“Serves them right. And I have found quite a lot of goodies, of which I’m entitled to half, but know that I haven’t spent allof my time here treasure hunting.” Ottilie leaned closer to Annaliese. “I’ve finally completed my memoir, which is sure to be a riveting read once it goes into print.”
Annaliese frowned. “I thought Fenna Larkin, your personal assistant, was supposed to be gathering information for you so you could write that memoir after you returned.”
Ottilie waved that aside. “I only gave Fenna that task to occupy her while I was making plans to leave Chicago, after I learned that underworld boss put a price on my head. I knew Fenna was probably working in cahoots with that man, but I had no proof, so providing her with a diversion was the only thing I could think of to explain why I didn’t want her traveling with me on my adventure.”
“I’m sure you’ll be pleased to learn then that Fenna’s currently under a house arrest sentence after being convicted of criminal mischief. From what Agent Pearson, a Pinkerton we hired a few months back, told me the last time we spoke, she’s complaining endlessly about being stuck in her house, waiting to see if she’s going to be charged with accessory to murder if you turned up dead.”
Ottilie grinned. “Good heavens, that sounds like a riveting story indeed, and we should definitely delve into some wine before you tell me all the details, along with some divine cheese the captain’s mutinous crew just sent us.”
After increasing her pace, quite as if she was anxious to get to some riveting stories, Ottilie pulled Annaliese into a surprisingly well-equipped hut made from driftwood, palm fronds and seagrass.
“Make yourself at home,” Ottilie said, gesturing to a large piece of driftwood that was weathered and bleached from the sun before she moved to a shelf made out of additional driftwood and pulled out a bottle of wine.
After pouring it into two tarnished silver tankards, Ottilie handed Annaliese her wine before she fetched the cheese she’dmentioned, cut it up, then settled herself beside Annaliese on another piece of driftwood.
The next hour passed with Annaliese telling her aunt everything—starting with the death of her father, reiterating what caused the death, and then divulging how her father’s man of affairs had made off with almost every cent the Merriweathers possessed, as well as running up outrageous debts in her mother’s name, something that gave them no choice but to liquidate all their assets.
“You know, I met Sanford Duncan a few times,” Ottilie said after taking a sip of her wine and setting the tankard aside. “And I told your father that I got an odd feeling about the man, but Morton told me that I was allowing my vivid imagination and dislike of gentlemen in general to cloud my opinion of one of his dearest friends.”
“Do you really dislike gentlemen in general?”
“Not at all. I adore gentlemen. I simply don’t adore how they’ve been able to control everything a woman can and can’t do. Hardly seems fair that when we marry, everything we possess reverts to our husbands, hence the reason I’ve never married.”
“You wouldn’t even consider marrying the captain?”
“Because I’ve been stranded with him on this island? Good heavens, no. The captain and I are simply good friends.” She caught Annaliese’s eye. “However, even though I’ve never wanted to marry, that doesn’t mean I hold anything against women who do. Marriage simply wasn’t for me.”
“Not a decision that could have been easy for you, given the unpleasant stigma that’s attached to women who move through life as spinsters.”
“There were certainly times when people’s cruel remarks to me left a mark, but...” Ottilie smiled. “I’ve always hoped that perhaps someday, hopefully in my lifetime, the world will accept that every person has the right to decide how they wantto live their life and stop concerning themselves with whispering unkind things simply because a person is different.”
“People believe I’m peculiar.”
“A great compliment if there ever was one,” Ottilie proclaimed, and after exchanging grins, Annaliese continued with her story, finishing up thirty minutes later with “and then Charlie and Howard finally agreed to hand over the birds and tell us the general vicinity of where to find you, so ... here we are.”
“That’s quite the adventure you and Drusilla have had, and she really married Rhenick Whittenbecker?”
“She did.”
“How lovely. Rhenick is a charming gentleman, but...” Ottilie’s eyes began to twinkle. “Seems to me as if you have a charming gentleman of your own.”
Annaliese gave her forehead a rub. “I suppose that does appear to be the case.”
“You suppose? That’s hardly something one says when they admit they have a charming gentleman to call their own.” Ottilie leaned forward and placed her hand on Annaliese’s knee. “Out with it. What’s bothering you?”
Annaliese drew in a breath, blew it out, and frowned. “I’m feeling conflicted.”
“Because ...?”
“Seth has captured my attention just as much as I’ve evidently captured his, but the mere thought of a formal courtship is leaving me feeling quite as if I’m in danger of tossing up my accounts.”
Ottilie took a sip of her wine, considered Annaliese for a long moment, then nodded. “If I were to hazard a guess, I’d say you feel in danger of tossing up your accounts because if you were to enter into a formal commitment with Seth, you’re afraid that will require you to abandon the independence you’ve been enjoying ever since your father died.” She set aside her tankard. “I’m sure you’re also afraid that, given how muchtime needs to be devoted to a formal courtship, you’ll have to set aside the plans that revolve around your birds and animals. You might even be worried that those plans will be permanently set aside if you marry Seth since society expects a married lady to concern herself with keeping house, minding the children, and definitely not having any outside interests except for balls, dinners, and charity endeavors.”
“I think that pretty well sums up my confliction.”
Ottilie smiled. “I thought it would, but tell me this, my dear—what exactly do you, and do you not, want to do with your life?”
Annaliese considered the question before she tilted her head. “I’ve reconciled myself to the fact that I’m not destined to remain a decorum instructor, at least not full time.”
