Daughter of Deceit Read Online Free PDF Page B

in our family. It was a gift from Dolley and James Madison to one of our ancestors. Did you know that?”
    “No, I didn’t.” Katharine handed back her cup and looked toward the woman next in line.
    Murdoch, however, wasn’t finished. Ignoring the line building up behind her, she gushed, “Oh, yes. It’s Revere silver, and a beautiful set. I used to go to Grandmother’s after school every afternoon until Mama finished at her school and could come get me, and I loved picturing Dolley Payne Madison touching every piece. It’s engraved ‘To George and Ellen Payne from Dolley and James Madison on the Occasion of Their Twenty-fifth Anniversary.’ I haven’t yet established exactly who George was or how he was related to us, but Dolley was a Payne before she married, so she must have been related to us, as well. I may have proof by next week. I’m flying to Boston Thursday night for a mini-reunion weekend at my college, then I’ll spend several days looking at documents I can’t get online. I’ve also traced one branch of our family to the Mayflower , and if I can find the money”—she gave a self-conscious little laugh to show she was joking, for who in that group ever had to worry about money?—“I want to go to England in October for a genealogy conference, and then visit the village I think we originally came from. Didn’t I hear that you are interested in genealogy too?”
    Not that interested.
    Katharine didn’t say it, because she recognized the snide remark for what it was: not the truth, but a desire to put Murdoch down. She said lightly, “I’ve only begun to wet my toes in the genealogy ocean. Until I get in deeper, I have no idea how far I’ll want to go.”
    But I won’t bore other people with it, she vowed. She looked pointedly at the woman behind Murdoch. “May I give you some coffee?”
    “I’ll catch you later,” Murdoch promised as she reluctantly moved away.

Chapter 5
    After a busy twenty minutes Katharine was relieved by Francie, Ann Rose’s cook. “Go on and get yourself a plate. I’ll take over here.” Katharine gratefully handed over the coffeepot and piled a plate with vegetables, small sandwiches, and tiny muffins. She added two petite éclairs and a couple of pecan tarts, claimed a glass of iced tea, and roamed the house looking for a seat. All the chairs were full except for the best seat in the conservatory.
    “Sorry. We’re saving this for Rita Louise,” a woman at the table apologized. Katharine didn’t mind. The conservatory—filled with tropical plants and Oscar Anderson’s sizable orchid collection—was so warm and humid, she preferred another room.
    In the living room, she found Rita Louise with Bara. The old woman sat rigid with propriety in the chair next to the couch, without plate or cup. She wore the expression Katharine would have expected to see on the face of a determined martyr—or the wardress of a women’s prison. Clearly, she intended to guard Bara during lunch to be sure she did nothing outrageous. The women made a stark contrast: Rita Louise the pale ice of a gray winter’s day and Bara, in red silk, a vivid fire. Bara had moved to the end of the couch and had laid her head back against the cushions with her eyes closed. Was she paying any attention to what Rita Louise was saying? Rita Louise was saying it with force and indignation.
    Katharine, hesitating to interrupt, heard, “Nettie promised me that lamp! My aunt was great friends with Louis Tiffany’s family.”
    Bara spoke without opening her eyes. “Nana left it to me, not Mother.”
    Rita Louise gave a small huff of impatience. “Your grandmother was very unfair to your poor mother at the end. Nettie deserved better.” She looked up and noticed Katharine hovering nearby. “Did you want something, dear?”
    “Hello, Miss Rita Louise. They’re saving a place for you in the conservatory. May I sit here?” Rita Louise was past eighty, and ought not miss a meal. Besides, if Bara