The Lightkeeper's Daughter (13 page)

Edward threw himself atop her, and she pulled him onto her lap when she realized he was crying. “It’s okay, darling.”

“You’re bleeding,” the child wailed.

John moved away, and she hugged Edward, relishing the little-boy scent of grass and dog. “It’s merely a scratch, Edward. Proof of valor.” John was still near enough that she could smell his bay rum hair tonic.

“I should call the doctor,” John said. He placed his hand on her shoulder.

“No, no, I think I can get up with your assistance.” Aware she was showing more of her leg than was seemly, Addie flipped her skirt into place. She brushed a kiss across Edward’s cheek and scooted him onto the grass. “Papa’s going to help me up.” She grasped John’s arm and allowed him to lift her to her feet.

“Does anything hurt?” he asked.

She smiled into his face. “Only my pride.”

“Let’s get you inside.”

She glanced at the heap of wheels and metal. “No, I want to get back on the bicycle.”

His mouth gaped. “You aren’t afraid?”

“I’m terrified. But if I don’t get back on now, I might never do it. The fall will expand in my mind. I want to learn this.”

She released his arm and stepped away, though she preferred to stay close to him. “The bicycle appears unharmed.”

“But you’re not. You’re bleeding.”

She bent her elbow up to have a look. “As I said, it’s merely a scratch.” She straddled the bicycle again. “I believe I need your assistance.”

“Against my better judgment.” He steadied the bicycle.

She put her feet on the pedals and began to move up the driveway, though her chest was tight and her breathing labored. Chances were, she wouldn’t fall again. Even if she did, she meant to master this skill. She loved the freedom she felt on the conveyance.

John ran beside her again, and she knew he wouldn’t let go unless she forced him. Maybe it was safer to ride with his assistance. But no, playing it safe wouldn’t help her learn to ride by herself.

“You can let go now,” she said, keeping up a steady pressure on the pedal though her pulse began to thump.

He stepped back, and his hands dropped away. “You can do it!” he shouted after her as the bicycle picked up speed on the slope toward the house.

Addie gained confidence as the wheels turned easily and the bicycle handled well. She was beginning to understand how to handle it, and her balance didn’t waver. She reached the front steps and braked. When the bicycle rolled to a stop, she put her feet down and sighed. She’d done it.

“Bravo!” John said, running to her side. “Your form was excellent. Now try to start it by yourself, without my assistance.”

She smiled back into his animated face. What was this relationship that was developing between them? He’d never answered her question about philandering. Maybe he treated every woman as if she were special. Mr. Driscoll had warned her to be careful, but it was hard to think of such things when she looked into John’s face.

His smile faded when she didn’t move. “Miss Adeline? Are you all right?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said, hastily putting one foot on a pedal.

She gave the bike a push with her right foot, then put her foot on the pedal and began to rotate the wheel. Her balance became steadier as the bicycle picked up speed. She was doing this alone! When she reached the top of the driveway, she turned in a circle and rode back to the house.

Her cheeks were warm from the ride. “I’ll put the bicycle in the carriage house. Thank you for teaching me to ride. It was most exhilarating.”

“One of the stablemen will do it.” When she dismounted, he leaned the bicycle against the porch. “I should put some iodine on your scrapes.”

“I can do it.”

“It’s hard to do by yourself. You can barely see if it’s clean.” He caught her arm and steered her toward the house, then down the hall to the parlor. “Wait here. I’ll get water and iodine.”

She rolled up her sleeve while he went to get the iodine. When had anyone tended to her so lovingly?

Dirt caked her elbow and arm where she’d grazed it on the driveway. Blood oozed from the abrasion. When John returned, he knelt and set the basin of warm water on the floor. Wringing out the washcloth, he touched it to the blood. She didn’t flinch.

“Nasty scrape,” he said. He washed the area as gently as he could.

“I can’t see it well.”

“As I said.” He smiled and set about cleaning the injury. The only time she winced was when he applied the iodine. “Sorry,” he said.

“The sting will ease in a moment.”

He rose and stepped back. “I wouldn’t hurt you if I could help it,” he said.

Addie’s eyes flickered, and she sobered. “You never answered my question at the beach,” she said. “About your intentions. Were you avoiding a straight answer?”

He grinned. “You are so direct.” He grew serious and held her gaze. “No, I’m not a philanderer, though Henry believes I need a new wife. He’s been on a crusade to find me one.”

“What do you think about it?”

“I have no desire to enter the matrimonial state again. Or at least I didn’t.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, her voice soft.

“There is something between us, Miss Adeline. I don’t know what it is, or where it will lead.”

“I don’t either.”

“I would like to find out,” he said. “In fair disclosure, let me mention that I’ve been seeing a young woman in the city. My commander’s daughter, Margaret. But I give you my word that I won’t be seeing her again.”

She bit her lip. “Have you been dating her long?”

He hesitated, then shrugged. “We’ve gone out four times.”

Her expression softened. “Oh, Lieutenant North. That poor woman. What will she think when you don’t ask her out again?”

“She’s beautiful and sought after. I’m sure there are many men who will be glad to step into my shoes. I shall call her tomorrow and inform her of my interest in you.”

Her eyes shimmered with moisture. “I don’t like that she’ll be hurt.”

He laughed. “Miss Adeline, there isn’t a woman alive who would find it in her heart to empathize with a rival as you do.” That’s what drew people to her, he decided, the compassion that emanated from her. Was it the result of her faith or something else?

“Did you love Katherine too much to replace her?”

He smiled. “What a romantic you are, my dear. Our marriage was less than warm.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, resting her hand on her chin. “I saw a photograph of her. She was very beautiful.”

“And spoiled.” John’s smile faltered. “Edward embarrassed her. I fear at times I embarrassed her more.”

Addie appeared so small in the large chair as she propped her chin on her hand. “You?” she asked.

Her tone implied it was beyond her comprehension that anyone wouldn’t be honored to be on his arm. No one in his life had ever treated him with so much respect. No wonder she intrigued him.

“I didn’t have enough ambition. Or perhaps I had the wrong kind.” Such an honest woman as Addie deserved the truth from him. “And I know I wasn’t the husband I should have been. I was away often, working hard to be the man she could look up to. I didn’t handle the stress well. We drifted so far apart that we were strangers in the same house.”

Addie shuddered. “I’m so sorry. Poor Edward, to lose his mother at such a young age.”

If she only knew how much better off his son was without the mother who hardly acknowledged his existence. “He barely knew her. She avoided him when she could.”

Her eyes glistened again, and she blinked quickly. “Poor child.” She rose. “Thank you for tending to my wounds.”

“My pleasure. Good night.”

“Good night,” she echoed.

He watched her walk away, her gown swishing with every step. Something about her made him want to be better than he was. When he saw the admiration and respect in her eyes, he could feel himself straighten and walk taller. Not many women caused that kind of reaction in a man.

So many women simpered and danced around the truth. Addie was exactly what she seemed. Being around someone so honest was a refreshing experience.

T
HIRTEEN

M
ONDAY MORNING
, A
DDIE
surveyed her domain again. The schoolroom lacked a proper desk. The existing chair and table were too small for Edward. Such circumstances gave her the perfect excuse to go to the attic. She’d been itching to find more of her mother’s possessions.

She touched the lad’s head. “Edward, you practice writing your A. I’ll be right back.”

The boy put his arm around the dog’s neck. “What about Gideon?”

“He can stay with you.”

She told Gideon to guard the boy, then went in search of Molly and found her scrubbing a bathroom. “Molly, I hate to disturb you, but would there happen to be any school desks in the manor?”

Molly pushed a tendril of damp hair that had escaped her cap out of the way and leaned back on her haunches. “I’m not sure, miss, but there might be something in the attic. I could check for you.” She started to get to her feet.

“Oh, don’t get up. I’ll do it if you direct me to the attic access.”

“It’s the door at the end of the hall by your bedroom.”

“Thank you.” Addie walked briskly through the labyrinth of halls and doorways, then found the attic door where Molly had indicated.

Light from the dormer windows shone dimly down the steep stairway. A lantern would help her see better, but she was in no mood to retrace her steps and bother Molly again. Perhaps there was a gaslight. She gathered her courage along with her skirts and ascended the stairs.

More light was the first thing she sought. Too many shadows dominated the space. She found a gaslight on a table, along with matches. When its hiss filled her ears, the warm glow from its globe made the attic appear less unfriendly. She glanced around and saw dressers, tables, trunks, and chifforobes. In another corner lay rolls of rugs. The other side held several desks and showed promise for what she needed. She picked her way through the jumbled furniture.

How would she know what furniture had belonged to her mother? She recognized the value of several lovely pieces under their drop cloths. She went through a stack of portraits but found none of her mother. In the back of the stack, she paused at the sight of a child, then realized it was too old to have been of her two-year-old self. The little one had long blonde curls and appeared to be about four. Perhaps it was Clara?

Addie left the paintings and began to look over the desks. Most of them were beautiful but built for a man, not a five-year-old boy. She removed protective covers from several pieces until she uncovered a woman’s desk. The desk was so lovely an exclamation escaped her lips. A white pastoral scene was painted on the doors that hid the drawers. She admired the delicate turned legs and the scrollwork on the front and top.

She had to see inside the dainty piece. The doors refused to open, and she realized it was locked. The key must be here somewhere. Kneeling, she ran her fingers over the legs, then under the desk. A key had been taped to the back edge. She peeled it off, then fitted the key into the keyhole. The hardware clicked, and she opened two doors to reveal two shelves and three drawers in a pale wood tone.

She wished she could claim it for her own. Never had she wanted something so badly. She touched the smooth wood, then pulled open the drawers. The two on top were empty. The bottom one ran the width of the desk and held bundles of letters in a woman’s script. Her hand hovered over one letter that was loose from the rest. Would reading this be prying? But surely whoever owned this didn’t care, not if she’d left the letters in the desk.

Addie decided to take a peek and see whom this exquisite desk had belonged to. The paper was heavy and stiff in her fingers. She unfolded the letter and made note of the address.

Dear Laura,

A gasp escaped her throat. Her mother’s letters? Her gaze roamed the desk. Did all these letters belong to her mother? She scooped them up and stuffed them into the waistband of her skirts. Once she reached the privacy of her room, she would read them. Perhaps they would reveal who was behind the events that had shaped her life.

She heard a creak on the steps and whirled to see John’s dark head appearing through the floor opening. She feared he could read the guilt stamped there and turned back to the desk.

“You startled me, Lieutenant North.” She closed the doors on the desk and placed the cloth back over it.

He stepped onto the attic floor. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to find a desk for Edward. The table is much too small.”

He joined her. “Will this work?” he asked, pointing to a desk.

She examined it and nodded. “It’s much like the one I used at the lighthouse.”

He gave the attic a quick appraisal. “Lots of useless stuff up here.”

“Beautiful things,” she said. “Did you notice the desk I covered up? It’s so lovely.”

“I didn’t see it.” He lifted its cloth. “A woman’s desk,” he said. “I don’t remember Katherine using it. But then, she didn’t want anything old.”

Addie ran her hand over the painted front. “It’s exquisite.”

“I’m sure no one would object if you used it while you’re here.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.” She took a step back. “I’m sure it’s very valuable.”

He shrugged. “It’s just an old desk. I’ll have one of the servants bring it down with this one for Edward. Do you want it in your room?”

“I’d rather use it in the schoolroom. Shouldn’t we ask permission first?”

“I’ll check with Clara, but I’m sure it’s fine.” He offered her his arm. “Lunch is in an hour. Henry will be back soon. I overheard you tell Sally you were itching to try the grand piano, and I’d like to hear you play.”

She put her hand on his arm. She could get used to attention from this man.