by Holly Bush
“Duty calls. I must see to what that gentleman needs. May I take you to your brothers and your aunt, or maybe your sister and mine?”
Alexander smiled but still managed to look intense and serious. She wondered what exactly that duty would entail, but it was early in the evening and he was a host here, as the son of the family, and there were hundreds of guests to attend to. She mustn’t be greedy.
“My brothers, yes, please.”
“What is it, Graham?”
“Please follow me, Mr. Pendergast. We need your help.”
Alexander followed his family’s head of security down a long hallway and turned to the door of a sitting room that was rarely used. He could not imagine what or who was behind the door, and it took him a moment to acclimate himself when he stepped inside.
“Mrs. Schmitt?” he asked as he walked farther into the room. She was seated on the end of a sofa, sniffling, and one of Graham’s men stood near her. When Alexander turned, he noticed there was another man stationed at the door. “Graham?”
“I had nothing to do with it!” Mrs. Schmitt said. “You must tell them, Alexander.”
“Nothing to do with what?” He glanced at Graham, who nodded to the man standing near her.
“Mr. Bamblebit?” Graham said.
“I was checking the room with all the flowers on the wall coverings that leads out to the patio with the roses.”
“The Garden Salon,” Alexander interrupted.
“Yes, sir. That is what your father called it when we were discussing this evening. Anyway, I was standing quite still in the shadows near the windows as I thought I saw someone in the gardens. I was just about to—”
“I don’t know why anyone is paying attention to this man!” Mrs. Schmitt said loudly. “Who is he to accuse me?”
“He hasn’t accused anyone of anything yet, Mrs. Schmitt.” Alexander looked up at Bamblebit. “Continue.”
“I was just about to go out to the gardens myself to see if there was anything amiss when she, Mrs. Schmitt, came into the room. She closed the door quietly and went to the buffet that sits against the wall. She opened one of the drawers and opened her purse, that one there, in her lap,” Bamblebit pointed, “and started to put things in it. I wasn’t sure what, and she won’t allow me to look in her purse.”
“Why would I allow this servant to look in my bag? Go back to the kitchens, where you belong,” she said dismissively and stood.
“Sit down, Mrs. Schmitt,” Graham said. His quiet command and steely gaze had her dropping back to her seat quickly.
“Mr. Pendergast.” She smiled sweetly. “Please get Mr. Schmitt for me. I’m not feeling well and would like to go home. I’m sure you don’t want your employer’s wife to be discomforted.”
“Let me see your bag, ma’am, and then we will have your husband fetched,” Alexander said and stretched out his hand.
She clutched the bag close to her. “There is nothing in my bag but my lip rouge and spare pins for my hair. My maid is slovenly and rarely gets it pinned properly.”
“Then you will not care if I look in it. I would not cause you embarrassment if there is something of a personal nature in the bag,” he said and reached a little closer.
She shrugged. “Fine, then. But don’t let that one ruffle through my things. It ain’t right.”
Alexander took the bag from her and heard a clink inside. His eyes met Mrs. Schmitt’s, but she was looking back at him as if she had not a care in the world. Alexander opened the purse and carefully pulled the contents onto the side table. Silver spoons and forks clanged against the glass top of the table.
Mrs. Schmitt gasped. “How in the world did those things get into my bag?”
“’Cause you put them there,” Bamblebit said.
“That’s outlandish! Wait until my husband hears about this! You’ll lose your position and won’t work again in the city!”
“Mr. Bamblebit, would you please fetch Mr. Schmitt?” Graham asked.
The man nodded and walked out of the room without a glance to Mrs. Schmitt.
“How do you explain my grandmother’s silverware and sugar bowl in your bag?” Alexander asked.
Mrs. Schmitt’s impressive and well-covered bosom rose and fell. “Well, of course that Bumble fellow did it! My husband has enemies, of which you are aware. Any of them would like to see him embarrassed.”
The door to the room opened, and the agent standing there moved to block Mr. Schmitt’s entrance. He stood aside on Graham’s signal.
Schmitt looked down at the items on the table beside his wife’s purse. “We have plenty of silver at home, Berta. What are you doing thieving here?”
Chapter 16
Elspeth was bewildered. Alexander had been so attentive, looking at her as if she were the only woman at the ball until he’d escorted her to James’s side. She’d dreamed about this evening for so many nights and daydreamed about it through so many afternoons that when it finally arrived, she felt as if she knew exactly what would happen. He would greet her at the door, smiling and focused on her alone. All true until that tall man had come for him. James said he was the head of the Pendergast family security. Alexander was needed. She understood that, but it didn’t make her feel any less neglected.
“Why the long face, Elspeth?” James said. He’d just returned to her and Payden’s side after dancing with several young women, where they stood near Aunt Murdoch, who was comfortably seated with some other older women.
“I don’t have a long face,” she said and took a slow breath.
“He danced with that one over there,” Payden said. “The one with all the red hair.”
“I know. I saw his mother introduce them.”
“Then Graham talked to him again and off he went,” James said.
“I know,” she whispered, closer to tears than she’d thought, feeling the sting of them, unwilling to admit how disappointed she was, how hurt, even knowing he was doing what was expected of him. It was near midnight, and she’d talked to him for only a short time when they’d arrived not long after eight.
“Ah, Elspeth,” James said close to her ear. “Don’t be sad. He’s a busy, important man, but I think he really is partial to you.”
“Not partial enough, though.”
As she spoke, Alexander caught her eye and headed in her direction, weaving through the crowds. He held out a hand as he reached her. She swallowed tears. She should not be selfish, but she was hurt. She’d dreamed and dreamed . . .
“Things have been busy tonight,” he said and smiled at her.
“You’ve been needed,” she replied and took a long breath. She would not shame him for doing his job. But still, she’d had high hopes.
His face went still. “Elspeth. I hope you know I would have preferred to spend the evening with you.”
She smiled and looked away. “I’m sure you would have.”
“I’m serious. I would rather we were a thousand mile away, where I could have you for myself and not be bothered with any distractions.”
“I know you’re a very busy and important man. I wonder if I’ll ever hold your attention, though. I was so hoping—”
“Mr. Pendergast?” The man from earlier leaned forward and whispered in Alexander’s ear.
He looked at Elspeth. “I have to go. I . . . I have to do something. I’m sorry.”
Elspeth smiled, forcing her mouth not to wobble, and Alexander held out his hand for her. She put her hand in his and shook it, like any acquaintance would. “They need you,” she said.
She took a deep breath as he walked away, glancing at her with a bewildered look on his face as he hurried away and then focusing on what that man, Graham, was saying to him. She thought about how selfish she was being but yet could not stop herself. Her life had felt flat and routine, and then she’d met him and found a reason to hope. To feel excitement and anticipation, as she’d been doing for the days leading up to this evening.
Muireall walked toward them from
the other direction with a tight smile on her face, on the arm of a tall man several years older than she. Elspeth heard her say she must excuse herself to the retiring room. She caught up with her sister and linked arms.
“Who was that?”
“Nils Witherspoon. Brother to the Pendergasts’ mill manager. He is a widower, a prosperous attorney, and is actively seeking a new mother for his three small children.”
“He sounds like quite the catch. Should we introduce him to Aunt?”
“Why do you think I left him before coming to you and James? I didn’t want to introduce him to my family, and he was desperate that I did. Have you seen Kirsty?”
“Every time she swings by on the dance floor on the arm of some different young man. I don’t think she has sat out one dance.” Elspeth could not help the pitying sound of her voice. “I have not yet danced.”
“That is because everyone in this room believes you to be linked romantically with Mr. Pendergast.”
“Where did you hear that?” Elspeth asked sharply.
“Everywhere, dearest. Here is the ladies’ retiring room. You needn’t wait for me,” Muireall said and glanced behind them. “I’ll sneak out in a moment so that Mr. Witherspoon does not see me. He is waiting ever so patiently in the doorway to the ballroom.”
“I will leave you, then.” Elspeth started back toward James when she felt a tug on her arm.
“What now, Graham?” Alexander asked impatiently. He’d spent near an hour getting the Schmitts to leave without making a scene, and then his Uncle Nathan had corralled him to dance with one of Aunt Isadora’s nieces. He did his duty and then had to meet the girl’s mother, sister to Isadora. They’d kept him there for near half an hour, talking about their horses and begging him to visit their stud farms in Maryland.
And then those disastrous few minutes with Elspeth.
But one of Graham’s men had found a side door to the kitchens unlocked, swearing that he’d just locked it. Graham called it an emergency and assembled his men to search the area outside the door and along the back walkways of the house, guns drawn. Graham sent him to watch the front doors, as he would not be conspicuous there. He occasionally glimpsed Elspeth standing with James or Payden, not far from their aunt, and each time he looked in the ballroom she seemed to look a little more forlorn. This evening was not turning out like he’d planned.
He'd been hoping to have time to speak to her privately, to dance, to discuss inconsequential things or politics or philosophy—he didn’t care which. He wanted to get to know her better, even though his heart said he already knew her well. For the first time in his life, he was contemplating marriage, a commitment to the woman he would spend his life with, who would bear his children. He was terrified and fascinated by his own thoughts all at the same time. Was this love?
But then she’d walked in looking as if she were a queen from long ago with that long, graceful neck and pearls draped over her bosom, where he longed to touch. He wanted her all. Her everything. He wanted her heart and her body and . . . her, he just wanted her.
Alexander shook his head. He would not be rambunctious or impatient or guided by his sexual needs. Not when planning to spend the rest of his life, his every living day, with the same female. He wanted her beyond words, but would he always, a little voice whispered in his ear. He would take his time and be certain. He didn’t want to make the same mistakes his father had.
“Sir? Mr. Pendergast? Did you hear what I said?”
Alexander shook his head, just noticing that Graham was red in the face and breathing hard. “I didn’t. I’m sorry. What is it?”
“A man in the alley at the end of your street. He was loitering, and one of my men approached him and told him to get going and got hit in the head for his trouble. He just got back to the property, sir. The description of the man could match one of the men who chased you after that bare-knuckle match.”
Alexander followed Graham, looking over his shoulder one last time to see Muireall approaching her sister on the arm of that gasbag, Nils Witherspoon. Elspeth was there between James and Payden, watching her approach. She’d be safe.
They found the agent in the kitchen, holding a towel full of ice to his head.
“What can you remember, Jeffers?”
“I think he was hiding something when I saw him. He stood up quickly, but he was kneeling when I first saw him, facing the side of an outbuilding at the back of a neighbor’s property. He walked toward me, all friendly like, saying he was searching for his dog. He pointed to where I’d seen him kneeling, and, like an amateur, I looked where he wanted. Then I woke up, and he was gone.”
“I want to see where he was kneeling, Graham. Get a lantern,” Alexander said and turned back to Jeffers. “Tell me exactly where you saw him.”
“Lock the door behind us,” Graham said. “Don’t open it unless I give you the signal. We should be no longer than ten minutes.”
The two men walked through the gardens and past the stable and the carriage house, into the alleyway. Alexander turned right and pointed. “I think he was kneeling there, behind that shed. That is what Jeffers was describing.”
The walked hurriedly and looked through the high weeds against the small building. Graham found the door and shook his head. “They couldn’t have been inside. The lock and the latch are rusted shut. If they left something, it would have been there.”
Alexander shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense. What would they be doing at this property? Hiding weapons? The grasses and weeds aren’t even bent over.”
“It makes sense if they wanted to get you or I out of the house, though,” Graham said.
Alexander looked at him, his face distorted and grim from the lantern’s shadows. “Well, they’ve succeeded if that was what they set out to do, then, haven’t they?”
“Let’s go!” Graham started to run down the alleyway, back to the Pendergast mansion, the lamp swinging wildly in his hand.
Alexander hurried to follow him, running down the alleyway and turning through the gates of his mother’s elaborate gardens, close to the heels of the man in front of him. Graham skidded to a stop and pounded three times on the door, waited, and pounded twice more. The door swung open, and they went inside just as all the gas lights and sconces sputtered off. They were plunged into darkness.
“Shut the door and lock it!” Graham shouted and held up his lantern.
“The gas line!” Alexander shouted. “Careful with that lantern, Graham.”
Alexander could hear shouting and a rumble of feet running on the marble floor above him, even though many of the kitchen and serving staff were screaming. He knew he could not afford to be distracted, but for a single moment it occurred to him that the enemy was here, in his mother’s home, looking to steal away a young boy and maybe harm others in the process. Elspeth. He felt the warrior yell that he’d heard from James and MacAvoy bubbling up in his throat. He wanted to tear down walls and stab men in the heart. He recognized that he was not quite sane in those brief moments, that there was something primitive about what he felt, that he would do physical damage to those opposing him, and he knew just as well that he must use his head before he used his fists.
“Come on, Graham, back outside. There’s a gas station in a small building that serves this house and a few others.”
Alexander unlocked the back door and went outside, Graham on his heels, running across the patios and around the fountains. He quickly opened a nearly invisible door in a fence and went through. Ahead there was a small brick building, its door hanging wide open.
“Do you smell anything?” Graham asked.
“Just my mother’s roses,” Alexander said. “I’m going to have to go inside and see if they’ve broken a pipe or just shut off our valve. Don’t come any closer.”
Alexander walked across the mowed lawn toward the building, sniffing the air as he did. There was very little breeze that evening, but Alexander crept slowly closer, listening intently for hissing pipe
s even as the noise from his parents’ home was a cacophony of sound in the background. The building was still and silent. He looked in the open door and heard nothing and smelled nothing unusual. Thankfully, there was enough moonlight for him to see the valves on the wall, Pendergast painted above one of them on the wood. There was a large wrench on the floor below it.
“Looks like they shut off the valve here,” Alexander shouted. “Check the basement of the house where the gas lines come in and make sure no one’s tampered with anything before I turn this back on.”
Graham hurried away, and Alexander was left with his thoughts. His stomach lurched, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Where was Elspeth and the rest of her family? Were his mother and father and sister safe? Something wasn’t right with someone in his orbit. He could feel it in his gut. But he could not move one inch until he heard Graham give the go-ahead. He would have to wait and sweat and worry and try to keep himself from punching a brick wall.
“Good to go, Pendergast,” Graham yelled.
Alexander knelt on the stone floor and picked up the wrench, fitting it to the valve.
“I don’t think they sabotaged it anywhere else,” Graham said.
“I hope you’re right,” Alexander said and looked over his shoulder.
“They’re diabolical, it seems, but not suicidal.”
Alexander stopped. “You’re saying they are in the house? That they didn’t want a gas explosion because they are in the house!”
“Turn the wrench. We’ve got to get inside.”
Alexander turned the wrench and heard gas running to the pipe marked Pendergast. He ran, following Graham to the back door, securing it behind him as one of Graham’s men stepped in front it, his gun in his hand. Graham was shouting directions to his men in the now well-lit kitchen, and Alexander hurried past him and up the stairs to the main floor. The scene was chaos. Guests were hurrying this way and that, women crying, the men grabbing wraps from harried and frightened servants. He worked his way through the crowd looking for any of the Thompson family, but especially for Elspeth. He heard his uncle’s voice shouting over the din.