A Gilded Grave (14 page)

“Because we might get into trouble?” Elspeth asked, her eyes wide.

Deanna nodded. “Or worse.”

Elspeth sat down hard on the bench beside Deanna. “You think the murderer is someone we know?”

Deanna raised her eyebrows. “Don’t you?”

D
inner was a bit melancholy without the Manchesters, though Mr. Woodruff seemed to have rallied. Tonight there was more color in his cheeks and a twinkle to his eyes, and he seemed to be glad to be home with the family. He ate sparingly but teased the girls about their conquests at the ball.
Asked Charles about his revised plans for taking Lord David down to visit Joe’s machine shop the next day. Told Dee to send his best wishes for Adelaide’s speedy recovery.

Charles, on the other hand, seemed subdued, preoccupied. And Deanna wondered if he was missing Adelaide—or the presence of Madeline Manchester. This did not bode well for Adelaide’s future, and her mother would have a fit if a second fiancé cried off.

But Deanna didn’t see that there was much she could do about that. It would be up to Adelaide on her return. Which she selfishly hoped wouldn’t be too soon.

Deanna was enjoying her new-found freedom, such as it was. She was beginning to get an inkling of what life would be like without a mother’s constant supervision, though she supposed that when she left home, someone else—her husband or society in general—would take her mama’s place. Still, she’d decided that she would never go back to being stifled and perfectly behaved. Though, at the moment, she didn’t see how that could be achieved.

Exhaustion hit Deanna halfway through the first course, and she had to smother several yawns. Going to the Fifth Ward had been an adventure but it had taken its toll. And the conversation with Claire, and almost getting caught by Cassie and Madeline, had pushed her just over the brink. She was glad the Manchesters had gone out without the others.

Tonight she would soak in a hot bath, then read about someone else’s adventures from the comfort of her own bed.

But it wasn’t to be. As the ladies got up to leave, Mr. Woodruff announced that he would go out to the Reading Room.

“But, my dear, do you think you should go out? You’re just rallying from the trip.”

“Oh, don’t fuss, Nell. I’ll be fine.”

Mrs. Woodruff looked as if she’d like to say more, but she didn’t.

“Before you go, father,” Charles said, “might I have a word? In the library?”

“Sure, my boy, but is it something that can wait? It’s getting late.”

“It will only take a minute. And I’d like to take care of it tonight.”

Mr. Woodruff frowned. He had suddenly become . . . agitated, Deanna thought. As if he were in a hurry to leave the house. “Very well. Ladies, I’ll say good night.”

Deanna was thinking fast. Could Charles be about to tell his father that he wanted to break off his engagement with Adelaide? It did seem to Deanna that he had been wrestling with his thoughts all evening, and perhaps he had now come to a decision.

Mrs. Woodruff tried once more to convince her husband not to go out. Deanna took the opportunity to whisper to Cassie, “Excuse me,” and quickly went down the hall.

There was a powder room nearby, and she hoped that Cassie assumed that was where she was going. Instead she turned into the servants’ hall and slipped through the small servants’ door at the back of the library.

If Charles was consulting his father about crying off, Deanna wanted to know about it now. She’d figure out what to do about the information—if there was anything she could do—later.

The library was decorated in dark wood and heavy furniture. Books lined one wall and a spiral staircase led to another level of books.

One lone reading lamp illuminated the darkness. Just enough
light for Deanna to make her way across the room without bumping into the two large club chairs and several reading tables and globe that stood between them.

She hurried across the lush Oriental carpet without making a sound, grabbed her skirts, and hurried up the stairs. She’d just reached the top when she heard the door from the hall open. She ducked into a reading alcove, a cozy niche with a window that looked onto the lawn and a cushioned seat just big enough for two young girls. Deanna and Cassie had found a picture book of Greek art there one summer and spent many wide-eyed hours giggling over the naked statues.

The downstairs lights came on, and Deanna blinked out of her dark corner. She could see the tops of the two men’s heads below her, Mr. Woodruff’s hair going bald in a circle at the crown of his head, but Charles’s was still full and wavy.

“Well, what is it?”

Mr. Woodruff’s voice was impatient. Deanna wondered what was so important at the Reading Room, where everyone knew men retreated not just to read their papers, smoke cigars, and talk about business, but to get away from their wives and daughters. It didn’t sound all that interesting to Deanna.

She leaned forward.

“I’m concerned, Father.”

“Oh, don’t you start harping on my health.”

“Not on your health, but on the health of R and W Sugar.”

Deanna slumped in relief. Charles wasn’t going to ask to break his engagement to Adelaide after all. He just wanted to talk business. And now she was stuck here until they left. Her bath was looking very far away.

“There’s nothing wrong with the business.”

“Isn’t there, sir? American Sugar is buying up refineries all
around us. This Lord David fellow was supposed to ensure us a supply of raw material in order to keep us competitive. In the meantime, our smaller suppliers are either signing on with Havemeyer or selling to the refineries out west.”

“Don’t you worry, Charles. Everything will be fine, fine.”

“Then why isn’t he out doing whatever you brought him here to do, rather than dancing and dining and spending our money and asking for more?”

“An investment. He could deliver twice the product if he were to plant all of his acreage. He just needs the capital.”

“Let him use his own money.”

“Don’t show your ignorance, Charles. His capital is tied up in the plantation.”

“Don’t expect me to try to convince Randolph and Ballard to go along with this scheme. It’s jeopardizing the whole future of R and W.”

“Nonsense. Our future is dependent on it.”

“With all due respect, sir, I don’t even think Lord David’s interested in the company. I offered to take him to see the refineries, and he couldn’t have been less enthusiastic.”

“I told you that I would take him when I was feeling better. Which I am. So stop worrying.”

“I’ll stop worrying when I know that all the money you gave him in good faith is actually being used to bring the raw sugar to our refineries.” Charles took a step away, turned back to his father. “And now he’s dining with the Stanhopes, who are thick as thieves with our competitors.”

“Oh, enough. Yes, Stanhope’s wife is a Havemeyer, but I’m sure she thinks no more about sugar than how much to put in her tea. And as far as Stanhope goes—the man hasn’t dabbled in business in years. I assure you, he’s only interested in his horses
and mistresses. Our families go back generations, and I can tell you”—Deanna leaned forward—“more than one of the Stanhopes isn’t playing with a full deck.”

“Perhaps,” Charles conceded. “But his son is.”

“Herbert? Fun and games, that one. And air for brains. You just leave well enough alone, boy. I’ll take care of everything. Now, I’m off to the Reading Room. I’ll be back late. Tell the servants not to wait up for me.”

Mr. Woodruff left Charles standing in the middle of the room.

Deanna eased back, willing Charles to follow his father out of the room. Tonight, telepathy didn’t work. It seemed Charles had no intention of going anywhere soon. When he finally did move, he only went as far as the massive kneehole desk. He sat down, unlocked a drawer, and pulled out a blue ledger.

Several minutes passed with Charles bent over the ledger.

Then with an exclamation that made Deanna jump, he slammed it shut, tossed it back into the drawer, and locked it. “He’ll ruin us,” he said, as if he couldn’t believe his own words. He slumped back in his chair as if he meant to stay there all night. “Damn and damn and damn.”

Damn and damn and damn
, agreed Deanna, and hoped to heaven no one would sound the alarm when she didn’t return to the drawing room.

D
eanna awoke with a start. She thought she must still be dreaming, because she was hunched up in a tiny space, her head resting against a hard surface. She was in the hold of a ship like a slave or in a box like a magician’s assistant.

Then she remembered.

Good heavens, she’d fallen asleep in the library alcove. The library was now completely dark. Charles must have left, and she hadn’t even heard him. Was the family out looking for her? How would she explain?

She stood up; her foot must have fallen asleep as well, because it prickled painfully. But she had no idea of the time. She looked out the little window, but there was no moon, no stars. It was a cloudy night.

Gradually, her eyes became accustomed to the dark, and she made out the shapes of things below her. She groped for the rail
that ran around the edge of the balcony and followed it to the steps.

Carefully, she placed her foot on the first tread and then the next. It took more time than she wanted, but she had no intention of breaking her neck. Not after what she’d heard tonight. Charles was worried about the business. Something he’d seen in the ledger had upset him. That terrible “He’ll ruin us.” And her father angry at something that Mr. Woodruff hadn’t done about the contract with Lord David. And that it was serious.

It just didn’t seem fair that Mr. Woodruff should be jeopardizing all their lives. But she did know that fairness had no place in business, at least not at the level that her father and the other men practiced it.

It was then she remembered the telegram sent to her father and that she had forgotten to pass on to Mr. Woodruff.

Perhaps she shouldn’t pass it along after all. She wasn’t sure what she should do. Bob would have known what to do. Joe would know. But what did she really know? Maybe she could ask Gran Gwen, who knew about a lot of things. But it would all have to wait. Right now, the most important thing for Deanna to do was go out and make up some excuse for being gone so long.

She felt her way across the room until she came to the desk. She wished she knew how to pick locks, but even if she got into the desk drawer, she doubted she could understand the numbers in the ledger. A few steps later she came to the door, groped for the doorknob, then opened the door to darkness.

Was this a dream? Why was everything so dark? She began to be afraid. Her pulse throbbed in her neck like something that didn’t belong to her. All was quiet. Could it be so late that
everyone had gone to bed? Why wouldn’t they be out looking for her? She might be lying at the bottom of the cliff like Daisy.

How long had she slept?

At least Elspeth ought to be looking for her. Wouldn’t she have sounded the alarm?

Cold, clammy fingers crawled up Deanna’s spine. She turned and saw a soft glow of light ahead. Thank goodness. It was in the foyer. She hurried toward it. The foyer was empty. She crossed the floor and looked into the drawing room. All dark.

She climbed the stairs and had just reached the landing when she heard someone enter the front door and silently cross the foyer below her.

Her first thought was that someone had left the door unlocked and that a burglar was entering, then she scoffed at herself. A burglar wouldn’t use the front door. It must be Mr. Woodruff returning from his club.

Deanna started toward her room. It wouldn’t do to be found wandering the halls in the middle of the night. Then she heard soft laughter and a hurried “shh.” It wasn’t Mr. Woodruff, but Lord David and his sister, coming back from a late night at the Stanhopes.

Deanna blushed. This was even worse. Their rooms were in the opposite wing, but she’d never make it to her room without them seeing her. What would they think of her skulking in the shadows?

She’d hesitated too long. There was no hope for it. A few feet down the hall, a slatted chest held a vase of peonies. She ducked behind the far side, shrank down and pulled her skirts close to her feet, just as they came into view.

She could see them through the slats, and it made them
look like one of those new moving pictures that Mr. Edison had demonstrated. All flickery.

They paused. And Deanna held her breath.

“A successful night, brother,” Madeline said, and smiled up at him.

“Indeed.” Lord David wrapped an arm around her, pulled her close, and kissed her. Full on the mouth, like a lover.

Deanna swallowed a gasp. She knew she shouldn’t be watching and yet she couldn’t look away.

The kiss went on and on. His hand slid up her bodice, his fingers spread over her breast, but Madeline pushed him away, frowning. “We must be careful.” Then she walked away, pausing long enough to smile back at him, and they both disappeared down the opposite hallway.

Deanna sat on the floor for the longest time. Maybe that hadn’t been what it looked like. Maybe it was a Barbadian custom to kiss your sister on the mouth.

But it hadn’t looked like a brotherly kiss at all. It was passionate in a way that made Deanna’s stomach flutter.

Using the chest to steady herself, Deanna pushed to her feet and walked back to her room on shaky legs. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to spy on people. Now she had knowledge she wished she didn’t have, and she didn’t know what to do about it, either. How could she possibly face them tomorrow like nothing had changed?

The light in her room was on. Elspeth was curled up in the chair asleep, but she woke up when Deanna closed the door and leaned against it.

Elspeth shook herself and jumped up. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick! I was afraid whoever killed Daisy
got you, too.” She looked around, picked up the brush from the dressing table, and threw it at Deanna.

“Ouch.” Deanna stooped to pick up the brush, which had fallen to the floor after hitting her in the arm. “I’m sorry. I’ve had such a night. Did no one else wonder where I was?”

“Yes. Cassie came up and I told her you’d fallen asleep in the dressing room. That you were worn out and not to bother you. I don’t know if I should have done that, but I was afraid to tell on you. I looked for you everywhere, even went back to Daisy’s room—and that was not fun by myself, I can tell you. I didn’t know what to do.”

She sat down again and burst into tears.

Deanna hurried toward her. “I’m sorry, Elspeth. It wasn’t my fault. Truly. Well, not exactly.”

“What happened to you?” Elspeth asked from behind her hands.

Deanna sat on the floor at her feet. “Charles asked to speak with his father after dinner, and I was afraid he was going to end his engagement to Adelaide, what with all the moony looks he’s been giving Madeline.”

“They went to talk in the library, so I sneaked in the servants’ entrance and hid up on the balcony.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“What if they had caught you?”

“I don’t know. I was just afraid for Adelaide and— Oh, I don’t know.”

Elspeth lowered her hands and reached in her apron pocket for a handkerchief. She blew her nose. “Did he want to end the engagement?”

“No.” Deanna told her what she’d overheard.

“You think Mr. Woodruff’s doing something he shouldn’t with the business?”

“Or not doing enough of what he should be doing. He went off to the Reading Room right after he talked to Charles.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you were gone so long.”

“When Mr. Woodruff left, Charles got out a ledger and started going over figures. I couldn’t leave without him seeing me, and I guess I fell asleep.”

Elspeth rolled her eyes. “That’s it?”

“Well, actually there’s something worse.”

Elspeth slipped off the chair to sit on the floor next to Deanna.

“As I was coming upstairs just now, Lady Madeline and Lord David came home from their dinner.” Deanna stopped. Just thinking of what she’d seen made her feel queasy. She didn’t know how she could tell it without sounding crazy.

“Everyone was in bed, and I didn’t want them to think I was waiting up for them or spying on them, so I ducked behind that table in the hallway.”

“You
have
been the spy this evening. Did they catch you?”

“No. But—I saw him kiss her. On the mouth. Like lovers do.”

“But she’s his sister.”

“I know, but I saw them. I really did. And he put his hand where he shouldn’t.”

“Heathens! I told you.”

“And Charles is worried about his father giving Lord David a lot of money.”

“Why would he give Lord David money? He’s a rich landowner.”

“I know. But evidently he wants even more to complete the deal. I don’t understand any of it. It’s probably nothing, or I misunderstood, but I think I should tell Joe, don’t you?”

Elspeth nodded slowly. “I think you should . . . about the money. They were really kissing?”

T
he sound of broken glass awoke Joe from a deep sleep. He lifted his head off the pillow.

Damned drunk
, he thought, and lowered himself back into bed.

The second sound of smashing glass brought him out of bed and to his feet. That sounded more like a window than a whiskey bottle. He pulled on his trousers and reached under his bed for the pistol he kept loaded in case of a burglar or a saboteur, and made his way out of his bedroom. Everything looked fine from where he stood. The doors were bolted and all windows in the warehouse were grilled; no one could break in.

Still . . .

He moved stealthily toward the back work area and opened the door a slit. Saw the first explosion of fire. They were fire bombing his workshop. He stuck the pistol in his waistband and grabbed a burlap bag from the pile he kept for just such an occasion and a pail of sand. And ran recklessly across the floor to put out the fire that had begun to spread across whatever incendiary substance that had been in the bottle.

It was moving toward the rolls of brown paper that would go into making the bags for the bagging machine. He looked above him to the broken window. He poured the sand in a wide line between the flames and the paper, then began to beat at the flames.

More glass splintered farther down the room.

Damn them.

But no bomb followed. Just the sound of an angry mob. But Joe couldn’t stop to see if the interlopers had been caught; he had his hands full putting the fire out.

Shots rang out, but Joe kept beating at the flames.

When the fire was finally doused and an extra pail of sand had been poured over the smoking ruins, Joe returned to his room long enough to pull on a work shirt and a pair of boots. Then he went outside.

“They got away,” said Hiram Harkevy, an ex-boxer and one of the men Joe paid to keep an eye on the warehouse. “They had a wagon waiting for them and armed guards. But we’ll get ’em next time.”

There were verbal agreements throughout the knot of men who had come out of the tavern to help bust some heads. “And then they won’t be doing any mischief ever again,” someone yelled from the crowd.

“Thank you.” Joe slapped Hiram on the shoulder. “No one was hurt?”

“Nah. A pack of cowards coming sneaking in the night.”

“Still, thank you much.” To the knot of men Joe said, “Drinks on me.” He locked his front door, and with the promise of bringing them a pint, Hiram dispatched two men to stand watch at the warehouse.

The rest of men followed him into the tavern.

The attacks were escalating. Until tonight, they had been mere annoyances, but fire was a real threat. If Hiram hadn’t stopped them, Joe could have lost months of work. He supposed it was time he hired full-time security.

He’d talk to Hiram tomorrow. And tomorrow he’d do something about securing the interior with more than glass windows.