Love Finds You in Mackinac Island, Michigan (5 page)

“The soul?” He scanned the small library of books beyond the chairs until he found the large black book among them. “Where do you find that in the Good Book?”

She waved her hand at his comment. “Even God rested on the seventh day.”

He patted the bag. “But I’m pretty sure He worked hard during the other six.”

She glared at the satchel like it was her archenemy. “All I’m asking is that you attend several of the parties with me. Pretend, at least, that you’re interested in the young ladies.”

He grinned. “I don’t have to pretend. I have a great appreciation for women.”

She grabbed a cushion from the couch and threw it at him. “One of these days, someone is going to make you care.”

“I do care, Sarah. Just not about the things you care about.” He shifted in his chair. “How is my being on Mackinac going to benefit you?”

She hesitated. “Edward needs to improve his connections a bit.”

And probably his reputation
, Chase thought, but he didn’t say it. It wasn’t Sarah’s fault that her husband was a louse.

“And I want you to meet a dear friend of mine.”

One of his eyebrows slid up. “A married friend?”

Sarah gave a little roll of her eyes, a habit she seemed to reserve solely for him. “Her name is Gracie Frederick. She is from Philadelphia.”

“Why is she vacationing in Michigan?”

“Her parents have a home on Mackinac.”

“And you think I need a new friend?”

“You don’t need another friend, Chester. You need a good woman in your life.”

Sarah knew he hated it when she called him Chester, but he still laughed at her words. “Between you and Mother, I have enough good women in my life.”

She crossed her arms and spoke slowly, as if she wasn’t sure he could understand. “You need a wife.”

He shook his head. “I’m not looking to marry Gracie or any other woman on the island.”

Sarah sighed. “I’m not saying you should marry
her
, necessarily—just someone like her.”

“I’m glad we’ve worked that out.”

His sister leaned forward. “Gracie’s father owns the biggest lumberyard in Philadelphia, and Edward wants to partner with him. You know how to play up the charm without the slightest hint of a promise.”

“Is this Miss Frederick homely?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why does she need you to find her a husband?”

Sarah huffed. “She doesn’t need me, nor does she need a husband. I’m only asking you to attempt to find her interesting.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then pretend.”

He patted the bag again, sighing. “I’m not spending my few days on the island sacrificing for Edward.”

She stood up, a smile playing on her lips. “I don’t believe you’ll consider time with Gracie to be a sacrifice.”

Sarah walked to her stateroom, and the door closed with a soft
thud
. Instead of sleeping, Chase leaned back in his chair, listened to the rhythm of the wheels, and watched the stars glow in the night sky.

Miss Frederick, he was certain, would be like the rest of the debutantes who crested the powerful ring of Detroit’s society. Their families married them off to build prestige or power, and the women themselves were willing pawns in the grand scheme of these alliances. He was busy enough, building alliances in their businesses. He didn’t want to come home every night to an alliance as well.

He had a deep appreciation of all their hours of toil before a social event, but no matter how beautiful the woman, he didn’t plan to marry for power or prestige. In fact, he didn’t know if he would ever marry.

He patted the satchel again.

Only two women had captured his attention in his twenty six years of life, and both those encounters had been brief. One was a striking woman he’d met at a dinner in New York City. He’d called at her home several times and thought her interest in his investments charming until he discovered that she was the granddaughter of a man who’d been pursuing the financing of S. P. Darrington & Company for three years. She’d known who he was the entire time, feigning interest in him so he would invest in her family’s work.

The second woman, he’d met at a gallery in London. They’d dined together several nights, laughed together, and discovered their mutual love of art. Then he discovered that not only did she know who he was, but she’d followed him to London. And she didn’t have the least bit of appreciation for art.

It seemed impossible to meet a woman he could trust, but if he ever married, it would have to be to a woman who loved him for more than his family’s money. A woman who knew how to harbor his secrets…and he would harbor hers.

* * * * *

Elena rocked back on one of the veranda chairs as the breeze rustled the curtains around the open windows and settled over the blanket she’d tucked over her walking dress. Her parents had retired a good half hour ago, and when they did, everything within her wanted to flee the house. She couldn’t go though, not quite yet. Her mother always came down the steps to check on her one last time.

The tiny crescent of a moon crept over the dark horizon, and the waves below glistened like icy cakes of snow. Shoots of light sprayed across the night, and the beauty of it all reminded her of the powerful scene in the Scriptures where darkness collided with light for the very first time.

The breeze chilled her face when she closed her eyes, the light blazing across her mind as she imagined it had so long ago.

She’d memorized the poignant words in Genesis years ago, about the void God created—a void called earth—and the darkness that rested on the face of the deep. And then, like the soft breeze that rustled the curtains, the Spirit of God moved across the water, and with a thundering voice that commanded the universe to obey, He said, “Let there be light.”

After the light flooded out of the darkness, God said it was good.

Goose bumps bubbled on her arms and she rubbed them. What would it have been like to be trapped in that murky blackness and then to feel the rustle of God’s Spirit as He moved across the waters, to hear the roar of God’s voice when He commanded there to be light?

Perhaps that first spark of light flickered on one of God’s fingers like the tip of a match and then, in a blaze of His glory, swallowed up the darkness. In that moment, when darkness was confined, light ruled the earth.

Footsteps interrupted her thoughts, and she held her breath. Perhaps if she kept very still, the darkness would hide her tonight.

She could feel her mother’s presence behind her, but she didn’t turn.

“It’s getting late, Elena.”

“I know, Mama.” She opened her eyes. “I just wanted to watch the stars a bit longer.”

Her mother stepped beside her. “Mrs. Frederick said that Mr. Darrington might arrive tomorrow.”

Elena sighed. “I thought he wasn’t coming.”

“She said he wanted to meet Gracie.” Mama smiled. “But that’s only because he hasn’t met you.”

Elena tucked her feet under her skirts. “I’m fairly certain that this Mr. Darrington won’t care if I watch the stars.”

Mama tapped her fingers on the arm of the chair. “He might not care about the stars, but he will notice the dark circles under your eyes if you don’t get some sleep.”

She could lie and say she wasn’t the least bit tired, but that wasn’t true. The day had exhausted her. “Mr. Darrington is not going to be interested in me.”

Her mother crossed her arms. “Now why would you say a silly thing like that?”

“Because he’ll want to marry for connections as well as for money.”

Mama huffed. “He has plenty of money.”

“I’m only trying to say—”

“Your father is still quite connected,” Mama interrupted. “And he’ll recover the factory—and his other investments—in the fall.”

The confidence in her voice faltered. They both knew their family connections were dwindling as fast as their investments and bank account. The railroad her father invested in had gone bankrupt, his real estate holdings were practically worthless at the moment, and the factory to make farming equipment that had been his—as well as his father’s—livelihood for almost fifty years had shut its doors.

Elena tried a different tactic. “I’m sure Gracie Frederick isn’t the only one with her sights set on Mr. Darrington.”

Mama sat down on the rocker next to her. “You’re just as pretty as the lot of them, Elena, and smarter too. If you’d try a little, you can get his attention.”

Elena knew she wasn’t as pretty as most of the girls on the island, at least not in a pampered way, but even if she could capture Mr. Darrington’s attention, she didn’t want to compete with the other girls. Nor did she want this Mr. Darrington or any other man looking to acquire her like an investment or merchandise. She just wanted to be left alone.

Mama stretched out her hand, waving her back into the house. “Come.”

Elena draped the blanket over her shoulders and followed her mother to the stairs. The wide staircase led them up to a balcony with tall bookshelves and overstuffed chairs. Down the narrow hallway, her room was across from her mother’s room, and her mother kissed her cheek before she opened Elena’s door.

“You need to rest.”

“Yes, Mama.” Elena slid inside and shut the door. And waited. Her mother should go to sleep now that Elena was safely tucked away in her room.

She turned on the gaslight. A poster bed stood against the wall to her right with a giant blue-and-white canopy draped over the sides. A bay window looked over the dark gardens and the lake beyond, and along the window ledge were glass bowls filled with seashells and shiny rocks. On the wall to her left, blue-and-white curtains matched the pattern on her couch. Paneled walls behind the couch and dressing table were decorated with colorful watercolors of island scenes, sketches of her family, and pithy needlepoint sayings like Lewis Carroll’s famous quote, “If you don’t know where you are going, any road will get you there.”

Her nightdress was draped over the coverlet on her bed, but instead of changing into it, Elena felt under her pillows and pulled out the calico work dress that Jillian had discarded three years ago. She threw her blanket over a chair, exchanged her walking dress for the baggy one, and braided her long hair. She left her cotton stockings on her legs and her corset in her armoire.

Lifting a stack of pillows from the davenport, Elena stuffed them under the sheets of her bed. If her mother came to check on her again, she wouldn’t dare wake her from her beauty sleep.

She reached for her riding jacket and began tiptoeing toward the doorway, but before she touched the knob, someone knocked on the other side. When the door began to open, she dove back toward her bed, balling her nightdress in her arm. Pillows scattered across the Persian rug as she threw the coverlet over her work dress.

Mama stepped into the room, a candle in her hand. She eyed the pillows at her feet. “I thought I heard something.”

Elena yanked the cover over her chest, hiding the old dress underneath. “I was rearranging a few things.”

“Now you’re going to sleep, aren’t you?”

Elena fidgeted with a string on the coverlet. “Yes, Mama.”

Her mother hesitated. “I’ll have Jillian make you some chamomile.”

“It’s not necessary.”

Mama stepped back and rang a bell.

It would take a good twenty minutes to heat the water and steep the leaves.

Elena’s gaze wandered wistfully to the window and the moonlight outside. There would be no escaping Castle Pines, at least not tonight.

“Did you hear about Hilga Brunet?”

Mrs. Grunier leaned toward the four other women gathered at the table, and three of them huddled close to her as if they couldn’t trust the columns on the Gruniers’ wide portico with their gossip. Elena leaned back in the wicker chair, pretending she didn’t care to hear about Hilga, but in reality, she wanted to find out what had happened to one of the few young women who’d befriended her on Mackinac last year.

Trudy Grunier, Mrs. Grunier’s seventeen-year-old daughter, spoke first, just loud enough for Elena to hear. “They already know, Mother.”

Mrs. Frederick’s commanding voice dipped to a whisper, like she hadn’t heard Trudy. “What happened?”

Mrs. Grunier took a sip of her English tea, seeming to relish the moment. “After Hilga was caught last summer—”

Mama’s hand flew to her bodice. “I’d almost forgotten.”

Elena straightened her skirts on the wicker chair, resisting the urge to correct her mother. None of them had forgotten what happened to Hilga Brunet last year.

Mrs. Grunier’s voice dropped even lower. “I heard she had her confinement in Indianapolis.”

“Dear me,” Mama exclaimed, her fingers at her throat. “I hope she is all right.”

Mrs. Grunier took another sip of tea. “She returned to her parents’ home in Cleveland this spring.”

The words settled over the four ladies. No one dared to ask about the baby or its father.

Hilga had been one of the most beautiful debutantes on Mackinac. On a tour around the island last summer, she had met a dashing soldier named Santino. On the night she snuck away to meet him, several young vacationers were building a bonfire on the beach. They discovered Hilga and her lover together, and the news of Hilga’s indiscretion whipped through the top echelons of society like a tornado. It yanked the roof off the Brunet family’s reputation and destroyed their good name.