The Lightkeeper's Ball (39 page)
His father blotted his forehead again. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to tell Mrs. Stewart and her lawyer. They can ask for an audit of the books if they choose.”
“If you do, all the money will go to Marshall’s illegitimate son.”
Harrison stopped on his way to the door. He hadn’t thought of that. Perhaps it would be best to keep his mouth shut and ensure Mrs. Stewart and not the shadowy Richard Pixton got the money.
Olivia stood in Stewart Hall’s third-floor ballroom and surveyed the decorations. The space oozed glamour with its floor-to-ceiling mirrors festooned with garlands of lilies and orchids. A grand piano was in one corner with a stage for the band, and an enormous vase of roses and orchids sat atop it. The windows sparkled and would let starlight in tonight. The servants had scrubbed the floor, then poured milk onto the wood. The wood now gleamed after the milk had been washed off. There were so many orange trees and evergreen boughs that the space looked like a garden.
“It looks wonderful,” Katie whispered. “Olivia, I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done.”
“God brought you when we needed you,” Addie said. “Just as he always does.”
Olivia turned to smile at them. “I believe we shall raise all the necessary funds tonight. The town has rallied around us. All the ladies are still talking about their tour of the lighthouse grounds and the need for rebuilding. They thought it quite romantic.”
“They don’t have to stay up all night like Will does,” Katie said, smiling. She whirled around the ballroom floor. “I’m going to dance until my feet hurt. I can’t remember the last time I went dancing.”
“Just don’t overdo it, both of you,” Olivia scolded. “I shall be watching out to make sure you rest.”
Addie smiled. “Our men will be doing the same, I’m certain.”
Olivia had never had friends like these two, ones who always pointed to Jesus in all circumstances. Her faith had been strengthened so much since coming here. She was beginning to believe she could be who she was inside.
She left her friends arranging flowers and went down to greet her guests. Mr. and Mrs. Broderick, a prominent family from San Francisco, arrived first. Mr. Broderick pressed a check for a thousand dollars into her hand, and she was nearly overcome with his generosity. She escorted them to the parlor to take refreshments. The Fremonts arrived next. Olivia admired Mrs. Fremont’s elaborate Marie Antoinette gown and hairstyle and took them to join the other guests.
Her smile faded as she went back to the foyer. A familiar set of shoulders was getting out of a car. Mr. Bennett. What was she going to do? She had to avoid him until she could talk to Harrison. She hiked her skirts and raced for the ballroom.
C
HAMPAGNE FLOWED WITH
the conversation. Harrison stood still in a swirling kaleidoscope of brightly colored costumes and masks. The participants in the polka swept by him, and he stood out of the way, laughing as he saw the townspeople dressed in costumes ranging from peasant dress to Queen Victoria. The ballroom was packed, and heat shimmered in the air from all the bodies. The party spilled from the ballroom to the first floor and out to the lawn. He couldn’t guess how many were in attendance. Hundreds? The whole town and the neighboring towns of Ferndale and Eureka, as well as the nobs from San Francisco.
He still hadn’t seen Lady Devonworth and wasn’t sure he would recognize her in her costume. Then he heard her laugh. He turned to see a beautiful woman with dark hair cascading to her waist. She wore an elaborate gown. Her dance card, a vellum paper with a tiny gold pencil, was attached to her wrist by a pale green ribbon. It looked empty, and he hoped she’d saved all her dances for him. She wore a white mask, but he recognized her pointed chin and full lips.
He bowed in front of her. “Romeo at your disposal, miss. Can I talk you into dallying in the moonlight with me?”
She fluttered her fan at him, and a smile curved her lips. “You’re most outrageous, Romeo.” She put her gloved hand on his arm. “I need to talk to you anyway. You’ve been avoiding me.”
He led her to the center of the ballroom. “Ladies and gentlemen, can I have your attention?”
“What are you doing?” she whispered, glancing around. “Is your father here?”
“He’s outside, I believe.” He realized he hadn’t introduced her to his father, but he’d gone too far to stop now when hundreds of eyes were fixed on them. “Folks, I’m the luckiest man alive. You all know the beautiful Lady Devonworth has consented to be my bride. As a token of my love, I have something special for her, and I want you all to share our joy.”
He lifted the lid of the box that he had been carrying under his arm. The necklace she’d tried on at the jeweler’s her first day in Mercy Falls glowed in the shimmer of candlelight. The ladies around him gasped, but he was waiting to see his Essie’s reaction.
She put her hand to her mouth. “You remembered! It’s exquisite!” Her fingers touched it, then she pulled her hand away.
“Let me.” He took the intricate platinum chains from their resting place and stepped close enough to lay the piece onto her skin. The necklace was heavier than it appeared.
“I hope I don’t break it,” she said.
“It’s not as fragile as it appears.” He fiddled with the clasp on the back of her neck and inhaled the aroma of her perfume, something sweet like honeysuckle. He stepped back. “There. Take a look.”
She went to stand before one of the ornate mirrors. “It’s beautiful,” she said, touching the lacy filigree.
“You look quite lovely,” he said, his voice husky. He’d never seen her look more beautiful.
“I want one,” a woman dressed as Cleopatra said to her right.
Other women agreed, and Harrison grinned as he realized he’d just likely sold more diamonds for his father. Where was the man anyway? Last time he’d seen him, his father had been talking to some nobs outside. He watched Lady Devonworth in the mirror.
She glanced at his face in the mirror and their gazes locked.
“I shall wear it with pride,” she said, her fingers touching it.
He saw doubt and love in her eyes. “Is something wrong? You said you needed to speak with me.”
She bit her lip. “There are several things I need to speak with you about. But in private.”
He gestured at the smiling guests promenading around the floor. “The ball is a success. Let’s pass the plate for the Jespersons while they are all in a spending mood.”
He motioned to the footmen and instructed them to pass around silver platters. Lady Devonworth’s smile grew as a mound of checks and cash grew on the plates being handed around. After the servants carried off the booty, he swept his fiancée into a dance. Holding her in his arms was the one thing he’d longed to do all evening. Her head barely came to his chin as he whirled her around the floor. Others joined them after the first pass around the floor.
He paused when a familiar form came to the doorway to the ballroom. “My father is here. I need to introduce you.”
“Later, in private,” she said, her smile fading. “I need to tend to a few things. I’ll be back.” She squeezed his forearm, then disappeared into the flutter of color and movement around him.
After half an hour, he went in pursuit but couldn’t find her, so he wandered back downstairs where men were in the smoking parlor. They were discussing the disappointing appearance of Halley’s Comet. He leaned against the wall by the fireplace and listened to their conversation.
A footman offered him a glass of champagne but he refused. Another footman announced a buffet supper was ready in the dining hall. He peeked inside to see if his fiancée was there. She stood talking to Mrs. Stewart at the damask-covered table. Even the heady aromas of creamed oysters, turkey, lobster salad, and salmon mousse failed to tempt his appetite when he was so concerned about what she needed to discuss.
A smatter of laughter echoed in the night, and he saw Jerry and his vaudeville friends performing their play on the wide porch. Harrison took his drink with him and went to watch. It was a comedy about four men from different walks of life. Jerry played a coal miner’s son, and his passionate speeches about social equality made Harrison stop and think about how his father treated his employees. Maybe he’d been too hasty to disengage himself from the businesses. He could make changes that could bring a better life to their workers.
When the play ended, he went out to the lawn, where he found Eugene talking with a young maid, Brigitte, under a small alcove. Harrison plopped onto a chair beside them, glad to be out of the crush of people. Before he could say anything to Eugene, he saw Lady Devonworth making her way through the crowd to him.
She stopped when she saw him. Her attention went from him to Eugene. Her eyes widened. “Do you know this man, Harrison?”
He glanced at Eugene and saw his valet lift a brow. Harrison shrugged. “He’s my valet, Eugene.”
She rubbed her forehead. “I’d hoped you didn’t know him.” Her voice was a stricken whisper.
“Essie, what is this all about?” he asked. He rose and took her hand, but she pulled back. “What’s wrong?”
She glanced from Eugene to Harrison. “Which of you is going to explain this to me?”
Harrison spread out his hands. “I don’t know what you are talking about, darling.” He pitched his voice low and gentle, aware people were glancing their way.
“Why were you hiding him without telling me?” She broke off on a sob and took a step nearer. “Please tell me there was a good reason for this. I didn’t believe you would hide this from me.”
“I don’t understand what you’re saying.” He put his hands on her shoulders, but she shook them off.
“Do you think I’m blind, Harrison? That I couldn’t see the resemblance to my father?”
Her father? He was totally confused.
“What’s going on here?” Mr. Bennett’s voice boomed from behind him. “Your voices are carrying.” He glanced at Lady Devonworth and his eyes widened. “Miss Olivia?”
Olivia?
“Father, this is my fiancée, Lady Devonworth.”
“I suggest you have a talk with your fiancée, son.” He reached over and ripped the mask from Olivia’s face. “This is Olivia Stewart.”
Harrison rocked back on his heels, and his gaze went to her as she stood with her head up and her eyes blazing. “Olivia? You’re a
Stewart
? Is that why you refused to tell me your first name?”
A crowd had gathered around them, and he heard the name Olivia Stewart whispered from mouth to mouth. Her mother was white and motionless at the table, speechless for once.
“I tried several times to tell you,” Olivia said. “That hardly matters now. What about Eugene?”
“Eugene?” He turned to his valet. “Do you have any idea what she’s talking about? Who is it you resemble?”
His valet was grave. “I’m afraid I know exactly what she is saying, sir. She is speaking of my resemblance to my father. And her father.”
The words fell like boulders, hitting him hard, stealing his thoughts.
“Y-Your father?” He stared at Eugene, then to Olivia. “Wait, are you saying
.
.
.”
“I’m saying I’m Richard Pixton.” His steady gaze bored into Harrison. He turned and plunged off into the dark.
