The Last Honest Seamstress (43 page)

"First you'll allow me to take my things from the office?"

She strode back and flung the office door open. "Certainly. Help yourself. But pardon me for leaving. I can't stand being in the same room with you. I'll watch you leave from across the street."

"Fayth—"

"Forget it, Drew. It's over. Don't come back."

Chapter 19

Con sat on an overturned crate in the cargo hold of the
Aurnia
.
The belly of the whale
, he thought, wondering darkly if things could be worse. He heard the scuffling feet of his crew overhead as they scoured the
Aurnia,
readying her for the sale. Preston pressed him for an answer, and there seemed no advantage in delaying the inevitable. Preston would be out this afternoon to look her over, a formality only. The deal was good as done.

He bent over and rubbed his temple. He ought to thank the Almighty for James Preston and his offer, but . . .

Damn! He didn't want to lose his girls. Not Fayth. Not the
Aurnia
.
 

When he'd left Seattle he'd thought he could leave Fayth, forget her. But in the days since, he had discovered the impossibility of it. He still meant to do the honorable thing and give her freedom if that's what she wanted. But if there were any way to avoid it, any chance of making her happy . . .
 

All he needed to stay afloat was one small ebb in his tide of bad fortune. He kicked at the floor, sending a loose metal nut rolling. The sun shining through the open hatch above illuminated it. Con's gaze followed it.

The nut clinked against the side of an overturned metal box wedged against the wall, and bounced back, spinning several seconds before landing at rest. Con sat upright before jumping to his feet. Why hadn't anyone claimed this box? Reported it missing? He'd ordered the crew to empty all cargo, but they had overlooked it, as he almost had. Small, painted the same color as the hold, it was easy to miss. And the way it was situated, it was as if it had fallen from a hiding place.
 

He picked the box up, turning it over, looking for an ownership tag and finding none. The blasted thing was surprisingly heavy and rattled like it was full of coins—some child's pennies no doubt. He tried jimmying the inexpensive lock. When it wouldn't give, he grabbed
 
a crowbar and wrenched the thing open. The force of the crowbar sent the box toppling as it popped open, spilling gold coins that glinted in the sunlight as they rolled in every direction.

Con stood back, amazed, before reaching for the box. A ledger slid from the strongbox, resting on its bent pages, cover up. Halfway to reaching for it, he recognized the neatly lettered label.
O'Neill's Shipping.

How the hell?
 

A dim memory came. Tetch on the night of the fire. A dolly stacked with boxes, the cash box on top. Tetch awkwardly angling it down the plank to the hold. Later, Tetch's account of its theft.

"Damn him!" Con squatted and picked the ledger up by its spine. A wave of fury directed at Tetch crashed over him. The bastard nearly had cost him the
Aurnia
!
 

Con stooped to scoop up a fistful of twenty-dollar gold pieces in hands trembling with rage. There was easily several thousand dollars scattered on the floor. A month's receipts and more. Evidence of more than petty pilfering. Tetch must have hidden the box in the rafters, expecting to recover it later. Con smiled grimly, imagining Tetch's consternation when Con had arrived in Seattle, announcing he'd sold the
Aurnia
. What would Tetch do? Hire on with Preston?
 

A calm amusement settled over Con. Tetch had inadvertently saved O'Neill Shipping. Con stood and scanned the rafters, wondering what had dislodged the box. The corners of his mouth curled up in a full-face smile as a plausible explanation came to him. Bailey and his races! He remembered the lean and yaw of the
Aurnia
when they had raced the
Eliza
as they had left Puget Sound.

A heavy thump near the engine room had aroused Con's concern. He'd backed off the throttle, giving Bailey the race and costing him his wager. The cash box had fallen—he hadn't lost a race, he'd won back his business. Laughter welled up from deep within him, purging him of his anger. The
Aurnia
was no longer for sale. He'd be taking at least one of his girls home. He laughed until his sides hurt and he had to sit on the step. Billy called to him from the hatch.

"Everything all right, sir?"

"Billy! Get down here and help me. We've got a mess to clean up!"

Con wasn't a vindictive man, but during the long hours of the voyage home it gave him great pleasure and amusement imagining Tetch stewing and brooding, scheming a way to get his hoard off the
Aurnia
before Con sold her. Tetch didn't know Con had planned to finalize the sale on this latest trip south. Con had grown wary of Tetch months ago and had since kept him deliberately uninformed. Now, as he sat in his office facing Tetch, he thought he detected Tetch's glance flitting out the window to the
Aurnia
more often than necessary.

"You had a pleasant trip, Con?"

"Yes, I would say so, all told. Amusing and interesting, at least. Very nearly sold the
Aurnia.
Almost had to take the train to Tacoma to get back to settle my business."

Tetch fidgeted in his chair.

"What stopped you?"

Tetch was a cool-headed bastard. Con pulled a gold coin from his pocket and flipped it with his thumb, catching it with open palm as it descended. "Preston extended his offer. The completion of
The Princess
has been delayed." Con thought Tetch relaxed a little.

"When does he expect your final decision?"

Con took his time answering, continuing to flip the coin and catch it. "Recognize this, Tetch?" He held the coin up for a confused Tetch to examine.

"It's a double eagle."

"Very astute. But then, I should wonder if you weren't familiar with this particular issue of coin. I found it stowed aboard the
Aurnia
in a cash box with several hundred others, my ledger piled neatly on top."
 

Tetch went white. "Listen. Con—"

"You're fired, Tetch."

"Con, I didn't mean to—"

"Spare me excuses. I've known for years you pilfered from the business, but because of your father, I overlooked it. You've moved from petty theft to out and out thievery and nearly bankrupted me. Consider whatever debt I owed your father paid.

"You have five minutes to pack up whatever's yours. Then we're going to your hotel room where I'm going to watch you pack the rest of your miserable possessions and you're going to hand over whatever else is mine." Con smiled at the affront on Tetch's face.

"And while you're at it," Con said. "You're going to tell me how much you shorted my wife from the funds I sent her, and tell me exactly what lies you told her about me."

"Pack?"
 

"You have two options, Tetch. Stay in Seattle and have me deliver you to the sheriff. Or take the coach out of town. And you'd better get way the hell out. I get word that you're anywhere near me or my concerns and I'll have you shanghaied so far East you'll never be able to dig your way back. Shall we be going?"

Two hours later Lou's maid Maddie, accompanied by Rusty, escorted Con into the parlor. Maddie said that Lou was out. As long as he was here he might as well check up on Coral. "How is Miss Coral doing? Could I speak to her a moment before I leave?"

Maddie paled, and tears welled in her eyes.

"Maddie?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I thought you knew. Miss Coral passed away a week ago." Her last words were barely audible.

"I'm sorry." He spoke automatically, too stunned to think. "H-how?"

"She miscarried and hemorrhaged. There was nothing Dr. Wall could do."

"Man alive!" He raked his fingers through his hair, overcome with sadness and loss. He had to get home. "I
am
sorry." He didn't know what else to say. "How is Mrs. O'Neill taking it?"

Maddie dabbed at her eyes. "She's only been by a couple of times. To sort through Coral's things. And, of course, she was at the funeral. But from what I have seen, I would say she's torn up. Blames herself in some way."

Con frowned. "Why?"

"I can't say. I do know, though I wasn't supposed to, that she and Coral were up to something the night before Coral died. Coral hinted at an adventure. Heard her say something to one of the other girls about getting revenge and recovering money. It didn't make any sense to me, but I didn't pay much attention. Coral was a fanciful, romantic girl."
 

Maddie's eyes sparkled with fresh tears. "And she hadn't been herself lately." Maddie leaned close to him, her face upturned, as if she was about to part with a secret. She hesitated, then spoke in a soft voice. "I think I can tell you, Captain, because I know you cared for Coral. She was using opium in large doses since she came back. It was affecting her mind."

He rested a hand on her shoulder, feeling great empathy for the grieving Maddie. "Thank you for confiding in me, Maddie. Poor Coral. We'll all miss her."
 

She nodded.
 

He dropped his hand. They stood in silence a moment. Uncomfortable in the situation, Con cleared his throat and spoke, "I have to get home now, but it's urgent I leave this for Lou." He pulled an envelope from his pocket.

Maddie sniffed and resumed a professional demeanor. "I'll just let you into Miss Gramm's office, Captain. You can leave it there."
 

"Ordinarily that'd be just fine, but this is a bank draft for a rather large sum—"

"Oh, well then, we'll just take it to the gentlemen's drinking room and have Joe store it in the till until Miss Gramm gets back."

"Thank you. Would it be possible to leave a note for her in her office?" Con felt more comfortable and less impotent with the conversation turning to business.

"Certainly."

"And if you'd be so kind as to inform her of my visit?"

"Of course. This way, Captain."

Twenty minutes later, Con reined his horse in just short of the driveway to his home. The house looked surprisingly quiet. Where was Fayth? The shop was closed. Out making a delivery? Where was Drew, and why wasn't he running the shop? A cold wave of fear lapped over him—had they run off together?
 

He tethered the horse and strode nervously up the drive. He let himself in, called for Fayth, and got no response. His heart pounded in his ears like the surf, his worst fears drowning all common sense and rational thought. A quick scan of the entry and parlor revealed everything in its place. The surf in his head crashed louder. Her personal things—that's what she'd take if she left.

He dashed down the hall into her bedroom and threw open the doors to her armoire. A bundle of dried lavender hanging on a nail inside the armoire door thumped against it, dropping flowers onto the floor and filling the silent room with fragrance. Dresses hung neatly on the bar. Clothes were folded and stacked on the shelves. He took a deep breath as his heart beat wildly.

Slowly, he turned to examine the room. Her spyglass rested on the nightstand with her brush and mirror beside it. She hadn't left, and there were no packed suitcases or valises to indicate she intended to. Still, his fear and jealousy didn't subside. His questions remained unanswered. Where was Fayth and with whom? He needed to get back to the
Aurnia
and sort things out, make a plan.

He let himself out of the house and walked back up the drive. He had just mounted his horse and ridden out of sight of the house when he heard a carriage coming down the street from the opposite direction. He paused and turned.
 

Fayth drove in from the north, turning the carriage into the drive without seeing him. He should have ridden right back and confronted her. Confessed his feelings for her. Apologized for his abrupt departure, explained everything to her. Told her about Tetch. About his loan from Lou. About the money. And hope to hell she'd take him back. But jealousy and fear of rejection stopped him. Instead, he sat, stuck to the saddle like a barnacle, and watched her.

Fayth tore into the house feeling harried and rushed, peeling off her gloves and shedding baubles as she went, leaving them where they fell. Much as she wanted to, she didn't have time to change out of the gown she had worn to call on Elizabeth. She reached to unpin the mourning brooch she wore, pausing to tilt it up and stare at it. She blinked a tear back, her throat closed, and she sniffed. A miniature strawberry blond braid of Coral's hair hung from the jet fixture. Her hand fell back. She left the pin on—she would take this much of Coral with her tonight.

Elizabeth had engaged her longer than she intended. But how could she leave when poor Elizabeth was wrought with such grief? It was almost as if Elizabeth had miscarried herself. Elizabeth had loved Coral, too. Odd that Fayth should be the one to offer her comfort, when Fayth felt so lacking. If not for the thought that Con would be coming back soon, if not for the hope that she could win him back, she would have given up and blown away like empty chaff.