Brandon, too, had changed. No longer an ardent youth, he now offered her a mature, lasting love. The kind she could accept and return.
“Yes,” Lilah sighed, patting Granny’s hand as they rocked before the fire. “I know I’ll be happy!”
But a small voice somewhere inside her sounded a warning. She tried to ignore the unsettling feeling, but it was there. She couldn’t deny it.
Chapter 16
KEY WEST, FLORIDA
December 13, 1860
Steele Denegal walked home from the heated meeting at the county courthouse, his head still buzzing with the arguments presented, pro and con, concerning the secession of Florida from the Union. All three men—Judge Winer Bethel, William Pinckney, and Asa Tift—elected to attend the convention in Tallahassee in January to decide the issue could be classified as rabid secessionists. Steele had had to bite his tongue to keep from joining in the fracas. He was, after all, an outsider, invited out of courtesy to this meeting. But couldn’t these men see what they were about to do to their state—to their country?
Steele glanced ahead toward the Russell House. Although it was well after midnight, Mr. Russell had left a torch burning to light his way back. Its reflection on the white coral street gave it the look of frost and newly fallen snow. He felt a tug at his heart to be in New England for Christmas.
“No,” he sighed aloud, “I’d settle for Rainbow Hammock and Lilah. I must get her out of the South before this war breaks!”
Steele wearily climbed the stairs to his room. He’d sleep on his plans and take definite action in the morning. He reached for the glass door knob, but the door sprang open before he touched it.
Maggie stood before him wearing yet another new gown—this one the color of Spanish limes. Its square neckline was cut to a revealing depth with a tantalizing fringe of cream lace, suggesting to the viewer more than could actually be seen. Her face was set in a petulant expression.
“I’ faith! So you’ve decided to come home at last!”
Steele slumped down on the edge of the bed and sighed, “Maggie, please don’t start in on me again. It’s late. I’m tired.”
“Late, is it?” She threw her hands up in a gesture of utter frustration. “‘Late,’ he says, as if I didn’t know full well what the hour is! And did you forget, Mr. Denegal, that we were invited to Captain James Brannan’s headquarters for dinner this evening? I’d be thinkin’ with all the help he’s given disposin’ of them niggers that you wouldn’t dare to snub him so. Never mind my feelings! You obviously don’t think I’m worth consider^’!”
Steele shook his head, too fatigued to participate in one of Maggie’s donnybrooks. “I’m sorry, Maggie. I didn’t realize the meeting would last so long. You should have gone on without me.”
“Well,” she sniffed, “for your information, I did exactly that! And after dinner, the nice sergeant who saw me home suggested we stop in at Pat Gallagher’s place for a nightcap. Mickey Wiggins bein’ the fine, young lad he is, I couldn’t rightly refuse, now could I?”
Steele jumped to his feet, fire in his eyes. “Maggie, you didn’t go to a bar with one of those soldiers!”
She sashayed to within a foot of him and said, “Exactly so, Mr. Denegal, and there’s more to tell.” She allowed a pause before going on. “Mr. Gallagher offered me a position in his taproom and I accepted. I start tomorrow evening. You’ve no time for me anymore, so I might as well keep myself occupied. Besides,” she pouted, “the soldiers and sailors like having me around!”
“Maggie, I will not allow you to do this!”
“You’ve got no say in the matter! My bags are packed. I’m taking a room over the bar, same as I had in Savannah!”
“That frosts it!” Steele raged. “We’re both leaving when the Isabel makes port. The last of the slaves will be gone by then. I’ll have nothing to keep me here. And the sooner I get you away, the better!”
“You’re not taking me anywhere, Steele Denegal! I come this far with you, and see what it got me—nothing! But I like it here, and I’m staying. You’ve tried to make me out something I’m not. Now I plan to live my own life!”
Arguing with her would do no good. Steele knew that from past experience. Perhaps he could reason with her. “Maggie, you can’t stay. There’s a war coming. I can’t leave you alone.”
She flipped her skins and turned to leave the room. “All the better,” she tossed over her shoulder. “I hear-tell women like me make a fortune in wartime!” She slammed the door quickly, before Steele had a chance to reply.
He stretched out on the bed, his head pounding. What could he do? If only Caroline Mallory weren’t treating him so coolly these days, he might plead with her to reason with Maggie. Caroline’s attitude continued to confound him. What had he done to insult her? He was still mulling the question over in his brain as he drifted off to sleep.
Maggie had moved out, bag and baggage, by the time Steele awoke the next morning. His first urge was to go to Pat Gallagher’s and drag her out by her fiery red hair. But then she’d only retaliate with some other, more outrageous action.
“No. I’ll let her stay there for now. I’ll haul her away just before the Isabel leaves port,” he said to his grim reflection in the shaving mirror.
When Steele arrived at the ticket office, the clerk said, “You’re in luck, Mr. Denegal. Jack Buckley came in a few hours ago on his smack boat. Says he spotted the Isabel little less than a day out. She’ll be two days in port, then on her way north again. Two tickets to Savannah, you say?”
“Yes,” Steele replied, pushing several bank notes over the counter.
He started to leave, but then glanced down at the printed tickets and turned back to the elderly agent.
“I’ll need two cabins. Not one double.”
“Oh?” The ticket master’s shaggy eyebrows twitched up perceptibly. “Whatever you say, Mr Denegal.”
Steele felt the man staring at him as he walked away. Several odd things like this had happened lately. For some reason, the inhabitants of Key West seemed to think he was on the verge of marrying Maggie. Their behavior puzzled him, but he dismissed it once more and headed toward the Mallory residence on Greene Street.
Roberts admitted him at the first knock. The butler bowed, but didn’t smile.
“Is Miss Mallory in? I’d like to have a word with her,” Steele said, feeling slightly uncomfortable under the old servant’s gaze.
“Thought you’d have been around long ‘fore now, Mr. Denegal. Every other young gentleman on this here island’s been practically beatin’ the door down since the senator left for Washington City.”
Steele considered himself reprimanded for his lack of attention to Roberts’ charge, and apologized, “I’ve been working day and night. This is the first chance I’ve had to call.”
“Well, I see is Miss Caroline free,” he answered, still not placated. A moment later he returned to the entranceway. “She in the drawing room, Mr. Denegal.”
Caroline Mallory looked like a painting by Reynolds when Steele entered. She sat at a small French secretaire, its gleaming mahogany delicately inlaid with lemonwood, following the style of Louis Philippe. Her velvet gown of mellow gold set off the shining highlights in her hair and eyes. A tiny Maltese terrier nestled in her lap as she penned a letter. He stood watching her for several moments before she realized he’d entered.
“Oh, Mr. Denegal!” She rose gracefully, but quickly, upsetting her sleeping pet. “I didn’t hear you come in. I was finishing a long-overdue letter to Angela and Stephen, as the Isabel will be in tomorrow.”
“You heard, then?” he said, thinking how quickly news traveled from one end of Key West to the other.
“Of course! Everyone’s getting ready for her arrival ….Christmas guests, you know.”
“Yes, I remember. You were categorized as such when I first met you. I can’t believe I came here to stay only a few days and it’s been almost a year.�
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The small, pretty smile on Caroline’s face vanished. “You say that as if you mean to leave soon, Steele.”
“I do. In fact, that’s the reason for my visit—a farewell gesture. And I’ve never had a chance to thank you properly for all your kindness while I was ill. I’m sure Maggie could never have managed without your help. I know I’m a dreadful patient.”
“You’re quite well now?” she asked formally.
“Never better, thank you, Caroline.”
Steele walked toward her while they spoke, until he stood in the fragrant aura of her plumeria perfume. Its sweet, tropic scent made him long to move even closer. She seemed to sense his feelings and took a step backward.
“Please, have a seat, Steele. I’ll ring Roberts to bring tea and scones.”
They sat in uncomfortable silence while Roberts deposited the silver tray between them on a small table. Caroline poured with all the decorum of a born hostess.
“We’ll all be sorry to see you leave Key West, Steele,” Caroline said too politely.
“All, Caroline?” Steele asked. “I’ve had the feeling you’ve been avoiding me for several months—since my illness. Even before that, now that I think back.”
Caroline made a great display of deciding whether to put guava or mango marmalade on her scone, but didn’t answer.
“Well?” Steele pressed. “You must tell me what I’ve done to offend you. Otherwise, how can I make amends?”
Caroline set her Limoges cup down so heavily that Steele feared it might shatter. “Oh, Steele, I really don’t want to talk about it. You have nothing to apologize for, at any rate. I simply didn’t understand the way things were until Maggie told me…” she broke off and her hand flew to her lips.
Steele looked at her sternly. “Maggie told you what exactly?”
Caroline refused to be pressed into explaining. “I’m not naive, Steele. I should have understood your relationship from the beginning. But I feel so foolish now. You can see why I’d rather not discuss it.”
Steele felt totally frustrated. “What is it that we’re not discussing, Caroline? That’s what I’m trying to find out!”
“Oh, Steele, honestly!” Caroline said, embarrassed and exasperated. “I know you’re a man of the world. I haven’t been completely sheltered all my life. It’s just that I believed you. I’d never have guessed that Maggie wasn’t your niece, that she was your…”
“My what, dammit?”
“Your lover!” Caroline blurted out, jumping up from her chair and going to the window.
“My lover? Are you out of your mind, Caroline? Whatever gave you such an absurd idea?” Steele set his own cup down and followed Caroline across the room.
“You don’t have to pretend with me, Steele,” Caroline said, not turning to face him. “I’m a broad-minded, modern woman. I’m cognizant of such arrangements between men and women. I’ll admit, it shocked me at first. But when I saw how much she cared for you when you were sick… how much she wanted the baby…”
“Baby? What in God’s name are you talking about, Caroline?” Steele caught her by the shoulders and turned her to face him.
“You mean, she didn’t tell you she was carrying your child? Oh, Steele, how awful for you and for Maggie! Poor thing! The miscarriage must have been a terrible blow for her to endure all alone!”
Bits and pieces began to fall into place. The coolness had begun soon after Maggie and Caroline’s shopping trip. At one point a few weeks later, Maggie had refused to leave the hotel room for days, although there was nothing wrong with her. Steele had chalked up her odd behavior to her Irish temper when he refused to take her to a bawdy show she wanted to see.
“Caroline, listen to me. Maggie is not my lover. She was never carrying my child, so there could have been no miscarriage. This whole thing has been one of Maggie’s charades. She has a jealous streak a mile wide. She saw you as a threat. That’s all there is to it!”
A smile broke over Caroline’s radiant face. Involuntarily, she threw her arms around Steele’s neck and gave him a sound hug, then stepped back, looking serious again. “Then you’ve never made love to Maggie?”
Steele started to answer a quick no, then he remembered the one time, the morning of the street brawl. His hesitation gave Caroline her answer.
“Steele Denegal, I think you are despicable!” Caroline said with cold fury. “That poor, innocent girl!”
“Poor, innocent girl?” Steele echoed. “Did she tell you that I rescued her from a brothel in Savannah? That she’d been working there as a prostitute since she was twelve? That I only meant to take her away from that kind of life—to make a lady of her?”
“And what were you doing in a place like that, if not looking for someone like her?” Caroline shot back.
Steele sighed, feeling his battle near lost. “I was writing a letter to the woman I plan to marry.”
“Which woman?” The question cut like a sharp knife. “Rachel? Lilah? How many others are there, Steele? You talked in your delirium, you see. I know a good deal more than you think. You’ve now added poor Maggie to your list of women in every port. Was my name to be next?”
Now the question Steele had come to ask would sound incriminating, he knew, but he had to try anyway.
“Forget all that for a moment, Caroline,” he pleaded.
“Miss Mallory, to you!” she retorted.
“There’s a war about to break. You shouldn’t stay here by yourself. I want you to come north with Maggie and me… for your own safety.”
“Aha! So now it’s to be a manage d troisl Get out of my house, Steele Denegal! And out of my life!”
Realizing he’d handled the situation badly from start to finish, Steele offered Caroline Mallory a parting bow, then left.
The scene with Caroline was not the only one to be played contrary to the way he would have directed it. Three days later, his bags packed and stowed away aboard the Isabel, Steele went to collect Maggie.
Even in the early morning Pat Gallagher’s establishment was alive with humanity. Steele entered the open-air saloon on Wall Street to find Maggie, gowned in the red and black striped satin, which he had never allowed her to wear, holding court for a group of swarthy, foreign sailors.
Steele shouldered his way through the circle of men. Maggie looked at him and smiled triumphantly.
“Well, if it ain’t Mr. Denegal! This be the gent who brought me out of the wicked Gomorrah of Savannah to this paradise isle,” Maggie confided to her admirers.
Several of the seamen slapped Steele on the back or thanked him profusely. He ignored them, his full attention on Maggie.
“I’d like a word with you in private, Maggie,” he demanded.
She fluttered her eyelashes at him and said, “Gore, and it ain’t even noon yet!” Then in a stage whisper to her sailors, she added, “But then he always was a homy bastard first thing in the morning.”
The sailors hooted and added their own lewd comments to Maggie’s.
Steele caught her by the elbow and commanded, “Upstairs, Maggie, now!”
She twisted her arm free and scowled at him. “I don’t take no one but paying customers to my room. You know the rules. Pay, then play!”
“Maggie, for God’s sake, we only have an hour!”
“Humph!” she replied with a toss of her coppery curls. “Last time you paid for the whole night. Getting mighty chintzy, ain’t you?”
“Very well! If you won’t talk in private, I’ll tell you here. The Isabel leaves within the hour and you’re going to be on it if I have to carry you all the way to the dock!”
“In a pig’s eye!” Maggie howled. “Just you try it, Steele Denegal! My friends here will take you apart. Right, fellers?”
The group of seamen moved in protectively around Maggie, shoving Steele to the outer edge of their Circle. He noticed hands go to knife hilts and a hunger for blood light their eyes.
“Maggie,
be reasonable,” Steele pleaded. “What kind of life can you have here?”
“A kind to my liking, thank you!” she snapped. “And what’s for me if I go with you, eh? You’ll be heading back to Rainbow Hammock and your wedding. What will your little bride think if you show up with me along as excess baggage?” She guffawed at her own words. “Baggage! That’s callin’ a spade a spade, eh, maties?”
The sailors joined her raucous laughter. Only Steele remained solemn.
Maggie climbed down from the high stool she’d been sitting on and came to Steele. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him tenderly.
“That’s for luck, love,” she whispered. “Go back to your Lilah and be happy with her. You’ve done me a good turn, bringin’ me here. Believe that. I love you like a … like my own dear uncle.”
Steele returned Maggie’s kiss, then said, “Take care, Maggie. I won’t say goodbye. We’ll meet again.”
Maggie grabbed a tankard of ale from the table and raised it for a toast, then laughed, “In hell we’ll be meetin’ for sure, love! Be gone with you now, and fair winds!”
Before noon Steele Denegal stood on the deck of the Isabel watching the emerald green and silver-white jewel that was Key West slipping away in the turquoise sea. Would he ever see the place again? Would he see hell before he saw Maggie again, as she’d predicted? The prospect made him feel sad and lonely.
Then his thoughts turned quickly to the north, to Rainbow Hammock. All his dreams of the past months were on the verge of fulfillment. Although he had no way of knowing, he felt in his heart that Lilah Fitzpatrick would be waiting. This certainty came, not through vanity, but through love.
He closed his eyes against the strong glare off the water and visualized Lilah’s calm, lovely features, her silvery skein of hair, her intense violet eyes.
‘Two more weeks, my love,” he said aloud. “Wait for me just two more weeks.”
Rainbow Hammock Page 20
