The Lightkeeper's Bride (8 page)

“He’s in the barn at the base of the hill. The saddle is in the shed. Do you need assistance?”

“No, I’m comfortable around horses.”

He glanced at the baby. “I wish I could say the same about Jennie. Do you know of a reliable woman I could hire to help care for her?”

“I’ll think on it,” she said. “Thank you again for the loan of your horse.” She was eager to get away from his probing, curious eyes. She escaped the lighthouse, saddled the horse, and galloped for town.

E
IGHT

K
ATIE BOLTED UPRIGHT
at the pounding on the front door. Her father hadn’t been home when she arrived last night. He’d probably been out drinking. Or trying to cover his tracks with Eliza. After rubbing her mother’s forehead with peppermint oil to help her migraine, Katie had fallen into bed after midnight. She glanced at the clock on the mantel. Only six a.m. Who could be rousing them so early?

The maid’s soft voice murmured down the hall, then Constable Brown’s voice echoed in the foyer. “I must speak with Mrs. Russell,” he said.

Katie leaped from the bed and grabbed her dressing gown then shoved her feet into slippers. She fumbled for the doorknob and nearly fell over her kitten, Nubbins, who entangled himself around her ankles. After extricating herself from the cat, she stumbled into the hallway and rushed down the stairs to find the constable pacing the redwood floors.

“Ah, Miss Katie, I must speak with your mother.”

Katie tightened the sash on her gown. “What’s wrong, Constable? Mama went to bed with a migraine and I don’t wish to disturb her if we can avoid it.”

The constable was pale, and he had dark circles under his eyes as if he’d been up all night. “I’m afraid it can’t be helped. Please call your mother.”

Katie gulped at his serious expression. Was that compassion she glimpsed? “Very well. Get Mama,” she told the maid.

Her mother’s voice spoke from behind her. “I’m here, Katie. What is the commotion?”

“Come into the parlor, Mrs. Russell,” the constable said, his voice grave.

Her mother took Katie’s hand in a fierce grip. The women obeyed the constable’s directive and sank onto the gray horsehair sofa at his gesture. Her mother leaned her head against the doily that covered the back of the sofa. Katie didn’t let go of her hand. Whatever was coming was bad, very bad.

Brown cleared his throat. “Mrs. Russell, I regret to inform you that your husband was discovered in the pond at the base of Mercy Falls this morning at four o’clock.”

She squeezed her mother’s fingers. “No,” Katie whispered. “Is he—dead?” Hysteria bubbled in her throat.

“No, but he’s gravely ill. I had him transported to the hospital.”

“Was it a–a suicide attempt?” The falls was notorious for attracting the despondent.

“It appears so.”

Suicide. All the doubts crashed over her head again. It made him appear guilty of Eliza’s disappearance. This was her fault. She should never have let him know she’d overheard.

Katie’s mother had still not spoken. She sat motionless and without expression. “Mama?” Katie choked out.

“I believe I shall go back to bed,” her mother said in a clear voice. “This migraine is quite unmanageable.”

Katie fought to keep her tears at bay, to be calm for her mother. She and the constable exchanged a long look. She slipped her arm around her mother’s shoulders. “Mama, did you hear what Constable Brown said? Papa tried to do away with himself.”

Her mother clapped her hands to her ears. “I don’t want to hear anything more from you, Katie,” she said, her voice shrill. Hysteria was in the last note of Katie’s name. Her mother’s eyes went wild.

“Your father would never do such a thing. Never! What would our friends say?”

“I think we should call the doctor,” Katie mouthed to the constable.

He nodded. “In the hall or the kitchen?”

“The kitchen.”

He slipped out of the room while she hugged her mother. “He’ll be all right.” But would he? The constable’s manner had been most grave. What if her father died? Her mother would never survive the trauma. Her parents had always been so close . . . or at least that was what she’d thought until she learned of Eliza’s involvement.

Her parents. Today had brought back too much of the past, before they’d taken her in. She preferred not to remember all that pain.

Brown stepped back into the room. “He’s on his way.”

“What happened? How was he found?”

He shrugged. “An early morning hunter discovered him half in the water and dragged him all the way out. He has a bad cut on his head.”

“Will he live?”

His expression turned grimmer. “The doctor is examining him.

He’s unconscious. Does your father have any enemies? The break-in yesterday, Miss Eliza’s disappearance, the attack on you. Might they be connected?”

She glanced at her mother. “I’d like to wait until my mother is under the doctor’s care before we discuss this further.”

“Of course.” His keen gaze probed her face. “Do you fear his suicide attempt is connected with Miss Eliza’s disappearance?”

“I–It’s possible,” she choked out. The doorbell rang. “That must be Dr. Lambertson. Could you get it? I don’t wish to leave Mama alone.”

“Certainly.”

Katie’s tongue was as dry as sand. Her eyes burned, and her throat convulsed with the effort to hold back the sobs building there. How much should she tell the constable? How could he find what had happened to Eliza if she wasn’t honest with him? Of course, her father was not responsible for Eliza’s disappearance, but if she kept anything from the constable, she wouldn’t be doing the right thing. When the doctor turned to tend to her mother, she slipped down the hall and beckoned to the constable to follow her.

“Miss Katie, what are you hiding from me?” The constable’s voice was gruff but kind.

She bit her lip. Her father had begged her to stay quiet, but what if he hadn’t tried to kill himself? “I realized why the man’s voice on the phone was so familiar,” she told him. “It was my father who argued with Eliza.”

He took out a cigar and struck a match. “I see,” he said, drawing in a puff. “You feared I would assume your father was involved in her disappearance if you told me the truth?”

“I didn’t realize it was his voice at first. I just knew it sounded familiar.” She sent him a pleading glance. “Truly, Constable, I wasn’t hiding it from you. I realized it after we talked.”

“So you think your father came back and disposed of her?”

“No!” She wetted her lips. “I think someone else came in. In fact, what if Papa didn’t try to do away with himself? What if that man attacked him?”

“What would be the motive? I suspect Miss Eliza was blackmailing him.” His voice was heavy with disapproval.

“I asked my father if he was Jennie’s father. He denied it and I believe him.” She knew her tone lacked conviction and put more force into it. “Papa’s a good man. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“Not even when he’s drinking?”

Heat raked her face. “Not even then.”

“When did you see him last? Did he seem despondent?”

She hesitated. “I glimpsed him on his way back from the lighthouse last night.”

“Why was he there?”

“Mr. Jesperson told me he was looking for a pocket watch he left at Eliza’s. He thought perhaps Mr. Jesperson had picked it up with Jennie’s things.”

“Why would it matter?”

“His name was on it. I’m sure he didn’t want his relationship to become common knowledge. There’s something else you need to know, Constable. I received a threatening telephone call last night just before I left work.”

“Did you recognize the voice?”

She shook her head. “But the call came from the skating rink. I rushed there to see if I could perhaps catch the perpetrator, but he’d left for the Redwood Inn. When I went there, I was informed he’d left town. According to Mr. Wilson, the man called himself Joe Smith. A fake name, of course.”

Brown puffed on his cigar. “Miss Katie, you need to let me do the investigating here. You’re going to get yourself in trouble. I told you— you need to watch yourself.”

“I’m sorry, Constable. You’re quite right.”

He continued to study her. “So that is why you offered to take Miss Eliza’s child. You suspected little Jennie was your sister.”

She opened her mouth to say she didn’t consciously know why she’d wanted the child, but before she got out the words, she saw a shadow move.

Her mother spoke from the doorway. “Child? What are you saying, Katie? That your father had another child?”

Katie didn’t want to face her mother’s accusing stare, but she forced herself to wheel and look at her mother’s stricken face. “I’m not sure, Mama. We have no real way of knowing now.”

“I’ll leave you to deal with her for now,” the constable said. “We will talk more tomorrow.” His voice held a note of warning.

Her mother grabbed the door frame for support, and the doctor seized her arm to steady her. “I’ve administered laudanum,” he said. “She needs to go to bed.”

“I’ll see she gets there.” Katie took her mother’s hand.

Her mother jerked her fingers away. “Not until you tell me what you’re whispering about out here. I shall speak to your father about this. He’ll be most distressed at your accusations.” There was a wildness in her blue eyes, and her mouth pulled to one side.

Katie pitched her voice to a soothing tone. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow. You’re about to fall down.”

“The laudanum will let her sleep,” Dr. Lambertson said. “Let me help you get her to bed.”

With Katie on one side of her mother and the doctor on the other, they managed to get her to the high bedstead before she collapsed. “Will she remember any of this when she awakens?” Katie asked.

“I hope her head is clear after resting a few hours,” the doctor said. “But it’s been a hard blow to her mind. I’ll check in on her later in the morning. Stay with her until then.”

He took his leave, and Katie arranged for the groom to take Mr. Jesperson’s horse back to him. She dragged her pillow and quilt to the floor by her mother’s bed. Nubbins followed Katie into the soft folds of the bedding. The kitten curled up on Katie’s chest and closed his eyes, but Katie watched her mother’s chest fall and rise. She prayed for a way to open out of this confusion.

The sugar failed to cover the bitterness of the tea. Katie took another sip, hoping the beverage would sharpen her mind. The grit in her eyes reminded her of the tears she’d cried most of the morning. And the reason for them. She watched the sun illuminate her sleeping mother’s pale face on the pillow. If only she would awaken with the light of sanity in her eyes after sleeping for a few hours. Katie set her tea on the bedside table.

When the blue orbs focused on Katie’s face, her silent prayer was answered. Her mother sat up and reached for Katie’s hand. “Have you been here all along, darling? What time is it?”

Katie hung onto her mother’s cold fingers. “I didn’t want to leave you. It’s ten. How are you feeling?”

Her mother’s eyes filled. “Your father wanted to leave us, didn’t he?

I can’t fathom it.”

“We don’t know that for sure, Mama. Someone broke in here and attacked you. What if that same person hurt Papa?” She’d rather believe that than that her accusations had driven her father over the edge of sanity.

Her mother clutched Katie’s hand. “Don’t think this is your fault, darling. I didn’t want to worry you, but your father’s business is in trouble. I fear that was why he jumped off the falls, regardless of what this business with Miss Bulmer might lead us to believe.”

Katie shook her head. The haberdashery had always seemed indestructible, bustling with customers. They had a good life, one of comfort and respect. “You mean in danger of bankruptcy?” The very thought filled Katie with horror. The shame of it all would destroy Mama. She’d grown up with the best of everything.

Her mother twisted a lock of loose hair around her finger. “He told me two weeks ago. The bank had turned down his request for a loan on the business, and this house is mortgaged for the maximum amount.”

Katie tried to absorb the dreadful meaning. “We shall have to move?”

“We may have no choice.” Tears flooded her mother’s eyes, and she glanced around the lavishly appointed bedroom.

Katie followed her gaze. Damask curtains hung at the windows. The fine blue rug had been imported from Persia. The bed linens were of the finest silk.

Her mother’s lips trembled. “My father built this house, and I was born here. I don’t know how I shall bear this.”

“I–I have my job,” Katie said. When her mother’s face didn’t change, Katie realized how ridiculous that sounded. Her meager earnings would never support this household. The servants, the upkeep. Not even with additional hours.

“We could sell the haberdashery, I suppose,” her mother muttered. “Perhaps it is worth something. It is the only shop in town. Surely someone would like to own it.”

“When Papa recovers, he’ll know what to do.” Her father always had a plan. And he
would
recover. “I shall go to the hospital and check on him this morning. Perhaps I can discuss the situation with our solicitor tomorrow,” Katie said.

“The thought of it gives me a sour stomach,” her mother said, leaning back against the pillow. She focused her gaze on Katie. “Bart Foster is still pressing his suit, is he not?”

Katie heard the hope in her mother’s voice and could see where this was going. “Yes, he is. I . . . but I don’t know him well yet, Mama. I have not thought of marriage.”

Spots of color came to her mother’s face, and her grip tightened. “I’ve groomed you for a respectable marriage, my dear. You’re twenty-five, past time for marriage. You have no better prospects.”

Katie nodded, but acid burned the back of her throat. Bart was handsome enough, but her pulse didn’t flutter when he took her hand or paid her a compliment. But did that matter when she’d always been expected to make a suitable alliance? She couldn’t bear to see her parents spending the rest of their days in a hot flat over the garment factory. Not if it was within Katie’s power to attend to the matter.

Her mother glanced away. “Bart has approached your father about a partnership at the haberdashery. An infusion of new stock and new energy would save it.”