The Lightkeeper's Ball (31 page)

Olivia winced as she got out of bed and shrugged into the dressing gown. “I want more from life than that.”

“Your father and I were married because it was the wise thing to do. And our life together was quite lovely,” her mother said, her voice firm.

She’d thought her parents doted on each other, though her father was often off on his adventures to Africa while her mother made frequent excursions to Europe. But that matter of her father’s infidelity changed all her perceptions. Her mother seemed to have forgotten that. Olivia wanted a marriage like Katie’s. It was clear her husband wanted to be with her more than he wanted to be gone.

“I’m going to wear the blue silk today,” she told Goldia.

“Are you going out?” her mother asked.

“I’m going to go see that will.” Olivia sat in front of the dressing table and began to undo the plaits in her hair. Goldia picked up the silver brush and began to brush out the strands before styling it atop Olivia’s head.

“Should I accompany you?”

Olivia could tell by her mother’s tone that she’d rather step in dog dung. “I believe you need to come with me. You have more right to see it than anyone. But I will do the speaking.”

“What if Mr. Fosberg refuses to let us read it?”

“Then I shall call our attorney and he can handle it.”

“In that case, perhaps we should let Mr. Grayson take care of it all. No need to sully our hands.”

Olivia turned to face her mother. “Don’t you want to know what is going on, Mother? I know I do. If we have to involve our attorney, it could take weeks, months.”

“There is that,” her mother agreed. “Very well. I shall be in the parlor.”

Freed of her mother’s nervous energy, Olivia quickly finished her toilette. With her hat firmly pinned in place and the new dress swathing her slim figure, she sailed forth to do battle. Or as well as she could manage with every muscle aching from her adventure. Her mother had already called for the limo. The chauffeur drove them to town. Olivia planned out her strategy as the automobile navigated the narrow streets. As the motorcar passed Harrison’s house, she strained for a glimpse of him. How was his knee faring?

She had the driver stop for a moment at Oscar’s Mercantile while she ran inside for some stationery. Mrs. Silvers’s face lit when she saw Olivia.

“My dear Lady Devonworth, how are you? I was quite distressed to hear of your accident the other night.”

“I’m fine, thank you. A little sore, but that is all.”

“Thanks to Mr. Harrison.” Mrs. Silvers pressed her hand to her bosom. “So romantic, the way he saved you.”

She suppressed a smile. “Indeed.”

“The whole town is buzzing about the ball! How good of you to invite all of us. I’ve always wanted to see inside Stewart Hall.”

“I’ll be honored to show you around,” Olivia said, smiling. Though the ball was turning into even more work than she’d anticipated, for once she was planning something that was of greater value than showing off the newest dress.

The car pulled up in front of the Fosberg residence. “Wait here and I’ll see if they’ll receive us,” she told her mother when the chauffeur opened the back door of the limo and helped her out.

With her card in hand, as well as her mother’s, she rang the doorbell of the modest two-story home. On a tree-lined street in a nice neighborhood, it wasn’t as grand as Olivia had expected. A middle-aged woman opened the door, and Olivia stated her business and dropped her cards into the silver tray.

“One moment, Lady Devonworth.” The maid ushered her into the narrow foyer, then went down the hall.

A few moments later Mrs. Fosberg rushed out of the door on the right with her arms outstretched. “My dear Lady Devonworth, how kind of you to call! And your mother too?”

“She’s in the car. Let me summon her. Is your son at home?”

His mother beamed. “He is indeed! I’ll call him while you fetch your mother.”

For an instant, Olivia had hoped he might be gone. She hated confrontation. But this was a discussion that had to be held.

Olivia sipped her tea and waited for a lull in Mrs. Fosberg’s stream of conversation. Mr. Fosberg leaned against the wall by the window as he listened, but she sensed a watchfulness in the set of his shoulders and the reserved smile in his eyes. He knew they were here for a purpose.

When Mrs. Fosberg paused to draw a breath, Olivia jumped in. “Mr. Fosberg, I wonder if I might have a word with you in private?”

He straightened. “Of course.”

“Mother, I’ll be right back.” She saw the relief in her mother’s face as she followed Mr. Fosberg to the library. Her mother could be the backup if he refused to hand over the will.

He sat behind the polished desk and indicated the chair on the opposite side. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

She settled onto the creaking leather and clasped her gloved hands together. “I’ve come to take a look at my father’s will.”

He regarded her over the top of his steepled fingers. “I suspected as much.”

“I admit I’m surprised you didn’t show it to me right away.”

“I thought it best to have your mother present. In fact, I think she should be here for this now.” He rose. “Let me escort her in, and I’ll read the will.”

Olivia nodded, and he left the room. Perhaps she should have called their attorney and waited for him to come from New York so he could be present for this. She glanced around the room and took in the leather-bound books and certificate from Harvard. Several moving boxes were strewn about as well.

He entered the room with her mother in tow. Shutting the door behind them, he seated Mrs. Stewart beside Olivia, then went to the desk and opened the top drawer. He removed an envelope and slid a sheaf of papers from it. “This is the will.”

Olivia nearly asked to read it herself, then decided against it. She could always ask to peruse it when he was done. She glanced at her mother, who was biting her lip. There was no real reason for them both to be so nervous, but she couldn’t still the shiver that ran up her back.

Fosberg cleared his throat. “This is the last will and testament of Marshall Stewart. I’m not going to read every provision. You can read it for yourself shortly. However, I want to bring your attention to the part that will be the most contentious.” He trailed a finger down the page, then laid it aside and went on to the next. “Here it is. You and your daughters have been designated a yearly stipend of ten thousand dollars. He goes on to say, ‘To my son, Richard Pixton, I leave the rest of my estate and ask that he take care of my wife and daughters with any additional needs as long as they are living.’”

Olivia sat with her hands together. Her father had stripped them of nearly everything. Ten thousand dollars a year wouldn’t begin to cover her mother’s normal expenses.

Mrs. Stewart wetted her lips. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m afraid so. You can see why I’ve been torn over how to proceed.”

Torn? Olivia saw no remorse on his face. Would he be happy to see them impoverished? Did he have some personal stake in this?

“And where is this mysterious Mr. Pixton?” her mother demanded.

“I have been unable to locate him.”

Her mother waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Then this changes nothing.”

“I’m afraid it does. The estate will have to be transferred to his name. My firm has been designated to oversee the funds, which we will do until he can be found. I’ll need you to submit a list of your living expenses so we can draw up a suitable budget.”

Her mother rose. “You’re telling me that we are now beggars? That our money will have to be funneled through your office?”

“Not beggars, ma’am. But, yes, any monies will need to be approved. We are trustees until Mr. Pixton is found. Then he will take over that duty.”

Olivia found her voice. “We shall contest this, of course. Our attorney will be in touch. The money is still in our bank, and it will stay there. I fear you are only involved to earn the executor fees.”

Fosberg’s expression turned grim. “You would fight your father’s wishes?”

“I am not convinced it is even his will.”

He held out the paper. “Do you wish to see it?”

“I do.” She snatched the will and scanned to the signature. It appeared to be her father’s handwriting, but she didn’t trust this smooth man. How much her opinion had changed in a few days.

“There are three copies in my possession,” he said. “You are welcome to keep that one and show it to your attorney. I’m sure he will tell you that it is perfectly in order.”

She tucked it into her handbag. “We shall see. Come along, Mother. I want to call our solicitor immediately.”

Her mother rose as though her bones hurt. Her eyes were wide and frightened. Olivia refused to allow herself to believe the situation might come to pass. Her father couldn’t possibly have wanted this to happen.

T
HIRTY

T
HE JUNKYARD HAD
not yet disposed of his flying machine. Harrison arranged for it to be taken to the Norths’ carriage house this morning, and he stopped to tell John it was coming. The Norths were outside. Addie wore gardening gloves and was puttering in the flower bed by the porch. John was playing baseball with Edward while Gideon ran barking between them. Nealy leaped out of the motorcar and ran to join Gideon.

Addie stood with a smile. A smear of dirt smudged one cheek. “Harrison, how good to see you! Have you time for refreshments? Lunch will be ready in fifteen minutes.”

“I wouldn’t turn it down,” he said, returning her smile. “If you’re sure I’m not too much trouble.”

“Never! I’ll tell the cook to lay a place for one more.” She hurried to the door and went inside.

John tossed the baseball to Edward. “Play with Gideon and Nealy for a while, son.” He joined Harrison at the porch.

“My aeroplane will be here this afternoon,” Harrison told him. “I can’t thank you enough for allowing me to store it here.”

“My pleasure. I talked it over with Addie, and we want to invest in your new company too,” John said. “We both believe the flying machines are going to be our future mode of transportation. I’d like to be a full partner if you’re willing.”

His friends’ faith in him made a lump form in Harrison’s throat. If only his own family had that kind of trust. “I could use a partner with your kind of business savvy,” he said.

John clapped him on the shoulder. “We can talk about it after lunch. I have several other possible investors I would like to discuss with you. And a location for a factory to build our aeroplanes. We have much to do before the air show in a couple of months.”

A factory. He hadn’t dared dream that big. “Thank you,” he said, his voice hoarse.

The rumble of an engine came from behind him, and he turned to see the Stewart limo stop in the driveway. He saw Lady Devonworth and Katie Jesperson in the backseat. Essie’s smile was tentative, and he stepped off the porch to open the door for her.

She took his hand. “I didn’t know you were invited for lunch. Perhaps Addie is matchmaking.”

“I just stopped by. Addie didn’t tell me she was having a party.” He released her hand and helped Katie out as well.

“It’s just us, not a party,” Katie said, smiling up at him. She moved past, leaving him alone with Lady Devonworth.