Another Country (10 page)

“She didn’t marry Andrew,” Caroline said, her eyes
shining with a strange excitement, “because I showed her the
letters. Andrew kept Allan’s letters--hid them from Harriet! I
discovered it, and showed them to her. And now she’s married her
sweetheart--hasn’t she?”

“Yes.” Eleanor nodded. “She has.”

“Oh, Eleanor! This makes us nearly sisters! It must
be Fate that has brought us together like this, our pasts so
twined. Don’t you think?”

Eleanor shook her head wearily. “Perhaps, Caroline,
but it hardly seems to be a matter of gaiety. The past is a
troubled one.”

“I’m sure we can overcome any troubles! Uncle James
will explain, you’ll see. And Ian will forgive him. Perhaps that is
why we sailed together, why we’ve become friends. So the past can
be put behind us--truly!”

“Perhaps.” Caroline was still such a child, and a
naive one at that. One look at the rage simmering in Ian’s eyes,
and the cold sneer on Riddell’s face, made it quite clear that
there would be no forgiveness between the two men, at least not for
a long while. Eleanor shivered, for she was afraid it would be much
worse than that. There would be no mercy, no quarter given. She
knew what Ian wanted, had always wanted. It had been in his
letters, was still in his speech. Revenge.

She patted Caroline’s arm, suddenly wanting to
believe in her dreams, to dispel the coldness inside. “Perhaps we
can make it so. If you speak to your uncle... I’ll speak to Ian.”
She shivered again. “They might see reason.” Although she doubted
it.

Caroline nodded happily. “Oh, they will, Eleanor! I
know they will.” And Eleanor almost could believe it as well.

Later that evening, back at their house, Eleanor
plucked up the courage to speak to Ian. After changing into her
nightgown and dressing gown, her hair braided, she went in search
of her brother.

She found him in his study, sprawled in a chair and
still in evening dress, a tumbler and bottle of brandy at his
elbow.

“Ian,” she said sharply. “Is this any way to conduct
yourself?”

“Can’t a man have a drink in the privacy of his own
home?”

“Certainly, but he should not attempt to drown his
sorrows.”

“Don’t lecture me, Eleanor,” Ian warned. “I’ve heard
enough from you this evening! It’s clear whose side you’ve taken in
this war.”

“A war, is it? I’d call it merely a scuffle.” Firmly
Ellen took the brandy bottle and returned it to the cupboard.
“Ian,” she said quietly, “if I were to choose sides, you know I
would choose yours. Riddell is a cold fish, there’s no doubt, and a
thoroughly unpleasant character as well. I’ve no doubt his business
dealings are as suspect as they ever were back in Scotland, but the
truth will out, and in the meantime you must not damage your
position here in Boston.”

Ian raised one sardonic eyebrow. “Fearful for your
own standing, Eleanor? What, do you want to snare a rich
husband?”

“You are trying to be cruel.” Despite the hurt that
flashed through her, Eleanor kept her voice steady. “I came here to
be with you, and it is you and your work I’m mindful of. Do you
know how many people heard you call Riddell a cheat? Twenty years
ago he could have called you out for a duel! You must think, Ian,
and show some self-control. You’ve always had too hot a
temper.”

Ian leaned forward, raking his fingers through his
hair so it flopped across his forehead, making him seem achingly
like the boy he’d been. The boy Eleanor had known, and remembered.
“I never thought I’d see him again. I know I acted a fool, but I
couldn’t help it! All the old rage came rushing back. He cost me so
much, Eleanor.” Ian looked up at her, his eyes bleak. “So
much.”

Eleanor knelt down and put her arms around him. “You
must put the past behind you, dear,” she said gently. “It is the
future which concerns us now. Achlic Farm is long gone. You
wouldn’t go back if you could, would you? Your life is here.”

Ian was silent for a long moment. “Yes,” he agreed
finally. “It is.”

“Rupert!” Margaret MacDougall Moore embraced her
younger brother warmly. It had been several years since she’d made
the voyage to Prince Edward Island with Henry to visit her family,
and she gazed at him with fond affection. “You’ve grown into a
man.”

“I am twenty-three, Margaret!” Rupert returned,
laughing. “It’s been some time since I was the little lad you seem
to remember.”

“So it would appear.” Margaret’s eyes twinkled.
“Come in, I’ve set the tea things in the morning parlor.”

Rupert gazed around him in frank appreciation as
Margaret ushered him into the Moore residence, one of the newer
townhouses in the South End of Boston. Although it couldn’t quite
qualify as a mansion, it was impressive enough indeed, with
sumptuous rugs and furniture, and Rupert said as much.

“Henry’s been fortunate,” Margaret said. “As well as
working hard. For my own sake, I’m glad he’s not on the ships as
much as he was, even if he laments his role in the offices a
bit!”

“He’s not enjoying life as a land lubber?”

“Well...” Margaret pursed her lips. “I don’t know as
if I would go that far. But if the wind blows a certain way...” she
chuckled and shrugged. “He gets that look in his eyes. Still, he’s
enjoying the profits of his business opportunities.”

She led him into the morning parlor, an airy room
striped with the sun’s rays that slanted through the elegant sash
window. Rupert settled in a rose velvet chair, while Margaret
perched on a settee and began to pour.

“We’re so glad you’ve come, Rupert. I’ve missed
having family near me, even though the Moores are as good as to me.
Henry feels very strongly...”

“About what do I feel so strongly?”

Margaret’s gaze flew to the doorway, where Henry
Moore now stood. He was the same as Rupert remembered, tall, fair,
with creases by eyes that sparkled with humor.

“I was only going to say that you care about
family,” Margaret said with a smile. “And you were pleased by
Rupert’s letter.”

“Indeed I was.” Henry grabbed a muffin off the plate
and took a bite even as he reached to pump Rupert’s hand. “I know a
sharp mind for business when I see one.”

“I don’t know if I’ve proved myself yet,” Rupert
objected with a little smile, and Henry shrugged.

“No, you haven’t, but I’m sure you will with the
right opportunity. You’ll have to work for it, though.”

“I’m not afraid of hard work.”

“I thought as much.” Henry nodded his approval.
“Your letter in itself showed a keen grasp of the essentials. I
didn’t realize news of the Second Bank’s struggles had reached
there...”

“It hasn’t, not really. I just keep my ear to the
ground. And the news of any forgeries is always good for popular
interest.”

“Of course, and it’s likely to become a problem for
us, the way things are placed.”

“I look forward to you keeping me to date,” Rupert
said seriously. “I want to be an asset to any of your
enterprises.”

“I see you’re going to talk business,” Margaret
interjected with a roll of her eyes. “I’ve barely seen my brother,
and you’re already onto banks and forgeries!”

“We’ll save it for later,” Henry promised. “Let’s
talk of something else. Although the only subject on Margaret’s
tongue lately has been her charity school.”

Rupert turned to look inquiringly at his sister. “I
heard you’d involved yourself in some charities...”

“Nothing more than a bit of volunteering,” Margaret
dismissed. “But if Henry is willing to fund it, I’m hoping to start
a small school for the city’s poor. What with all the immigrant
ships coming in, the city is very nearly over run.”

“She’s determined to turn into a crusader,” Henry
added with an indulgent smile.

“Hardly,” Margaret flashed. “You will not find me
accosting people in parlors, or soliciting strangers for funds. I
want nothing more than a small school, a few children...” she
faltered, and glanced down at her teacup.

“And that you shall have,” Henry said quickly,
filling in the moment’s awkwardness. “I was only funning you,
love.”

Later, after an excellent dinner, Rupert retired
with Henry to the library. It was a comfortable room, small but
elegantly furnished, with nautical maps lining the walls, and a
large desk inlaid with leather occupying a handsome position by the
bay window.

“I’ll take you down to the shipping offices,” Henry
told him as he handed him a glass of port. “At the moment, I can
use you looking over the accounts, which is dull work, I don’t mind
saying. There are three other clerks in the office, including
Aubrey, my manager. You’ll have to start at the bottom. I won’t be
accused of playing favorites. But if you keep your ear to the
ground as you say you do, I should hope you might prove
yourself.”

“I intend to.”

Henry sat down and stretched out his legs. “I’m
hoping my office here will grow, in time. I’m looking to invest,
branch out a bit. Of course, merchant shipping will always be
profitable, especially as I look to India and Africa. But there’s
opportunity in this country as well.” He sighed and took a sip of
port. “Although, with President Jackson’s determination to close
the Second Bank, who knows what will happen with the economy.”

Rupert had read about the Second Bank, the
Congress-approved, privately owned bank where Federal funds were
deposited. “I thought the Second Bank encouraged speculation and
inflation,” he said. “That’s why Jackson is determined not to renew
its charter.”

“He’s determined because he’s an old stick in the
mud,” Henry returned with some heat. “And he doesn’t like big
business. But what is the alternative? Every state and even county
having its own banks, and worse, its own bank notes not worth the
paper they’re printed on! With all the different currency
circulating, and not backed by gold, it’s easy for anyone with a
printing press and some engraving knowledge to set up his own
notes.”

“You mean forgery.”

“Exactly. I don’t want to be caught with a fistful
of worthless paper, I can tell you.”

“You could only accept gold, or U.S. bank notes,”
Rupert suggested, but Henry shook his head.

“True, but that has become more difficult,
especially when it comes to making investments. The gold simply
isn’t there.”

“Then it’s likely we’re prime for a depression, or
at the least a panic,” Rupert said thoughtfully.

Henry nodded. “Possibly, but business is booming at
the moment, and I intend to profit from it. I don’t want to stay in
shipping forever, at least not the way I am now. The face of
shipping is changing anyway, and I won’t be left behind.”

“I’ve no doubt of that.”

Henry grinned. “Find me some good investments,
Rupert, and you’ll be well on your way up the ladder. But be
careful, as well. None of us wants to be caught holding the
bag.”

“Your uncle does not wish to be disturbed,
Miss.”

Caroline bit her lip in frustration as she stared at
the butler’s implacable countenance. Uncle James had been closeted
in his study for most of the morning, but Caroline could wait no
longer to confront him.

“I’m sure he does not, Taylor, but I’ve something
pressing to ask him.”

Taylor’s grave expression’s lips twitched, in
irritation or sympathy Caroline could not tell. She fluttered her
eyelashes just in case.

“I doubt he will appreciate such interference, Miss
Reid.”

“That matters not, either,” Caroline returned
grimly. “Now if you please.” She exchanged her role as simpering
female for mistress of the household, even though she was no such
thing. Despite the few evening entertainments she’d managed to
dredge invitations to, she felt little more than a wraith, drifting
around her uncle’s rented house, waiting for her life to begin.

She lifted her chin, meeting Taylor’s stony gaze
with bold determination, even though her heart was thudding with
anxiety.

Taylor stepped aside with a slight shrug, and
Caroline pushed open the door.

“I said not to be disturbed, Taylor.” James looked
up in annoyance, only to have it increase at the sight of his
niece. “For heaven’s sake, Caroline...! What do you want?”

“To ask you about Ian Campbell,”
Caroline returned boldly. She hid her damp hands in the folds of
her dress. “At the musicale last night you exchanged sharp
words.”

“He was in a dander, all right,” James’s eyes
narrowed shrewdly. “Although I hardly see how it concerns you.”

“Your conduct in Boston society will naturally
reflect on me.” Caroline drew herself up. “If I’m to contract an
eligible husband, I need to concern myself with what passes in all
the elegant drawing rooms.”

“Is that all?” The note of sarcasm cut through
Caroline, and she felt herself flushing.

“Of course it is all! I have made
Mr. Campbell’s acquaintance, and as you should know he is well
placed in society. Nearly everyone is saying he will offer for
Isobel Moore.” Caroline took a breath, surprised how this little
revelation pained her.

“You’ve certainly made society’s gossip your
business,” James returned with a little malice, and Caroline
shrugged.

“It is my business, Uncle. It must be.”

“Indeed.” James ran a hand through his hair, sighing
wearily. “Very well. I certainly did not desire the boy to confront
me in such a fashion. Such a palaver, over nothing! After ten
years, you would think he’d have reconciled his fate.”

“I didn’t realize Eleanor was
Harriet Campbell’s sister. Did you know of it?”

“Why should I? I’d never met the girl before this
evening.”

“But you remembered Harriet.”

“Of course I do! She was on the brink of becoming
part of this family, although a more mismatched betrothal I’d never
seen. It was just as well she cried off.”