The Bracelet (22 page)

He picked up his jeweler’s loupe and fitted it to his eye before running his fingers over each of the stones. “The diamonds on either side appear to be genuine, but not of the highest quality, I’m afraid. As for the emerald and the amethyst, I believe those to be made of paste.”

“I see.”

He removed his loupe. “I heard you and Mr. Mackay were recently betrothed.”

“Yes.”

“You’re wondering whether he sent this.”

“I know he didn’t.”

“Well, that’s something anyway.” He handed her the bracelet. “I wish I could be of more help.”

“Can you tell me who might have made it? Someone else here in Savannah? Or perhaps in Charleston?”

“I couldn’t say.” Impatience flickered in his eyes.” I don’t wish to be rude, but I am expecting a customer in a few minutes, and I promised to choose a few pieces for her inspection.”

Desperate to solve the mystery, Celia decided to trust him. “Mr. Loyer, are you familiar with the current custom known among the ladies as the language of the jewels?”

“The language of . . . no, I can’t say as I am.”

“It’s the latest thing according to the magazines. Gentlemen send secret messages to their ladies through jewels. The first letters in the names of the jewels spell out a message.”

He frowned.

“For instance, if he wanted to tell her she was dear to him, he might send a piece of jewelry made of a diamond, an emerald, an amethyst, and a ruby. D-e-a-r.”

“I see. How intriguing.”

Wordlessly she slid the bracelet back along the counter and watched his expression change as recognition dawned. He blinked. “But surely . . . that is, I can’t imagine . . . . Who would want to harm you, Miss Browning?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” She slipped the bracelet back into her bag. “I know I can count upon your complete discretion in this matter.”

“Of course. But if you feel you’re in danger, why not go to the police?”

“Have you seen the papers of late? The stories about our family?”

He toyed with his jeweler’s loupe, not meeting her gaze. “I have.”

“If I alert the police, there will be even more speculation.”

“I suppose you’re right.” The jeweler rubbed his chin. “There is one man, name of Ryan. He has a shop in the Yamacraw neighborhood, caters to the Irish who live there. It’s mostly inexpensive things—plain wedding bands, paste necklaces for those with pretensions. Hard to imagine anyone of your acquaintance patronizing his shop, but I don’t suppose it would hurt to ask.” He scribbled an address on the back of a receipt. “Now, you really must excuse me.”

Celia took the slip and started for the door.

“Be careful, Miss.”

She let herself out of the shop and headed for the carriage. “Home, please, Joseph. I’m exhausted.”

“Don’t wonder.” Joseph opened the door and handed her inside. “You been runnin’ faster than the Cassville steam train this whole blessed day.”

He climbed into his seat and turned for home.

14

S
UTTON HALTED THE RIG AT THE GATE AND JUMPED DOWN
to help Celia out, his gloved hands clasping hers. He tethered the horse, and they hurried up the front steps and into the foyer. Overnight the weather had turned colder, and now fires burned in the parlor fireplaces and in Papa’s library.

“There the two o’ you are.” Mrs. Maguire hurried into the foyer, a laden tea tray in her hands. “I expected you half an hour ago.” She proffered the tray. “I hope the scones are not stone cold by now.”

“I’m sure they’ll be delicious anyway,” Sutton told her. “Nobody makes afternoon tea quite the way you do, Mrs. Maguire.”

She blushed. “You are full o’ the blarney, Sutton Mackay, and that’s the truth.”

He laughed.

“We’re sorry to be late,” Celia said. “Poseidon threw a shoe, and we had to wait for the groom to come back from exercising Miss Waring’s mare. And we hadn’t been out to the track in a while. Both the boys needed a good run.”

“Both the boys?” The housekeeper shook her head. “You talk about those horses like they’re regular people. Well, off with your coats and into the parlor. I don’t have time to stand here jibber-jabberin’.”

Celia shed her gloves, unbuttoned her cloak, and unwound her scarf. “The bergamot tea smells heavenly, Mrs. Maguire.”

The housekeeper preceded them into the parlor and set the tray on the side table beside Celia’s chair. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.”

“Thank you.” Celia lifted the ivory-colored teapot and filled their cups. “Where’s Papa?”

“Still in his room. I heard him rattling around in his library at two o’clock this morning. I expect he’s still asleep. And don’t you go waking him.”

“Of course we won’t.”

“Miss Ivy sent for Joseph and the carriage just after you left this morning. Shopping, I reckon.” Mrs. Maguire headed back to the kitchen.

Sutton helped himself to a scone and slathered it with butter and strawberry jam. “Grandmother tells me you have chosen a gown for our big day.”

“Yes. I hope you will approve.”

“You’d look beautiful in homespun. All I want is for you to marry me.” He took a bite, chewed, and swallowed. “Grandmother says I’m a fool for waiting.”

“I certainly respect her opinion,” Celia said drily.

Sutton laughed. “Me too. And she’s right. Whatever happens will happen whether we are married or not. I had a letter from Griffin Rutledge in Charleston last week. He’s nearly concluded his deal with the shipbuilders in Liverpool. They’re eager to begin construction of my boat as soon as I can secure commitments from the investors.”

“I see.” She had pushed his trip to England to the back of her mind, not wanting to face the prospect of another long separation. It took weeks for letters to cross the Atlantic, and the silence during his absences was nearly unbearable.

“So I figure we’ll sail at the end of January.”

Her cup rattled in its saucer. “We?”

“Yes. I understand it’s usual for wives to accompany their husbands on such voyages.”

“Wives? Wait. Are you saying—”

“I’m saying let’s get married right after the new year. That will give us a month to get settled before we sail.”

“But my dress isn’t close to being finished. And what about the reception?”

“If I remember correctly, it wasn’t too long ago that you were suggesting a January wedding.”

“Yes, but I—”

“Offer the dressmaker a small bonus for putting a rush on it. I’ll bet she finishes in record time.” He reached over and cupped her cheek in his hand. “You do want to marry me?”

“Oh, yes.” All her life she had dreamed of the perfect wedding day. Coming down the stairs on Papa’s arm with friends around to share in the happiness. Tables set with the best china and silver, laden with enough food to feed half of the city. Banks of flowers from their own gardens in every room. Now it would happen sooner than she’d planned. Not many flowers would be blooming in the middle of winter, and some of her friends might not return from their Christmas travels in time to attend. But those were minor disappointments compared to the prospect of waiting months for Sutton’s return.

“I was so dreading being apart from you again, and now I won’t have to.”

He drew her onto his lap and wound a dark curl around his fingers. “You may regret it if we hit bad weather on the crossing. The Atlantic can be brutal in the winter.”

“Not as brutal as waiting here, wondering whether you are all right and counting the days till you come home. Oh, I can’t wait to tell Papa our news.”

“I can’t wait until you’re mine.” He kissed her, and she rested her head on his shoulder, listening to the crackling of the fire in the grate. Safe in Sutton’s arms, she could forget about the anonymous messages, the bracelet, the intruder who had shoved her to the ground in the garden. The niggling questions about the past.

“Oh, dear. I am sorry.” Ivy stood in the parlor doorway, her arms laden with packages. “I seem to be interrupting at precisely the wrong time.”

Celia slid off Sutton’s lap and smoothed her hair. “You might have knocked.”

“I should have, but I didn’t have a hand free.” Ivy dumped her parcels onto the settee and peeled off her gloves. “Is there any more tea? I’m half frozen. I do believe it’s turned colder since this morning. Maybe we’ll have snow, like the storm that came when Uncle David was a boy. He says the snowdrifts were waist high in some places. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

“But not so wonderful for business,” Sutton said. “It’s harder to keep the men on the docks when the weather’s bad.”

“Oh, I didn’t think of that.” Her voice softened. “Of course I wouldn’t wish for anything that would make things more difficult for you.”

Celia eyed the half-dozen parcels strewn across the settee. “You bought out the stores.”

“Not really. I picked up a few Christmas presents.” Ivy grabbed a scone off the tray and made a place for herself on the settee. “I saw a darling little cameo brooch in Loyer’s window and couldn’t resist getting it for Mrs. Maguire.” She laughed. “That one purchase put me in the mood for shopping, and the next thing I knew, I had bought all this.”

She nibbled the scone and dusted off her fingers. “I got something for you, Sutton.”

“Well, don’t tell me now.” An amused smile played on his lips. “I like to be surprised on Christmas.”

“Oh, this isn’t for Christmas. It’s something I ran across that put me in mind of you.” She sifted through the packages and handed him one. “Open it.”

He shifted in his chair. “You’re very kind, but really, you shouldn’t have. You made that lovely scarf for my homecoming and that was quite enough.”

“Please. I insist.”

He tore away the brown wrapping paper and lifted the lid on a small box. “A compass. Very useful indeed. Thank you.”

“I thought you could use it when you sail to England,” Ivy said, “and it might put you in mind of me. Of all of us, really. All of us who will be waiting here at home for you.”

Sutton set the compass aside. “Actually there will be one less person waiting for me. Celia and I have just this moment decided to wed in January. She will be going to England with me.”

Sutton smiled into Celia’s eyes, and his look warmed her heart. How had she been so lucky to have this man fall in love with her?

Ivy frowned. “You’re getting married in the dead of winter? What will our friends say?”

Celia laughed. “I hope they will say congratulations.”

“It’s true that January is not the ideal time for a society wedding, nor for a honeymoon voyage,” Sutton said. “But Celia and I don’t want to be apart any longer.”

Ivy fell back against the settee. “But, Celia, what about your dress? And—you simply can’t get married so soon!”

“Of course we can.” Sutton grinned. “All we need is a ring and a minister.”

Ivy got to her feet. “I think you’re both being very selfish. Uncle David will be terribly disappointed.”

“Papa will be happy that I’m happy.” Celia clasped Sutton’s hand. “And all I want is to marry Sutton Mackay.”

Ivy huffed out a noisy breath. “Well, all I can say is that this is surely a surprise.”

Sutton rose and held out his hand to Celia. “Speaking of surprises, can you take another one today, darling?”

“That depends. Is it a good one or a bad one?”

“A good one, I hope.”

“Then by all means tell me.”

“Remember the night of our engagement, when I told you I was working on another surprise?”

She nodded, thinking again of the bracelet. “I thought once I had guessed what it was, but I was mistaken.”

“Come with me.”

He crossed the foyer and went through the French doors and into the terrace, Celia and Ivy trailing in his wake. He crossed the garden to the toolshed, ducked inside, and emerged with a golden-haired, roly-poly puppy tucked under his arm.

Celia gave a little cry of delight and held out her arms. “Is she mine?”

“She’s a he. But yes, he’s yours.” Sutton handed her the pup, who looked up at Celia with adoring brown eyes and licked her face.

Sutton laughed. “He loves you already.”

“Everybody loves Celia.” Ivy reached over to scratch the puppy’s ears.