Page 7 of Cloaked in Beauty

Yet she didn’t hoard her profits. After paying into the family shipping business and making the occasional investment in local organizations, she contributed large amounts to philanthropic causes, such as St. Joseph’s Infirmary. She also sponsored scholarship programs for the children of her employees who wished to pursue higher education.

Philip studied her as she caressed the face in the top photograph. How painful must it be to be separated from one’s only child? He couldn’t imagine it. He was close to his parents, hadn’t left home until he turned twenty-two, five years ago. Even with his married sister settling near the family farm, his mother still pleaded with him to visit more often. She insisted that a mother needed to see her child regularly, to wrap her arms around him and kiss his cheek, no matter how old he’d grown.

Mrs. Radcliffe must have truly feared for her daughter’s life to send her away.

Philip gentled his voice as he broke the silence that had temporarily drifted over them while they ruminated in private thoughts. “What convinced you that Scarlett’s life was in danger?”

Mrs. Radcliffe glanced up from the photographs, tension etched in fine lines around her mouth. “I didn’t want to believe Drake would hurt her. She was just a child. His niece. Lowell and Drake had grown apart, but they were still family. That’s why Lowell named him trustee. Radcliffe Shipping needed a man at the helm. As much as my husband respected my opinions, he and I both knew that naming me as trustee would erode the company’s standing in the community. The realm of business belongs to men. Women, while tolerated when necessary, are never welcomed into their midst as equals. Lowell had intended to hand down his shares of the company to either a son, should we have one, or to Scarlett’s future husband. His retirement was decades away, though. We never imagined his will would come into play so soon.”

She gave her head a little shake as if trying to rid herself of the melancholy thought, then lifted her chin and continued. “Drake contested the will. He insisted that he be given charge of all the funds in Scarlett’s trust, not the small monthly stipend the will allowed. My husband knew of his brother’s tendency to invest in wild schemes to try to make quick money. Drake didn’t possess the patience to curry long-term investments, and Lowell didn’t want Scarlett’s inheritance to be gambled away, so he’d made provisions. When the judge upheld the will, Drake tried to wrest away the oil mill and compress Lowell had left to me. He argued that they were subsidiaries of Radcliffe Shipping and fell under his control. Thankfully, my brother is a lawyer and was able to document Lowell’s sole proprietorship and my right to inherit.

“After several months of legal battles, Drake finally realized that he’d not be able to gain control of my husband’s fortune through legitimate means. I was naïve enough to believe that would be the end of the matter until a man approached Scarlett in the park one day and tried to make off with her. Thank God the dog Scarlett had been playing with attacked the stranger, biting the man’s leg and causing a scene that brought her nanny running. I had no proof that Drake was behind the kidnapping attempt, so I could merely report the incident and share my suspicions with the authorities. But I confronted Drake in his home. He played the wounded victim, aghast that I could possibly think him capable of harming his niece, yet his eyes gleamed with the knowledge that I had no weapon with which to strike him. So I changed tactics. I wept and apologized, making an excuse about being overwrought from grief, playing into his perceptions of feminine instability. Then I went home and began to plan.

“When the fire came two weeks later, confirming my suspicion that Drake would not cease trying to get his hands on my daughter’s inheritance, we were ready.”

Philip had taken out a tablet and jotted down a few notes, but he stopped writing and shot a questioning look at his hostess. “We?”

Mrs. Radcliffe nodded. “My mother and I.”

“Flora Anderson, correct?”

Drake Radcliffe had suspected her involvement. He’d been unable to offer any of the Pinkertons he’d hired a photograph of the woman, and since he’d only seen her at his brother’s wedding, his vague memory offered few helpful details regarding her appearance.

Mrs. Radcliffe smiled. “Yes, but she’s not gone by that name since the day she escaped with Scarlett.”

“What name is she using now?” Chasing down a woman who’d evaded detectives for years would be nearly impossible. But if he had a name, description, and location, this operation could be relatively simple. He poised his pencil above the page, ready to take down all the important details.

“I have no idea.”

Philip blinked. “What?”

“Mother and I agreed that the best way to ensure that Drake never discovered Scarlett’s location was to keep me in the dark as well. If I didn’t know, I couldn’t be forced to tell. I also wouldn’t be tempted to send a letter or attempt a visit. When Mother left with Scarlett after the fire, I lost all connection to my daughter. The only thing I received were the photographs and drawings that arrived sporadically.”

Philip bit back a groan. How was he supposed to find the missing Radcliffe heiress if the very woman who sent her into hiding didn’t know where she was?

“I don’t remember seeing anything in the Pinkerton case files about drawings.”

Mrs. Radcliffe reached into her box. “That’s because Drake didn’t know about them.” She pulled out eight sheets of paper, each bearing a sketch of increasing skill. “Drake tried several times to have Scarlett declared legally dead so that he could claim her inheritance. Thanks to my brother, we anticipated this move and arranged for dated photographs to be delivered anonymously to serve as evidence of Scarlett being alive and well. We brought them forward at each of the hearings. Drake was furious. He defamed me in the press as a coldhearted ice queen who refused to lift a finger to find her missing child and insisted that detectives be hired to find his beloved niece. He demanded access to any photographs I might receive so that he could search for Scarlett himself, and the judge granted his petition. Thankfully, Mother always sent two copies.”

Philip looked through the sketches as Mrs. Radcliffe continued her explanation. The artist obviously enjoyed the outdoors, filling her landscapes with tall trees and various woodland animals. Birds, rabbits, something that could have been a squirrel, and on the last page, a wolf. Or maybe a coyote. The amateur drawing made it difficult to identify, but Philip knew the difference between a domesticated dog and a wild animal from his days on the farm. This was no family hound. This was a wild animal. One who apparently didn’t mind standing still while his portrait was being sketched.

“We had a close call when this last photograph was delivered, however.” Mrs. Radcliffe’s comment drew Philip back to the conversation. “Each time Mother sends a packet, someone she trusts hides it inside a train passenger’s trunk stowed in the luggage car. Usually a trunk belonging to a woman. Someone likely to be sympathetic to the plight of another woman and her child. That time, though, the person selected apparently had some ties to Drake’s company. Because instead of delivering the packet to the mill office as the instructions directed, the courier took it to Radcliffe Shipping. Thankfully, Drake was out when it arrived, making it possible for the secretary on duty to redirect it to my home without any interference. Unfortunately, word got out about the delivery, enabling my brother-in-law to track down the courier and question her about how she came to find the packet. I worried the Pinkertons he hired might trace it back to its origin, but God proved merciful and kept Scarlett hidden.”

Much to Harper’s dismay. Though, if what Mrs. Radcliffe suspected was true, Philip had to be grateful for Harper and Wendell’s failure. A young woman’s life might have been forfeit had they located her.

“Yet I believe God allowed that scare so I could take precautions to ensure such a thing doesn’t jeopardize my daughter’s return. My mother and I intended to keep Scarlett hidden until after her twenty-first birthday. Then, instead of sending a photograph packet, Mother would send a letter with clues to their location. I was to decipher the clues and hire a man to see to their protection on their journey home. She has no idea how close she came to being discovered three years ago. If the same mistake was to happen again and her letter fell into Drake’s hands, I’d have no way to protect them. My only recourse is to send you to them before they send that letter. I waited as close to her birthday as I dared, knowing it would take time to find her, but I can wait no longer.”

Mrs. Radcliffe’s gaze sharpened and pinned Philip to his seat. “Scarlett’s in more danger now than ever, Mr. Carmichael. That’s why I’m hiring you, not just to find her but to ensure her safety. A job that will require both cunning and courage. Are you up to the task?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Philip met her stare without a single blink. “No harm will come to your daughter while she’s in my custody. But how can you ensure her safety once I return her to you?”

She studied him a long time. Taking his measure. He hid nothing from her, letting her look her fill. He knew the difference between knowing a man on paper and meeting him in the flesh. Paper provided facts, but facts could be skewed. Philip never took a job without meeting the client face-to-face. One had to look into a person’s eyes to confirm his character. When Mrs. Radcliffe’s shoulders relaxed, Philip figured he had passed the gut test. Or maybe with women it was intuition. Either way, she’d decided to trust him, and he’d not take the honor lightly.

“Once Scarlett turns twenty-one, she will gain full control of her trust. My brother will help her draft a will that removes any benefit to Drake. The money will be out of his reach, and he’ll no longer have any reason to see her dead.”

Philip nodded. “So back to finding her. Are you sure there’s nothing you can tell me that can narrow my search?”

“All I know is that when my mother left, her intention was to remain in Texas. Someplace secluded where she could keep Scarlett away from prying eyes.” She retrieved a hinged case from the box and opened it to reveal a daguerreotype of a young man and woman dressed in wedding finery. “This is my mother,” she said, handing the frame to Philip. “When she left, her hair was starting to gray and she’d lost the slim waist she’d been known for in her youth, but this might help you find her.”