Kathleen Y'Barbo (25 page)

And then she spied an odd sheet of paper wedged beneath the cracked spine. Pulling carefully, she saw that the page had something written on it, though the yellowing that came with extreme age had taken hold.

She pulled again, and this time the page gave way and tore, releasing all but a corner of the paper to fall into her hand. A quick glance revealed a letter written in French, apparently a missive from a father to a daughter named Sophie, lamenting their loss of relationship and requesting permission to visit.

The date was simply recorded as 1838. No other information was given, and the signature was smudged. An elaborate letter
J
and what might be the letter
L
or perhaps an
H
was followed by a name that only revealed three letters to be readable.

Arn.

Millie ran her fingers over the letter and found nothing untoward, nor did there appear to be any sort of tampering or coding in the text of the document. Instead, it appeared someone’s father wished to have a reunion. Whether this Sophie agreed was a matter left to history, her answer lost.

“Where is my daughter?” came drifting up the stairs toward her.

Father. Millie hid the remains of the page back in the spine and then snatched up the pencil sharpener. She hurried to tuck the sharpener into her pocket and then set herself to rights. By the time she closed the door, she could hear his footsteps on the attic stairs.

Quickly she yanked at the first thing she found, a voluminous sack that covered her mother’s wedding gown. Cradling the garment as if that was exactly what she had come to the attic to attend to, Millie walked briskly toward the staircase.

“There you are, girl.” His grumbling sputtered to a halt when he saw the bundle she carried. “What’s this? What have you got there?”

She pasted on a smile. “Father, I sent Bridget to tell you I was just putting away Mama’s wedding gown and then I would be down to dress for dinner. Did she not tell you?”

“She mentioned something about a...” He paused. “No, no she did not tell me you were messing about with your mother’s dress. Put that away this instant and come down to dinner.” He glanced at her attire. “And what you are wearing will do. I would rather look at a spinster’s clothing than have my meal delayed any further. Cook is already complaining that I have come home unannounced and too early. I wonder if she realizes just who works for whom around here.”

“Yes, Father.” Millie moved away from the stairs, resisting the urge to say anything further. As she returned Mama’s dress to its resting spot, she smiled. Someday maybe she would wear this dress for her own wedding. And Kyle was right. No woman should marry for any reason other than love.

She arrived moments later at the dining room to find the seat beside her occupied by Sir William. “I had no idea you would be here,” she said.

And then to Mrs. Ward-Wiggins, she said, “Did you find what you were looking for?”

If the direct question took the older woman by surprise, her expression did not show it. “Good evening, Mildred.”

“What is she talking about?” Father asked her.

Mrs. Ward-Wiggins allowed her smile to slip only for a moment. “I am sure these gentlemen do not care to hear about such things.”

“After our meal, then,” Millie said firmly.

“While you are at it, might you give our Mildred some fashion advice? Apparently she is of a mind to wear her mother’s dress for the wedding, and I do not think it appropriate in the least.”

A covert glance at Sir William revealed he was much more interested
in the food on his plate than the conversation taking place around him. At least until Father steered the talk in his direction with a brusque, “What say you, Trueck?”

“I beg your pardon?” he responded as he set aside his soupspoon. He looked to Millie for assistance.

“My father was asking your opinion on my wearing my mother’s wedding dress when I am to be married.”

“You are lovely no matter the garment you choose,” he said as he reached to pat her hand.

She slid him a sideways smile and marveled that he did indeed appear to be genuine. Nothing about his expression, however, gave her reason to believe she had made the wrong decision regarding ending their engagement. Nor would she fool herself into believing anything he said, however sincere he might look.

“She is not paying the least bit of attention, Freda. You had best say it again.”

Millie glanced across the table at the woman who had torn through her bedchamber while she was out. “I said that I would be happy to assist with your wedding plans, Mildred. You have only to ask.”

“Thank you,” Millie murmured as the servants came in to bring in the next course.

“Well, that has been decided.” Father looked to Sir William. “Tell me, young man. When do you leave?”

“You’re leaving?” Millie asked her soon-to-be former fiancé. “Again?”

He smiled in her direction. “Just a quick trip up to St. Louis. I expect to return on Monday.”

“I see.” Disappointment colored her tone, but she didn’t care. The need to break off their engagement pressed her forward. “Is there perhaps some time you and I could have a private conversation before you leave?”

“Private conversation?” Father echoed. “Goodness, girl. Sir William and I have much to discuss this evening. Surely your frippery can wait.”

“Yes, Father. I suppose it can.”

“Until Monday, then,” Sir William said as he reached beneath the table to squeeze her hand.

“Until Monday.”

After an interminable period of business talk, the men finally rose to adjourn to Father’s library, leaving Millie and Mrs. Ward-Wiggins alone in the dining room.

“I suppose you have questions,” the widow said when the door closed behind Father. “And I do regret the broken vase. I will be happy to replace it.”

Millie gave her a look that told her she would no longer suffer through friendly talk. “Thank you, but that will not be necessary. I would rather have an explanation instead.”

“Yes, I am sure you would. However, the best I can offer is that there was something of mine purported to be in your possession. I merely went to find it.”

“I see. And what was that?”

She looked away. “Silas will not be pleased that I have told you.”

“Mrs. Ward-Wiggins,” Millie said evenly, “I have long ago ceased succeeding in pleasing my father. I suggest if you wish to get along in this house, you will do the same.”

“All right. A theft occurred in my hotel room on New Year’s Eve. I suspected that your father took my gems and gifted them to you.”

Millie erupted in laughter at the absurdity of the statement. Only when she took note of the woman’s expression did she allow her laughter to fade to silence.

“You’re serious,” she finally said.

“I am.” She paused. “I loaned him another piece with the understanding it was for you. Thus, when that one went missing and no one had been in my room except him, well, naturally I thought that perhaps...”

“Perhaps my father had stolen your jewelry and given it to me?” She shook her head. “If Father took them, you will find them at his favorite pawn shop. I can give you the address if you like.”

Apparently the news that Silas Cope was capable of such behavior was not a complete surprise to Freda Ward-Wiggins. “And the emerald ring?”

“The one from Sir William? I have no idea where it is. He left with it after our photograph was taken for the newspaper, and I have not seen it since. Nor has the jeweler who was supposed to have it.”

“I see.”

Millie rose and pushed away from the table. “I’m sorry,” she said, and she meant it. “I wish I could give you better advice on your missing jewelry. What I can tell you is if you wish to keep whatever else you might own, then do not spend any more time with my father. Things of value tend to go missing in his presence. Now if you will excuse me, it has been a long day.”

Silence trailed Millie to the door and then the widow called her name. When she glanced back over her shoulder, she found Mrs. Ward-Wiggins sitting unmoved in her chair.

“Your father loves you, Mildred.”

“I am sure he would like you to think so.”

“No.” Mrs. Ward-Wiggins rose to grip the back of the chair with bejeweled fingers. “He is hard on you, I know. And he uses your jewels for collateral when his business deals do not bring him the funds he needs. I know this too.” She was silent for a moment. “He still holds himself responsible for losing your mother and sisters.”

“That is because he
is
responsible.” At her pained expression, Millie bit back on any further response.

“Don’t you see?” she said softly. “You are a reminder of what he has lost. Of how he lost them. Looking at you?” She shook her head. “I have been told you are the very image of your mother. I cannot imagine what it must be like for him to see you and think of them every single day.”

The words bore a hole into the hardened place in her heart. Still, Millie was not yet ready to let it crumble completely. “Then he shall be much relieved when I am married and away.”

“Perhaps. However, if that were the case, then tell me why he is so keen on seeing that your fiancé provides him with a home adjacent to your own. Could it be that he does not yet want to release you completely?”

Millie had not thought of that. Still, any gesture of love or attention seemed impossible to explain. She waved away the question.

“I will bid you a good night. And in the future, should you wish access to my bedchamber, I would request you ask me first.”

She left quickly before any response could be given. Not that she needed one.

Bypassing the stairs, Millie’s ire had her walking directly toward the
library. Her father would be angry, of course, but at this moment she was willing to risk anything to keep from waiting until Monday to rid herself of an engagement that should never have happened. To rid herself of a man who had lied to her.

Hesitating only for a second, she lifted her hand to knock. Twice. Still the men continued to talk. She heard something about New Orleans and ships. Something else about promises. She caught only snatches, and yet they were spoken in a harsh tone that told Millie the men were no longer engaged in friendly conversation.

How much more would a disturbance irritate them? Probably not much.

“Please excuse the interruption,” she said as she threw open the door, “but I need to speak to...”

Her voice fell silent as she caught a glimpse of the two men leaning over Father’s desk with a set of blueprints laid out before them. Father quickly moved to block her view.

“You were not welcomed in here, Mildred. Leave at once.”

As he spoke, Sir William cleared the desk of the suspicious paper.

“Again, I apologize for intruding, but I need to speak to you,” she said to her fiancé. “Please.”

The Englishman held back Father’s bluster with a wave of his hand. “We will just be a minute,” he said as he led Millie from the room.

They stopped in the foyer, and she shook her head. “In there.” She nodded toward the parlor. “Where it is more private.”

He smiled, moved into the room, and then waited until she closed the door behind her. “All right, Mildred. What is it?”

“I will come directly to the point.” She drew in a deep breath and leveled at him a calm but determined look. “I wish to end things between us, Sir William.”

“End? I’m afraid I do not follow.”

“Our engagement. Had I a ring to remove and return to you, I would do that now. However, I shall settle for merely saying I no longer wish to marry you and leave it at that.”

As her news sunk in, his expression changed. “But you cannot—”

“I am terribly sorry, but I already have.” She turned and opened the door. As far as she was concerned, the conversation, as well as their relationship, was over.

“You will change your mind.”

She turned back to see the Englishman looking less than confident in his statement. “I won’t.”

“And you will leave me without an explanation?”

“I simply cannot marry you.” She paused to consider whether continuing the discussion was worth the effort and decided it was not. A liar rarely accepted being branded as such, so there was no need to press her case. “Please just accept that.”

“Cannot or will not?” His question followed her as she walked through the door.

Millie paused, her courage bolstered by the fact that she had accomplished what she intended and had no further need of conversing with the man. Though she half expected her suitor to be at least a little disappointed, he did not appear so at all. Rather, he stood as a man scorned and appeared ready to remedy the situation.

“Will not.” And then, before she could be made to change her mind, she left Sir William standing in Mama’s parlor.

Whether he followed or went to Father to complain, she neither knew nor cared as she fled to her bedchamber, where moonlight filtered through her windows and teased silver stripes across the bedcoverings. Though she could not see the moon from where she stood, she smiled as she thought of the last time she had flown beneath it.

That memory would be a treasure to her. One that Father could not take away to pawn.

She traced the edges of the windowpane with her finger, recalling as much as she could of that night.

And though Father soon pounded at her door, she ignored him. Eventually he left her alone, though grumbles of threats he would never carry out trailed in his wake.

Then, finally, came relief. Relief that she had outlasted her father’s bluster, and relief that the engagement that never should have happened
was now at an end.

Millie let out a long breath and glanced around the room.
The Black Arrow
still lay hidden in her purse, and reading it tempted her. But what tempted her more was the new sketchbook and pencils. A glance around her room offered nothing of interest for her to draw. Then she thought of her necklace. She took the chain from around her neck and set it on the bed beside her.

Looking at the charms, she chose the cypher first, making sure each concentric circle captured the image of the Spanish coin it represented. She continued her work until the wheel cypher was completely depicted.