The Lightkeeper's Bride

  Will scowled, though he knew his brother was baiting him. “If you have plans to court Miss Russell, that’s not acceptable.”

  “Don’t tell me a woman has finally caught your eye.” Philip’s grin was cheeky.

  “Don’t try to change the subject. We were discussing your duty to Jennie,” Will snapped.

  Philip splayed out his hands. “I had nothing to do with the baby or Eliza’s possible murder. I’m only here to find those ships and the missing money.”

  Will sighed. Philip’s constant denials were beginning to sway him. “You had a relationship with the woman.”

  “So did a lot of men.”

  “I’d like to believe you. But Jennie looks a lot like you, Philip. Even has your cowlick. And those eyes are shaped like yours.”

  “Babies all look alike,” Philip said. He took another gulp of coffee. “If I thought for a moment she was my child, I’d admit it and take responsibility for her.”

  Will stifled a scoff and decided not to remind his brother of the many times he’d left Will to smooth ruffled feathers, broken promises, and missed appointments. The boy was so unreliable. No, not a boy. Man. It was time Will recognized that his brother was a grown man. He needed to let Philip endure the consequences for his actions. Even if it was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.

  He walked toward the stairs. “You’ll sleep on the sofa so you’re near Jennie. If she wakes up in the night, you can care for her. I’ll be tending the light.”

  “Lady Carrington already has her.”

  “I’ll get her. She’s our responsibility until we get this figured out.”

  “I know nothing about babies! Besides, I have a date tonight.”

  “Cancel it! I don’t know anything about children either. But we’re both going to have to learn. Jennie is not Miss Russell’s charge. She is ours.”

  “Russell!” Philip said. “Is her father Albert Russell?”

  “He is.”

  “He tried to kill himself. Maybe he knew I was on to him. He must know something about the two ships being taken. If only you’d been able to talk to Eliza before she went missing.”

  Did his brother ever think of other people? “Forgive me for not getting your job done the way you wished.”

  “Eliza’s the one who knows what’s happened here,” Philip said. “I can feel it in my gut.”

  “The baby is what is important here, not your investigation. Jennie’s mother—not your informant—is missing, probably dead. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  “Of course it does,” Philip said, his voice sulky. “But I must solve the case to get paid.”

  “There are more important things than your career. I hope you’ll figure that out sooner rather than later.” As Will led the way up the staircase, he despaired of ever seeing his brother grow into a man.

  What made him think he could raise a little girl when he’d failed so miserably with his brother?

  SIXTEEN

  WHAT WAS THAT squawking? Katie opened a bleary eye. Lady Carrington slept beside her. The two women had shared a bed, and Katie had been so concerned about disturbing the older woman that she’d lain awake, struggling to not move. Their bed had been comfortable but hardly the luxury they were both used to. A simple yellow and green quilt covered the mattress on the iron bedstead, and a rag rug was the only thing to warm their feet. The curtains were frayed and worn but clean. They’d obviously been left here by the previous lightkeeper and his family.

  The sound came again. She swung her legs out of bed. The other woman didn’t move. Katie belted her robe around her and tiptoed to the door. She snatched her glasses from the dresser beside it. Light slanted through the curtains. She should have been up already, seeing to the baby. She opened the door and stepped into the hall in her bare feet.

  A voice barked, “Step away from the cake!”

  The harsh tone made her shiver. She was tempted to flee back to the safety of her bedroom—after all, a killer was still on the loose— but curiosity won out and she eased down the steps. It sounded like the man was in the kitchen. If he was talking about cake, that would make sense. She scurried along the painted wood floors to the door to the kitchen. It was closed. No more sound came from the other side of it. Her hand grasped the cold ceramic knob, and she gave it a twist and a shove until the door opened a crack. She peered inside as the grating voice repeated its command.

  She saw no one in the small room. Pushing the door open further, she stepped past the icebox and glanced around, seeing it with fresh eyes in the bright wash of daylight. No one here. The simple wooden counter held a dry sink. Curtains covered the shelves under the counter. There was a wood range that took up most of one side of the kitchen. The floor was green-and-gray linoleum, in good condition, and everything was clean. Her gaze swept the room.

  Something moved at the table. It took a moment for her to realize a giant bird stared back at her from its perch on the back of a chair. Newspaper lined the floor under the perch. The black avian stretched its neck then picked up a nut from the table and cracked it open.

  “Step away from the cake!” The bird sidled a few steps toward her.

  “It’s a bird,” she breathed. She moved nearer to the table and held out her hand.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Will said from the doorway. He was dressed in a white shirt, open at the collar and slightly wrinkled, over gray slacks. His hair was wind-tossed. He brushed past her and held out his hand. The bird stepped delicately onto his wrist. “He doesn’t like strangers, and he’s apt to nip you.”

  She snatched her hand back. “He’s beautiful.” The bird preened as if he heard her. The light glistened on his wings. Her fingers itched to stroke him. “What is he?”

  “A mynah. He talks.”

  “I heard him. How long have you had him?”

  “A few days. Ever since Philip got tired of taking care of him.” Will carried the mynah to the back door and out onto the stoop where he put him on a perch.

  She followed him. “Was he out here last night? I didn’t see him.

  And won’t he fly away?”

  “He was in a covered cage in my bedroom last night. His wings are clipped. He’s a homebody too. Likes being waited on hand and foot.”

  “A typical man.”

  He grinned. “A suffragette, are you? Marching in the Easter Day parade?”

  She tipped up her chin. “And if I were?”

  One dark brow lifted and his generous mouth twitched. “I’d say you’ve got courage. The vote for women is long overdue.”

  His stance surprised her, but she just nodded and kept her attention on the bird. “He keeps saying that about the cake. Whatever does it mean?”

  “I haven’t the least notion. It’s rather annoying.” He dusted the nuts from his hand and moved back to the kitchen.

  Katie followed after a backward glance at the parrot. She wanted to just sit and watch the bird. “How is Jennie this morning?”

  “Still sleeping.”

  “And your brother?”

  “Doing the same. He refused to get up with her.”

  “You’re sure she is his daughter?”

  “I’m reasonably certain.”

  She wanted to turn from the way his dark eyes probed hers. He was much too intimate in his ways.

  “We must decide what is to be done with Jennie,” he said. “My brother appears unready to accept responsibility.”

  “My mother would like to spend a little more time with her.”

  “Do you think she might be your half sister?”

  “It will be difficult to ascertain the truth,” she admitted, stopping momentarily in the doorway to the parlor. “Unless my father regains consciousness.” She bit her lip. “What I heard was very incriminatory.”

  “I took the liberty of calling to check on your father this morning. No change in his condition. He’s still unconscious. I was informed again that no one could visit until the smallpox epidemic wa
s past.”

  She winced at the news. “Thank you.” A knock on the door sounded, and she realized she was in her nightgown and robe.

  “I’ll get it,” Will said, exiting the kitchen.

  Hardly respectable to be talking with the devilishly handsome Will Jesperson in her nightwear. She started to follow him but the telephone on the wall rang. She snatched the earpiece from the hook and spoke into the mouthpiece. “Mercy Falls Lighthouse.”

  “The constable hasn’t been by to see me, so I think you’ve been a good girl,” the man on the other end said. “See that you keep your mouth shut. I can get to your father in the hospital with no problem.

  You wouldn’t like how I could hurt your mother.”

  The voice was the man who had called from the skating rink. “What do you want?” she whispered.

  “Just to remind you to stay quiet about anything you heard Eliza say.”

  There was a click in her ear. “I don’t know anything,” she said, but there was no one on the other end. She toggled the switch to summon the operator.

  “Operator,” Nell’s voice said.

  “Nell, where did that call come from that you just put through?”

  “How are you, Katie?” Nell asked. “I wish we could go back to the office. I don’t like working from home.”

  “Things will be back to normal soon. About that call. Where did it come from?”

  “The shipping office down at the dock. Is something wrong?”

  It would be useless to go down there. “The man didn’t identify himself. I just wondered. See you soon, Nell.” Katie hung the earpiece on the hook then rushed from the kitchen and up the stairs to the bedroom.

  Lady Carrington still slept as Katie dressed and poked hairpins into her coil of curls with shaking hands. The menace in the man’s voice terrified her, but of course her parents were safe. Orderlies wouldn’t let the man near her father, and her mother was protected by the servants. Though they’d been little help when that man attacked her with the whiskey bottle. She would just call and make sure everything was all right when she went back downstairs.

  She removed her glasses and tucked them into her pocket. When she went back downstairs, she heard the low murmur of male voices in the parlor. She sidled past to the kitchen and had Nell ring her mother. After the maid assured her all was well, she checked in at the hospital. Her father’s condition was unchanged. Relieved, she stepped out of the kitchen and entered the parlor. She found Bart seated by the fireplace with a cup of coffee in his hands. Why did her heart sink when she wanted so much to love him?

  He put down the cup and bolted to his feet. Dressed in a light gray sack coat, he oozed wealth and status. “Katie, I apologize for such an early call. I phoned your house and your mother said you’d been forced to come here to avoid the sickness in town. My home is completely free of the disease. You should have called me.” His voice held reproof, as did his stern expression.

  She stepped into the room and forced a smile. “That’s very kind of you, Bart. My boss asked me to arrange to set up the switchboard where I was lodging. I couldn’t presume upon your mother in such a fashion.”

  His smile faltered. “I’m sure she wouldn’t have minded,” he said, but his tone lacked conviction.

  “Mr. Jesperson was in need of a nanny for the child, and I was in need of a temporary home. After fetching dear Lady Carrington as a chaperone, it seemed an equitable arrangement.”

  “Mr. Foster tells me the two of you have an understanding,” Will said, his tone frosty. His dark brows were drawn together. “I can well fathom his trepidation at your temporary residence here.”

  Bart nodded. “We have plenty of room, Katie. I’d be happy to take you back to the house.”

  Katie’s spine stiffened. “Thank you, Bart, but as I said, Lady Carrington is here too. I wouldn’t want to impose with extra guests.

  I’ve also already arranged for the switchboard to be delivered here and it should be arriving momentarily. You’ll see—it will all be over soon and everything will be set back to rights.”

  Bart’s mouth pulled downward, but he took her rejection with reasonable grace. “Yes, well, I also stopped by to bring you up-to-date on the status in the town. The constable and Dr. Lambertson moved quickly to quarantine any possible cases of smallpox. They feel the cases will drop off soon if everyone stays calm and remains at home as much as possible.”

  “Good news,” she said. “Is there any idea where this disease came from?”

  He nodded. “A ship brought it in. It’s been quarantined at its mooring up in Oregon.”

  “Your family is all well? You know my mother has come down with the disease and everyone was at church. They could have been infected.”

  “The doctor says a patient is only contagious when they have a fever and the pustules break out. Your mother was perfectly fine at church, was she not?”

  “Yes, she was fine until yesterday.”

  “So perhaps you will escape as well.”

  Katie hadn’t stopped to think about the possibility of having contracted the disease—or of passing it on to the baby and everyone else in the house. She prayed none of them would get sick. And that her stay at the lighthouse might be God’s leading—that she could discover what had happened to make her father want to kill himself.

  Will kept busy for the next few days. After getting up around one o’clock every afternoon, he cleaned the windows on the lighthouse, touched up paint on the tower, organized his equipment, and avoided the pretty Miss Russell as best he could. It was easy enough—he took over the duty of watching Jennie about the time she needed to sit down at the switchboard or Mrs. Carrington needed a rest.

  He saw little of his brother. Philip was presumably out looking for the missing ship, commandeered by the pirates, but seemed to spend more of his time talking to men at the quay every day.

  As far as Will knew, Philip had found no real leads until the day he asked Will to accompany him along the coast. An informant had told Philip he’d seen a ship pass that way. Will had awakened at eleven and his duties were done, so he agreed. Katie was on the switchboard in a corner of the parlor. He doubted she would notice or question the fact he was gone. And Lady Carrington and Jennie seemed to have made for a special relationship, content to be together for hours at a time.

  The temperature hovered near sixty-two degrees, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky as he guided the buckboard down a muddy lane that was more potholes than road. Philip had been told this narrow path led to the section of coastline where the ship had last been spotted.

  Philip readjusted his grip so as to not get unseated. “This is complete wilderness.”

  “It will be difficult to find the ship if they went upriver somewhere,” Will said. He pulled the buckboard to a stop. The mare tossed her head and snorted then leaned down to munch a patch of grass. He tossed the reins around a shrub as he got down, then walked out to a spit of land that poked into the sea. The whitecaps foamed against the rocks and left the tang of salt in the air. Seagulls squawked overhead.

  Philip joined him and the two stood staring out at the rugged coast lined with redwood and hemlock. The sea breeze nearly took Will’s hat, and he grabbed at it before it careened off the cliff. “Looks like nothing has ever happened out here,” he said. “Peaceful and serene.”

  Philip wrinkled his nose. “Rotting kelp.” He pointed at the steaming piles of tangled kelp on the rocks below them as the gulls pecked through the mess for bugs.

  Will ignored the smell. He stared out past the breakers to where the shoreline curved in and out again, then he looked back to the woods again. No one lived out here but bears and hawks. If they intended to press further into this area, they’d have to do it on foot or horseback. He buttoned his jacket against the stiff wind. “You ready to go back? Nothing is out here.”

  Philip shook his head. “Not yet. As far as I know, no one has probed this area very well.” They walked along the coast as far as they
could but found nothing. “It’s pure wilderness,” he said. He turned and set off along the rocky beach.

  Will shrugged, his attention on the interesting cloud formation overhead. “Because there’s nothing to see.”

  “Perhaps.” Philip turned and climbed up a small cliff that blocked the way.

  Will followed, reaching for one handhold after another. As soon as he got home, he’d look for the weather balloons he’d released this morning. On the other side of the cliff, he settled in to watch the tides. They had walked for nearly an hour.

  “Philip, are we going to walk all the way to Oregon?” He kicked a stone into the air. It pinged off the rocks as it fell toward the water.

  Instead of a splash, he heard it clank against something. He dropped to his knees and peered over the side. A ledge projected out from the face of the escarpment, ten feet below. Something glinted on it. From his position, it appeared to be the ring from an old harness.

  “What is it?” Philip asked, backtracking to his brother.

  “Perhaps nothing.” Will couldn’t let it go though. He grabbed a tree root sticking from the ground and slipped over the side.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Going to see what’s down there.” Will lowered himself until his feet dangled three feet from the ledge. He took a deep breath and let go, praying the ledge wouldn’t collapse. He slid down the rock face, then fell to his knees on the ledge. It held. Dusting himself off, he got up and glanced around. Vegetation blocked the cliff wall but he thought he glimpsed a hole in the rocks. He shoved aside a hedge nettle to reveal a cave. The opening was about three feet in diameter.

  “What’s down there?” Philip called.

  “A cave. Wish I had a lantern.” Will tried to see further into the space, but the sun only illuminated the first two feet. He thought he saw something glitter inside. Maybe mica catching the sunlight. He knew he should grab his brother’s hand and get out, but an inner compulsion made him press farther into the cave. He had to put his hands on dried gull dung to squeeze through, but they would wash.