The Engineered Engagement Page 3

  “I know. Didn’t they give you any warning at all?”

  “None. I nearly fainted. How could they do this to me?” Clarice dragged her hands down her face. Her black hair hung in twin braids on her shoulders.

  Josie hadn’t bothered to braid her hair for the night, too mixed up in her emotions for such a mundane task. Evidently not even a cataclysmic shock could keep Clarice from her evening routine.

  “What are you going to do?” The question had burned in Josie’s mind for hours.

  “What can I do?” Clarice’s brow wrinkled. “I don’t see that I have a choice in the matter.”

  Josie shrugged. It was an impossible situation. A formal engagement had been announced in front of nearly a hundred witnesses. Mama and Papa were thrilled with the match. And what Mama and Papa wanted, Mama and Papa got. Clarice was right. She had no choice.

  “This is terrible.” A tear slipped down Clarice’s cheek.

  Josie watched it glisten in the light of the bedside lamp, and her own eyes filled. She blinked hard, hating to cry even worse than Antoinette did.

  Clarice’s shoulders shook. “I don’t love him.”

  “Of course you don’t. You barely know him.” Josie no sooner said the words than she had to chide herself. You barely know him either, and you’ve been in love with him for more than three years.

  “You don’t understand. I love someone else.” The words seemed wrung from Clarice. She put her forehead down on her knees.

  Josie blinked. The self-contained and ultra-private Clarice in love? “Who?” Josie leaned forward.

  Clarice shook her head, either unable to tell or unwilling. Her muffled sobs continued.

  Josie sat back against the pillows and stared at the organza curtains of the canopy bed. What a mess. Clarice engaged to the man Josie wanted. . .and in love with someone else altogether.

  ❧

  As family dinners went, Eli had to judge theirs less than a success. His anger carried him through the first two courses, and Grandfather thrashed him verbally until he was goaded into responding in kind.

  Melissa finally laid down her fork and leveled them both with a glare that reminded him of Grandmother back when Eli was a young boy. “Enough, both of you. Grandfather, I thought you’d finally learned your lesson about these engagements, but I see you need another dose of humility. Be careful the Lord doesn’t teach it to you. And, Eli, stop saying such terrible things you’ll regret. Nothing will be settled tonight. Either finish your supper in peace, or leave the table so Jonathan and I can.”

  The anger simmering in Jonathan’s eyes at them for upsetting Melissa in her delicate condition drove Eli from the table like a naughty child. Good thing after all that wedding food he wasn’t very hungry anyway.

  Eli entered his workroom and paused to let the familiarity of his sanctuary sink in. He leaned against the door and crossed his arms, his eyes taking in the familiar drafting table, bookcases, and shabby, overstuffed chair by the small fireplace. The eaves sloped down on two sides, but the wide window permitted sunlight to fall across the desk for most of the day. Though darkness had fallen hours ago, he still sought his attic workroom as a safe port in the storm.

  McKay must’ve anticipated his need. The lamp on the mantel flickered and a pot of coffee sat on the table beside the chair. That man had an uncanny ability to serve that amazed and humbled Eli.

  Eli dropped into the chair, allowing its familiar comfort to soothe the tense muscles in his neck, and poured himself a cup. He drew the warm fragrance deep into his lungs and tried to relax. He hadn’t been able to think clearly since Grandfather had dropped the cat amongst the pigeons at the reception. Always a deliberate thinker, Eli needed quiet and time to process what had transpired and what he was prepared to do about it. He should’ve anticipated this move from Grandfather—making the engagement public so no one could back out. The old man had pulled it on both Eli’s older brothers to varying degrees.

  The door creaked open, and Geoffrey’s head came around the edge. “Eli?”

  “Come in.” Eli made to stand.

  Geoff motioned him back. “McKay told me you’d be up here.” He stepped into the room and looked around. “Nice bolt-hole you’ve got. Wish I had someplace like it.”

  Eli put down his coffee cup and gathered up the books and papers littering the footstool. It was the only other place to sit, since Eli always stood to work at the drafting table.

  McKay tapped on the door and entered with a small tray holding another coffee cup.

  Again Eli was amazed at the man’s ability to do the right thing at the right time. “Thank you, McKay.”

  Geoff waited until the butler had closed the door before he looked at Eli. “Wanted to see how you were holding up after such a big day.” He blew across his coffee cup and took a sip.

  Eli shrugged. “He ambushed me.”

  “He ambushed all of us—again.”

  “Humph. I told Grandfather I’d think about it. Think about it. I didn’t know today was the day. And I have the distinct feeling that the girl didn’t know it either. She turned to a pillar of salt when they trotted out their announcement.” Eli shifted in his chair, remembering her ghost-like pallor and trembling hands. “Either it was a tremendous shock to her or distinctly unflattering toward me as a prospective husband.” He tried to raise a smile from Geoff, but the lawyer’s expression didn’t change.

  “What do you think of her?”

  “What’s to think?” Eli spread his hands wide in a helpless gesture. “I don’t know her. I’ve barely spoken to her. I shared more words with her younger sister today than with Clarice herself.”

  “Will you go through with it?” Geoff leaned forward, elbows on knees, his stare boring into Eli.

  “I hardly know where I am at the moment. The engagement has been announced. Now I know just how my brothers felt when Grandfather pulled this stunt on them. And I’m just as trussed up. If I back out now, not only will the girl’s reputation be called into question, but I’ll lose—” He hesitated, not wanting Geoffrey to know he’d been contemplating exchanging matrimony for a chance to fulfill his dreams. What had he been thinking to let Grandfather maneuver him into this corner? One moment of weakness, and the old man had pounced.

  “You’ll lose what?”

  “My self-respect,” he substituted lamely. “When a Kennebrae gives his word, he keeps it.” The irony of using Grandfather’s own words stung him enough to make him laugh bitterly.

  Again, Geoffrey didn’t share the humor.

  “Let’s talk about something else.”

  “What? What else is there?” Geoff’s coffee cup hit the table hard enough to slosh some of the liquid out over the rim.

  “Let’s talk about my ship.” Eli shoved aside thoughts of matrimony and machinations in favor of metal and machinery, an infinitely more interesting and safer subject to consider. “I have the preliminary drawings done and the go-ahead to start the work, but I’m having trouble with some of the calculations.” He rose and picked up his latest sketches. “I’m no mathematical genius. I can do the basic stuff, but I need some help with calculating the stress on these beams here and just how much I’ll need to reinforce the hull here and here to compensate for the removal of this angle support and this one.” He pointed to the cross-section of the hull. “And I’ll need to recalculate the other measurements, now that I have an actual ship to use.”

  Geoffrey joined him at the table but hardly seemed to be listening. A muscle flexed in his jaw, and his hand gripped the edge of the drawing.

  Eli sorted through the chart rack beside the drawing table. “I’ve studied her blueprints a little bit, just based on the repairs I knew were underway, but I haven’t fit my ideas to her quite yet.” He tugged out the drawings of the Bethany and unrolled them. “I’d sure like to find someone to go over the calculations for me. I need someone who can keep his mouth shut. My design is going to revolutionize lumber shipping, and I want to keep it quiet until I l
aunch the ship.” His mind skipped ahead to that glorious day when the ship would come off the ways and he would make his mark on the shipping industry. And he would become a valuable member of Kennebrae Shipping at last. “Keep your ear open for me. If you come across someone you think could help, let me know.” He rolled out another schematic. “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s monstrous.” The words shot out of Geoffrey’s mouth like bullets from a gun.

  “What?” Eli’s head came up.

  “What you Kennebraes do to people. You treat folks like pawns, pushing them here and there, making them do things they don’t want to do, just to get yourself ahead. I know it’s worked out for Jonathan and Noah, but what happened today—” Geoffrey broke off. “I’m sorry.” His lips were so stiff, Eli could barely understand him. “I’ve said too much.” He blew out a breath, his shoulders sagging. “I know today wasn’t your doing. It was your grandfather, as it usually is. You know, when it happened to Jonathan, I thought it was funny. Even when Noah got led a merry chase by Annie, I thought it a lark. But today, I suddenly had it to the back teeth. People shouldn’t be treated this way.”

  Eli turned around and leaned against the table, crossing his arms on his chest. “I know. I just don’t know how to change things.”

  Geoffrey had never spoken so vehemently about anything not business related. In the boardroom or the courtroom, Geoff was a tiger, fighting on behalf of his client for all he was worth, but anywhere else, he was as easygoing a man as one could find anywhere. To see him so upset drove home what an impossible situation Eli was in.

  Geoff smacked Eli on the back, an apologetic look lingering in his expression. “I’d better go before I jeopardize my job as legal counsel to the Kennebraes.”

  “Like that could ever happen.” The idea made Eli smile. “You’re the only one who gets along with all of us at the same time. Grandfather will never let you go. In fact, if you’re not careful, he might find a bride for you, too.”

  Four

  “Sit up straight, Josephine. You look like a wilting vine.” Mama tapped her palm with her closed fan. “Proper young ladies must have impeccable posture at all times.” She snapped the fan open and fluttered it below her chin. “Once more, if you please, from the beginning.”

  Josie sighed and straightened her spine. Listening to an instrument or singer was pleasant but having to play as her sisters performed chafed. She liked music theory well enough but couldn’t carry a tune in a valise with the clasp padlocked. Her mother had relegated her to playing the piano while her sisters sang.

  She cast a longing glance through the music room window toward the lake then turned her attention back to the lesson. Antoinette’s sweet soprano held a note, while Giselle’s little girl voice chimed in. Though Josie cocked her ear ever so slightly toward Clarice, she couldn’t hear any of the song from that direction. Clarice hadn’t said a word this morning about the engagement. Her already pale skin looked even whiter, and her eyes showed the strain of sleeplessness.

  “That’s fine, ladies. You may go now.” Mama levered herself to her feet when the song finally ended. “Clarice and Josephine, I’d like you to stay. We have further lessons to accomplish today.”

  Josie tucked her lips in and stifled another sigh. These infernal daily etiquette lessons would send her mad before too long. She spun on the piano stool and put her feet side by side under her hem.

  Clarice sat on the chaise, not allowing her back to touch the puffy, beribboned pillows leaning along the wall behind her. Her hands lay in her lap, and her downcast lashes hid her expression. All she would tell Josie about the man she loved was that she had met him at the Lyceum and they had arranged to meet there several times through the opera season. No one in the Zahn household liked opera save for Clarice, but because Mama thought it a status symbol, she’d allowed Clarice to attend through the winter in the company of several girls from her class. Now Clarice’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

  Josie frowned. If it was her, she’d fight. She’d stand up to Mama and Papa. No way would she allow them to push her into a marriage.

  “Just a few things I wanted to go over.” Mama lifted a book from the table beside the door. Her movement set the bead fringe around the lampshade swinging. “Clarice, you’re an engaged woman now.”

  Clarice flinched, and Josie tried to ignore the pain that jabbed just under her heart at Mama’s words.

  Mama continued. “You’ll be inundated with callers and opportunities to attend social functions. We shan’t give anyone reason to cavil at our social skills. That’s why we’re going to study each and every chapter of Mrs. Catherine Morris’s Proper Etiquette for All Occasions.” Mama tapped the book in her lap.

  Josie put her elbows on her knees and propped her chin in her hands. “Why do I have to be here? I’m not engaged.”

  “For the tenth time, sit up straight. I despair of you, child. And keep your chin level with the floor. You will be accompanying your sister on many of her outings, especially those Eli Kennebrae cannot attend, or to ladies’ only events like teas and the garden club. It wouldn’t do for Clarice to attend alone, nor should she attend with only her mother as company. Besides, this will make an excellent entrance for you into societal circles we’ve only just begun to crack. We may well find a suitable match for you as a result.”

  “So I’m to be part of Clarice’s entourage so you can trot me out to potential buyers?” Outrage flowed through Josie’s limbs. She had no trouble straightening her back or keeping her chin level with the floor.

  “Modulate your voice. You know full well Mrs. Morris insists a lady must always keep her tone civil and her words sweet.”

  Josie bit the inside of her cheek to keep from pointing out that Mama’s own voice was less than civil or sweet at the moment.

  Grandma Bess entered the room, her footsteps slow, leaning heavily on her cane. Her black bag thumped against her side. “Octavia, I hope you don’t mind if I take a chair in here. I was out on the veranda, but the breeze became too strong.”

  Mama smiled, but tight lines formed at the corners of her mouth. “Of course I don’t mind, Mother Zahn.” The lines deepened when Grandma took the chair between Mama and Clarice and dug in her bag until she found her latest periodical.

  “A new magazine arrived in the post today. I just have to find out what happened to the countess. She was in a dreadful bind when the story left off last month.”

  Josie craned her neck to see the cover picture. Ainslee’s, Atlantic Monthly, The Monthly Story Magazine, Saturday Evening Post, Grandma subscribed to them all, and several more. Much to Mama’s despair, Grandma insisted on speaking of the “lurid characters,” as Mama called them, in the serial stories as if they were real people.

  “Clarice, I’ve had new calling cards printed for you. They should arrive this afternoon. Also, we need to make plans for your trousseau. Evening wear and tea gowns first. Then sporting costumes, day dresses, and undergarments.”

  Clarice, who adored new clothes, only nodded.

  Josie let her mind drift from the conversation to a particularly stubborn geometry problem she’d encountered in one of her books. Perhaps she was approaching it wrong. She often found if she backed off a problem and started from another angle, the solution would come to her. If only real life were as organized and simple as mathematics. If only she had her tutor to talk to. But he’d moved to Detroit when Papa fired him. Poor Mr. Clement.

  Mother leaned over and rapped Josie on the knee with her fan. “Josephine, stop wool-gathering. If you don’t learn these rules, you’ll perform a frightful gaffe in front of the wrong people, and that will be the end of your hopes of a fine match. Why must you always daydream when important matters are being discussed?”

  “Important to you maybe,” Josie muttered under her breath.

  “Josephine!” Mama reared back and glared. “That will be quite enough from you. You are excused. If you wind up an old maid because no one will marry such an u
ncivilized, disobedient horror, don’t blame me.”

  Heat suffused Josie’s cheeks. She knew better than to talk back to Mama, and yet she did it time and again. She caught Grandma’s eye.

  Grandma gave her a slow, deliberate wink then buried her nose in her magazine again.

  Josie rose, nodded to Mama, and escaped to the library.

  ❧

  Late afternoon sun fell across the book in Josie’s lap. She sat curled in a wide wingback chair, her geometry book and tablet in her lap, feet tucked under her hem. The library was the one place in the house where she could almost always be alone. The little girls felt at liberty to wander—or run—in and out of her room all day for the slightest reason. But the dark, quiet, scholarly atmosphere of Papa’s library held no appeal for them.

  She really should formulate her apology to Mama for talking back, but it was so hard to drum up the proper humility. Mama could exasperate Josie so quickly. Sometimes Josie wondered if she had been dropped into the wrong family by mistake. She might look like her siblings, but often she felt a stranger in their midst. Only Grandma Bess really seemed to understand her or see her as an individual. But that was probably only because they were both so often in trouble with Mama.

  The library door opened behind her, rubbing on the Aubusson rug Mama was so proud of. Josie froze, hoping whoever it was would go away. Nobody could see her from the door, hidden as she was by the high back of the chair, and, if she stayed quiet, would probably leave.

  “No one will see us in here. It’s the one place we can be alone.” Clarice. Who would she be bringing to the library?

  “Are you sure? I’d be hard-pressed to explain my presence if we’re discovered.”

  Josie’s mouth dropped open. A man’s voice. Her fingers curled around the edge of her book. Curiosity feathered up her arms.

  “No one but Josie ever comes in here. I don’t know why Papa even put a library in the house, except it’s expected for rich men to have one. I’ve never seen him crack a book.”