Death in Salem (30 page)

“Xenobia came to the counting house to tell me my sister was missing,” he said. “To the counting house!”

“Are you sure she is missing?” Rees asked. “Xenobia told us she ate breakfast early.”

“No one's seen her, and we have only cook's word that she ate breakfast,” William said. “I left after I saw you this morning,” he said with a nod in Rees's direction. “I assumed she was still asleep.”

“Did you see her last night?” Rees asked.

William nodded.

“How did she seem?” Rees asked. “Worried or upset?”

“Of course not,” William said, biting off each word. “What does she have to be worried about? Besides, Peggy doesn't engage in drama, not like Betsy. She is always cheerful.”

Rees knew that was not true; he'd seen Peggy weeping, angry, and both worried and upset. But then William had never shown much understanding of his sister.

“Did she seem happier than usual?” Lydia asked.

William hesitated. “Yes,” he said, drawing out the word. “Now that I recall her manner, she did. She was … humming.” Lydia threw a triumphant smile at Rees.

“Humming?” Rees repeated.

“Yes. One of those shanties sung by the sailors on the merchant ships.”

“You recognized it as such?” Rees asked. William nodded.

“I've heard it before, and it is not something a gently bred young lady should know.” He frowned. “I reprimanded her, of course.” He sighed. “She laughed at me.”

“You didn't see her this morning?” Rees asked, turning to Xenobia.

“When I went upstairs to continue my work in Anstiss's room, Peggy's door was closed. I was surprised; she is usually an early riser, but I didn't think anything was wrong. I went to her room just before dinner to remind her William would be home soon. When there was no answer, I went inside. She wasn't there.”

“Maybe she slipped out on an errand,” Rees suggested. But he didn't believe it, and he saw from the scornful look Xenobia shot him that she didn't either.

“Maybe. But she told no one where she was going. Clothes are missing.” Xenobia paused and tears sprang into her eyes.

“Please look at her room,” William said to her. “When Betsy comes home—well, she'll know exactly what Peggy has taken. He looked at Rees. “This is your fault. You should have left well enough alone.”

“We're happy to help you,” Lydia said, directing a challenging stare at William. “It's important to discover the truth, not just assign blame.”

“Indeed,” Rees said. “We should endeavor not to accuse someone simply because she is convenient.”

“Perhaps we should look at her room?” Xenobia said, taking a few steps toward the stairs.

“Of course,” Lydia said. She turned and followed Xenobia. Rees hurriedly trotted after them.

Peggy's room was next door to Betsy's and they shared a connecting door. But the two chambers could not be more different. While clothing lay across every surface in Betsy's, and cosmetic powders and such covered every inch of her dressing table, Peggy's bedchamber more closely resembled military quarters. Her bed was carefully made. Instead of perfumes, the strong odor of starch filled the air. But several frocks lay across the bed's foot, and garments covered the floor around the clothespress.

While Lydia went to the bed and began examining the gowns, Rees's attention focused upon the windows facing the side yard. He crossed the room. Both sashes were up and a cool breeze blew off the ocean. Rees poked his head through the opening. A large maple tree grew just outside, and from the other window a limber person could stretch across to a thick branch and climb down. A fence screened the yard from the drive; Rees could imagine Peggy climbing down to the garden below and sauntering through the gate to the street outside with no one the wiser. But navigating the climb down in skirts would be difficult. And a solitary woman carrying a valise would cause comment. Where would she go? He considered Peggy's disappearance and the sailing of the
India Princess.
Had the two events happened at the same time by coincidence, or were they connected, as Lydia believed?

“Will, come and look at this.” Lydia's voice broke into Rees's musing. He crossed from the window to the bed. Lydia had shifted the gowns to the blanket chest at the bottom of the bed, uncovering a letter. She offered it to Rees. He quickly perused the document, realizing immediately that he held a Letter of Manumission for Xenobia. Without surrendering any particulars as to her plans, Peggy freed the slave from servitude, effective at once. “Does she have the authority to do so?” Lydia asked Rees in a low voice. “William may own Xenobia.” Rees nodded in agreement but did not comment. Xenobia, in her aimless wanderings about the chamber, had come within earshot.

Lydia began sorting through the gowns, shaking out each one in the event another letter had gotten tangled in the fabric. Rees peered through the door into Betsy's room. He wondered if the young woman had dressed hurriedly or whether her room always looked so chaotic. Xenobia, coming to stand behind Rees, said, “I'll have to mention this untidiness to Peggy. She'll speak to the maids—” Remembering Peggy's disappearance, she threw an anguished glance at Rees.

“We'll find her,” he said, trying to comfort her. “How often do the maids clean this room?” Rees asked. He thought maybe a week or so had passed.

“Every day, of course.” Xenobia flashed him a glance. “But Betsy, well, she likes to see all of her gowns spread out around her.”

“Her room looks like this every day?”

“Yes. As soon as the maids finish, Miss Betsy brings her dresses back out. And then she scolds the maids if something can't be found.” Rees gazed around him, appalled at the lack of consideration a person must have to cause this mess and then leave it for someone else to clean up—and not once but over and over. “And there is her shawl.” Xenobia suddenly darted under Rees's arm and into the room to wrest a ball of silk from behind the dressing table. When she shook it out, it transformed into a large rectangle of red silk, now quite wrinkled, embroidered in bright blues and greens.

Rees, who remembered it, reached out to take the garment from Xenobia. He wondered why Betsy had thrust this beautiful shawl out of sight behind her dressing table. When he said as much, Xenobia shook her head. “It must have fallen behind. This is one of her favorites. Her father brought it back from China.”

Rees took it from Xenobia, marveling at the weight of it and the smooth silky weave. This shawl must have been very expensive, worth more than a year's salary for the average working man. “Where is Peggy's?” he asked.

“Gone.” Xenobia looked at Rees, her face stiff with fright. “She must have taken it.”

“Xenobia,” Lydia said from behind them, “can you identify the gowns Peggy took with her?”

“Some of them,” Xenobia said, quickly squeezing past Rees to return to Peggy's bedchamber. “Her pink lawn is missing, of that I am sure. But Betsy will be able to tell you more.”

“More about what?” Betsy hurried up the stairs, appearing at the door to Peggy's room. Although she'd untied her bonnet, she hadn't removed it from her head, and the long black ties hung down her chest. Her glowing pink cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes hinted at a pleasurable outing—and told Rees that William had not shared his anxiety about Peggy with Betsy yet.

“It is possible,” Lydia said, “that Peggy has…” she hesitated, struggling to find the best word.

“Run off,” Rees said.

Throwing him a stern glance, Lydia said quickly, “Eloped.”

“Eloped?” Betsy repeated. She laughed. “Impossible. She knows few men and none of them, at least as far as I've seen, are interested.”

“He may be a ship captain,” Lydia began.

“Or a sailor,” Rees interrupted her.

“Eloping with a sailor? Surely not. She wouldn't be so cruel to me. Mr. Morris is such a stickler, and we've already had the scandal of my father's murder in this family. Likeliest, she's gone to some counting house or on some other errand for William.”

“I think not,” Rees said curtly. “William called us in to look at her room.”

“And we found this,” Lydia said, holding up the Letter of Manumission.

Betsy snatched it from Lydia's grasp and quickly read it. “Oh, she can't do this to me.” She glanced at the frocks lying on the blanket chest and then threw open the door to the clothespress. “Her blue sarsenet is missing. And her cashmere shawl.” She pushed past Lydia and Xenobia into her own room. Rees couldn't see how Betsy could detect the absence of anything in the welter of gowns and shawls and ribbons strewn about the room, but she returned a few moments later. Her face was scarlet with fury. “My best white lawn is gone, along with a wool pelisse. Oh, I swear I'll kill her for this.”

 

Chapter Twenty-eight

Betsy paced the room ranting, her fury silencing Rees and Lydia. “How could she do this to me? She steals one of my favorite gowns and then runs off with a seaman? And I'll wager that Jack Tar is naught but a common deckhand; that would be just like Peggy. I tried to introduce her to appropriate young men but she wouldn't even look at them.”

Rees could not decide what angered Betsy more: the loss of her gown or what she perceived as the loss of her family's honor.

“We don't know Peggy ran off with a sailor,” Lydia said now, her tone stiff. “In fact, we don't know that she ran off to marry anyone at all. We were just proposing that as a likely reason for her disappearance.”

“You've got to find her,” Betsy said, whirling to face them. “Bring her back, if she isn't completely ruined, that is. Maybe we can hush up this entire affair. Mr. Morris will simply
not
accept another disgrace in this family.”

“Please find her,” William said from outside the door. “Peggy doesn't know what the world is like. I blame my father. He allowed her such freedom.”

Since William seemed disposed to jump on his hobbyhorse once again, Rees cut him off. “I can't promise to bring Peggy back home; I don't know where she went.”

“You must have some ideas,” William said in a sharp voice. “After all, it was Peggy who brought you into this house.”

“Yes, to discover your father's murderer.”

“At which you have failed miserably,” William replied, his tone even more unpleasant.

Rees leaned forward, his mouth opening. Lydia grasped his arm in a tight grip. “Will,” she murmured. “William is upset.”

Rees took a deep breath. “Very well,” he said. “Do you have any idea where Peggy might have gone?”

“If I did, I would have already fetched her back,” William said angrily, his cheeks flushing a dark red.

Before he could explode, Lydia pulled Rees away, into the hall and down the stairs. Xenobia followed them quickly, not speaking until they were outside the back door. “You must forgive William,” she said. “He's very worried about Peggy.” Rees turned to look at her, but he did not speak. “We all are,” she said with a suppressed sob.

Lydia put a sympathetic hand on Xenobia's shoulder before joining her husband. “What are you going to do?” she asked as they started to the stables.

“I think I know where the
India Princess
might have gone: to Hulls Cove. We know that Philippe Benoit has an association with John Hull. It makes sense that at least some of the ship's cargo is stored there. And if she's making another voyage, the crew will need to load the ship.”

“And Peggy could be on her way to meet Captain Benoit.”

“I'm going to follow them. But I need a map.”

“I should go,” Lydia began. Rees shook his head.

“Not in your condition. I'll be moving fast and sleeping rough. Besides, it might be dangerous.”

“William Boothe must have a map,” Lydia said. “But I guess you don't want to ask for it.”

“No.” Rees managed a smile at Lydia. “And not just because I want to punch him. I don't want to show my hand. At this point, I don't trust any member of that family. But Mrs. Baldwin may have a map, or know where I can find one. Since her husband was a sailor.”

“Of course,” Lydia breathed in agreement.

Rees did not unhitch Amos from the buggy when they pulled into the yard behind Mrs. Baldwin's Emporium. Instead, he tied the gelding to the bar and helped Lydia down. Mrs. Baldwin, wiping her hands upon a towel, came to the back door. “Do you know where Hulls Cove is? Or do you have a map?” Rees asked her.

Mrs. Baldwin blinked. “North, I think. I used to have one. It belonged to my husband. It's a sailor's map, with the soundings along the coast.” She paused and considered. “I don't know what happened to it, I confess.”

“Maybe Billy will know,” Lydia said. Both Rees and Mrs. Baldwin looked at her in surprise. She shrugged. “It's something of his father's. And both of you told me Billy wants to become a sailor.”

“I've cleaned Billy's room every week for years,” Mrs. Baldwin said, but not as though she was objecting, “and I've never seen it.”

“We'll have to ask Billy,” Rees said. “I'll walk up to the ropewalk and find him.”

“I'd like to eat some supper,” Lydia said. Mrs. Baldwin smiled and brought out a fresh baked pie. She cut a thick wedge, poured cream over all, and gestured Lydia to the table.

“Mr. Rees?” She held the knife over the pie. He looked at it uncertainly. “You don't have time to drive to Hulls Cove today anyway,” Mrs. Baldwin said. “If memory serves, it is at least four hours northwest by road. Maybe more. You wouldn't reach Hulls Cove before dark, and you would still need to return to Salem. Unless you travel by ship. Then it would be a much shorter journey.”

“Peggy Boothe has already left for Hulls Cove,” Rees said. “I must catch up to her, if I can.” Anyway, it would be advisable to give Deputy Swett and his crew a day or two to forget about him. “And I need to question a certain John Hull, who seems very involved in the activities of this vessel.”