The Lightkeeper's Daughter (7 page)

“I’ll be happy to do whatever I can, Mrs. Eaton,” Miss Sullivan said. “But I need to start immediately if I’m to have time to complete it.”

John glanced at the young woman, then at his mother-in-law. Both of them were smiling. “What about Edward?” he asked. “Miss Sullivan was hired to teach my son.”

Clara tapped her closed fan on her son-in-law’s arm. “Don’t be such a stickler, John. I’ll make sure my dress doesn’t cut into Edward’s lesson time. Come along, my dear. Get your oil, and meet me in my salon.”

John’s mouth dropped as Clara took Addie’s arm and escorted her out of the room. He’d never known the older woman to bother with those she deemed beneath her. After a falling-out with Walter over the young man’s shenanigans of drinking and gambling, their father had bequeathed to her one of the most lucrative logging operations in the West. She seldom let anyone forget that she came from power and money. She must have been inordinately impressed with Miss Sullivan.

He called Yvonne and had her take Edward for his meal. When the boy protested, John stepped to the front door and called the dog in. Gideon’s nails clicked across the wood floor, then he went up the stairs after the boy and his nurse, and John made his way to the dining room, where he found Walter pouring himself a glass of claret.

Walter set the decanter back onto the sideboard. “I hope Miss Sullivan is to your satisfaction.”

“She appears competent.” John noticed Walter’s sling. “You never mentioned what you did to your arm.”

“I sprained it in a fall down some steps. Near Crescent City. I shall dispense with the sling in a day or two.” Walter turned to pour another glass of claret. “Miss Sullivan is a lovely girl, is she not? Edward is crazy about her dog. Hauling all her books here nearly broke my back.”

John grinned. “I doubt you carried them yourself with your injury.”

Walter smiled back. “You caught me. She’s quite the scholar though.” He went to his place at the table as the ladies joined them.

Clara seated Miss Sullivan beside John. The young woman’s eyes took in the gleaming silverware and china, then the napkin ring holding the linen. She’d likely never seen a place set with twenty-four pieces of silverware. She bowed her head and closed her eyes. Her lips moved. Was she praying? The rest of the family gave her but momentary notice, then turned back to their plates. When she raised her head, she kept her hands in her lap. John nudged her discreetly, then slipped the ring off the napkin and placed it in his lap. A faint smile curved her lips, and she imitated his action. When the servants brought in the first course of raw oysters, he selected the proper fork.

She took only one oyster from the footman’s tray, and he noticed her pale when she managed to gulp it down. “It’s not my favorite either,” he whispered. “But soup is coming too.”

Henry appeared not to have noticed Miss Sullivan’s discomfort. “I stole my cook from the Vanderbilts,” he said. “I went to one of their parties, and after dinner, I slipped back to the kitchen and promised Mrs. Biddle double the salary and her own house on the grounds. She’s been with us for three years.”

John had never heard the story, but he could well believe it. When the footman brought the next dish, broiled salmon, he again deliberately selected the fish fork. Miss Sullivan was a quick study and selected the proper one as well. She took a larger portion of the fish from the tray and ate daintily as the conversation flowed about his new assignment at the base and the places he’d been with the navy. By the time the spring chicken arrived, she barely picked at the meat with the proper fork. At the salad course, she managed only a few bites, though he hid a smile as he noticed how quickly the bonbons disappeared when the footman brought them around.

All through the meal, Walter kept a sharp eye on Miss Sullivan. The longer the meal went on, the more his attention irritated John. Walter was much too old for an innocent girl like the new governess. John sprang to his feet when the meal finally came to a close two hours later.

Miss Sullivan rose as well. “Thank you for a wonderful meal, Mrs. Eaton,” she said. “I’m blessed and honored to be here with you.”

Clara colored. “What a lovely thing to say, Adeline. We shall enjoy having you join us at every meal.”

How did Miss Sullivan do it? Any other governess would have been ignored at the end of the table. She drew everyone with her charm and naiveté. He found he didn’t mind the thought of staying at the manor for the next three weeks.

S
EVEN

A
DDIE RUBBED HER
tired eyes. All she wanted was to fall into bed, though she’d required the assistance of a chambermaid to find the way back to her room after dinner.

“Here you be, Miss,” Sally said. She appeared to be about Addie’s age. Combs held her wispy blonde hair to her head under the white cap.

“Thank you, Sally. This place is so big and intimidating. So are the people. Have you enjoyed working for the Eaton family? I’m not sure what to expect.”

Sally ducked her head. “They be nice enough. Generous too.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Two years, Miss.”

“Do you have time off? I’m not sure how much to request. This is my first employment experience.”

“Thursdays be my day off. So you’ll be a servant, Miss? Not a guest?”

“I’m Edward’s new governess.”

“A working woman like you, you should come to the suffrage meeting next week!” Sally smiled as she warmed to her subject. “We be so close to getting the vote!”

Addie hadn’t heard much of political issues at the lighthouse. “I might do that.” Lieutenant North’s penetrating gaze seared her memory. “Do you see much of Lieutenant North?”

Sally shook her head. “He be gone most of the time on his ship.” A smile played at her lips, “Lawdy, he be handsome. Those eyes.” She sighed. “But don’t be setting your cap for him, Miss. Mr. Eaton discourages mingling between the family and the likes of us.”

Addie nodded, but her mind churned. Maybe when her real identity came out, her father would look kindly on a match. If the handsome lieutenant would deign to notice her.

Addie worked to feel more at home in the first two days. The meals still baffled her, but Edward was a delightful boy, inquisitive and energetic, though a trifle spoiled. He responded well to correction and had a quick mind. They hadn’t started lessons, as she wanted to assess his needs. The real problem was his father. Addie admitted to herself that she was more intrigued with getting to know her employer than with her real reason for coming here. She needed to focus on the goal.

And yet, Mr. Driscoll had told her his Pinkerton agent was on the case. They’d soon have proof enough to tell the family of her true identity. Addie longed to see her father’s reaction to her reappearance, but she had to remind herself that patience was a virtue God was cultivating in her.

After lunch Wednesday, while the nurse took charge of Edward for his nap, Addie grabbed a book from her room, then slipped outside with Gideon. The mighty coastal redwoods towered over the impressive mansion. She picked up her skirts and ran for their cool serenity behind the manor. Moss clung to the rocks along the path that led into the dimness of the forest, and she breathed in the moist freshness.

She paused where a shaft of sunlight slanted through the canopy of giant trees. A faint impression in the moss and vegetation led her along, and she began to hear the sound of running water. She followed it and came to a waterfall. This must be the Mercy Falls that the town was named for. The falls towered a hundred feet over her head, then thundered into the clear pool. Breathtaking. Gideon immediately plunged into the water.

A flat rock called to her, and she sank onto its gray surface. Prayer would calm her. She let the beauty of the waterfall and forest surround her and lifted her spirit to the Lord. She murmured the words to the Twenty-third Psalm, and peace reigned over the chaos she’d been feeling.

Her calm restored, she flipped open her book of Elizabeth Barrett Browning poetry. The pages fell open to “A Man’s Requirements.” Though she’d read it many times, this time she understood the words. She pondered the first stanza.

Love me Sweet, with all thou art,
Feeling, thinking, seeing;
Love me in the lightest part,
Love me in full being.

It explained exactly how she’d felt the moment she saw John North. Every innermost thought of her heart had been ready to spill from her soul into his ears. Every moment of the past two days that she’d spent in his presence had deepened her fascination with him. She found herself watching for him every moment and waiting for him to arrive home when he was gone. When his dark eyes turned her way, heat enveloped her.

Her head ached, and she took the combs from her hair and shook it loose to her shoulders. She uncapped her fountain pen and jotted some thoughts in the margin. They were the silly thoughts of a romantic girl, but she couldn’t help her mooning over him.

“There you are.”

She peered through the gloom to see Lieutenant North walking toward her. Her book fell into the ferns as she scrambled to her feet, smoothing her dress. She grabbed for her hair combs, but there was no time to make herself more presentable. “Is Edward awake already, sir?”

He stopped three feet from her. “He’s napping. You can easily become lost in this forest. Every tree looks alike, and the lighting is poor.”

She felt through the ferns for her book, and her hair fell forward to obscure her face. “I don’t have a very good sense of direction, but I have Gideon.”

“Lost something?”

“My book.” Her cheeks burned when he reached into the ferns and retrieved it.

“Browning?” He flipped it open.

She caught her breath. If he saw what she’d written . . . She held out her hand for the book.

He shut it and handed it back to her. “I haven’t read her since I was in school.”

Her fingers closed around the book, and she clutched it to her chest. Now he’d think her a hopeless romantic and even less capable of caring for his son.

“I also came to discuss Edward’s education with you. How is he doing?”

“Quite well. He’s very bright.”

“Are you going to have the time to devote to him and also see to Clara’s new dress?”

She caught a whiff of his cologne. Something spicy. “Edward is my first priority.”

“Unless Clara begins to demand more of your time.”

Before she could think how to answer his concerns, she heard a scream from the direction of the house. Lieutenant North turned and sprinted back toward the manor, and Addie followed him. The terror in the shriek gave wings to her feet, and she had no trouble keeping up with the man.

A branch from a shrub slapped her in the face, and she shoved it out of the way, but it slowed her down. Lieutenant North disappeared ahead of her. She put on an extra burst of speed but still saw no sign of his back. The scream came again, and the sound galvanized her even more.

She leaped over a rock in her way, but instead of landing on her feet on the other end, something hard hit her back. Her breath whooshed out of her. Her arms pinwheeled out, but the heavy weight bore her to the ground. Her head plowed into the ferns, then her face pressed into moist moss. The fecund scent of the forest filled her head, and she struggled against the weight squeezing the breath from her lungs. A burlap sack smelling of oranges came around her head, and the suffocating darkness gave her new reason to fight. She flailed until someone grabbed her arms.

“Don’t move,” a voice hissed in her ear.

A cold blade touched her throat, and she froze. She didn’t recognize the voice behind the threatening tone. It was a man, but that was all she knew. Calloused hands roped her wrists together behind her back, then the pressure atop her was gone. She heard steps swish through the vegetation. The normal sounds of the forest resumed—birds chirping in the trees and insects humming. She rolled to her back, then sat up. With her hands tied, she had to make two attempts before she gained her feet. The burlap sack was still over her head. She stumbled to a tree, then moved her head against the rough bark until she managed to rub off the offending burlap.

The scent of the forest washed the orange aroma from her nose. She would need help getting the rope off. And what about the scream she’d heard? Gathering her strength, she ran for the house.