Twenty-Four

The dining room in the Washington town house was small, but Marianne managed to fit place settings for seven adults around the dining table that featured their best china, an assortment of goblets for each person, and a trio of silver candelabras, all for Sunday night’s dinner with Colonel Phelps. Marianne never had much interest in entertaining, but her mother and sister-in-law vied for dominance as they planned the five-course meal. Delia showed off her calligraphy skills by penning lovely place cards, while Vera perfected the floral arrangements.

“The evening will start with the lobster bisque,” Delia said. “After that will come a nice baked brie pastry. Marianne, do you know if Colonel Phelps likes brie?”

“I have no idea,” she said while setting a butter knife alongside each bread plate.

“You need to learn the colonel’s preferences,” Delia said. “The key to a man’s heart is in fulfilling his culinary desires.”

The only man’s heart Marianne was interested in was Luke Delacroix’s, and since he’d spent the last five months eating controlled meals with the Poison Squad, he wasn’t too fussy. Everything about tonight’s meal seemed a little too elegant for her taste, and she envied Sam, who would be eating in the kitchen because tonight’s affair was for grown-ups only. These days, Sam preferred the company of the servants anyway. He was still cowed and sullen around Andrew because of what happened to Bandit, and Marianne suspected the damage from that spiteful act would haunt the boy for years.

The table was starting to look overstuffed with three glasses at each place, along with three different forks, two types of knives, and a bread plate. Then Delia stepped forward to add more, and Vera nearly exploded.

“Delia, I’ve already told you there is no room on the table for the individual saltcellars.”

Delia paid no mind as she set another tiny bowl beside a place setting. “But they’re so precious!” she defended. “All the best families use saltcellars instead of a shared saltshaker.”

Delia had brought the saltcellars all the way from Baltimore specifically for this dinner. Each miniature bowl was made of amethyst crystal cut to look like a thistle, and had a tiny silver spoon with a matching amethyst at the finial. Marianne couldn’t decide if they were charming or tacky.

Vera clearly thought they were tacky. “Once we have the floral arrangements on the table, there will be no room for saltcellars.”

Delia lifted her chin and began removing the crystal bowls. “What a shame this table is going to look very common for Colonel Phelps.”

Marianne continued setting out the butter knives and said nothing. She wished people would stop making such a production over Colonel Phelps, but what could she do?

By seven o’clock all the guests had gathered in the parlor for an aperitif. Andrew and Delia could both be counted on to comport themselves with ease, but old Jedidiah was always a question mark. Her grandfather had the intelligence to carry on a conversation with anyone, but some people were put off by his back-country accent and coarse sense of humor. The first thing her grandfather said to their guest of honor was to apologize for the way Marianne and Delia looked “so darn pooped.”

“The womenfolk spent all afternoon out in the backyard, skinning the coons I caught for supper,” he said in a teasing voice as he shook Colonel Phelps’s hand.

Delia froze in mortification, but Colonel Phelps took it in stride and knew exactly the right thing to say.

“I’d have come earlier if they needed any help,” he said with an engaging smile. “I did my fair share of hunting and skinning when I was out west with the cavalry.”

Jedidiah nodded in approval and launched into a discussion of army rations during the recent war. Marianne stood a few feet away, trying to see the army’s youngest colonel with new eyes. If she wasn’t already so dazzled by Luke, could she have been attracted to him? He had an easy manner with Jedidiah. After twenty minutes, Colonel Phelps had established a better rapport with the crusty old man than Delia had managed after twelve years of marriage.

At last it was time to proceed into dinner, and Colonel Phelps offered his arm to escort Marianne into the dining room. He murmured all the right compliments for her mother’s fine presentation and the elegance of the setting, but all Marianne could see were the amethyst saltcellars that had mysteriously reappeared beside each place setting.

Vera noticed too. She went white around the lips while trying to graciously accept Colonel Phelps’s compliments.

Why did Delia have to do that? This evening was already stressful enough for Vera without petty attempts to see who could outshine the other.

At least the presentation of the soup course and brie pastries went well. The main course of quail with truffles was next. Vera was explaining the process of making the truffles for the elegant dish when a disturbance sounded in the hall.

It sounded like two men were arguing. A man’s voice she didn’t recognize was angry and insistent, but his words were too muffled to understand. Their butler was just as adamant.

“Congressman Magruder is not at home to visitors,” the butler insisted.

Her gaze flew to her father, who looked annoyed as he set his linen napkin beside his plate. A frazzled maid hurried to her father’s side. “There’s a man at the front door. He’s very angry and pushed his way inside.”

“Who is it?” Clyde demanded.

The maid held up her hands. “I’ve never seen him before.”

Clyde rose just as the double doors to the dining room burst open. Good heavens! It was Gray Delacroix, his shirtsleeves rolled up and hair disheveled. The butler was right behind him, dragging on Mr. Delacroix’s arm to pull him back, but Gray shook him off and pointed an angry finger at her father.

“You’ve gone too far this time,” he snapped at Clyde. “I want you to drop the charges against my brother. He’s a journalist, not a spy.”

Marianne’s mouth dropped open. Had Luke gotten into trouble? Whatever happened must have been serious to send Gray into a temper like this.

Her father struggled to maintain a calm demeanor. “That’s for a court of law to decide.”

“So you admit that you’re behind this?” Gray demanded.

“I’m not admitting anything. Your brother has a bad habit of landing in jail, so it ought to be familiar territory for him.”

Marianne gasped and stood. “Luke is in jail? What happened?”

Clyde shot her a glare, and she dropped back into her seat. A glance around the table showed that nobody else noticed her slip of the tongue in using Luke’s Christian name. All the others were gaping at Gray, who stepped farther into the already overstuffed dining room to look directly at Jedidiah.

“Did you know anything about this? I always thought you had more sense than anyone else in this vulgar family.”

Jedidiah folded his arms across his chest and locked gazes with Gray. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, boy-o, but you’ve interrupted a fine meal and aren’t invited. Get out.”

Colonel Phelps stood. “You have been asked to leave,” he said. “I suggest that you do so.”

“Wait!” Marianne burst out, jumping back to her feet to stand beside Colonel Phelps. She couldn’t let Gray leave until she understood what was going on. “Don’t go yet. Please, tell us what’s happening.”

Colonel Phelps looked between her and Gray in indecision but made no further move to throw Gray out.

“My brother published an article critical of your father,” Gray said, struggling to speak in a rational tone. “Clyde ordered Luke arrested for it, and even now he’s sitting in the District of Columbia Jail. Are you telling me you don’t know anything about this?” he asked her.

Every eye in the dining room turned to stare at her. Her mouth went dry, and her heart thudded so hard that everyone could probably hear it. Jedidiah shifted in his chair to see her better, disbelief beginning to show on his aging face.

Fear paralyzed her as the implications sank in. This was about her photographs of the scientific reports. She’d given them to Luke, and he’d been jailed for it. Heat flooded her body, and a wave of dizziness came over her. It would kill her parents if she confessed to it. Jedidiah would hate her forever.

Ten feet away, Gray’s penetrating gaze demanded answers. A stronger woman would confess what she knew, but cowardice won out.

“I don’t know anything about this,” she whispered.

“But your father does.” Gray swiveled his attention to Clyde. “Surely you didn’t expect me to take this lying down. Not when you’ve thrown my brother in jail.”

“That’s exactly where he should be for spying on Congress,” Clyde said.

“It could have been anyone,” Gray said contemptuously. “Plenty of people knew about those studies, and any one of them could have sounded the alarm. One of the scientists who didn’t like seeing his research buried could have done it. A lab assistant from the study. Someone from your own company.” He paused. “Or your own family.”

Gray didn’t look at her, but that comment was aimed at her. He knew, or at least suspected. She held her breath, but Clyde didn’t catch the inference.

“Who else has a history of publishing articles in Modern Century but your brother?” Clyde scoffed. “He’s the guilty party, and he’s exactly where he deserves to be.”

Gray’s eyes gleamed in carefully restrained anger. “People have been locking up journalists ever since the printing press was invented. You don’t have to like what he wrote, but fight it out in the court of public opinion. Throw open your books and let the public see, if you have nothing to hide. But if you fight dirty, I’ll fight back. I’ll hire an army of lawyers to unleash a storm of litigation unlike anything you’ve ever seen. You think I’ve stoked up negative press in the past? Just wait. This is a First Amendment issue, which means every journalist in the country will be on my side, and they will rip your reputation from sea to shining sea. I will fight for my brother with everything I have. If you want a war, you’ll get one.”

Gray turned on his heel and left the dining room but yelled a parting shot over his shoulder. “From sea to shining sea, Magruder!”

Andrew’s temper unleashed the moment Gray was gone. “The gall of that man!”

The strength in Marianne’s legs drained, and she dropped back into her chair. Andrew and her grandfather both gave free vent to their outrage, but Clyde tried to pass off the intrusion as a run-of-the-mill commotion.

“The life of a congressman,” he said in a lighthearted tone, even though his knuckles were white as he gripped the armrest of his chair. “Come, we mustn’t let this kerfuffle spoil our fine dinner. The quail is getting cold.”

An awkward silence descended as people picked up silverware to begin eating. Delia filled the void, chattering about the origin of her amethyst saltcellars. Colonel Phelps gamely followed her lead, commenting on the fine cut of the leaded glass.

It was impossible for Marianne to participate in the conversation. Guilt warred with shame. Luke had shown her the article he wrote for Modern Century, and she approved of it. How could she not? She had seen exactly what those chemicals did to men in the poison study, and Luke’s article blamed the congressional committee for stifling the studies, not her father. The world needed more such research, and it was wrong to hide those studies.

It was her fault Luke was in jail, and she didn’t even have the mettle to stand by him and admit what she’d done. Luke was probably climbing the walls of his jail cell while she dined on quail.

At the far end of the table, Vera scrutinized her, and Marianne forced herself to take a tiny bite of quail. It tasted like ashes and landed in her stomach like a lead weight. She set down her fork.

“Marianne, everything is all right, isn’t it?” her mother asked. A hint of iron underlay Vera’s words. It was a command as much as a question.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she confirmed.

But Luke wasn’t fine. He was living out his worst nightmare, and it was all her fault.

It was nine o’clock before Colonel Phelps took his leave. Vera retreated to bed, complaining of a migraine brought on by the stress, but Marianne helped the maids clear and tidy the dining room. It would settle her restless nerves, but nothing could ease the indecision that battled in her mind.

One thing Gray said haunted her. I will fight for my brother with everything I have, he’d vowed. He said it with strength, confidence, and conviction.

And when Marianne had the opportunity to be equally brave, she’d cowardly denied all knowledge of what had happened. Shame weighed heavily as she gathered the linen cloth from the table to carry outside for a good shaking. As she passed the closed door of Clyde’s study, she overheard him talking with Andrew and Jedidiah inside and cocked her ear to listen. Andrew was adamant that they had every right to press charges against whoever revealed the contents of those studies, but Jedidiah worried it would only direct more attention toward something they wanted hidden.

“Grandpa, stop panicking about things that haven’t happened yet,” Andrew said.

His condescending tone didn’t go over well with Jedidiah. “I may be old, but I know how the world works, boy.”

“I have the matter well in hand,” Clyde said, his voice silky with confidence.

It made her afraid. Luke couldn’t even tolerate being in a darkroom for an hour to develop film, but he’d been trapped in a jail cell all day. Given the confidence in her father’s tone, it sounded like Luke’s stint in jail could grow into weeks or months. Years.

She drew a calming breath and headed to the small, brick-lined garden behind the town house to shake out the tablecloth. Humid night air surrounded her as the chirp of crickets sounded in the distance.

She hadn’t comported herself with honor tonight, but she could still try to get Luke out. Jedidiah was right. In making a federal case out of this, the Magruders would draw attention to everything they wanted hidden. Perhaps she could make her father see reason without destroying herself in the process.

She stepped back inside the town house and draped the tablecloth over the railing to be folded later, then knocked on the door of her father’s study.

“Come in,” Clyde said.

A wall of cigar smoke enveloped her the moment she entered.

“Yes, Marianne, what is it you need?” Clyde asked. She was clearly interrupting their meeting, and he probably thought she was here for nothing more consequential than asking what he wanted for breakfast in the morning. She wished that was the case.

“I think Grandpa is right about this,” she said, not even bothering to disguise the fact that she’d been eavesdropping. “Why can’t we ignore the article in Modern Century and hope it doesn’t cause any waves?”

“I don’t ignore it when spies rummage through my business affairs.”

“Your affairs, or Congress’s? I gather Mr. Delacroix was charged with spying on Congress, not you or Magruder Food.”

“Why do you care?” Andrew challenged.

“He saved Bandit. He can’t be all bad.”

“A dog?” Andrew scoffed. “Let me be sure I understand your position, Marianne. You would rather be loyal to a Delacroix and a dog over your own family. Your family. Have I got that right?”

Bandit was dead because of Andrew, and now he had the gall to look at her as though she were the contemptible one. She met his eyes squarely. “One man risked his life to save a stranger’s dog, and another shot that same dog in an angry fit. Who is the more worthy man?”

Splotches of anger appeared on Andrew’s face, but before he could say anything, Jedidiah intervened.

“Be careful, girl,” Jedidiah said. “You’re walking a fine line and need to think carefully before saying more.”

He was right. She could confess everything right now, but it wouldn’t unlock the prison doors for Luke. She swallowed back her anger as she looked at Andrew.

“As always, you are a model of wisdom and compassion,” she said, not bothering to mask the disdain in her voice.

Frustration and shame roiled inside her as she headed upstairs. She couldn’t help Luke if Clyde ordered her to Baltimore or if they cut her out of the family completely. They did it to Aunt Stella, and they could do it to her. They angered, frustrated, and exasperated her . . . but she loved them and always would.

And tomorrow she would start working to get Luke out.