The Lightkeeper's Daughter (3 page)

His laugh was uneasy. “I’m hardly an angel, Miss Adeline.”

Her father had always told her that truth never stayed hidden forever. God laughed at mankind’s plans. What would her father say if he were alive today to face the revelation of the lies he’d told her? Everything she thought she knew about her life was in ashes.

She rubbed her forehead. “I don’t understand anything. Why would someone pay you to care for me?” she asked her mother.

“Roy suspected the person wanted you out of the way. He became obsessed with finding out more and collected these clippings and other evidence.” Her tone made it clear she’d never understood her husband’s obsession.

Addie buried her face in her hands. “Who am I?” Gideon pushed his cold nose against her cheek. When she lifted her head to stare at Mr. Driscoll, the pity on his face stirred her. “What do you want from me?”

“I want to reunite you with your family.” He hesitated. “Henry searched for weeks, desperate to find you and Laura. He’ll be overjoyed to find you alive.”

The thought that her real father had loved her stirred Addie out of her pain. A gust of wind and rain rattled the panes in the window, and she raised her voice over the din. “Reunite us? You mean you want me to go with you?”

He flexed his swollen fingers. “I hadn’t thought of that. Perhaps you should stay here until I find out who paid to keep you away, and why.”

“I need to help my mother.”
My mother
. The familiar words mocked her, but surely the devil she knew was better than the one she didn’t.

“That’s right,” Josephine said. “I depend on your assistance.”

Mr. Driscoll looked at Josephine. “I suspect you have milked every drop of sweat possible from the poor child over the years. You deserve nothing more from her.”

Though his words made sense, Addie shied away from the idea of leaving the life she knew. “I’d rather not face them until I know they want me.”

He studied her face. “I can’t introduce you as Julia until I get more proof. I don’t want to subject you to possible scrutiny until we’re sure.”

She picked up the metal box. “The things in here don’t prove it?” She skimmed through the articles about the shipwreck. One article mentioned the Eaton family’s desperate search for Laura Eaton and her child, Julia.

He shook his head. “Your father collected articles about the shipwreck, but that’s hardly proof of your identity. It’s enough for me when I see the locket and look at your face, but Henry will demand more than that.”

She slumped back against the chair. “Why wouldn’t he see the resemblance as you do?”

“Henry Eaton is wealthy beyond your imagination. Better men than I have tried to hoodwink him without success. He is skeptical of any unproven claim.”

She lifted her necklace. “But the locket?”

He chewed his lip. “Yes, he might believe the locket.” He glanced at Josephine. “Where was it found?”

“It was around Addie’s neck when Roy rescued her.”

He nodded. “There are many questions about how you came to be here and why. Henry will want a logical explanation of how this happened. I’d like to have something more to prove your claim. When he realizes you’re his darling Julia, you’ll be showered with love and material possessions.”

“I don’t really care about money.” Loneliness had dogged her all her life. The lighthouse stood on a rocky cliff that was an island most of the time. The only access to the mainland was an isthmus at low tide. Even then, her parents had rarely allowed her to go to town, and she’d longed to fit in, to find friends to laugh with and share with.

Addie stared at him with fresh eyes. Pain etched his mouth and left pallor on his face, but his blue eyes held keen determination. How had he gathered her true need so completely no longer than he’d been here? “Is the Eaton family large?” she asked. “Have I any siblings?”

“Not living,” he said. “Your sister, Katherine, died in a streetcar accident three years ago. She was your half sister. Closer, really. After Laura died, Henry married our sister, Clara.”

“Can you tell me more about the family?”

“There were three of us. Clara and I have the same mother. Our mother died in childbirth when Clara was born. Laura is the daughter of our father’s second wife, so she was our half sister.”

“So you’re the oldest, then Clara, and my mother was the youngest?”

He nodded. “There are three years between Clara and me, and two years between her and your mother.”

Addie’s eyes filled. An entire lifetime of belonging had slipped from her fingers. “Katherine was my only sibling?”

He nodded. “But you have a nephew. Edward. He’s five.”

“A nephew! Do we look alike in any regard?”

“More than a bit,” he said. “I have a thought. I can’t just take you into Eaton Manor and announce you are Julia. However, Edward’s father, John, has mentioned his need of a governess for Edward. Henry is raging about it. He dotes on the boy—being his only grandchild—and has had the care of him since Katherine was killed.”

For the first time she was tempted to actually do this thing—to go to this family where Mr. Driscoll claimed she belonged. “Why hasn’t Edward been with John?”

“Henry persuaded him that the boy needed his grandmother as he worked through the grieving process. Besides, John is a naval officer and was out to sea when Katherine died.”

“The poor child. I would become his governess?”

He nodded. “If your education passes muster.”

“I love studies. I obtained a degree through correspondence.”

“So you wish to accompany me?”

Did she? She chewed her lip, then slowly nodded. “I’ll come.”

“You will not!” her mother said.

Mr. Driscoll fixed her with a cold stare. “You have no say in this.” He turned his attention back to Addie. “You’ll enter the household as my ward, the daughter of a friend. That way you’ll be part of the family.”

“Then what?”

“I plan to hire a Pinkerton investigator in San Francisco. I’ll have him talk to this attorney and ferret out who hired him and why.”

Addie hadn’t been thinking about the faceless person who had contrived to keep her out of the family. “Why would someone do that?”

“It’s something we must discover. Henry hasn’t risen to prominence without making many enemies along the way. I have several people in mind.”

“Who?”

He rose. “A couple of years before Laura’s death, there was some scandal about one of Henry’s rivals. When he went broke, his son committed suicide. Perhaps he sought to exact revenge. A child for a child.”

She gulped in air. “This person might be dangerous. Are you sure of my identity?”

“Read the papers in the box, Addie. You’ll see there is no doubt.” He went toward the steps. “I’ll leave you alone to absorb this news, my dear. I’m utterly exhausted, and my arm is a misery.” His shoulders were stooped as he climbed the stairs.

There was no sound in the living room except the hiss of the gaslight. Addie stared at her mother. No, not her mother. Josephine Sullivan. Addie wasn’t a Sullivan. Her entire identity had been stripped away.

Josephine sipped her tea. “You’re about to be dropped into the lap of luxury. I expect you could send money to help me out from time to time.”

“Did you ever love me at all?” Addie said, her voice barely audible.

“Let’s not talk anymore tonight.” Josephine moved from the fireplace and went up the stairs.

Addie sat frozen on the chair with the metal box in her lap. She dropped it to the floor, and the papers scattered. With a cry, she fell to her knees and buried her face in her dog’s warm coat.

T
HREE

T
HE OFFICES OF
Mercy Steamboats squatted on the corner of Main and Redwood. A three-story brick building, it presented an austere front to the world. Naval Lieutenant John North paused at the door long enough to remove his hat, then stepped into the entry.

“Good afternoon, Lieutenant North.” Mrs. O’Donnell smiled from behind her typewriter. “Mr. Eaton is in his office. He asked me to send you in when you got here.”

John walked down the tiled hall to the first door on the left. The imposing walnut door was closed. He gave a brisk rap on the polished surface. He’d slept little on the steamer from San Francisco, and his eyes burned.

“Come,” Henry’s voice called.

He’d rather go. John entered and closed the door behind him. “Good afternoon, Henry.” When John had married Katherine, she’d insisted he call her parents Mother and Father, but it had never been natural for him. After she was gone, he’d been glad to revert. He suspected Henry felt the same way.

Henry regarded John over the top of his spectacles. “The ferry was late?”

“A few lingering storm swells slowed us down.”

John settled in a chair and studied his father-in-law for clues to his mood. Henry’s expression was as dark as the clouds rolling in from the west. A tall man, he had a thick head of brown hair that held only a few streaks of gray in spite of being in his midfifties. His brown suit—impeccably cut, of course—fit his muscular frame perfectly. His waxed mustache suited his angular face.

“Have you been to see Edward yet?”

John shook his head. “That’s my next stop. I’ll set the nurse to packing his things.”

Henry leaned forward. “What the devil are you thinking to yank him from the place he’s been secure?”

“Henry, you knew all along this arrangement was temporary. I appreciate all you’ve done, but Edward is my son. Not yours. Not Clara’s. He belongs with me.”

Henry banged his fist on the desk. “You were happy enough to leave him with us when Katherine died.”

“That’s rubbish and you know it. I had no choice. I
do
have a choice now. My new assignment is at a desk, and Edward can be with me.”

“You have no one to care for him.”

“Actually, I do. Walter rang me, and the daughter of a good friend of his is seeking a position. He is bringing her in today to see if she will suit.”

Henry’s mouth grew pinched. “Can’t the child at least stay until after my birthday ball? You too. You’re on leave for a month. There’s time to ease him into new arrangements.”

Perhaps it would be best to let Edward get used to the idea, used to his father and the new governess. The last thing John wanted was to inflict more trauma on his boy. “Very well. But let’s not argue about it anymore, Henry. It’s bad for Edward.”

“You don’t care about what’s best for the boy or you wouldn’t be yanking him away from us. In the city, people might make fun of him. He’s known and loved here. Have you ever thought of resigning, son?”

Henry’s genial tone warned John to be on his guard. “The navy is my life.”

“Mercy Falls is a charming town. Edward is happy here. I saw a house that would be perfect for you and Edward.”

“The navy is all I know.”

“You’ve managed naval supplies for years. You’re detailed and organized. I’d put you over my companies without a qualm. Perhaps you could pull the steamboat business out of its slump.”

“Henry, the steamboat travel is faltering all over the country. The train is more convenient. You need to be prepared for the coming decline. Perhaps invest in a train.”

Henry held up his hand. “You know how I feel about the trains. Noisy and smelly.”

“But profitable. You can’t hide your head in the sand, Henry. The world is changing.”

“Not in my lifetime.” He wagged a finger at John. “I see what you are doing. Changing the subject. Think about Edward. Considering his challenges, he’ll do so much better here than in the city.”

Heat rose along John’s neck. “Edward is very bright. He’ll have no trouble with school or with adjusting to a new place.”

“He has fits, John. We must do whatever we can to help him.”

“His epilepsy won’t hold him back. He has spunk.”

The last comment brought the faintest twitch of a smile to Henry’s face. “Let’s put aside our differences and think of the boy. I want to show you my new automobile, so I’ll run you home.”

If only Henry would take his own advice and think of Edward. Henry believed his solution was the only possible choice, and it wasn’t one John was willing to consider.

The stage passed a picturesque lighthouse on the coast. “Who mans it?” Addie asked Mr. Driscoll. He hadn’t spoken since they’d boarded the stage. She and Driscoll were the only passengers since the last stop north in Trinidad.

“I believe it’s unmanned at the moment. They’re looking for a new lightkeeper, according to the paper.”

The coach left the seaside and traveled up the hill. The vehicle rounded a curve and began to slow as it neared a town. Addie craned her head out the window at the charming valley. Milk cows grazed on the hillsides until the redwood forest encroached again. The stage rolled through Mercy Falls slowly, and she took in the small shops and brick buildings of the bustling town.

She gathered her valise from the floor by her feet. “Are they expecting me?” she asked.

“I called John. As I thought, he was only too happy to have help finding someone suitable. He’s expected from the city on the afternoon ferry. May already be here by now.”