if he refuses to answer? Gets mad and tells you to leave?”
Letty had considered that very possibility. “Then I shall leave, of course, but I won’t give up.”
“Really? What else can you do?”
“I can handle the likes of Mr. Garth Morgan. He won’t get the best of me, I assure you.”
Chapter 4
In the library of his home on Beacon Hill, Garth sat behind the ornate mahogany desk and nodded with satisfaction. His business here was finished, altogether a successful trip. Gold shipment safe in the bank, investments in excellent shape, and Mother appeased and relatively content, despite his lack of interest in the empty-headed Miss Becket. Mathew had just completed arrangements for their return by ship to California. Those treacherous sixty miles across the Isthmus of Panama were nothing to look forward to but by far the shortest route and well worth the risk. At least they would set sail in the new steamship, Mirabello. With its new, double paddlewheels, they’d get to Chagres, Panama, in no time. According to what he’d heard, the Mirabello had one hundred thirty first-class, luxury cabins. Thank God, Mathew had managed to book Honoria’s cabin at one end of the deck, and he as far away as possible at the other. He’d made sure Mathew was booked in a quite respectable cabin in second class. No one could say he didn’t treat his employees well. Not so Honoria, who treated her maid like dirt and had booked the poor creature into the horrors of steerage.
A quick knock on the library door interrupted his musings. A maid poked her head in. “There’s a lady to see you, Mr. Morgan, Miss Leticia Tinsley. She said to tell you she’s Charles Tinsley’s sister.”
Charles. Ever since he arrived, he’d intended to visit his friend’s family but had been so busy he hadn’t found time. Now he heartily wished he had done so. No excuse, he should have made the time. “Please show her in.” He stood and waited.
Leticia. Charles called her Letty. He’d always spoken of his younger sister in the most glowing terms.
A fairly tall young woman with a graceful walk entered the library. She moved toward him with ease, not the least unsure of herself, as if she’d been here before. He wasn’t up on lady’s fashions but suspected her blue silk dress with the bell-shaped skirt would meet the criteria for Boston’s latest styles. Nice, how the small buttons down the bodice curved a beguiling path over her full bosom, ending at her tiny waist. Except for the blonde ringlets that circled her face, he couldn’t see much of her hair hidden beneath her bonnet. Charles hadn’t exaggerated when he said his sister was pretty. Wide-set gray eyes…small up-tilted nose…full red lips.
“Miss Tinsley.” He came around the desk and extended his hand. “How nice to meet you in person. Charles often spoke of you. I’ve been meaning to come visit and extend my condolences for your tragic loss.” That didn’t sound right. Too stiff and formal, and didn’t begin to convey how truly sorry he was about Charles.
“Mr. Morgan.” She had a cautious look in her eye as her small, gloved hand disappeared into his large one. “My brother referred to you as his good friend. When I heard from your employee, Mr. Hastings, that Charles had disappeared, I…” Her voice broke. She could not go on.
Damn. Why had he not paid that visit? “Please do sit down.”
He took her elbow and guided her to one of Mother’s prized Italian giltwood armchairs. She looked pale. No tears, but plain to see she was fighting to compose herself.
“Can I offer you some tea? A bit of brandy perhaps?”
“No, thank you.” She sat down and laid her beaded reticule carefully beside her. Fluttering incredibly long, dark lashes, she looked him in the eye. “I came here because I wanted to hear about Charles.” With her spine arrow-straight and shoulders stiff, she sat coolly waiting for his reply.
“But of course.” He sat in the matching chair that faced her. “I’m so sorry about your brother. He was a good friend. I admired him tremendously.” He hoped she understood how truly he meant his words.
She nodded, but didn’t smile. “How long had you known Charles?”
“Since shortly after he arrived in Empire. Did he ever mention me in his letters?”
“Only briefly.”
“I own the Alhambra Hotel in Empire.” He left out the “Saloon” part. Boston ladies were inclined to believe anyone connected with drinking and gambling was going straight to hell, and that included Mother. “Charles came in one day, and we got to talking. I was immediately impressed with his knowledge of flora and fauna along with just about everything else. After that, he stopped by often and we talked of many things. I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed our conversations. Charles was both witty and wise.”
“Was,” she repeated, her eyes growing damp.
For a moment, he thought she might break down, but she drew a swift breath, blinked back the tears, and continued on.
“Even though we—my family and I—hadn’t heard from him for a while, we assumed he was doing well. And then… We were all so shocked. Mr. Hastings told us what happened, but I’d be grateful if you could fill me in on more of the details.”
“But of course, Miss Tinsley. I’m happy to oblige.” He earnestly bent forward, clasping his hands between his knees. “Here’s what happened…”
As best he could, he described Charles’s excitement when he discovered that rich vein of gold and called it Golden Hill. “By then he’d moved from his boarding house and was living in a tent on his claim. He got to storing bags of gold in his tent, even though I warned him how foolish that was. Finally, I persuaded him to store the gold in my safe. I implored him to leave the tent and move back to town. I don’t know how many times I warned him of the dangers of living not only alone but without a weapon of any kind. Sheer insanity, but he wouldn’t listen.”
She nodded with understanding. “He could be quite stubborn.”
“Indeed, he could. He liked living alone among—how did he put it?—the beauties of nature. Trees, animals, and all that. When he wasn’t working, he painted the most fantastic sketches of birds. He gave me several that I treasure.”
At his praise of her brother, her shoulders lost a bit of their stiffness. Her eyes lit. “Charles was extremely talented.”
“Yes, he was. I can only wish he hadn’t been so trusting. I’ll never know for sure what happened, but I suspect he was keeping bags of gold in his tent even though he knew how dangerous it was. When he hadn’t come to town for a while, Mathew and I went to investigate. You know the rest. We looked everywhere, I can assure you. He had simply disappeared without a trace. There was only one conclusion we could come to, and that’s as my employee told you.”
For a time, she sat silent, as if she had something to say and wasn’t sure she should say it. At last, she cocked her head to one side and nailed him with a sharp, assessing gaze. “Is that all you have to say, Mr. Morgan?”
He was so taken aback that for a moment he couldn’t think what to answer. “Why, yes, Miss Tinsley, I believe so. What did you—?”
“I have a question for you.” She reached for her reticule, pulled out some folded pages, and held them up.
