Gold Rush Bride. Shirley KennedyЧитать онлайн книгу.
her chin. “That won’t be necessary. I can handle the likes of Mr. Garth Morgan. I don’t care where he lives or how much money he has.” She sounded bolder than she felt. After all, she, too, had led a life almost as sheltered as her mother’s. The thought of intruding into the home of one of Boston’s wealthiest, most prestigious families, filled her with uneasiness. She had to do it, though. For Charles’s sake, for the family’s sake, she had every right to face Garth Morgan and demand the truth.
Next morning, except for Molly and Elfreda, Letty was the first one up. She had plenty of time to get ready for her visit to the Morgans, since, after a family discussion last night, they had determined Letty shouldn’t pay her visit to the Morgan residence until the afternoon. “During proper visiting hours,” Letty insisted.
Millicent had asked, “Must you always do what’s proper?” She often scoffed at her sister’s penchant for doing everything according to the rules.
As usual, Letty insisted upon adhering to the correct visiting hours. Like her mother, she’d always been a creature of habit who found comfort in following society’s strict guidelines regarding proper etiquette.
In the dining room, Letty caught sight of the table and frowned with disapproval. Yet again, Elfreda hadn’t set the table correctly. How many times had she instructed their cook that the knife blade should be placed toward the plate?
She was turning the knives inward when Millicent walked in, saw what her sister was doing, and commented, “I see Elfreda has messed up again.”
Letty threw her an acknowledging smile but continued rearranging the knives. “I know you think I’m picky, but there’s a right way and a wrong way.”
“Far be it from me to interfere.” Millicent slid into her place at the table and sighed. “At least Elfreda’s a good cook. That helps, considering we can never get rid of her.”
Letty recalled the day, eight years ago, when her father brought Elfreda home and announced she was here to stay. A fervent abolitionist until the day he died, he was an active participant in the Underground Railroad, helping slaves escape their southern masters into the free state of Massachusetts. “This is Elfreda,” he’d said. “She’ll be staying with us as long as she wants.”
The woman he brought home was of indeterminate age, maybe her forties. She had a sturdy build, scowling face, and skin as black as black could be. She never changed her clothing style, always a long cotton, high-neck gown covered by an apron and her hair covered by a bright colored turban. The family had welcomed her with open arms. Although she worked hard and did as she was told, she stayed aloof, never smiled, and to this day kept to herself.
“Why isn’t she more friendly?” Letty once asked her father. “Must she always have that frown on her face?”
“Perhaps you’d frown, too, if you’d been stolen from your village and forced into slavery,” he’d replied. “Imagine not having your freedom, forced to do your master’s bidding, and if you ran away you could be brought back in chains.”
Letty never forgot her father’s words. She was always nice to Elfreda, despite her sullen attitude.
“So what will you wear for you visit?” Millicent asked.
Letty finished rearranging the knives and sat at the table. “The blue silk, I think, the one with the puffy sleeves, and my burgundy satin bonnet with the big bow.”
“Have you figured out what you’re going to say?”
Millicent’s question caused a heaviness in Letty’s heart. She’d hardly slept last night for mulling over how best to approach the formidable Garth Morgan. “I shall be polite but firm. If he’s evasive, I shall produce Charles’s letter and demand he explain what happened to the gold shipment.”
“Will you show him the map?”
“Certainly not. It’s none of his business.”
“What if he refuses to answer? Gets mad and tells you to leave?”
Letty had considered that very possibility. “Then I shall leave, of course, but I won’t give up.”
“Really? What else can you do?”
“I can handle the likes of Mr. Garth Morgan. He won’t get the best of me, I assure you.”
Chapter 4
In the library of his home on Beacon Hill, Garth sat behind the ornate mahogany desk and nodded with satisfaction. His business here was finished, altogether a successful trip. Gold shipment safe in the bank, investments in excellent shape, and Mother appeased and relatively content, despite his lack of interest in the empty-headed Miss Becket. Mathew had just completed arrangements for their return by ship to California. Those treacherous sixty miles across the Isthmus of Panama were nothing to look forward to but by far the shortest route and well worth the risk. At least they would set sail in the new steamship, Mirabello. With its new, double paddlewheels, they’d get to Chagres, Panama, in no time. According to what he’d heard, the Mirabello had one hundred thirty first-class, luxury cabins. Thank God, Mathew had managed to book Honoria’s cabin at one end of the deck, and he as far away as possible at the other. He’d made sure Mathew was booked in a quite respectable cabin in second class. No one could say he didn’t treat his employees well. Not so Honoria, who treated her maid like dirt and had booked the poor creature into the horrors of steerage.
A quick knock on the library door interrupted his musings. A maid poked her head in. “There’s a lady to see you, Mr. Morgan, Miss Leticia Tinsley. She said to tell you she’s Charles Tinsley’s sister.”
Charles. Ever since he arrived, he’d intended to visit his friend’s family but had been so busy he hadn’t found time. Now he heartily wished he had done so. No excuse, he should have made the time. “Please show her in.” He stood and waited.
Leticia. Charles called her Letty. He’d always spoken of his younger sister in the most glowing terms.
A fairly tall young woman with a graceful walk entered the library. She moved toward him with ease, not the least unsure of herself, as if she’d been here before. He wasn’t up on lady’s fashions but suspected her blue silk dress with the bell-shaped skirt would meet the criteria for Boston’s latest styles. Nice, how the small buttons down the bodice curved a beguiling path over her full bosom, ending at her tiny waist. Except for the blonde ringlets that circled her face, he couldn’t see much of her hair hidden beneath her bonnet. Charles hadn’t exaggerated when he said his sister was pretty. Wide-set gray eyes…small up-tilted nose…full red lips.
“Miss Tinsley.” He came around the desk and extended his hand. “How nice to meet you in person. Charles often spoke of you. I’ve been meaning to come visit and extend my condolences for your tragic loss.” That didn’t sound right. Too stiff and formal, and didn’t begin to convey how truly sorry he was about Charles.
“Mr. Morgan.” She had a cautious look in her eye as her small, gloved hand disappeared into his large one. “My brother referred to you as his good friend. When I heard from your employee, Mr. Hastings, that Charles had disappeared, I…” Her voice broke. She could not go on.
Damn. Why had he not paid that visit? “Please do sit down.”
He took her elbow and guided her to one of Mother’s prized Italian giltwood armchairs. She looked pale. No tears, but plain to see she was fighting to compose herself.
“Can I offer you some tea? A bit of brandy perhaps?”
“No, thank you.” She sat down and laid her beaded reticule carefully beside her. Fluttering incredibly long, dark lashes, she looked him in the eye. “I came here because I wanted to hear about Charles.” With her spine arrow-straight and shoulders stiff, she sat coolly waiting for his reply.
“But of course.” He sat in the matching chair that faced her. “I’m so sorry about your brother. He was a good friend. I admired him tremendously.”