The Lightkeeper's Daughter (21 page)

John put his hands in his pockets. He could go through some files in Henry’s office while he waited. Some of the numbers at the bank weren’t adding up, and he needed to talk to Henry about them.

The front door slammed, and Henry’s voice called, “Clara, come here.”

Clara started to get up, but John shook his head. “I’ll help him.” He stepped into the hall and found Henry holding Addie by the arm. She swayed where she stood, and even her lips were pale.

“What’s happened?” John asked. “Has there been an accident?”

Henry hesitated. “Murder,” he said. “Miss Sullivan’s mother was murdered at the lighthouse today.”

The young woman’s eyes welled with tears. John stepped to her side. “I’m sorry, Addie,” he said. “Is there anything I can do?”

Her reddened eyes closed, then she shook her head. “The police are investigating.”

“Where is Clara?” Henry asked.

“In the parlor.”

“Come with me. You all should hear this at once.” Henry led Addie into the parlor, where he seated her in a chair.

“Henry, where have you been?” Clara demanded in an indignant voice.

Henry seated himself beside her and patted her hand without glancing at her. “It has been a most extraordinary day,” he said. “In many ways.”

A faraway expression dimmed John’s father-in-law’s eyes, and he kept glancing at Addie.

“A most extraordinary thing,” Henry murmured. “It appears Miss Sullivan is my daughter.”

John tensed as Clara shrieked and fainted onto the sofa. He sprang to her assistance. The maid rushed in with rose water, and he dabbed Clara’s handkerchief in it and ran it over her face. “Clara.” He patted her cheeks.

“She’ll be fine,” Henry said. “You don’t seem surprised, John. Were you aware of this situation?”

John rose and propped Clara’s head on a throw pillow and lifted her feet to the sofa. “I was. Miss Sullivan confided in me a few days ago.”

Henry glowered. “So I’m the last to know?”

“No, sir,” Addie said quickly. “Mr. Driscoll knows because he found me, but I’ve told only Lieutenant North.”

“Walter knows and said nothing? Why did neither of you tell me?”

Her eyes flashed an appeal toward John, and he sprang to her defense. “Miss Sullivan wanted more proof. She knew you would demand something more than a locket.”

“She’s quite right too. And we found more.”

He withdrew something from his inner jacket pocket and plunked it down on the coffee table.

Three sets of eyes pinned Addie to her chair. She tried to decipher the emotion she saw in John’s eyes before deciding it was compassion. She longed to clasp his hand and draw strength from him for the coming ordeal.

Mrs. Eaton had been brought around. With her complexion pale and a light sheen of perspiration on her forehead, she lay back against the cushions, uttering an occasional moan and an “oh dear.”

“Buck up, Clara,” Henry said. “This is quite an unusual situation, and I shall need your full attention.”

She brought her lace hankie to her nose. “What nonsense is this, Henry?”

Mr. Eaton removed his jacket and unbuttoned his vest. He filled his pipe and lit it. Drawing in two quick puffs, he sighed and turned back toward his wife. “Little Julia didn’t die in the shipwreck.” He gestured toward Addie. “There she sits.”

Addie wanted to be anywhere but here. She was aware how it appeared-as though she’d sneaked into the household under false pretenses in order to gain something from them. All she wanted was a family.

“Is this what you’re claiming, Addie?” Mrs. Eaton asked. “That you’re Julia Eaton?”

“I think Mr. Driscoll should be here,” Addie said. “He might be able to explain it better than I.” Addie heard footsteps, then Mr. Driscoll stepped into the room.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Mr. Eaton puffed furiously on his pipe. “Addie here tells me that you brought her into the house, knowing she was my daughter. Would you care to explain yourself?”

Mr. Driscoll’s gaze moved from person to person. “Someone paid the lightkeeper to care for Addie. To keep her from this house.”

Mrs. Eaton gasped. “Paid to keep her away? What could be the reason?”

Mr. Driscoll shrugged. “That is what I wanted to find out. I kept her true identity hidden because I feared if I brought her here, her life might be in danger.”

“Her life?” Mrs. Eaton scoffed. “No one would harm her.”

“Walter has a valid point,” Mr. Eaton said. “After all, someone attacked her. And now someone has killed her adopted mother.”

Addie stood and clutched her hands together. “What if the attack on me in the forest was deliberate and had nothing to do with Mr. Driscoll’s attack?”

“We don’t yet know what happened to your mother,” Mr. Eaton said. “Sit down, child. You’re overwrought.”

Addie had seen no real sign of joy from him. No warm hug. No tears of relief. He’d simply announced her existence to the family as if she were trying to shock them. She supposed it would take a while for the truth to sink in. The last time he’d seen her, she had been a child of two. How could she expect him to entertain warm thoughts of her when for all these years he thought she was dead? She glanced at John and found him studying her with troubled eyes. Did he harbor new questions about her motives, or would he trust that she wanted nothing more than to know and love her family?

Mrs. Eaton clenched her small fist. “So you slipped into the house to spy on everyone here?”

“No!” she said. “I mean, I want to know who I am. I wanted to learn about my mother. I had no idea I wasn’t Addie Sullivan until Mr. Driscoll showed up.”

John focused on Mr. Driscoll. “How did you come to find Miss Sullivan?”

Mr. Driscoll gestured to Addie. “Show them the locket.”

Her icy fingers found the locket in the pocket of her dress, and she held it out.

“It’s just a locket,” Mrs. Eaton said.

“It was Laura’s,” Mr. Driscoll said. “I gave it to her myself.” He took the necklace from Addie’s fingers. “Look. Here is her mother’s picture.” He opened it and showed it to Mrs. Eaton.

Mrs. Eaton stared at it. “It is Vera,” she whispered. Her hands shook when she handed it back.

“Exactly,” Mr. Eaton said.

“How do we know this locket didn’t wash up on shore? Maybe she found it and thought it would be a suitable way to insinuate herself into the family,” Mrs. Eaton said.

“How could she have known of Vera’s identity or her connection to us?” Walter asked. “Also, I discovered more proof today, but let me recap how I found Adeline. A friend showed me her photographs taken on her vacation along the north shore. She was so proud of them. I indulged her and flipped through them. This picture caught my attention.” He handed a picture to Mr. Eaton.

The photograph shook in Mr. Eaton’s hand. “She looks very much like Laura in this.”

“The lighting favors that impression. But the way she stood, the curve of her cheek. They were enough to draw me to investigate. When I met Adeline, I saw the locket and was certain.”

Addie saw the picture over her father’s shoulder. She’d only heard about it until now. Mr. Driscoll must have been busy gathering proof. “What did you find today?” she asked.

Mr. Driscoll reached into his pocket. “Here are two pictures of Addie. One at age three and one at eight. Compare it to the picture of Julia at two. The one in the newspaper clipping.”

Addie’s mouth gaped. She hadn’t been aware he had them. Josephine must have supplied them to him.

John reached for the photos. His brows gathered as he studied them. “There’s no doubt it’s the same child,” he said, passing the photos to Mrs. Eaton.

She gave them a cursory glance and handed them to her husband. “What is it you want, Miss Sullivan?”

The older woman’s stiff return to a formal mode of address signaled her displeasure, and Addie clasped her hands together once more. Any hope she had for a warm reception into the bosom of her family evaporated like the morning fog.

“I’d prayed for a warm welcome,” Addie managed to say past the boulder in her throat.

Mrs. Eaton dabbed at her eyes. “Of course, if we were sure you really are Julia, it would be different. I fear I don’t quite believe you yet.”

Mr. Eaton glowered. “How can you argue with these pictures, Clara?” He turned toward Addie with a smile. “I don’t quite know what to say, my dear. But I’m very glad you’re home.”

When he enveloped Addie in a hug, she hardly knew how to react. She inhaled the smoky scent of his pipe tobacco and the spicy hair tonic clinging to him, then put her arms around him and hugged him back. The awkwardness grew until he released her and stepped back.

“Might I see the pictures?” she asked. When he handed them over, she stared with fascination at her younger self. Any lingering doubt she might have had vanished when she saw her three-year-old self compared to two-year-old Julia. In the older picture, she stood in the front of the lighthouse with Roy. Her gaze lingered on the father of her childhood.

Mr. Eaton held out his hand for the pictures when she was done. “We must celebrate tonight,” he said. “A night on the town! I’m taking you all to dinner.”

“It’s been an upsetting day,” Addie said. “I really am not up to it.” Though Josephine hadn’t really loved her, Addie still mourned.

“We’ll come home early,” Mr. Eaton said. “We’ll dine in a private room.”

She couldn’t bear the thought of more scrutiny, more questions. Her head throbbed, and she had never been so weary. “Very well,” she said. She smoothed her plain gray skirt. “What should I wear?” she asked.

Mrs. Eaton rose. “Come with me. I shall find you something suitable. We can’t have my niece not in the very top of fashion.”

“Not black,” her father called after them. “This is a celebration.”

It wasn’t a celebration for her. It was acceptance of a sort. Though not the homecoming she’d hoped for.

T
WENTY-TWO

G
ASLIGHTS GLITTERED OVER
sparkling crystal and fine china in the private dining room at the Colony Bay Restaurant. Through the large plate-glass windows, John watched the water on the bay reflect the lights along the boardwalk. He couldn’t get his mind around the fact that the beautiful young woman beside him was his wife’s half sister.

Addie took a sip from her water glass. The tension radiated from her shoulders and showed in the tight press of her lips. She hadn’t smiled since they’d been seated. She was a true Eaton tonight. Her hair was piled onto her head, and a tiny beret perched on her curls. The emerald gown was lavish with lace and glitter.

Several men came up to talk to Henry. “Lord Carrington, please join us,” Henry said.

John wanted to roll his eyes. He watched the English lord bow over Addie’s hand. The man’s interest was palpable. John couldn’t gauge how Addie felt. When he couldn’t take any more, he rose and held out his hand to Addie. “Would you care for an after-dinner stroll along the waterfront, Addie?”

She sent a relieved smile his way, then rose and put her gloved hand on his proffered arm. “We’ll meet you at the carriage later,” he told Henry.

He led Addie out past the soft murmur of laughter and voices in the main salon, to the doors, and onto the waterfront. The soft waves lapped at the shore but failed to drain away the anger that had built in him through the evening. There was no reason for it. She’d confessed to him before the news came out, but watching her step into the bosom of the Eaton family sickened him. And it was all about how they’d change her. He knew what was in store for her and wished he could abort it.

He stopped under a gaslight. “It’s about to begin, Addie. They’ll try to make you just like Katherine. She wanted the biggest house, the most glamorous clothes, the most expensive buggy.”

“Money means nothing to me, but family means everything. I never knew my sister, so her behavior has nothing to do with me.”

In the wash of golden light, he studied the curve of her cheek, the shape of her eyes. “Now that I know, I’m astounded I didn’t see the resemblance. You’re an Eaton through and through.”

She winced. “You say that as though it’s a curse. You’re part of the family as well. As is your son.”

He touched her cheek, so soft under his fingers. “A fact I would be swift to change if I could. You’re too good for them.” He dropped his hand and began to walk again. He steered her toward the pier. “How will all your talk of God and praying fit in with this family whose god is possessions?”

Her gloved fingers tightened on his arm. “God is the most important thing in my life.”

“I expect that to change very quickly. Henry will have plans for you. You’ll be expected to live up to the Eaton name.”

“I’ll always be Addie Sullivan,” she said. “Nothing will change that. Can’t you understand my desire to know my roots?”

“They’ll make it more than that, Addie. Or should I say Julia?”

She shook her head. “I don’t answer to that name.”

She had no idea how her life was about to change. He clasped her hand tighter. “Henry will be quick to call you Julia.”

He stopped at the edge of the pier. Lanterns glowed upon the yachts out for an evening sail. The slap of the waves against the boards under their feet should have been peaceful but only contrasted with the storm of emotion he somehow kept in check. Her perfume mingled with the scent of brine. Somehow he’d begun to care about her. That was the real reason for the emotion churning his gut. Things would change now. Henry would want her to marry money, a title. John could see it coming.