The Firebrand (11 page)

Lucy was surprised to see Patience Gloriana Washington along with two women she'd known since finishing school—Deborah Silver and Kathleen Kennedy. Deborah, now five years married and the mother of two, was as blond and beautiful as ever. Flame-haired Kathleen had produced a set of twins and two others during her four-year marriage to the roguish Dylan Kennedy. Only Phoebe Palmer was missing from the alumni of Miss Boylan's. Years earlier, she'd set her sights on marrying an English lord, and she'd held out for the real thing. Finally her wish had come true. She had wed Lord de Grey, heir to a British duke. She now lived in his ancestral home on a windswept moor in the north of England.

"I thought you might need a bit of tea and sympathy," Viola explained as Lucy greeted her friends, "after what happened at the bank this morning."

Lucy blanched. "What do you know about that?"

Her mother waved a hand, then offered everyone a seat around the scrubbed oak display table. With practiced grace, she poured the tea. "I am not as ignorant as you think I am, Lucy. And besides that, I am your mother. I took one look at your face at lunchtime and knew things had gone ill for you at the bank. So I sent a message 'round to Patience, Kathleen and Deborah. Friends are so essential in times of trouble."

Patience added three lumps from the sugar loaf to her tea. "What happened at the bank, girl?"

"Tell them, dear," Viola said gently. "Unburden yourself."

Lucy was speechless. She had no idea how her mother had learned about Randolph Higgins.

When she said nothing, Viola spoke for her. "I'm very much afraid," she announced, "that Lucy's request for the loan extension was refused by the bank. The Firebrand will have to close."

"Oh, sweet Lord in heaven, no," Kathleen said. "This is your dream, Lucy.

You can't give it up."

"Closing down is a terrible idea," Deborah added, "not to mention unnecessary. I shall personally lend you—"

"Never mind." Lucy held up a hand, not knowing whether to laugh or weep. Of course her mother couldn't have guessed. "Something
did
happen at the bank, but it wasn't about the loan." Her financial concerns seemed so petty, given the issue that weighed on her mind now.

"Then why the long face?" Patience asked.

Lucy took a deep breath. For a few moments, she'd actually entertained the thought of keeping silent on the matter, but she could not. It was not only cowardly but dishonorable. No matter how much she loved Maggie, no matter how fiercely she wanted to protect her, she would never be able to live with such a deception.

"Something extraordinary has occurred." She looked around the table at each

of her friends and then at her mother. "I have found Maggie's parents."

The silence was as absolute as eternal damnation. Everyone sat completely still. Lucy fancied she could hear her own heart beating.

Then, with a clacking of cups and saucers set down in astonishment, everyone began talking at once. "How can you be sure?" "Who are they?" "Why didn't they find her after the fire?" "What will you do now?"

Lucy waited for the noise to subside. A thick heat filled her throat and she feared she might cry. But Lucy never cried. She was the Colonel's daughter, and she would keep control.

"I realized the truth," she explained, "when I was in Mr. Randolph Higgins's office at the bank." Her listeners sat stone-still, staring in amazement. After five years, Lucy had discovered the solution to a haunting mystery. All of them had wondered from time to time where Maggie had come from, and now they were about to find out.

"As we were discussing the loan, I learned that he and his wife had lost a child in the fire." She flushed, remembering her blunt questions and how callous they had seemed in light of what she'd learned about Mr. Higgins. She thought of his scars, his rigid self-control as he'd spoken to her of the tragedy. "I offered my condolences, but tho*ight no more of it until I saw, on his desk, a five-year-old photograph of his child." With a shaking hand, she held up her own baby picture of Maggie. "It was my Maggie. He said the baby in the photograph was his daughter, Christine, who was killed along with her nursemaid in the collapse of the Sterling House Hotel."

Another long, shocked silence greeted the revelation. "That's astounding," said Deborah. "Extraordinary." "Did you tell him straightaway?" her mother asked.

"Of course not. Good God, I've not even recovered from the shock myself." "But Maggie went to the bank with you. He saw her. Didn't he recognize his

own child?"

Lucy gave a pained smile. "He mistook her for a boy until I introduced them. Then he—" She considered his gentle, indulgent manner with Maggie. "He was lovely to her. Sent her off to beg candy from his assistant. It's been almost five years. Maggie's changed from a towheaded baby into a young girl. Can any of us say for sure we'd recognize her, under the circumstances?"

"And you're certain she's the one?" Kathleen asked after a pause.

"Completely. The photograph was more than enough to convince me. It was Maggie, down to the last eyelash, and she was even clutching the baby blanket she had when I saved her. Add to that the Sterling House connection, and the scene is com...complete." She stumbled over the word and was ashamed to feel tears burning in her eyes. Determinedly she blinked until they went away.

In contrast, Viola was an unrepentant leaky spigot. She saturated both her

handkerchiefs as she wept. "This is a disaster." "Or a miracle," Patience said.

"What if this encounter was supposed to happen?" Kathleen asked. "It could be an act of fate, or a preordained event."

"What if it's a blessing in disguise?" Deborah ventured. "The Lord's work," Patience murmured.

"How can it be?" Viola asked. "What possible good can come of this?"

Lucy stared down at the table. "I have no idea. I am trying to keep an open mind."

"Maggie is ours. It's too late for anyone else to claim her. Isn't there a statute of limitations on this sort of thing?"

"I doubt it, Mother."

"Those people are strangers to her."

"They are her parents, who gave her life," Patience pointed out.

"Why the devil didn't they move heaven and earth to find the poor mite?" Kathleen asked. "Lord knows you posted notices in every paper, and registered the baby with every church and orphanage in the region."

"You did everything in your power to find the baby's parents," Deborah assured her. "Yet they never contacted you."

"Why?" Viola asked.

"I wondered the same thing myself," Lucy said. "Mr. Higgins...bears quite a few scars. He spoke very little of the fire and I hesitated to pry, but I gather he lay senseless with his injuries for weeks afterward. And by that time, you'll recall, Mother and I had taken the baby out of Chicago because of the typhoid epidemic."

"But you still sent notices to the papers," Viola said.

"What about Mrs. Higgins?" asked Kathleen. "Was
she
senseless with her injuries, too?"

"She was injured, though I didn't dare ask how badly," Lucy explained. "As you can imagine, I didn't quite have my wits about me. He would have grown suspicious if I'd kept probing." She ran a hand through her hair, finding it even more curly and unkempt than usual. "Now I must decide what to do," she added quietly.

"First off," said Deborah, "you must engage a solicitor to look out for your interests."

"Barry Lynch would do nicely," Kathleen suggested. "He's an old friend. I've known him since he was a dockyard clerk."

Lucy guessed he had been one of her many suitors from years past. With her looks and charm, Kathleen had attracted men from every walk of life.

"He studied the law after he married," Kathleen explained, "and now he has a busy practice."

"I would guess that he's never seen a case quite like this," Deborah murmured.

Viola put a hand on her daughter's arm. "Lucy, please don't be hasty. If you do nothing, we could go on as before."

"Mother—"

"Hear me out. Years have passed. Mr. Higgins has become a successful banker. Surely he's moved on from a terrible tragedy."

Lucy wasn't so certain. He wasn't a raving lunatic, of course. His sadness was...deeper. It seemed to pervade every cell of his body.

"Mr. Higgins has come to terms with the loss of his daughter, and no doubt his wife has done the same," Viola argued. "If they never learn she survived, you won't be hurting them anymore than they've already suffered."

The same cold-blooded thought had occurred to Lucy. "But Mother, I can
end

their suffering by telling them about Maggie."

"Oh, really?" Viola drew herself up. "What about Maggie's suffering if you're forced to give her back? You would make a sacrificial lamb of my granddaughter. She is the one who would be hurt the most. We're the only family she's ever known. What would she think if we suddenly thrust her into the arms of strangers?"

"Don't you think I've been agonizing over this?" Lucy asked.

"If you tell them about Maggie, what do you predict will happen? Put yourself in their shoes. They've been grieving for a baby five years gone, and suddenly a miracle occurs. Do you think they're going to pat the child on the head, wish her well in life and then go on as before? Of course not. They will take her away."

Lucy's blood chilled. "I am her mother. They are strangers to her." "My point precisely."

Deborah covered Lucy's hands with her own. "Mr. and Mrs. Higgins brought her into the world. They lost her in the most horrible way imaginable. They're going to want her back."

Kathleen nodded. "They might canonize you for a blessed saint, but they'll fight you to kingdom come for that child."

Lucy pushed up her chin. "I'll fight back."

"What if you lose?" Patience asked. "Are you prepared to accept that?"

The air rushed out of Lucy as though someone had punched her in the gut. In the hollow silence, Viola said, "This is all so unnecessary. Mr. and Mrs. Higgins have settled this in their hearts. Surely they have all they could want."

"Perhaps they've had more children," Deborah suggested. "No." Lucy found her voice again. "I asked."

She could still feel the solemn resignation that had pervaded the office when

Randolph Higgins had denied having any children. She wondered why he and his wife hadn't had more. Perhaps it was a health issue with Mrs. Higgins. She thought about the woman she'd met ever so briefly the night of the fire. Blond hair, alabaster skin, eyes the color of Delft china. The color of Maggie's eyes.

What sort of mother would Diana Higgins have been to Maggie?

What sort of person would Maggie have been, raised by the Higgins family?

The questions and uncertainties built up in her head until she thought she would explode.

Patience's warm hand settled on her shoulder. Lucy turned to her old friend. "Help me," she said in an agonized whisper. "Tell me what to do, Patience. Tell me what is right."

"Child, you'll figure it out. Just listen to your heart."

"My heart tells me that I have a beautiful, healthy, exuberant daughter," Lucy said. "A daughter I would die for."

Deborah dabbed at her eyes and Kathleen blew her nose.

"And what does your heart tell you about Mr. and Mrs. Higgins?" Patience asked quietly.

The doorbell jangled yet again. "Mama?"

At the sound of Maggie's voice, Lucy shot to her feet, feeling inexplicably guilty. Her mother, Kathleen and Deborah busied themselves adding sugar and cream to their tea and dabbing their faces with napkins.

"Hello, sweetheart." Lucy crossed the shop to her daughter. How could she shatter this child's world? "Did you have a good sleep?"

"I did! I did! And I dreamed I could fly like a bird. Do you think I will one day, Mama?"

Lucy opened her arms, familiar with the routine. "I think you already can."

Maggie raced toward her and launched herself, springing up into Lucy's arms with the agility of a monkey. She clung there, laughing, her soft brown curls fragrant with soap and the faint, evocative essence that was Maggie and Maggie alone. Lucy swung her around while the little girl sang out with pure joy, leaning her head back to watch the ceiling spin.

The next day, when Mr. Higgins's assistant told her to wait in the outer office, Lucy concentrated on her firm purpose. She'd returned to find out more about Mr. Higgins. She and her mother had decided, in a whispered conversation late the night before, that she needed to investigate him further before deciding what to do. Perversely, she wanted to believe the straitlaced banker was a bad man. A man who didn't deserve to know what had become of his child. But she kept remembering the scars he bore and the pain buried in his eyes. How different he

was from the cocky, flirtatious young rogue she had met the night of the fire. "How much longer must I wait?" she asked Mr. Crowe.

He peered at her from beneath his green celluloid visor. "You didn't have an appointment, ma'am."

"But if you'd just tell him I'm—"

"He's in an important meeting and cannot be interrupted."

She leaned back against the leather chair and drummed her fingers on the arm.

Mr. Crowe glared at her, but she didn't stop. "Is he in his offife?" she persisted. "I told you, Miss Hathaway. He is in a meeting."

"But
where
is this meeting?"

Mr. Crowe dabbed at his forehead with a folded handkerchief. "It's in the conference room down the hall, ma'am. You might be pleased to know that your request is their main topic of discussion. I can't say how long he will be, but I assure you, the moment he has concluded his business, you'll be the first to know."

She kept drumming her fingers, then she jiggled her foot. Perhaps she would annoy him to the point where he left his desk just to escape her, and then she could snoop around at will.

Anxiety tingled along her nerves. She'd lain awake half the night, trying to figure out what to do, but she wasn't the least bit tired. First thing in the morning, she'd gone to visit Barry Lynch, the solicitor Kathleen had recommended. He'd listened with growing astonishment to her story, and like her mother and her friends, had declared it entirely unique. Unprecedented. It would'take a judge's ruling to untangle the mess.