Midnight Star Read Free Page B

was asking for attention. She was perspiring and shallow of breath when she reached the three-story brick building. For a moment she couldn’t make her legs walk up the shallow steps to the entrance.
    Don’t be a coward, Chauncey. Aunt Augusta is a vicious old harridan. She was lying. Uncle Paul will tell you the truth.
    Several black-garbed clerks were seated on high stools, their heads lowered, their pens scratching industriously on the papers before them. Chauncey cleared her throat.
    “Excuse me,” she said, drawing the attention of one young man. “I wish to see Mr. Paul Montgomery. My name is Elizabeth FitzHugh.”
    “Have you an appointment?” the young man asked shortly.
    Chauncey shook her head. “Please tell him that I am here,” she said firmly, drawing back the black veil from her face.
    The young man’s eyes widened in admiration. “Be seated, miss. I will see if he is free.”
    Paul Montgomery emerged quickly from his office. “Chauncey! My dear, what a pleasant surprise! Come in, come in!”
    Chauncey smiled back at him, her first smile of pleasure since her father’s death. “I appreciate your taking time to see me, Uncle Paul.”
    “Nonsense, my dear!” He led her into his office and pulled back a chair for her in front of his massive oak desk. “Now, tell me what I can do for you.”
    For several moments she couldn’t speak.
    “You are looking lovely, Chauncey,” he said as her silence stretched long. “I trust you have settled in nicely with your aunt and uncle?” Please let her say yes, he thought, forming the words in his own mouth that he wished her to speak.
    “Uncle Paul, did my father kill himself?”
    The stark words hung in the air between them. She saw him stiffen, saw the betraying gleam in his dark eyes through the thick lenses of his spectacles.
    He slowly removed his glasses, cleaning them on the cuff of his shirt, a stalling habit Chauncey recognized. “Wherever did you get such a notion, my dear?”
    “It is true, then,” she said. “Please, Uncle Paul, do not lie to me. I . . . I overheard my aunt say it to my uncle.”
    “Stupid woman!” Paul Montgomery muttered. He studied her pale face intently, and seemed to come to a decision. “I am sorry, my dear. There was no reason for you ever to know. I had no idea that your aunt . . . But it doesn’t matter now, does it?”
    “It matters to me.” Chauncey felt a trickle of sweat snake downward between her breasts. “He was given a Christian burial,” she said numbly. “No one said anything. Not even Dr. Ramsay.”
    “I wasn’t about to announce to the vicar that your father’s death wasn’t a tragic accident! Indeed, my dear, it was just that. Dr. Ramsay agreed with me. The overdose of laudanum . . .”
    “Why, Uncle Paul? Why did he do it?”
    His eyes fell to his slight paunch, held in by a stiff-clothed waistcoat. “I had prayed that I would never have to tell you this, Chauncey.”
    “I cannot believe that he would take his own life because of a few bad investments!”
    “Not just that. It’s a rather involved story, my dear.” He paused a moment, as if collecting his thoughts. He saw the determination on her face, and said quietly, “Very well, Chauncey, if you must know. In the summer of 1851, your father met an American here in London, Delaney Saxton by name. Saxton was looking for investors. It seemed that he was quite wealthy, having made a fortune in gold in California, but he wanted to increase his wealth. He struck a deal with your father. Your father insisted that I and Saxton’s English solicitor, Daniel Boynton, arrange for thetransfer of twenty thousand pounds to Mr. Saxton. I should have realized that your father had mortgaged everything to raise the money, but I didn’t. Boynton and I drew up papers to protect your father’s investment. If the quartz mine, a sure thing according to Saxton, did not produce the amounts of gold he had promised it would, Saxton agreed to sign