“I need something to eat first or I’ll faint,” I said. A nod from Derrick indicated he’d gladly put the needs of his stomach over clean clothing.
Nanny sliced her savory-sweet bread and handed it round while Derrick poured the coffee. The hearth fire snapped and hissed. I was glad we’d stayed here in the kitchen rather than moving to the morning room. This felt homier, cozier, like when I was a child and padded downstairs before any of the rest of my family to steal some private time with Nanny. Gradually my remaining anxiety eased away. I chewed slowly and, with a finally clear head, began to contemplate the events of last night.
“One thing is certain,” I said, breaking the pensive silence, “if Consuelo was on Rose Island, it wasn’t by choice.”
“What makes you so sure?” Derrick asked.
“She would never have anything to do with men like that. Never.”
Nanny plucked a walnut from her slice of bread and popped it into her mouth. “What if she was there against her will?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think she was there at all. Whatever those men were doing, I don’t think it had anything to do with her. They were criminals . . . some kind of smugglers is my guess.”
I looked to Derrick for consensus. He nodded faintly. I waited for him to elaborate, and when he didn’t I prompted, “Well? What do you think they were up to?”
He shrugged a shoulder, cradling his cup in both hands. “Judging by the barrels we saw, molasses, possibly.”
“Why on earth would anyone smuggle molasses?” Nanny laughed as if this were the most ridiculous notion in the world. “You can buy it anywhere. Not as if it’s illegal or anything. I’ve got plenty right in the pantry.”
I had to admit, I couldn’t fathom an answer. Once more I looked to Derrick, who reluctantly met my gaze.
“Molasses is used in rum making. It would seem someone is going into business for himself, distilling black market rum to avoid paying the liquor tax. Could be trying to corner the market, create a monopoly by running legitimate distillers out of business.” His gaze sharpened, practically pinning me to the back of my chair. “Whatever their intentions, it had nothing to do with your cousin and therefore nothing to do with you.”
“Hear, hear,” Nanny murmured.
I scrunched up my nose. “Maybe not, but what’s Winthrop Rutherfurd’s part in all this? I can’t see him putting in with rum smugglers.”
“A coincidence?” Nanny suggested.
“I doubt it. Just as I doubt it’s any coincidence the Curtises are away.”
“Who are they?” Derrick asked.
“The couple who run the Rose Light. When I spotted Winty heading out to the island yesterday, Angus told me they were away for a few days.”
Derrick made an impatient gesture. “Winty? Angus?” “Angus was the boatman who rowed me out to The Valiant yesterday afternoon. Winty is Consuelo’s pet name for Winthrop Rutherfurd.” I blew out an equally impatient breath. “Do keep up.”
Nanny chuckled and Derrick sent me a glower. “Could Winty be having money troubles?” he asked.
I glanced at Nanny. “Have you heard anything to that effect?”
She sipped her coffee. “He wanted to marry Consuelo, didn’t he?”
“Because he cares for her,” I shot back.
“The Rutherfurds are an old family, Emma,” she said mildly. “And none of the old families is as wealthy as they used to be.”
“That’s right,” Derrick said. “It’s the so-called nouveau riche who control the bulk of the wealth in this country now. People in industry like your Vanderbilt relatives and yes, my family. The Vanderbilts’ hands are sooty from the railroads. The Andrewses’ hands are ink-stained from the newspaper business.” He held up his hands as if to prove his point, though there were no stains that I could make out, nothing to indicate he’d ever worked a hard day in his life. “People like the Rutherfurds didn’t believe in soiling their hands in business, and as a result their fortunes have been dwindling away for generations.”
“I suppose it would be naïve of me to insist he wanted Consuelo only for herself.” I sighed. Consuelo had certainly believed it, at least until Winty had stepped all too willingly out of the picture once Alva made it clear she’d never allow them to marry. Yes, elopement remained a possibility, but Consuelo would be disinherited, virtually penniless. Would Winty want her then? “Poor Consuelo . . .”
“Emma . . .” Derrick placed a hand over mine where it lay beside my plate. “Don’t you think it’s time the police were notified of Consuelo’s disappearance? How long has it been?”