36. Thirty-Six
What was he missing? Daniel stood in the hidden room concealed behind the shelf in his grandfather’s office, sunlight illuminating dust motes in beams of light. Despite all that had happened and what they’d discovered about the criminal dealings his family had become entangled with, he couldn’t shake feeling there had to be more to this hidden room. It must have existed long before his grandfather got involved with Durkin.
While he searched the space again, Camilla combed through Grandfather’s office. They’d been at it most of the morning without any luck. Still, his intuition insisted a piece of this puzzle had yet to be uncovered.
He tapped his toe on the floor. He simply had to be missing something…
Wait.
Why did the floor sound…hollow? His pulse quickened. “Camilla!”
She popped her head through the door, Grandfather’s journal splayed open in her palms. “Find something?”
He tapped his foot harder on the place in the center of the room. Then did the same at the edge before repeating the stomp at the middle. “Does that sound different to you?”
Her arched brows dove toward her nose. Her cheeks still bore thin scratches from her ordeal, but her spirits had brightened in the days since.
She flashed a grin. “Hidden trapdoor inside a secret room?”
“Grab me something to pry up the carpet.”
Camilla fished around in her pocket and then flipped open a six-inch blade.
What in the heavens? His lips parted, but no words escaped. Where had she gotten that?
“What?” She wiggled the silver metal. “A gift from Finn. He said a gal should always be prepared for nefarious bootleggers and the like.”
Despite the humor in her tone, he hated that such thoughts haunted her. He’d do everything in his power to ensure she felt safe from now on. He took the blade without comment and crouched on the floor. He inserted the tip beneath the carpet edge and twisted. The weave lifted without much trouble, and after scooting and repositioning, he rolled up the square of old carpeting and passed it to Camilla. She tossed it behind her with an unceremonious thud.
They stared down at the door set into the floorboards, nearly unnoticeable except for a tarnished loop of metal flush with the wood grain.
Camilla bounced on her toes. “Open it!”
His fingers looped around the cold iron, and he tugged. With a groan, the boards parted, revealing a depression about the size of a hatbox.
His heart sank. So much for opening a chest full of gold.
“What’s in there?” Camilla dropped to her knees and peered inside. “Is that a book?”
Daniel reached inside and pulled out a leather-bound volume coated in dust. He handed it over to Camilla so she could take it into the better lighting of the study while he felt around for anything else in the compartment.
His fingers brushed a small box wedged near the corner, and his nerves skittered. A jewelry box? He set it by his knees and explored every inch of the interior but discovered nothing else. He secured the box under his arm and pushed to his feet.
Camilla stood near the window, tilting the opened book to the light. Eyes glimmering, she glanced at him as he emerged from the secret closet. “It’s a diary. I think it might be Dorothy’s.”
“Might be.” He held up the jewelry box. “This was in there too.”
She plunked the book on Grandfather’s desk. “Well, what are you waiting for? Open it!”
He scooted past her and set the box on the writing surface so they could both see. Roughly four inches by six, the finely crafted container showcased inlaid dark wood set against a lighter oak. Centered on the lid, a detailed magnolia made of mother-of-pearl caught the light. Daniel released a delicate latch and creaked the lid against protesting hinges.
“Ohhh.” Camilla leaned closer.
Inside, a collection of tarnished jewelry sparkled in the light. He let out a low whistle. “She must have hidden all her valuables to keep them from being commandeered by soldiers.”
Camilla plucked a large emerald ring from the velvet lining. “Then why leave them hidden after the war ended?”
“Remember when she told her husband the rebel soldiers had stolen everything? Maybe she meant to take her jewels with her when she eloped with her lover but then that never happened.”
Camilla slipped the ring on her finger and wiggled it to catch the facets on fire in the sunlight. “But she never did, and her husband eventually died. I’d have taken these back out and worn them.”
Whatever the reason, quite a few valuable pieces were in here. A pearl necklace, several brooches crusted in various jewels, and at least a half dozen rings. One, in particular, caught his eye, and he swiped the golden band from the box and slipped it into his pocket while Camilla examined a brooch shaped like a bee with black and yellow gems.
He fingered the little band wrapped in watery blue aquamarine and diamonds. Would it fit her? He could take it to a jeweler and have it sized before proposing.
Doubt snaked through the rising hope. Would she even want a hidden family heirloom instead of something new? The story and the glimmering watery look of the ring in his pocket seemed to suit her better than anything he could purchase.
Camilla placed the brooch back into the box and grinned at him. “It might not be a shipping crate full of gold, but I bet you can get a hefty sum for those items. And since the police are on Durkin’s trail, you won’t have to worry about paying off any debts. You can sell all of this and start a new practice here in Natchez.”
As hope lit her eyes, his chest constricted. He’d rather see her dreams realized first. “Might even be enough to cover the repairs on the Alma May as well.”
Her lips twisted. “About that…” She rubbed her arms. “Mr. Copeland’s payment came through with the bank transfer like he promised. I’ll admit, with everything else we’ve encountered, I thought he had to be tangled up with bootleggers and criminals too. I didn’t think we’d ever get paid. But the money is there, sitting in my account.”
“That’s good, right?” He scratched the back of his head. Why didn’t she look pleased?
“Certainly.” She dropped her gaze, and the next words came out in nearly a whisper. “Would it be dishonoring my father if I sold the Alma May for scrap instead of investing in the repairs?”
He squeezed her shoulder. “Of course not. Your father would want you to do what you thought best for your business. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you buying another boat.”
She nodded thoughtfully. Then her countenance brightened. “I’m thinking of a ferry. You know, something carrying nice smiling people downriver instead of herds of cattle.”
When her nose wrinkled, he couldn’t help but chuckle. “Sounds like a fine idea.”
Her tone gathered excitement. “We could charge a fare and deliver people up and down a stretch of the Mississippi, then dock at home each night.” Her tone shifted to something akin to shyness. “Maybe I wouldn’t even have to live on board.”
The tingling in his stomach increased. “You’d like to work during the day on the water but live in town?”
Intense brown eyes slammed into him. “Thinking about it.”
Did that mean she wanted to stay closer to Natchez? To him? He couldn’t help the grin that bunched his cheeks like a schoolboy. “That’s a grand idea!”
Her shoulders relaxed, and she cast him a coy grin. “Maybe we’ll find treasure after all, and I can get the percent you promised. I’m sure I’ve more than covered the clause about participation. Wouldn’t you say?”
He couldn’t resist pulling her close and brushing a gentle kiss against her lips. “That you have.”
Desire to return to kissing stirred, but he didn’t find her lips again. Instead, he watched emotions play behind her eyes. He’d been giving her time, but she still hadn’t responded to his declaration of love. If sorrow or sympathy reigned in those glowing depths, he’d bow out. But no woman had ever gazed upon him with such devotion. So, he would wait. He’d endure every second she needed.
His pulse thrummed, pounding through his core. But before it could fire up too much heat, she spun away.
Camilla sucked in a breath and dropped the lid on the jewelry box. “Maybe the diary has some clues?”
Hadn’t he just vowed patience? He doused the longing. Soon they would need to discuss what bloomed between them, but for now, he allowed the subject change. Camilla plucked the book from the desk and peeled back the cracked leather cover.
Daniel peered over her shoulder and examined the pages, his fingertips tracing the delicate script. Camilla’s shoulder pressed into his side, warm against his ribs.
He forced himself to focus on anything other than her nearness and skimmed the entry.
My memory has so failed with the horrors of these times, so I have concluded I shall be obliged to keep a diary. Simple things such as the common daily occurrences and dates necessary in all our domestic and business affairs. As I propose to write every evening, no doubt it will abound with minute details, which might appear unnecessary, but I often find the little things to be of great importance.
“Ha!” Camilla pointed to the entry. “If that’s not a cover-up for keeping secret records for spying, then I don’t know what is.”
She might be right. Especially with all the family rumors they’d heard about Dorothy over the years. He motioned to the couch near the cold hearth, and Camilla bounded over to it.
She settled and patted the cushion close to her. “Why don’t you read it aloud, since your eyes are better than mine.”
“Still opposed to spectacles? You’d look quite fetching with them.”
She gave him a sour face, and he held up a palm in surrender. He settled on the seat and flipped to the next entry, dated July of 1864.
“‘Two rebels came dashing up the road. I did not have to wait long till I saw them come back with three workhorses from the stables. Charlie talked with them, and I overheard the conclusion none of these horses would answer their purpose at all. The handsome man was Captain Belton from Lorman. He said he had run away from the farm to join the army. Keeping true to my husband’s loyalties, I told him “What a pity you did not run to the right side.” He gave me the brightest smile and said he had done so.’”
Camilla tapped a finger on her chin. “Do you think this Captain Belton is the Confederate man who became her lover and later betrayed her?”
“Good possibility.” He flipped to another page.
He continued reading a series of entries with nothing more than common occurrences, references to the comings and goings of the two armies, and allusions to Lincoln and his policies. Some entries seemed to be about clandestine meetings, but they were too vague to garner much more than suspicion about Dorothy’s work as a spy.
After roughly an hour of deciphering faded ink and fragile pages, they uncovered something useful.
Daniel squinted at the faint script starting to tax his eyesight. “Look at this. It seems like a bunch of clues.”
Camilla leaned closer. “‘Follow the path to where the roses bloom.’” Her breath caught. “Do you think this will lead to the treasure?”
He kept his voice even, despite the anticipation rising in him to match her enthusiasm. “Possibly, but there’s more here.”
She snagged the book from his hands. “Come on. We’ll go out to the rose garden and see if we can follow a trail of clues.”
This would likely lead to nothing more than disappointment, but he’d take any excuse to spend the day adventuring with her. She stuck the book under her arm and bounded out of the room, her customary thick braid bouncing against her white blouse.
He followed her through the rear door and out to the rose garden in need of drastic tending. They scanned the cluster of thorny bushes.
“Do you see anything matching this next line?” Camilla pointed. “‘When the times circle and shadow us, the zenith will point the way.’”
What shadow? “Times and zenith. Sounds like a—” His gaze snagged on something hidden in a tangle of thorny foliage. “There!”
They edged closer, and the form of a rusted sundial took shape.
“Of course!” He hurried to it. “Times and shadows has to be referring to the sundial.”
Camilla frowned. “How are we going to follow where it points when that thing is tilted and nearly choked under all those vines?”
He winked. “With the art of deduction.” He quirked a finger in the air when she rolled her eyes. “When the sun is at its zenith, it’s directly overhead. And when it’s noon on a sundial, the shadow points due north.” He situated himself with his back to the dial. “That way.”
“Quite clever, Mr. Gray.” She followed his line of sight to an ancient live oak. “That must be it!”
They hurried to the tree’s dipping branches, and Daniel read the next clue. “‘From shade’s embrace take twenty paces east to where the earth drinks deeply and secrets lie still.’”
Camilla faced the right direction. The Mississippi River flowed to the west, and north led to the edge of the property adjoining the neighbors.
She fit hands to hips. “Was this property always the same size? What if the treasure is buried on land sold to one of your neighbors?”
“A possibility.” He could only shrug. After all of this, either they would find something, or they wouldn’t. “We’ll just have to see. What’s the next clue?”
Camilla traced her finger along the page. “‘Within the depths, all is revealed.’” She puckered her lips. “What depths?”
“‘Where the earth drinks deeply’…” He tapped a finger on his thigh. “Let’s mark out the twenty paces east and see if we notice anything.”
They made their way through the wooded area bordering the neighbor’s land and came to a low, circular stone wall. His pulse quickened. “It’s a cistern!”
“That’s ‘where the earth drinks’? And ‘secrets lie still’?” She toed the crumbling wall.
Daniel winked. “A great place to hide a strongbox.”
“It still makes no sense.” Camilla wrinkled her nose. “Why not just say ‘Go look in the cistern’?”
Daniel squinted down into the murky darkness. “I’d guess Dorothy had a propensity for histrionics.”
A grunt escaped her chest. “And maybe she was right about her mental acuity. Do you think she somehow forgot about her jewelry and the treasure?”
“Maybe.” After reading all the ramblings in her diary, it was hard to say if Dorothy had suffered some type of mental break or not. “The stories say she told her daughter everything on her death bed. But either Mary dismissed the claims as madness or she never found anything.”
Camilla braced her hands on the stone wall and lifted her leg. “Well, down we go, I suppose.”
He caught her shoulder. “A little preparation first? If a treasure has been down there for over fifty years, I doubt it’s going to disappear in the time it takes to gather a rope and lantern.”
She laughed. “That is one of the many things I love about you, Daniel Gray. You are the logical match to my impulsiveness.”
He froze.
Camilla fiddled with the end of her braid. Then she huffed and dropped it, her intense gaze crashing into his. “I do love you, you know. With all my heart. I just don’t know what to do about it. I’ve been praying a lot, like Hattie said. But God hasn’t laid out a series of instructions yet.”
Humor bubbled in his chest, but he tamped it down. “Are you saying you’re waiting for the Almighty to tell you your entire future before you can let me know we feel the same for one another?”
She puckered her lips. “When you put it like that, it sounds ridiculous.”
He held out his hand, and she slipped her fingers into his. He guided her back toward the house. “I’ve been doing a lot of praying myself, and I believe you are the one for me, Captain Lockhart. I don’t know what the future holds, but I do know I want you in it.”
“I want that too.” Her words came out breathy.
“Then you keep praying to make sure God agrees.” He squeezed her fingers. “Just promise me you won’t hold out for the Creator to wire you a detailed list of the events of your life first. I don’t think it works that way.”
“I promise.” Smirking, she bumped his shoulder. “I’m learning to leave room for trust.”
Daniel fingered the ring in his pocket and then sent a little prayer heavenward of his own. He also still had a lot to learn about trust himself.