rich vein of gold. No one had gotten beyond the shock of hearing their beloved Charles was probably dead.
“I just can’t believe he’s gone,” Millicent finally said. Usually Letty’s younger sister provided high-spirited chatter throughout the meal. Tonight, eyes red from crying, she’d hardly spoken.
Letty’s heart went out to her little brother, who sat in disconsolate silence, not even pretending to eat. When given the awful news, he’d bravely fought back his tears. After Charles left, he’d done his best to be the man of the family, and that meant he wasn’t going to cry. But inside, his ten-year-old heart must be broken. William idolized his older brother, wanted to be like him in every way.
At last, Mother, her face pale and strained, laid her fork down and pushed her plate away. “I can’t eat.” Tears filled her eyes. “I feel so helpless. Why aren’t we doing something?”
Letty could only nod in agreement. “What can we do when it all happened so far away?”
“How can we know he’s dead?” Millicent cried. “Who is this Garth Morgan? If he’s such a good friend, why didn’t he come here himself today? Why did he send an employee to give us the news?”
William nodded vigorously. “Where’s the gold Charles wrote that he sent? Didn’t his letter say Garth Morgan was going to bring it?”
Letty bit her lip. “What can I tell you? I’m as shocked by all this as you are. I don’t know the answer to any of your questions.”
Mother spoke up. “Letty, you saw the letter. Charles had just found that new vein of gold. He sounded happy and confident. Now, out of the blue, someone comes to our house and tells us he’s dead? Something’s wrong. I don’t believe him.”
“I don’t believe him either,” William declared with indignation. “Maybe Garth Morgan is a crook. Maybe he kept the gold for himself.”
Letty heaved a frustrated sigh. “We mustn’t jump to conclusions. Perhaps there’s a logical explanation.”
Mother drew herself up. “I shall pay a visit to this Garth Morgan. Surely he can tell us more about Charles’s disappearance. I’ll ask him to explain why he didn’t give us the gold Charles sent.”
“You can’t do that,” Letty said in dismay.
“And why not?”
“Because…” So many reasons.
No sweeter woman on earth existed than Mother. She saw only the good in people, never the bad, and the family had always gone out of their way to shelter her from life’s harsh realities. The well-ordered world of Margaret Tinsley consisted of warm family gatherings, tea with her genteel friends, church on Sunday, Bible study on Wednesday, and collecting food baskets for the poor. Boston’s grittier side—the murder, mayhem, and corruption side—was simply never discussed in her presence. Letty looked her mother in the eye. “I’m the one who will go see Garth Morgan, not you.”
“Are you sure?”
Letty heard the relief in her mother’s voice. “I’m positive. If Garth Morgan was such a good friend of Charles, he should be delighted to see me.”
“What if he’s not delighted?” Millicent asked. “You know how snobbish those Brahmins on the hill are. They think their piles of money make them better than the rest of us. Won’t you be nervous going all by yourself? Do you want me to come along?”
Letty lifted her chin. “That won’t be necessary. I can handle the likes of Mr. Garth Morgan. I don’t care where he lives or how much money he has.” She sounded bolder than she felt. After all, she, too, had led a life almost as sheltered as her mother’s. The thought of intruding into the home of one of Boston’s wealthiest, most prestigious families, filled her with uneasiness. She had to do it, though. For Charles’s sake, for the family’s sake, she had every right to face Garth Morgan and demand the truth.
Next morning, except for Molly and Elfreda, Letty was the first one up. She had plenty of time to get ready for her visit to the Morgans, since, after a family discussion last night, they had determined Letty shouldn’t pay her visit to the Morgan residence until the afternoon. “During proper visiting hours,” Letty insisted.
Millicent had asked, “Must you always do what’s proper?” She often scoffed at her sister’s penchant for doing everything according to the rules.
As usual, Letty insisted upon adhering to the correct visiting hours. Like her mother, she’d always been a creature of habit who found comfort in following society’s strict guidelines regarding proper etiquette.
In the dining room, Letty caught sight of the table and frowned with disapproval. Yet again, Elfreda hadn’t set the table correctly. How many times had she instructed their cook that the knife blade should be placed toward the plate?
She was turning the knives inward when Millicent walked in, saw what her sister was doing, and commented, “I see Elfreda has messed up again.”
Letty threw her an acknowledging smile but continued rearranging the knives. “I know you think I’m picky, but there’s a right way and a wrong way.”
“Far be it from me to interfere.” Millicent slid into her place at the table and sighed. “At least Elfreda’s a good cook. That helps, considering we can never get rid of her.”
Letty recalled the day, eight years ago, when her father brought Elfreda home and announced she was here to stay. A fervent abolitionist until the day he died, he was an active participant in the Underground Railroad, helping slaves escape their southern masters into the free state of Massachusetts. “This is Elfreda,” he’d said. “She’ll be staying with us as long as she wants.”
The woman he brought home was of indeterminate age, maybe her forties. She had a sturdy build, scowling face, and skin as black as black could be. She never changed her clothing style, always a long cotton, high-neck gown covered by an apron and her hair covered by a bright colored turban. The family had welcomed her with open arms. Although she worked hard and did as she was told, she stayed aloof, never smiled, and to this day kept to herself.
“Why isn’t she more friendly?” Letty once asked her father. “Must she always have that frown on her face?”
“Perhaps you’d frown, too, if you’d been stolen from your village and forced into slavery,” he’d replied. “Imagine not having your freedom, forced to do your master’s bidding, and if you ran away you could be brought back in chains.”
Letty never forgot her father’s words. She was always nice to Elfreda, despite her sullen attitude.
“So what will you wear for you visit?” Millicent asked.
Letty finished rearranging the knives and sat at the table. “The blue silk, I think, the one with the puffy sleeves, and my burgundy satin bonnet with the big bow.”
“Have you figured out what you’re going to say?”
Millicent’s question caused a heaviness in Letty’s heart. She’d hardly slept last night for mulling over how best to approach the formidable Garth Morgan. “I shall be polite but firm. If he’s evasive, I shall produce Charles’s letter and demand he explain what happened to the gold shipment.”
“Will
