A Gilded Grave (20 page)

“Oh, Mama, that sounds wonderful. Don’t you think so, Madeline?”

“What? Oh, yes. Wonderful.”

“What about you, Deanna? I promise not to invite Joe.”

“Oh, you may invite anyone you care to. I’m sure it makes no difference to me.”

Cassie raised a disbelieving eyebrow at her. “Well, this is a change.”

Mrs. Woodruff dropped her napkin on the table and rang the bell. “Well, I’m sure I don’t care what people are saying about young Ballard. I say invite him. But I must say, I don’t know if you girls should encourage him until this”—she waved her hand as if to drive away an unpleasant word—“affair is concluded.”

“Oh, Mama, you’re beginning to sound like Deanna’s mama. No offense, Dee.”

“None taken,” Deanna said.

“And if anyone doesn’t want to come here because two maids have died, let them stay home.” Mrs. Woodruff sniffed and reached for the telephone that connected her to her servants. “Neville, please inform Cook that we’re planning a little get-together tomorrow night, just the young folks, but we’ll need some light refreshment.”

She rattled off several dishes she would like served, then hung up the device and clasped her hands together. “This is just what the doctor ordered. Fun and games. And a little champagne punch.”

“Charades,” Cassie said. “Maddie, do you play charades in Barbados?”

“In London, when I visit, but not often in Barbados.”

“Let’s see. Oh, I know. Blindman’s bluff. That’s always great fun.” Cassie threw a roguish look toward Deanna. Deanna had no trouble reading her meaning. Blindman’s bluff afforded excellent opportunities for a hug or a misplaced hand.

“And forfeits.”

Mrs. Woodruff laughed. “Well, you girls plan it all out, then telephone a few of your friends.” She heaved herself out of her chair.

Deanna rose, also.

“Where are you going?” Cassie asked. “Mama says we have to return calls this morning, and then there are invitation calls to be made.”

“I actually have a few errands I need to do.”

“Again? Send Elspeth. Besides, you can’t neglect your duty calls just because your mama is out of town.”

“Fine, I’ll give you my card to leave along with yours. If you actually go in to visit anyone, say I was feeling peaked.”

Cassie crowed with laughter. “You’ve never felt peaked in your life. Leave that to Adelaide.”

Deanna couldn’t help glancing at Madeline. Really, if she were going to keep looking so cast down and guilty every time someone mentioned Adelaide, people would start asking what was wrong.

“I’ll just explain to your mama.” She resolutely went into the solarium only to find that Mrs. Woodruff wasn’t there. The doors to the garden were open, so she stepped out onto the brick terrace. Mrs. Woodruff stood at the edge, looking past the rosebushes to the sea.

Something checked Deanna’s step, and as she stood there, Mrs. Woodruff brought a handkerchief to her eyes.

What on earth?

She started to tiptoe back into the house as Mrs. Woodruff turned. She sniffed, then put on a smile. “These roses are so lovely, but they always make me sneeze.”

And your eyes water, and your lip tremble
, thought Deanna. Mrs. Woodruff was walking toward her, and Deanna impulsively hugged her. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Oh, my dear, you’re so kind.”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it will be all right.”

“Of course. You’re right, my dear. It’s my nerves, with Mr. Woodruff being so poorly, then running off to the city with the young men. I don’t mind telling you, I’m worried about him. He just doesn’t seem himself. I thought he was rallying, but yesterday he looked positively ghostlike. I begged him not to go, Charles tried to reason with him, but to no avail. He insisted on going with them. Oh, listen to me carrying on. Pay no attention, dear.”

“I’m sure Charles”—
the scoundrel
—“will take good care of him. And my father, too.” At least her father wouldn’t join him in his philandering. Would he? Did all husbands have mistresses?

It was a daunting thought. Well, if she were ever married, she wouldn’t put up with it, not for a second.

“Now, I know you didn’t come looking for me to see me at my unprettiest. What can I do for you?”

“Nothing,” Deanna said, forcing a smile. “It’s just that—oh, nothing. I just was wondering if you wanted me to come calling with you this morning.”

“Of course I do. You’re like one of the family.”

Deanna nodded. “I’ll just get ready.” She’d have to send Elspeth to the telegraph office to— She stopped with her hand on the banister. No. Elspeth couldn’t go out alone, even in the daylight. They would have to send one of the male servants. But whom could they trust?

No one.

J
oe stripped off his shirt and poured water into the basin. He splashed it under his arms, then on his face and neck and was groping for a towel when it appeared before him.

Joe took the towel from Orrin, dried his face, tossed the towel onto the back of a wooden chair, and looked in the
wardrobe for a shirt that was clean enough to wear to Ocean Drive. He’d never been bothered by the inconveniences of living in a factory during the winter, except that it had been devilishly hard to heat, but trying to go between his life in the Fifth Ward to his old life on Bellevue Avenue during the summer season was a first-class pain. He’d have to stop by home and refortify his wardrobe if he was to continue this double life much longer.

It was bad enough that someone had been siphoning funds out of the business for a long while. And the fact that R and W’s entire survival was held in the hand of this sugar baron who had taken their money but, as far as Joe knew, hadn’t committed his syrup. Didn’t even seem interested. Neither Charles nor his father had brought Lord David by to inspect the new machinery. Will seemed to be making no progress in solving the murders. And Joe didn’t know how he was supposed to watch over Deanna if she wouldn’t even have anything to do with him.

He buttoned his shirt, realized a button was missing. Shrugged out of it and threw it on his cot, then sat down after it.

He didn’t like being away from the workshop long for fear of spies and saboteurs. And he liked even less having Orrin stay alone while he was still under the eye of the police. One false move—or a move perceived as false—would have him back in jail. Besides, one lone man against armed saboteurs would be no contest. Joe didn’t have any illusions about them not striking again, but surely they wouldn’t attack in broad daylight. The workshop should be safe until Hiram’s men came on duty. He’d just have to send Orrin home.

“There’s a clean shirt in the drawer underneath,” Orrin said. “Your grandma’s servant brought a whole bunch of things down yesterday. I put ’em away for you.”

Joe looked up. His tall and gawky apprentice, still grieving for his love, was taking care of the man who should be taking care of him. “Thanks.”

He pulled open the drawer and found clean socks, underwear, and shirts, all neatly folded. Bless Grandmère.

Five minutes later, dressed in a pinstripe suit and with his hair parted, he stuck a straw boater on his head and stepped into the street. Orrin locked up and started down the street in the direction of his home.

Joe took one look at his bicycle and he decided to take a cab.

A few minutes later, the hackney stopped in front of Bonheur. Joe paid the driver, then trotted up the steps to ring the bell.

An echo of gongs rang from inside, and a minute later, Carlisle, his grandmother’s ancient butler, opened the door.

“She’s expecting you.”

“Is she?” Joe asked, handing the butler his hat.

His grandmother was writing letters in the back parlor. She was swathed in a turquoise morning wrapper embroidered with humming birds and hyacinths. Her gray-streaked hair was swirled to the back of her head and held in place with an ivory comb of monumental proportions. She didn’t bother to turn around when he hurried in, merely stuck out her hand to be kissed.

“You’re a witch, you know.”

She laughed. “Ha.”

He held her hand and kissed it. “A very fetching witch—bewitching.”

“You should be that charming with someone closer to your own age.”

“Grandmère—”

“Don’t bother, I’ve heard it all before. They are coming to
tea this afternoon, the three of them. Cassie, Deanna, and their visitor, Lady Manchester.”

“Are they?”

“Yes. I want to get a closer look at the Barbadian beauty.”

“Good. I’d like your opinion of her.”

His grandmother raised a disapproving eyebrow.

“Not for any personal reasons. I just value your insights. But that can wait. I came to borrow a carriage.”

“Ah.”

“I need to talk to Deanna alone. And don’t comment. I’m afraid she’s in danger in that house.”

At this, his grandmother turned and gave him her full attention.

“Then she must come here to stay. Why her mother left her in the care of the Woodruffs is beyond me. She should be giving her attention to Deanna instead of Adelaide, but it’s always been the same. Do you think she’ll go along with your scheme to speak to her alone?”

“Yes, even if I have to throw her over my shoulder and carry her to the carriage.”

“Oh, how I should like to see that. But don’t you dare. She’s already survived one of your misdeeds. You don’t want to wreck her first season. Give her some time to develop her cachet.”

“I suppose you’re going to encourage her to become an iconoclast like you and mother.”

“I have no doubt that, given the opportunity, she will surpass us both.”

“I shudder to think. So may I have a carriage?”

“Yes, of course. But take an open one and drive her down Bellevue so tongues will stop carrying on about how you jilted her.”

“I did not jilt her! And now tongues will wag that we were seen together.”

“Can’t control tongues—might as well have them wag in your favor. Which leads me to mention, there are some nasty things being said about you around town.”

“It’s that damn Cokey Featheringham. He’s always full of gas, and I don’t think anyone actually believes him.”

“I suppose you’re just waiting for Will to find the real culprit.”

“Do you have a better suggestion?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Right now, I have a greater concern than what people are saying about me. I want to talk to Deanna, and then I may have to make a trip to New York.”

“Ah, are things coming to a head there?”

“I’m not sure. There’s something very underhanded going on.”

“And you will find out what, no matter the cost.”

“Would you have me do less?”

“Not I. Now go, before the ladies have left for their morning calls.”

“One other thing.”

“Yes?”

“I plan to bring her here before tea. Will Hennessey will be joining us.”

She nodded. “Ah. The plot thickens.”

W
ith Deanna promised to go out with Mrs. Woodruff, she and Elspeth were trying to figure out how to get Elspeth to town without going alone or causing suspicion, when there was a knock at the door.

“I don’t care if it is daytime,” Deanna said. “I’m not taking any chances with your safety. We’ll have to think of something else. Come in.”

The door opened, and Cassie rushed inside and closed the door. “You’ll never guess who’s downstairs.”

“My mother?” Deanna asked, her stomach turning itself into a knot.

“No. Joe Ballard. And he’s come to take you for a drive.”

“Joe? Here?”

“Yes. It’s a bit early for driving out, but maybe living down there in the Fifth Ward, he’s forgotten the finer points of courting.” Cassie stopped and frowned. “Do you want me to send him away?”

“No! Wait. I mean, no. I’ll see him. I suppose I will have to talk to him sometime. Tell him to wait and give your mama my apologies.”

But Cassie made no move to leave. “Are you two going to make it up?”

“No, we’re just friends.”

“Oh, you’re no fun. I’ll tell him you’ll be with him shortly.” She bobbed a curtsey and finished with “miss” before she flounced out the door.

“That’s so strange,” Elspeth said. “Why do you think Mr. Joseph’s here?”

“I have no idea, unless . . . maybe he read my mind.”

“Oh, miss, that’s not funny.”

“No, it isn’t, but I’m glad he came. Now he can take care of these things.” She picked up the novel and the telegram.

“They won’t fit in your purse.”

Deanna looked around. “Bring me the moiré paletot. It will go well enough with this dress.”

Elspeth looked skeptical but went to fetch the jacket and helped Deanna into it.

“Now put these down my back.” She handed the book and telegram to Elspeth, who wrestled them into her waistband.

“Don’t move around too much. You don’t want them falling out.”

“No, I don’t. I’ll be careful,” she said, and let Elspeth pin on her new bonnet. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Elspeth said begrudgingly. “I wish I was going with you.”

“I’ll tell you everything when I get back.”

Elspeth opened the door for her, and Deanna walked out, careful not to disarrange the book and telegram.

Neville greeted her at the bottom of the stairs. “They’re in the parlor, miss.”

“Thank you, Neville.”

He crossed to open the door for her, and she went inside.

Joe Ballard was sitting on the edge of a chair, listening attentively to whatever Mrs. Woodruff was saying.

“Ah, here she is,” Mrs. Woodruff said. “Deanna, look who’s come to take you for a drive.”

Joe stood and faced her as she came toward him.

“Joseph, how nice of you to call,” Deanna said at her most poised—and stuck up enough to put him out of countenance, she hoped. She needed him, but he deserved a little comeuppance.

She held out her hand and felt totally ridiculous, especially when she saw him trying to smother laughter. His eyes twinkled and she wanted to smack him. But, unfortunately, those days were gone.

He leaned over her hand, kissed the air above it, and let it go, but not before he winked as he lifted his head.

She felt the blush flood her cheeks.
Damn him.

Mrs. Woodruff beamed at the two of them. “Joseph has asked to take you for a drive and then to his grandmother’s. I don’t think your mother would mind.”

Deanna shook her head minutely. Her mother would not mind if it were Lord David asking her out to drive, but Joe had fallen in her mother’s good opinion when he’d refused their engagement and moved down with the “riff and raff,” as Mrs. Randolph called the families who lived in the Fifth Ward.

Her mother had never cared for Gran Gwen or Joe’s mother, Laurette, considered them too bohemian, despised them for their ideas on women’s suffrage, and suspected them of
espousing free love. But even the latter had not been cause enough for her to turn her back completely on their society or their money.

“Shall we go?” Joe said politely, but there was mischief in his eyes.

Deanna gritted her teeth to keep from bursting out laughing at the stupidity of the situation.

Joe bowed to let her pass through the door to the foyer, where Neville waited to see them out. He handed Joe his hat, and they went down the steps to Joe’s curricle, which was drawn by a pair of beautiful bay horses.

Joe helped Deanna into the seat, slipped the post boy a coin, and then climbed in the other side. They were soon through the gates.

Deanna immediately turned to him. “What the heck was that all about?”

He glanced at her, surprised. “Which part? The part where you said, ‘How nice of you to call,’ sounding like an elocution teacher, or the part where Mrs. Woodruff said your mother wouldn’t mind?”

“I meant the part where you kissed my hand and acted like Herbert Stanhope. Which is okay on Herbert but ridiculous on you.”

“Alas.”

“And who’s taking care of these horses while you’re living down at the warehouse?”

“Ah, leave it to you to get to the important stuff.”

“Well?”

“I keep the stable hands on. And I take them out when I can, which isn’t often. I’ve been quite busy.”

“So it would seem.”

“Oh, Dee, cut it out. It’s one thing to act like Miss Priss in
front of other people; they expect it. But can you drop the attitude with me?”

Deanna frowned at him.

“That’s more like it. I’ve missed that scowl.”

“I’m trying to rid myself of it.”

“Did your Mama tell you it wasn’t ladylike?”

“For years.” Deanna sighed and dropped all artifice. “It’s been like a holiday, having her gone. I’m sorry Adelaide is unwell, but it’s such a relief not having to try to please Mama constantly—and failing most of the time.”

He reached over and tugged one of the carefully controlled curls that hung about her ear. “Well, you can scowl at me anytime. As long as you don’t really mean it.”

“How’s Orrin?”

“Okay. But jumpy. He expects the police to come back and arrest him at any moment. I don’t like to leave him by himself for too long.”

“Then why have you?”

“Because you and I need to talk. Besides I sent him home.”

“Oh.” She adjusted her seat. The magazine was beginning to slip, but she couldn’t very well take it out while they were on a public road.

“Is something wrong? Are you uncomfortable?”

“No, but—” Deanna templed her hands at her mouth. “Joe, maybe I did a bad thing.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time. What?”

“Well, when we left you the other day, I stopped by my house to pick up some things. And there was a telegram for my father. I took it, meaning to give it to Mr. Woodruff.”

“Did you give it to him?”

“No. Something happened before I could that . . . well, it’s
complicated. But I decided that if it was important, I would somehow get to the telegraph office this morning and send Papa one telling him what it said.”

“After you read it, of course.”

Deanna shrugged. “Well, how else would I know if it were important or not?”

“Fair question. So, what did it say?”

“It was from your father, saying that Mr. Havemeyer had made him another offer for his shares in R and W, and for Papa to come to New York immediately. But he’s already there.”

“Yes, and they’ve met. I heard from my father.”

“So I don’t need to send it on after all?”

Joe shook his head. “My father sent it to urge your father to come back early, which he did on his own and went straight to my father. I think they will be able to handle this on their own.”

They’d been traveling south on Ochre Point Avenue, but now Joe turned west.

“Your father isn’t going to sell, is he?”

“Of course not. But there are . . . troubles with the company.”

“Troubles? What kind of troubles?”

Joe looked straight ahead.

“You can tell me. I know a little bit about business.”

Joe gave her a smile that said he was humoring her.

“I know if R and W goes under, we could lose everything.”

Joe glanced over. “Not everything, Dee. You’ll be okay.”

“Is the business in trouble because of something Mr. Woodruff has done?”

Joe’s hand tightened on the reins. The horses came to a nervous stop. “What do you know?”

“I overheard him and Charles talking.”

The horses pranced in place, anxious to go.

“Where are we going?”

“To Grandmère’s. I hope you don’t mind. Will is meeting us there.”

Deanna perked up. “A powwow.”

Joe laughed out loud. “Something like. So you can tell us both what you overheard.”

“I will if we can go down to the beach before the others come for tea.”

Joe didn’t answer.

“Joe, I haven’t been to the beach since we arrived in Newport except to that horrid magic show. I want to get my feet wet.” She heard herself and knew she sounded like the peevish brat she’d always been when she tried to get her way. Well, she didn’t care. She was being stifled by corsets and good manners. And following the rules. She wanted to get her way for a change. Even if just for a walk on the beach.

Joe turned to look at her. It was a look that she didn’t recognize. Not sad, not like the old fun-loving Joe, but something that made her feel unsettled, heated, and very close to bursting into tears.

“Please, Joe. Don’t you ever miss the old days? Remember when we would go down and go wading in the surf? You and Bob would swing me out over the waves.”

He sighed. “Good days gone forever.”

He sounded so resigned that it made her sad. Bob had been his best friend, and she had been . . . his best friend’s little sister. She shook herself.

“Why? Why are they gone forever?”

“Because Bob is dead and you will soon become a society lady.”

“And what about you, Joe?”

“Me?” He smiled—wistfully, she thought. “I’m going to revolutionize the sugar refining business.”

He turned away and settled back on the seat. Clucked the horses into a trot.

Deanna didn’t try to talk anymore. It seemed they could never go back to the way things had been.
Good days gone forever.

A few minutes later they turned onto Bellevue Avenue and drove south again toward Bonheur. Joe stopped the curricle at the front steps and helped her down while the groom led the horses away. Joe followed her up the steps, but before ringing the bell, he said, “If we have time before the ladies come, we’ll go down to the beach. But don’t you dare let it get back to your mother.”

“I won’t.” Deanna smiled, feeling truly happy, she realized, for the first time since the end of last season.

Gran Gwen was sitting in the conservatory with Will Hennessey.

“Ah, there you are,” she said, and motioned Deanna and Joe in. “I’ve told Carlisle that I’m not at home—to anyone. We’ll have lunch on the terrace. It’s a lovely day and no wind to speak of.”

Was it a lovely day?
Deanna had barely noticed it. Nor did she notice it now, because she was studying Will’s face. He didn’t look happy, and she was afraid he had more bad news to report.

Will stood, shook hands with Deanna, and nodded to Joe. They all sat down again, creating a circle with Gran Gwen as its focal point. And Deanna remembered younger days, when Bob had been alive, how the four of them would sit at Gran Gwen’s feet listening to her spin tales of exotic places and people, never quite sure if she were telling actual happenings or making it up.

But today wasn’t meant to be entertaining or spent
reminiscing, and Deanna fidgeted in her seat thinking of what she knew she must tell them.

“My dears, let’s get this nasty business taken care of so we may luncheon without black clouds hanging over our heads.”

Joe and Will both turned to Dee.

“Well,” Will said. “Tell us what you know and wouldn’t tell us at the beach the other night.”

She swallowed or at least tried to. Her mouth was dry, and her throat seemed paralyzed.

Gran Gwen gave her an encouraging look.

Deanna told them about Charles wanting to speak to his father. “I was sure he was going to break his engagement, the way he’s been mooning over Madeline. And I thought,
Forewarned is forearmed
.”

“Very right,” Gran Gwen said.

“So I hid in the Seacrest library and listened.”

“Oh my Lord.” Joe shot his fingers through his hair.

Deanna ignored him.

“But instead, Charles confronted Mr. Woodruff about the money he’d given Lord David without getting a binding contract, and that now he wants to give him more.”

Joe leaned forward. “Mr. Woodruff planned to give him more?”

“I think so. And Charles was upset about that and about the Manchesters dining with the Stanhopes since Mrs. Stanhope is a Havemeyer.” Deanna frowned at them. “I think Charles suspects a . . . a . . . double cross.”

Her announcement didn’t have the effect she’d thought it would. Will put his hand over his mouth. Joe laughed outright.

Only Gran Gwen looked serious. “When you two boys get over the giggles, you should mark Deanna’s words. That
scoundrel Havemeyer will use anything at his disposal to get what he wants. Always has. Though he isn’t alone. Seems there’s not one honorable man in business these days.”