After the steamboat docked in Natchez, Lucas’s first order of business was to seek out the telegraph office to make contact with Kyle. Listing his location as the Brimm home was risky, but Lucas decided it was worth it.
If Tucker had a connection at the telegraph office in Eureka Springs, which Lucas had surmised was a possibility, he might also have one in Natchez. However, there were enough telegraph offices in the city to seriously lessen the odds of walking into the wrong one.
Or the right one.
His mission complete, he went back aboard the Americus to fetch Flora and her entourage. The Brimm family, obviously familiar with how Flora traveled, had sent a carriage as well as a large wagon. In all, there was enough room on the wagon to fit the three maids and the luggage, leaving Flora and Lucas to ride alone together up the hill and away from the docks.
They sat in silence, the clatter of the wheels against the uneven pavement making for a bumpy trip. By the time the carriage passed through the ornate gates of Brimmfield, Lucas felt as if his insides were going to jolt out.
But once they were inside the Brimm property, the road was smooth and level. A perk of privilege, Lucas surmised as he settled back against the seat and awaited his first glimpse of Flora’s home.
As with most houses that predated the war, Brimmfield was large, lavish, and set up on a rise with a view of the Mississippi River beyond the indigo fields. A quick tour of the interior, gained as he made his way up the stairs behind a uniformed valet, proved the home bore no signs of ill use during the war years.
The walls were covered in what appeared to be silk, and family portraits of men, women, children, and even the occasional loyal hound paraded down the distance between the two floors. A crystal chandelier hung halfway between the two levels, casting light on the Persian carpets and the curved ebony stair rail.
“You’re probably wondering about the house,” Flora said as she trailed just behind him. “Why we fared so well when others in Natchez did not.”
“I was actually.”
“That would be my grandmother’s doing.” They reached the second floor landing, and Flora fell into step beside him. “While she has great concern for the less fortunate, Millicent Meriwether Brimm does not abide interlopers in her husband’s family home. Apparently, she told every group of Yankee soldiers the same thing when they arrived on her doorstep. She also paid a visit early to General Grant when he and his men were looking for a home to appropriate for their headquarters.”
“Oh, Flora, are you telling that story again?” Mrs. Brimm stepped into the hallway, her eagle eyes trained on Lucas with what felt like disapproval but with her smile showing nothing but welcome. “I simply explained to the general that Brimmfield was not to be touched under any circumstances. I do not allow dirty boots to mar my carpets and uncouth men to cross my doorstep in peacetime. Why in the world would I allow it during a war?”
“Whatever the reason,” Flora said, “the soldiers bypassed Brimmfield and made their camp at Rosalie, the next plantation down the road.”
“General Grant promised to pack away all the furniture and valuables, and he did. But poor Fanny Rumble. She was still finding carpets rolled up and stuck in the attic years after the aggressors went home.” A pause. “You just never know when strangers are allowed to stay.”
Something in that speech was directed at him. Lucas was quite aware that the old woman’s gaze swept the length of him. He surreptitiously checked his boots to be sure he hadn’t committed a travesty against the Brimm carpets.
“I wish I could say this is a surprise,” she said to him, “but I’ve had advance warning of your arrival.” She shifted her attention to Flora. “Warning but not explanation. Might I have a word when your guest is settled, dear? We’ve a dinner with the Chamberlains at eight, so do remember to have Lucy put one of your nicer dresses out.”
“Not tonight, please, Grandmama. I’ve only just returned.”
“Darling, you’re being dramatic. You act as if you carried your luggage on your back. The Ellicotts will be there.”
“I just don’t want to go tonight.” She paused. “I already made plans.”
This was news to Lucas, though he half hoped Flora might be bluffing to get out of a social engagement she wasn’t keen to attend. In either case, she wouldn’t be leaving without checking with him. Much as he would hate to lose his best bait to the Natchez jail, he couldn’t have her colluding with Tucker or, worse, running off to marry the crook and then seeing to his escape.
Grandmama appeared ready to respond but unwilling to speak in front of Lucas. For her part, Flora seemed not to care.
“A little warning that you’re as yet unmarried would have been nice. Thankfully, your father has not yet returned.”
“Should I have sent something so personal in something so public as a telegram?”
Both women looked at Lucas. Mrs. Brimm sighed. “Am I wrong in asking this of her, Mr. McMinn?”
“Honestly, ma’am, I’d rather not say.”
She offered her granddaughter a triumphant smile. “Well played, Mr. McMinn.” She returned her steely gaze to him. “Is it true that Augustus Girard is your grandfather?”
He paused only a moment. Obviously she knew the answer, so his response would change nothing. “He is.”
“A fine man, and quite the dancer. Your grandmother was a lucky woman.”
Well, now. Lucas let out a long breath. “I’ll take your word for it, ma’am.”
He spied the valet standing in front of an open door at the far end of the hall and gave thanks for the means to exit the conversation before it became too personal. “If you ladies will excuse me, I’ll just go settle in.”
Both women spoke of him though he wasn’t even there. “Flora, dear, please tell me you didn’t marry that one. Much as I loved a good waltz in his grandfather’s arms, he is from New Orleans, for goodness’ sake.”
“Grandmama, truly you’re insufferable. Tell me everything you know about him.”
“I’ll do nothing of the sort. That man’s secrets are his own to tell. Now, you and I have some plans to make.”
Lucas knew a good time to make an exit when he saw one. He left them standing in the hall and moved as quickly as acceptable to duck inside his room. The bedchamber assigned to him bore a man’s touch in the dark paneling and deep green curtains that all but blocked out the afternoon sun.
Waving away the valet, he waited until the door closed behind him and then walked over to the window to open the curtains. Fields of indigo danced in the distance, rolling down the hill to the brown ribbon of the Mississippi River.
Another home of similar size—Rosalie, he surmised—could barely be seen on the horizon. The road running between them apparently marked the place where the Brimm property ended. There he spied a small cottage that appeared almost out of place in the midst of the fields.
Wrapped in a simple clapboard siding painted a stark white, the little home appeared far too domestic to belong to hired help. And the purple wisteria climbing the porches front and back made the cottage look more like a hideaway for an aging relative than any sort of service building.
He reached into his pocket for his extra-vision spectacles. While he could see almost every leaf on the indigo plants, the closed white lace curtains of the cottage revealed nothing of what might be inside. Lucas set the glasses aside. Unless he wanted to read the names of the vessels plying the river from where he stood, there was no need to wear them.
A knock on the door announced the return of the valet, who carried a silver tray with a telegram on it. “Where would you like this, sir?”
Lucas gestured to the writing desk fitted beneath the eastern-facing windows and waited until the man had left to retrieve it. The telegram was from Kyle. WT seen exiting steamboat. Staking out docks for possible sighting. Making progress on calling this investigation official. Hope to advise soon. KR
If Will Tucker showed up anywhere near the Natchez docks, he would be taken into custody. Let the Brimm ladies enjoy their dinner plans. He had more important things to do tonight.
Lucas folded the telegram, slid it into his jacket pocket, and then went to open his travel case. He’d packed a few items especially handy for nighttime surveillance.
“This is the end of the line, Tucker.”