The Bracelet (34 page)

Celia paused, surprised at the anger she felt even now. “Of
course Ivy claimed it was an accident. Mrs. Maguire took her side and told me I had to forgive Ivy because she was an orphan.”

A thorn caught at her skirt as they passed, and she yanked it free. “It was that way for most of our childhood. Even though Ivy is older, I was always the one expected to forgive and forget.” Celia shrugged. “She would never admit it, but she’s envious that I’m younger and marrying first.”

They continued along the path until they reached a clearing near the river’s edge. Sutton set the basket down. “Maybe she’ll meet someone at our Christmas party next Friday.”

“Your mother told me she’s invited half of Savannah.”

Sutton laughed. “It’s not much of an exaggeration. Mrs. Johns has been baking all week. If half the city shows up at my house, there has to be at least one acceptable bachelor in the lot.” He looked around. “Wait here. I’ll get some wood for the fire. I won’t be long.”

Celia watched him disappear into the trees. To her left, the river shimmered beneath the pale winter sun. A squirrel darted across the clearing and scampered up a tree. She spread the tablecloth on the ground, then set out their plates and cups. The jar of coffee Mrs. Maguire had sent was still warm in her hands, but already the winter afternoon was waning. The wind was rising, bringing a chill from the river.

She heard a noise behind her and turned to look over her shoulder, certain she’d heard someone breathing. But that was impossible. Hardly anyone came out here these days. Unless the old woman who lived here all those years ago was still around.

A twig snapped. An icicle of fear pricked her heart. Something was alive in the silence, and she was suddenly afraid. She scrambled to her feet. “Who’s there?”

A moment later she heard footsteps on the forest floor and let out a relieved sigh. “Sutton?”

“No. Not Sutton.” Ivy emerged from the shadows and crossed into the clearing, a picnic basket over her arm.

Celia frowned. “You scared the life out of me!”

“Sorry.”

“What are you doing here? I thought you were busy at the circulating library today.”

“Oh, they can do without me. Mr. Truesdale and Mrs. Boles have everything under control, so I decided to join your outing.” Ivy nodded toward her basket. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I do mind. This is the first time Sutton and I have had an afternoon to ourselves since he got home. I wish you wouldn’t spoil it.” Celia looked around the clearing. “How did you get here anyway?”

“My
sister
rowed me over. Technically, my half sister, but I guess a half is better than nothing.”

Celia gaped at her. “How did you find out?”

“Louisa told me.”

“She promised not to.”

Ivy’s blue eyes flashed. “How could you be so selfish as to keep that kind of news from me?”

“I intended to tell you, once I figured out what Louisa wants.”

“What she wants?”

“Don’t you think she will want an inheritance of some sort? Now that she knows she’s related to us, she won’t be content to stitch monograms in a linen shop.”

“You’re wrong about Louisa. She only wants a family, and I’m all she’s got.” Ivy shifted her basket to her other arm. “However, since my father sold off everything years ago, we do need money. Surely Uncle David can afford to give Louisa and me the same ten thousand he’s given you. And don’t bother to deny it. I heard the whole conversation.”

“Eavesdropping doesn’t become you, Ivy. And no, I won’t hear of Papa’s giving her a dime. He is not responsible for Uncle
Magnus’s sins, and I will not have him upset over this. A shock like this might well kill him.”

Ivy’s expression went hard. For the first time in their lives, Celia saw real hate in her cousin’s eyes. “It isn’t only the money you want,” Celia said.

“You’re right. It isn’t.” Ivy scanned the clearing. “Where is Sutton anyway?”

“He’ll be right back, and he will not be pleased to find you here.” Celia struggled to soften her tone. “I suspect you have developed tender feelings for him. But you cannot make someone love you if he doesn’t. And you can’t buy love with knitted scarves or a compass.”

“I know that.”

“Well then?”

“I heard that sob story you told Sutton just now—about the stupid broken carousel.” Ivy fiddled with the cover of her basket as she spoke. “I suppose in some way I’ve always wanted whatever you had. And you’ve always had your heart’s desires.”

“But I—”

Celia froze as Ivy reached into the basket and brought out a pistol.

“Ivy. What are you doing?” Her mouth was dry, her heart beat wildly. “Put that thing down before somebody gets hurt.”

“I believe that’s the general intention.”

Celia licked her lips. “You may be many things, but you are not a killer.”

Ivy gave a short laugh. “How can you be so sure?”

“What are you talking about?” Celia felt faint. Had Ivy harmed Sutton? Surely Celia would have heard the shot.

“Oh, don’t worry. I would never harm Sutton. I was talking about the woman in the carriage house. Louisa’s mother. Only I didn’t know that then, of course.”

“You didn’t kill Septima. She hanged herself. I saw the remnants of the noose myself.”

Ivy slowly shook her head. “I was playing in the garden that day, and when it started raining, I ran into the carriage house. Septima was standing on a table with the noose already around her neck. The table was about to collapse beneath her. One leg had already splintered. I could see she was scared to move. And for a minute, I thought of calling my papa to come get her down. But then I thought of how she was the reason Mama died and Papa was so angry all the time and drinking too much, and his drinking was making Uncle David mad at us.

“I walked over to the table. She looked down and said, ‘Help me.’ But I didn’t. I kicked the table away. There was an awful sound, and then it was all over.”

“Dear God in heaven.” Celia eyed the weapon. Ivy seemed to have forgotten it.

Ivy shrugged. “Papa found me in the carriage house and realized what had happened. I remember there was some sort of commotion on the street, people milling about, and we went back through the tunnel to the attic so that nobody would see us leaving the carriage house.”

“So that’s how you knew about the little door. Though you claimed otherwise.”

Ivy ignored that. “He knew if he left Savannah immediately, everyone would blame him for her death. So he disappeared—to spare me. To give me a chance at a decent life. And then Mr. Channing showed up here last September, asking questions. And you started poking around, looking into the story. I tried to scare you, to make you stop, but—”

“Wait a minute. You are the one who sent those anonymous notes?”

“No, Mr. Channing did that. But don’t blame him. He was trying to help me.”

“Because?”

“He thought I knew more than I did. I fooled him too.”

“The bracelet?”

Ivy smiled. “Now that was my idea. I figured if you were worried that someone wanted you dead, you might leave Savannah.”

“And then you would have Sutton all for yourself?”

Ivy shrugged again.

Celia shook her head. “How could someone as smart as you hatch such a childish—?”

“I’m back, my love.” Sutton strode into the clearing, his arms full of firewood.

Ivy swung around and leveled the gun at his chest. “Hello, my darling.”

Sutton went ashen. He tossed the firewood onto the ground. “Ivy? What’s going on here?”

“I’ve come to claim what is mine.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“Well, you’re not mine yet, but you will be.”

“You intend to shoot me?”

“Only if Celia refuses to cooperate.”

Ivy drew a brown bottle from the basket. Celia gaped at it. “That’s Papa’s laudanum.”

“Yes, it is. And you, my
treasured
cousin, are going to drink it all.”

“Ivy, you don’t want to do this.” Sutton moved toward her, but she lifted the pistol again. “Stay back.”

Turning to Celia, Ivy said, “Suicide by laudanum is not that uncommon. But don’t worry; it’s a painless way to go. Much better than death by hanging, I can assure you.”

“Nobody will believe I took my own life,” Celia said. “Not with my wedding coming up.”

“They’ll believe it when I explain that you found Sutton and me here and became distraught when you found out he loves me and not you.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Sutton said. “Ivy, you’re not thinking straight. What makes you think I’d ever go along with that?”

“I know it’s a shock, Sutton, the idea of marrying me, but I have many good qualities that you will come to appreciate by and by,” Ivy said. “You have to give me a chance.”

Celia felt tears building behind her eyes. How had her cousin become so unhinged and yet managed to appear so normal? Were there clues Celia had missed along the way?

Ivy waved the pistol. “You will drink the laudanum, Cousin. Or I will shoot him through the heart. Then neither of us will have him.”

“Ivy, please listen to me. This is—”

“The Bible says there is no greater love than to lay down your life for a friend. Do you love Sutton enough to die for him?”

Sutton’s eyes sought Celia’s. Her pulse thrummed in her ears as if she’d fallen from her horse and was lying on the hard ground. Winded and terrified that any sudden movement might break her in two.

“Yes, Ivy. I love him that much.”

“Of course you do.” Ivy shoved the bottle into Celia’s hands. “Now, drink.”

22

“N
O
!” S
UTTON KNOCKED THE BOTTLE FROM
C
ELIA
’
S HAND
and stepped in front of Ivy, the barrel of the gun pressing against his chest. “Go ahead. My life for hers.”

They stood there in tableau for what seemed hours until Ivy slowly lowered the weapon. Tears ran down her cheeks.

“That’s what I thought.” Sutton took the gun from her hand and studied it. “This belongs to Mr. Browning.”

Stunned, Celia watched the contents of the medicine bottle soaking into the ground. Black spots danced before her eyes. She sank to her knees and felt Sutton’s arms go around her.

“You’re all right, darling. Just keep breathing.”

“I can’t believe she was going to shoot you.”

“This weapon is a relic—an old dueling pistol. I doubt it would have fired even if Ivy had been brave enough to pull the trigger.”

Now Celia recognized the weapon as one of the pair Papa kept on display in his study.

Sutton kept one eye on Ivy, who had collapsed into a heap on the ground, her rose-colored gown billowing up around her. “Mr. Browning showed me the pistols once when we were discussing weapons for the Chatham Artillery.”

Dimly Celia heard Ivy’s plaintive voice. “All I wanted was to
be normal. To have a home and family of my own. But I never had a chance. Not a single chance in life.”

“It was a terrible misfortune,” Sutton said, “losing your parents at such a tender age. But the Brownings gave you every chance. And this ill-conceived scheme is how you sought to repay them?”

“Opportunity.” Ivy looked up at them, her expression so full of pain that Celia had to look away. “But not love. In all those years, you’d think someone could manage to love me.”

Despite everything, Celia felt a rush of sympathy for her cousin, and deep regret that she hadn’t seen before what seemed so clear now: Ivy’s barbed remarks and sarcasm, her brittle laughter and blithe chatter, hid a heart broken by longing and loneliness.

“Ivy,” Celia said. “Papa and I do love you. Perhaps we didn’t express it in so many words, but haven’t we provided for your every need? Encouraged you to socialize with our friends? Papa would have settled a sum on you had you accepted that marriage proposal. But—”

“Mr. Carlisle didn’t care for me—not in the way I wanted. And I didn’t love him either.” Ivy pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and mopped her face. “I couldn’t even attract a poor Irish drayman! And now it’s too late to marry anyone.” She turned her red-rimmed eyes on Sutton. “I suppose now you’ll turn me over to the police.”

“If Celia weren’t involved, I certainly would,” Sutton said. “I don’t take kindly to armed threats. But I won’t subject Celia or her father to the difficulties of a prosecution.”