian Exposition last fall, but these men had spent weeks looking at all manner of inventions—electric drills, incandescent lights, elevators, a cotton gin, a new sweetener called saccharin, and more.
The number of innovations might have been overwhelming to some visitors, but it was exhilarating to him. His favorite during the Chicago visit was the movable sidewalk on the pier, but he had invested in more affordable items that the common household could use—the eggbeaters, washing machines, frying pans, and flour sifters that helped women and their servants to be more efficient with their work so they could enjoy other new inventions, like the phonograph or praxinoscope to watch moving pictures.
Mr. Bissette took his cigar out of his mouth, and the new smoke joined the cloud that hovered above them. “What are you considering right now?”
Chase smiled. “I’m never working on just one thing.”
Mr. Bissette glanced at Mr. Grunier. “I suppose we’ll have to hire a detective to find out.”
“You can try,” Chase joked, “but it would have to be a pretty good detective.”
Mr. Grunier’s jovial smile widened. “All we’re asking for is a bit of a preview.”
“Ahh, a hint.” Chase leaned closer. “I’ll tell you all about it…after the patent comes through.”
The men chuckled.
Mr. Grunier took a sip of wine. “Do you like our little island?”
“I’m enjoying—” he began, but what was he supposed to tell the man? He couldn’t tell him about the stars, nor could he tell him how amused he was with the island people. “I’ve enjoyed exploring it.”
Sarah stepped up beside Chase, nodding at the other men as she took his arm. “Aren’t you gentlemen going to dance with your wives?”
They shrugged, looking sheepish, but neither one of them moved. It seemed they were as anxious to dance as he was.
“Gracie has been asking about you,” Sarah whispered.
“Please tell her that I’m doing incredibly well this evening.”
“Just dance with her once, so she knows you’re still interested in courting her.”
He nodded at the men. “I’ll return in a moment.”
They smiled at him, part in understanding and part in pity.
He directed Sarah toward the door. “I’m not interested in courting her.”
“Her father is—”
He smiled. “An expert on all things related to the weather.”
“He is more than that.”
Chase brushed off his sleeves. “He spent our entire evening avoiding any sort of decent discussion.”
“Mr. Frederick was being polite for the women. Unlike other people—”
“Edward ruined his opportunity to do business with the man, and now he is trying flattery on the daughter.”
She crossed her arms. “You don’t know that.”
“All that discussion about a treed property that he’s never even seen… Mr. Frederick isn’t stupid.”
“The property is treed.”
“How do you know?”
Sarah didn’t answer the question.
He loved his sister, but he wouldn’t marry or even court a woman because of Edward’s business prospects. It hadn’t worked when Sarah married Edward, and it wouldn’t work if Chase married Gracie Frederick, either. It didn’t take a brilliant businessman to figure out that Edward was as dangerous as dynamite when it came to finances. Investments were blown to smithereens at his touch.
Sarah’s gaze trailed over his shoulder, and she fluttered her fingers at someone. He turned and groaned when he saw Gracie crossing the crowded room.
Sarah smiled pleasantly as the woman approached. “We were just talking about you.”
Feathers adorned Gracie’s hair, and her bodice dipped so low that he wondered for a moment where it ended. He struggled to keep his eyes on her face.
She smiled at him as if she was enjoying his battle to control his eyes. Sometimes he wondered what was wrong with women. They enjoyed tempting and teasing their male counterparts and then were angry when a man succumbed to appreciating the temptation.
“Of course,” Sarah insisted.
A trumpet blasted behind him, followed by an assortment of instruments, and couples swarmed onto the floor to dance the polka.
Sarah leaned closer to Gracie. “Did I tell you that my brother loves to dance?”
Gracie tilted her head. “Your talents continue to amaze me, Mr. Darrington.”
He had no good choice but to hold out his arm. “It would be my pleasure.”
She took it, and he led her to the floor. His steps felt awkward, but he managed to avoid her toes.
“You are a fine dancer,” she said.
He shook his head. “Lying doesn’t become you, Miss Frederick.”
“I’m not lying.”
But they both knew that she was. It was everything he could to do to keep his arms up as he counted the beats in his head.
When the song ended, he gave a slight nod of his head. “And now I must bid you adieu.”
She clung to his arm. “Whatever for?”
“I have some business I must attend to.”
She tilted her head, smiling at him in a way that made him want to run.
“Business can always wait.”
He shook his head. “Tonight it is urgent. Business before pleasure, as they say.”
She released his arm. “Who would say something so ridiculous?”
“Good night, Miss Frederick,” he said, turning on his heel and marching straight toward the veranda. He didn’t check to see whether she was following, but when he stepped onto the patio, he was alone.
With the hotel’s electric lights behind him, he couldn’t tell if the clouds were gone this evening, but even if he couldn’t see the sky, he wanted to find the lighthouse. Tonight.
He slipped back into the hotel, taking a door into the lobby instead of the ballroom. Hurrying upstairs, he unlocked the safe and retrieved his satchel.
Henry was at the carriage house, and when he saw Chase’s satchel, he smiled. “You want me to take you back up to the fort?”
He shook his head. “Not tonight. But I wonder if you could take me someplace else.”
“Where’s that?”
“To the old lighthouse on the eastern bluff.”
“There’s no lighthouse on the island.”
“It’s supposed to be hidden behind the trees.”
Henry pulled on his beard. “Well now, I can’t say I’ve ever driven that far from the village at night.”
“If you could just get me close, I’ll look for it.”
It took fewer than twenty minutes for the carriage to cross the interior of the island. Henry stopped where Chase directed, even though it was only a guess. Chase took the lantern that Henry handed to him and began to walk along the road, looking for some sort of trail through the forest. As far as he could tell, everything was overgrown.
He hiked north, searching the trees with his lantern, but there didn’t seem to be any path. He stopped by a rock, looking back through the trees with the ray of light. The weeds seemed a bit lower at one point, as if someone had tracked through them recently. He stepped closer and saw a ribbon tied around a branch. The color was faded and bleached by the sun, the ends raveled, but he hoped it was some sort of marker.
Walking up a hill, he searched the trees until he spotted the walls of a gray stone house above him. And the tower.
He moved quickly now until he reached the doorway of the house partially hidden in the overgrowth. If the tower was still intact, perhaps he could see the stars from there.
A thick blanket of dust covered the floor and the furniture on the first floor, and in the dust, Chase saw footprints. He knelt down to examine them. They were much too small to be a man’s.
Perhaps the place was haunted.
He laughed at himself. A ghost wouldn’t leave footprints.
He followed the prints across the room to a writing desk. Rolling the top back, he found some sort of tablet inside. He picked it up and opened it.
On the first page was a pencil sketch, beautifully drawn. It was a picture of a woman looking out at the water, her long hair blowing in the wind. On the next page was a woman walking on the beach alone. Her long hair was loose again, trailing behind her. Above both women were dozens of stars.
He flipped the pages and saw more drawings of stars and several of the lighthouse. And multiple pictures of the same woman—sitting on a rock, riding a bicycle, running through the water with the hem of her gown bustled in her hands…. Whoever had drawn these captured both longing and beauty on paper, but the artist hadn’t signed her name—and he was fairly certain the artist was a woman.
He put the sketches back inside the desk.
What manner of woman would come to a lighthouse to draw?
An intriguing woman.
He climbed the steps to the tower, being careful to duck when he got close to the top. The clouds hid the stars tonight, but there was no glare from the village lights like there had been at Fort Holmes.
When the clouds went away, the view would be nothing short of spectacular.
* * * * *
Mama waited to bring her a tray of coffee and toast until the sun had been up for several hours. Elena propped herself up on her pillow and thanked her for the food. Parker and his driver had brought her home around three in the morning, long after her parents were in bed.
Mama was already dressed for the day, but she looked like she might need another cup of coffee. “Did you find Mr. Darrington?”
Elena leaned back against her pillows, a china cup with black coffee cradled in her hands. Warm air blew through the open window. “I tried.”
“I spent the evening searching for him, hoping for an introduction,” Mama said. “Martha Grunier pointed out Sarah Powell to me, but not her brother.”
Elena set her cup back on the tray and rubbed her sore feet. She’d looked for Mr. Darrington for the remainder of the dance as well, worried about meeting him and yet intrigued by how elusive he’d managed to be.
“I met Edward Powell,” she said, watching her mother’s face for her reaction.
Mama’s eyes narrowed. “Mr. Powell has a very poor reputation.”
“I guessed as much.”
Mama scooted her chair closer, her voice urgent. “You must stay away from him.”
Elena nodded. Even with his wife beside him, Edward continued to flirt with other women during the night, not seeming to care in the least about his wife’s reputation or feelings. Some people in their circle might be okay with his indiscretions, but the Bissette family was not.
“Does Mr. Darrington have a poor reputation as well?” Her voice trembled.
Mama shook her head. “I would never ask you to marry someone like Mr. Powell.”
She studied her mother’s face again, and she believed her. Even though Mama was desperate for Elena to marry a wealthy man, she wouldn’t urge Elena to marry someone who would mistreat her. Her future husband would have a reputation for being honorable, but even her mother couldn’t guarantee that he would be faithful to her.
“Apparently Mr. Darrington took Gracie on a picnic yesterday.” Her mother sighed. “Elizabeth Frederick promised she’d share the man’s company.”
“You can’t be upset with her for trying to marry off her daughter too.”
“You are just as pretty as Gracie Frederick.” Mama examined her face. “Maybe more so.”
“I’m sure there are plenty of pretty women in Detroit as well, and yet Mr. Darrington has chosen not to marry.”
Her mother’s fingers curled around the arms of the chair. “We have to figure out what this Mr. Darrington is looking for in a wife.”
Elena sighed. What if he wanted the perfect hostess or a stern manager of the servants in his household? Things she was not.
She picked up her coffee again. After a night on Mackinac’s social stage, she was exhausted, but it was one thing to perform d
uring an event like the ball. It was quite another to have to pretend in one’s home.
She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life trying to perform for her husband. It wasn’t fair to deceive any man into thinking she was someone else.
“The future Mrs. Darrington will have to be charming, for certain, and perhaps inquisitive like he is,” her mother said.
“I don’t know the first thing about inventing.”
Her mother sat back. “Or perhaps he doesn’t want a wife to be so inquisitive. Maybe he would want someone to support his work rather than partner with him in it.”
Elena sighed again.
Her mother patted her hands. “You’ll make an excellent wife to him either way.”
She wanted to bring honor to her husband’s name and not embarrass him. And she prayed she wouldn’t marry a man like Edward Powell, whose eyes wandered.
Her father peeked around the door. “Is my little girl awake?”
She saluted him with her cup of coffee. “I’m not a little girl.”
He stepped into her room. “You were quite the belle last night.”
“Those dances are exhausting.”
“They’re supposed to be exhilarating,” Mama said.
Papa sat on the side of her bed, his cane resting beside him. “Did you enjoy your time with Parker?”
She nodded.
Mama smoothed her hand over the bedcovers. “We were lamenting the fact that Mr. Darrington didn’t make an appearance last night.”
“Mr. Darrington?” She saw the twinkle in her father’s eyes. “He was there.”
Mama swiveled in her chair. “He was?”
“A fine gentleman, I must say.”
Mama brushed her hands over her skirt. “You met him?”
“Of course. We talked at length.”
“Arthur!” she exclaimed. “Why didn’t you introduce me…and Elena?”
“Well…Elena seemed busy dancing, and Mr. Darrington was equally as busy avoiding the dance floor.”
Elena watched Mama’s face, which was teetering between whether she should reprimand her husband for not introducing them or forgive him quickly so she could get the information she desired. Apparently she chose the second route.
“What was he like?” she asked, her voice as sweet as the fudge they sold down on Main Street.
Love Finds You in Mackinac Island, Michigan Page 10
