Free The Bracelet by Dorothy Love

getting sick from spending all afternoon yesterday in the damp.”
    “I’m all right. I didn’t sleep well last night.”
    Mrs. Maguire clucked her tongue. “If you’re askin’ me, Mr. Browning should niver have let you go to the track with a storm brewing. But I reckon he knows better than to try to keep you away from that horse.” She turned to go.
    “Mrs. Maguire?” Celia said. “Mr. Mackay is coming at ten this morning. I wonder if you’d make some tea and some of your benne seed cookies he’s so fond of.”
    “Aye, I will. Go on now and eat your eggs before they get cold.”
    When the housekeeper had gone, Ivy slid the newspaper across the table. “Mr. Channing has written another article about us.”
    Celia frowned as she scanned the headline and the brief story beneath.
    The Curious Case of the Laundress: Was It Suicide . . . or Cold-blooded Murder?
    Rumors persist that the death of the beautiful young mulatto fifteen years ago at the Browning mansion on Madison Square was not what it seemed. For some time, talk had swirled that the young woman, a resident of St. Simons Island, was involved in a romantic liaison with a member of the Browning family. Such a thing seems plausible to this reporter in light of the other death that took place in the same house only two weeks earlier. It was rumored . . .

    Celia tossed the paper aside. “If I weren’t so angry, this would be laughable. Is this what passes for journalism these days? Listen to him: ‘rumors persist . . . talk had swirled . . . it was rumored.’ Mr. Thompson should be ashamed of himself for printing such drivel. There is not one fact in the entire piece.”
    “Well, hardly any, anyway,” Ivy said.
    “How can you sit there so calmly when our name is being dragged through the mud for no reason? I should think you of all people would be outraged.”
    Ivy shrugged. “You forget that I was subjected to years of whispers and rumors at school.” She set her cup aside. “Of course no one will say so, but I’m quite sure it’s the reason I’ve had no marriage proposal. Or at least not one I cared to accept. And time is running out.”
    Celia felt a pang of sympathy for Ivy. Every young woman felt the pressure to find a suitable match before the window of opportunity closed, dooming her to spinsterhood.
    “Oh, Ivy, I didn’t—”
    “Mr. Channing’s silly newspaper article pales in comparison to the humiliations I’ve already suffered.” Ivy refilled her cup and flashed a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I refuse to let it upset me. Plenty of women live fulfilling lives without the benefit of marriage, and I fully intend to become one of them. Now tell me. What was it that disturbed your dreams?”
    “At the racetrack yesterday, Sutton told me he has had a change of heart.”
    “A change of heart? About what?”
    “I don’t know. Joseph arrived to bring me home before we had time to discuss it.” Celia tried to eat a bite of bread and jam, but it stuck in her throat.
    “You don’t suppose that after keeping you waiting all these years, Sutton has decided not to marry?”
    “I thought I knew his heart, but I admit I’m afraid he—”
    “Has he said anything to make you doubt his intentions?”
    “Not at all. But then we’ve hardly had a moment alone since he got home. And now, with the loss of his father’s ship, I expect I’ll see even less of him, at least until it’s sorted out.”
    “Well, then, I would advise you to follow Sutton’s own advice and not borrow trouble.” Ivy placed her damask napkin beside her empty plate. “Now, I must go. I’m expected at the asylum to read with Louisa this morning.”
    “What book are you taking?”
    “ Ravenscliffe , by Anne Caldwell. It’s an older book, but I doubt Louisa has read it.”
    “Perhaps it will hold more appeal for her than my choices. She showed no interest at all in either Emily Brontë’s work or Mr. Thackeray’s.”
    “Thackeray can be a