The Lightkeeper's Ball (9 page)

Olivia stared at the Fresnel lens shattered on the ground. “I have an idea,” she said slowly. “I’ll host a ball at the manor house! A masquerade. We’ll call it the Lightkeeper’s Ball. I’ll invite all my friends from New York. It will be a huge event and a way for them to see the Wild West. My friends will
love
it!”

“Why would your friends travel three thousand miles to attend a ball?” Katie asked, her brow furrowed.

“You don’t know how bored my set gets. The summer season is coming, and they are always looking for something new to do or try. Anything that is remotely different or adventurous will have them rushing to join in.”

The more she thought about the idea, the more she knew it would work. The bored New York set was always up for the unexpected. Instead of going to Newport for the summer, she would talk them into coming here for a May ball, then a summer on the Pacific shore.

“How much money would it take to rebuild?” Olivia asked.

“At least fifteen thousand, according to Will. The lens will have to be replaced.”

She waved her hand. “That’s nothing to my friends. Just one of them could pay that.”

Katie’s tears had dried and a smile made its way to her face. “Seriously, Olivia? You’d really be able to do this?”

“I’ve planned dozens of parties. This will be no problem.”

Katie hugged her. “Thank God he brought you here when he did!”

Olivia wasn’t used to physical displays, but there was something about her friend’s fierce embrace that warmed her. People in her set tried not to show emotion. It felt good to know she could do something for these friends who had helped her when she needed it most.

They spent the morning picking through their things to see what was salvageable. Addie and John North arrived to help as well. Olivia wished she’d had her trunk delivered to Stewart Hall instead of to the lighthouse. Nearly everything was ruined. Most of Katie’s things were torn and ripped as well, and she sniffled occasionally as the extreme damage became apparent.

Olivia heard a man’s voice hail them and turned to see Harrison loping up the slope in their direction. He stopped when he reached her, his mouth gaping as he took in the destruction.

He stooped to pick up a broken doll.

“There isn’t much left,” Olivia said.

He turned the doll over in his hands. “I bought this for Jennie. I must buy her another.”

He had bought the doll for Jennie? She studied his crestfallen expression. How much of his concern was real? Could she be wrong about him?

E
IGHT

S
TEWART
H
ALL SEEMED
cold and lonely. The Jespersons were purchasing necessary items in town. Olivia arranged the skirt of her dress, one of Eleanor’s she’d found upstairs, on the velvet sofa in the parlor and sipped her tea. Scones lay untouched on the silver tray.

Servants hurried past in the hallway, and the scent of dinner being prepared wafted into the room. The aroma of roast beef was no more appetizing than the scones to her. She closed her eyes and imagined herself back home. At this time of the afternoon, her mother would be attending to correspondence and going over household bills with her secretary. The birds would be chirping on the cherry trees out back, and her cat would be lying in wait on the patio in hopes one of them would lose all caution. Before her departure, Eleanor would have been chattering about the latest party or the new dress she’d ordered.

Olivia almost thought she could feel her sister’s presence here. She’d sensed it yesterday too. Closing her eyes, she imagined Eleanor running through these halls. She would have livened the stuffy rooms and brought excitement into every corner. Putting down the cup of tea, she rose and moved to the window. The housekeeper would know where Eleanor had been buried. Olivia intended to visit the grave this afternoon. It was something she’d been dreading. She’d much rather remember her sister with her blue eyes alight with life and laughter.

She went to find Mrs. Bagley. The woman was supervising the polishing of silver in the butler’s pantry. Footmen rubbed at the forks and barely glanced up when Olivia stepped into the doorway.

Mrs. Bagley turned with an armload of linens in her hands. “Lady Devonworth. I didn’t see you there. Is there something I can do for you?” The doorbell rang. “Jerry, would you get that? You’ll have to sign my name for the delivery.” She put down the linens. “How can I help you?”

“I’d like a moment of your time, please.” Olivia walked back into the dining room with the housekeeper following her. The rest of the servants didn’t need to overhear their conversation.

“Is something wrong, miss? Your room is not to your satisfaction?” the woman asked. “I put you in the room we’d prepared for Miss Olivia. Is she coming at all now?”

“I’ll be the only one in residence for now,” Olivia said, skirting an outright lie. “The room is lovely, thank you. You’ve been here a long time, Mrs. Bagley?”

Thora bobbed her head. “Ever since Mr. Stewart built the manor four years ago.”

“Then you were present when Eleanor Stewart resided here?”

“Of course. Much too good for the likes of Mr. Bennett.”

“You don’t like Mr. Bennett?”

“It’s not my place to say anything.”

Olivia didn’t point out that the woman had just said that very thing in so many words. “Did he not treat Miss Eleanor well?”

Mrs. Bagley sniffed. “He’s an adventurer, that one. He’ll never settle down. I fear he’s going to get my son killed one of these days.”

“Killed? How?”

“Him and his flying machine. He’s turned Jerry’s head with it.”

“Harrison has a flying machine? He seems all businessman and not at all an adventurer.”

“He’s not what you think.”

“What is he like, then?” At some point Olivia knew the woman would clam up, but at least she was talking for now.

“Full of notions and big plans. All the ladies cluster when he’s around.”

Olivia could well believe that. “Did he get along with Eleanor?”

“Miss Eleanor didn’t see much of him. He was gone when she first arrived. Quite unforgivable for him to be off gallivanting when his bride was coming.”

“Did you see her the day she died?”

The woman glanced up, then back to the rug on the floor. “Yes, miss.” Her tone was sullen. Though she didn’t have the nerve to question Olivia’s interest, her tense shoulders and reticent manner told the story.

Olivia said, “I told her mother I would see what I could find out about the circumstances leading up to Eleanor’s death.”

“As you wish, miss.”

“So how did she seem?” Olivia asked, letting her impatience show in her voice.

“Perfectly normal. She ate her breakfast, then called for the open motorcar to be brought around. She had a luncheon engagement.”

“With whom?”

“She didn’t say.”

“She was home for dinner?”

Mrs. Bagley shook her head. “When I heard the front door, it was after midnight. I had the maid take her breakfast up, but the bed was empty. It didn’t appear to have been slept in.”

“I want to visit Miss Eleanor’s grave. Where might I find it?”

“There’s a graveyard beside the Mercy Falls Community Church. She’s along the iron fence at the back. Near the biggest tree.”

“One more question. I heard Eleanor received a letter from her father. Can you confirm that?”

“I don’t snoop in the mail, Lady Devonworth,” Mrs. Bagley said, her tone offended.

“Of course not. I didn’t mean to imply you did. Thank you, Mrs. Bagley.” Olivia rushed away, not wanting the housekeeper to see her impending tears.

She reached the entry and started for the parlor. The sound of carriage wheels rattled through the window. She glanced toward the circular drive and saw Goldia alight from a cab. It would be just like her to blurt out Olivia’s real name in the excitement of being reunited. It would be best for their first meeting here to be in private so the servants wouldn’t be made aware.

“I’m going to my room for a few minutes,” she told the footman. When confusion clouded his eyes, she brushed past him and rushed up the steps. He would wonder why she was explaining her movements to him.

In the sanctuary of her chamber, she sat in the upholstered chair by the window and listened for her maid’s footsteps. Olivia had chosen this room the moment she saw it. The colors of palest blue with touches of yellow were her favorite.

Goldia’s quarters would be on the third floor at the back of the house. Perhaps Olivia could creep up the back stairway and find her. She waited for ten minutes, then opened her door and slipped into the hall. No one was about. The rooms and halls were confusing, and she got turned around twice before she found the door to the third floor. The steps creaked under her feet, and she winced, then reminded herself it would be perfectly natural for her to be exploring the manor.

The third floor was well lit. She went from door to door and realized the entire floor was a ballroom with the exception of a bathroom and enormous butler’s pantry. She’d seen the ballroom when Harrison first brought her here, but she’d thought the servants’ rooms would be up here too. She found another set of stairs and ascended them to the attic. As soon as she stepped onto the wide, unpainted boards, she heard voices. The servants’ quarters had to be here. She ducked down a hall as the door ahead opened and the chambermaid stepped out. Once the woman went down the steps, Olivia tiptoed to the room the woman had vacated.

Goldia stood by the window. A white cap covered her blond hair, and her normally pink cheeks were pale. Olivia gave a curious glance around the room. She’d never been in a servant’s room before. Her mother had always taken care of the staff. The starkness surprised her. No rug on the floor, minimal furnishings, and an iron bed with peeling paint were the only furnishings.

She shut the door behind her. “Goldia,” she whispered, holding a finger to her lips as her maid whirled to face her with wide eyes.

“M-Miss Olivia?” the girl stammered. “Oh my dear Miss Olivia! I thought you were dead until that nice lightkeeper told me different!” She flew across the room to throw her arms around Olivia in an extravagant gesture. “I was so relieved when I got the message.”

Olivia hugged her back, relishing the relief in the tight embrace. “Shh, Goldia, remember that you can’t tell anyone who I am.”

Goldia rubbed her forehead. “I don’t see how you can fool anyone for long, Miss Olivia. Someone is bound to figure it out.”

Olivia bit her lip. “I fear the news getting out after that man tried to drown me.”

“Hire a bodyguard,” the maid suggested.

Olivia shook her head. “It’s more than the danger. I am quite determined to find out who killed Eleanor.”

“Mr. Harrison would help you,” Goldia said. “He cared about her.”

“I suspect he had something to do with her death,” Olivia said, her voice hardening. “He is the last person I would ask for help.”

“What can I do, miss?”

Olivia stared at her maid. Goldia had been a stalwart champion and constant companion for three years. “Some friends of Eleanor’s told me she received a letter from our father that distressed her. I need to find that correspondence. It must be here in this house.”

Goldia put her hand to her mouth. “That’s impossible, Miss Olivia. Mr. Stewart is dead.”

“I know it seems unlikely, but I believe the woman who told me about it. Perhaps it was sent before Father’s death and was delayed somehow. You must help me find it.”