A Lady of Hidden Intent

by Tracie Peterson

  If war comes to America, I could always move my family to England, Carter thought. I could take them out of the ugliness altogether. He supposed it wasn’t a very patriotic thing to think, but at the moment he couldn’t help himself. He didn’t approve of slavery, but neither was he in support of a war. There was, in fact, a part of him that figured if the South wanted to secede, the rest of the country should let them. Like wayward children, they would come back when they saw what they had lost in shared revenues, protection, and common interests. Still, the matter might be completely taken from his hands. If Catherine moved back to England and refused to stay in America, he might well have to make his way there for the purpose of persuasion.

  Catherine was ever on his mind. Even as he sketched and thought of what type of building he might suggest, it was Catherine’s image that rested not far from conscious thought. He had left a note with Winifred, instructing her to take it to Catherine the same day he departed for Washington. With any luck, the two of them would have shared a little time together, and Winifred could explain that Carter was away on business.

  The note explained very little but told Catherine it was a matter of great importance that they meet and speak. The matter, he had assured, would be something she would wish to discuss with him at her earliest convenience. He hoped she might read between the lines and realize that he was on her side—that she had nothing to fear from him.

  “Your mind seems miles away from Washington,” Fulbright said.

  Carter looked up from the paper. “I suppose it is. I’m sorry.”

  “Have you thought any more about the offer to become my partner? I don’t wish to pressure you into making a rash decision, but I can’t help but be anxious.”

  “I understand. I have given it some thought, but I suppose I would like to make a decision based partially on what happens with the designs we submit. I would hate for you to feel obligated to take me on if the projects were rejected. I wouldn’t want to see you saddled with a partner you could no longer use.”

  “My boy, I have more than enough work in Boston to keep us both busy. Of course, my decision about taking on those projects will also be based on what happens here in Washington. I suppose I can understand your concern and desire to take matters slowly, but I beg you to let me know at the first opportunity.”

  “When do we need to have the designs submitted for the competition?” Carter asked. He secured the sketch in a satchel and joined Fulbright as he began walking in the direction of their hotel.

  “The deadline is the first of February. I know it’s short notice, but they hope to break ground in late March.”

  Carter thought again of his great desire to spend time with Catherine. “It will be difficult but not impossible. I will help you with the designs, but I would want to work from Philadelphia.

  Can you somehow accommodate this?”

  “I can. I will stay with my sister, who resides in Philadelphia, until the designs are complete.”

  “I greatly appreciate that, sir. I promise not to keep you waiting for an answer too long. Once we hear back from the competition, we can decide how to move forward.”

  Back in Philadelphia, Carter was quite anxious to visit Catherine. He had barely stepped from the train before turning his attention to that very matter. Joseph was waiting faithfully with the carriage, and to Carter’s surprise, Winifred waited with him.

  They gave Hollis Fulbright a ride to his sister’s house on Seventh Street. The house was a fashionable three-story brick with elegant but simple marble stairs to the front door. Joseph saw to the man’s luggage while Carter bid him farewell.

  “I will be in touch just as soon as I’ve sketched out some designs. I’ve taken good notes on what you suggested, and combined with my own thoughts on the various purposes and locations, I’ll come up with something useful. I promise.”

  “I’ve no doubt you will, my boy. Why don’t you plan to come see me on Monday the seventh, say around noon? We can share lunch and discuss any further concerns you have. I am certain my sister will not mind my arrangement.”

  “I would like that,” Carter admitted. “I will see you then.”

  “Very well. Good day to you,” Fulbright said, then turning to Winifred, he smiled and bowed. “And a very good day to you, my dear. You are quite pretty, and were I a young man, I might attempt to court you.”

  “Then you would have to fight my dear friend,” Carter threw in, “for he just proposed to my sister only a little more than a week ago.”

  Fulbright laughed and put his hands over his rather round belly. “Well, I am too late in years and days, it would seem. Never mind. It does not change the fact that you are beautiful and quite worthy of such attention.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Winifred blushed, and Carter thought it only served to make her all the prettier. “You are very kind.”

  They left Fulbright still chuckling at the door as the carriage pulled back onto the street. Carter was quick to move the conversation in the direction he desired.

  “Tell me of Catherine.”

  Winifred frowned and toyed with her bonnet ribbons.

  “There’s nothing you wish to hear, I’m afraid.”

  Carter sat back hard. “You mean she’ll have nothing to do with me?”

  Winifred met his gaze. “No. I mean that she is gone.”

  “Gone?” Carter shook his head. “What are you saying?”

  “I went to see her at the sewing house. Beatrix told me she and the Shays had gone. So I asked if I might speak with Mrs.

  Clarkson. The woman came and seemed quite upset that Beatrix had shared any information. She said only that the Shays had been called away unexpectedly.”

  “Did she say why?” His mind whirled; perhaps word had come from England. Maybe her father had already been set free and she’d gone to him.

  “She said only that there was no thought of their returning.

  At least not right away. I’m so sorry. I asked Leander about it.

  He doesn’t have any idea of what happened.”

  Carter hit his fist against the side of the carriage. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t kissed her, she wouldn’t have gone.”

  Winifred smiled. “I seriously doubt that. I’m sure that your kiss was the one thing that would have kept her here if she could have stayed. I’m thinking something else must have happened. And, furthermore, I believe Mrs. Clarkson knows exactly what that something might be.”

  “Very well. Then we shall go straightaway and visit her.” He tapped on the roof of the carriage and waited for Joseph to bring it to a stop. Carter leaned out the door. “Take us to Mrs. Clarkson’s sewing house.”

  “Yes, suh. Right away.”

  Carter secured the door, then looked at his sister. Winifred was smiling rather smugly. “What is that grin all about?”

  “I knew you would do this,” she said. “It’s part of the reason I came along. I could have waited for you to come home, but I knew it would mean that Joseph would simply have to turn around, and that seemed a great waste of time.”

  He smiled, but the rest of their journey was silent, as Carter’s fears of what Mrs. Clarkson would say grew.

  When Joseph brought the carriage to a stop, Carter looked out and saw the familiar sign over the doorway. “We are here,” he said in a tone that almost sounded regretful. If Mrs. Clarkson told him that Catherine left because of his actions at the ball, he wasn’t sure he could bear it.

  He waited for Joseph to open the door, then allowed him to help Winifred down first. Carter soon was at her side and together they made their way up the walkway.

  “No matter what,” Winifred said, patting his arm, “God has everything perfectly ordered. Always remember that.”

  “I’ll try.” He let go the brass knocker several times and waited for the door to open.

  Mrs. Clarkson was the one to greet them, and her expression told him she was not at all happy to see him. “Good afternoon to you both. What can I do
for you?”

  “We need to talk. It’s quite important.”

  Reluctantly she allowed them in and motioned for them to follow her. Carter could hear work going on in the various rooms. “Please be seated in here. These are my private rooms,”

  Mrs. Clarkson told them. She opened the door and led the way. Once they were all inside, she closed the door and took a seat.

  Carter waited until Winifred was seated before taking his own place between the two women. “I’ve come because of Catherine Newbury. My sister tells me she has gone.”

  Mrs. Clarkson nodded. “I’m sorry. I did not feel at liberty to tell you sooner.”

  “I understand,” Carter replied, trying hard not to be angry.

  “You wished to protect her.”

  “Yes. She’s a dear girl who has suffered much.”

  “So you know about her past?” Carter questioned. “About her father?” He could tell by her reaction that she did. She looked away but nodded nevertheless. “I found out as well,” Carter continued. “She doesn’t realize that I know, but I do. I’ve been working for some time now to see her father freed.”

  “Is this true? Why did you not tell her?” Mrs. Clarkson looked at him in complete surprise.

  Carter shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know. I suppose I honestly felt it would be wrong to get her hopes up until I was certain of the outcome. I suppose it was silly, but I didn’t want to see her hurt any more, and I worried that my meager efforts might result in more pain.”

  Mrs. Clarkson’s expression softened.“You love her very much, don’t you?”

  Carter nodded. “Did she say why she had to go?”

  “I’m afraid one of the other girls here learned the truth and threatened her,” Mrs. Clarkson replied.

  “What?” Carter looked at Winifred, who only shook her

  “head.

  “I’m afraid it’s true. Felicia managed to learn the truth and threaten Catherine. She tried to blackmail her into giving Felicia all of her savings—the money she was working so hard to collect for her father’s legal counsel.”

  Carter hadn’t realized he’d balled his hands into fists until Winifred leaned over and put her hand atop one of his. Her gentle touch caused him to relax.

  “Felicia then told Catherine that if she didn’t do as she was told, Felicia would let the police know the truth and she would be arrested.”

  “For what?” Carter spat out the words. “Catherine had done

  “Well, apparently Felicia believed Catherine was somehow considered under suspicion.”

  “Not to any real degree,” Carter replied. “There was more concern that she had been kidnapped. Catherine has never been in trouble. Her father sent her to America to avoid having her exposed to the shame he knew his imprisonment would cause her. Are you familiar with Judge Arlington?” Are you familiar with Judge Arlington?”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Clarkson said, nodding.

  “He knows the full story. He’s been helping us with Mr. Newbury’s situation. He assured us that Catherine was not wanted by the law.” Carter got to his feet. “Mrs. Clarkson, if you have any idea where Catherine has gone, I pray you tell me.”

  “I don’t know. I wish I did. I would have you tell her to come back. Felicia is gone. I dismissed her as soon as opportunity presented itself, but it wasn’t until after they had gone.”

  “So they said nothing?”

  “I do know they planned to take the train to New York City,”

  Mrs. Clarkson said with sudden enthusiasm.

  “New York City? Are you certain?”

  She nodded. “Yes. They took the train last Sunday afternoon.

  Just before you came here to ask after her. Though I don’t know where they were headed once they reached New York City.”

  Carter remembered Mrs. Samuelson’s boardinghouse. “I might have an idea, but since it’s been over a week, it might be too late.”

  “I’m sorry that I didn’t say something to you sooner. Catherine’s like a daughter to me, and I didn’t want to see her hurt.”

  “Neither do I, Mrs. Clarkson. Neither do I. I promise you I will do what I can to find her and keep her safe.” He looked at Winifred. “Come.”

  “What do you plan to do?” Winifred asked, getting to her feet.

  “Go after her. What else?” He grinned and gave Mrs. Clarkson a brief bow. “Thank you for your help.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Carter sent for Leander and together the trio tried to figure out the best plan for going after Catherine. Grateful to find his parents preoccupied with several New Year’s Eve parties, Carter arranged supper with Cook. They sat down to the meal at exactly six-thirty, none of them really able to focus on the food.

  “It’s too late to go yet tonight,” Winifred declared. “I don’t know what the train schedule might be, but the trip takes hours and snows may cause further delays. You wouldn’t get into New York City until the early-morning hours at this rate. I think you should wait and take the morning train. That will allow you to be well rested.”

  “Hardly,” Carter said. “I doubt I will sleep a wink tonight. I don’t know where she is or if she’s safe. How could I sleep warm and comfortably in my bed without being sure of her circumstance?”

  The servants offered them roasted lamb and mint jelly, along with creamed peas, baked squash, and a bevy of other delicious foods. Carter took an ample portion, but his heart was far from the meal.

  “Still, I think Winifred makes a good point,” Leander replied.

  “Better to arrive in the afternoon. We will have better luck with transportation to the boardinghouse.”

  “I suppose so.” Carter pushed the food around his plate.

  “It will also allow me to have a little time with Winifred,”

  Leander said, smiling. “After all, if I’m to leave for England as soon as Captain Marlowe is ready to return, I will be gone for some time. I want to have every possible moment with my betrothed.” He gave her a wink.

  Carter tried not to allow the feelings of jealousy to overtake his sensible mind. He needed to plan wisely for Catherine’s sake.

  “When is Marlowe due back?”

  “He told me he would dock in New York on or around the fourth, barring complications. He plans to leave again on the seventh and will take me with him.”

  “I can hardly bear to think of your being gone for so long.

  Weeks and weeks,” Winifred said with a sigh. She pushed back her plate as if she’d lost her appetite. “I’m blessed that you care enough to do this for Catherine, but I’m selfish enough to wish it already said and done.”

  “Travel is much faster these days,” Leander said, trying to encourage her. “You needn’t fret. There are good trains in England,

  I am told. And if all goes as well as we hope, Mr. Newbury will be near the western coast and ready for his trip to America.”

  “But what if he doesn’t wish to come here?” Winifred questioned.

  “What will you do then?”

  “Remind him that his daughter is in America,” Lee said with a smile.

  “But if Catherine knows you are going to England to bring her father back, she will insist on going with you,” Winifred said with conviction.

  “Then perhaps we will not tell her,” Carter replied. He knew he sounded selfish, but he didn’t want her exposed to more pain and misery, should the duke have been unable to complete the matter of setting Newbury free.

  “Better still, we’ll just be honest with her and remind her that her father could be on his way to America without waiting for my arrival. It’s a possibility, and if she accompanies me and that happens, there will be no one here to greet him.”

  “That’s true enough.” Carter imagined the fight Catherine would give, but he knew this explanation would also calm her.

  “I’ll pray for you all without ceasing,” Winifred said, shaking her head. “I’ll pray first and foremost that you will find Catherine and the Shays
and that they are safe. Then I’ll pray that you be wise in your choices of words and deeds. I don’t want anyone to suffer because of further deceit or secrets. We’ve seen where that has gotten us.”

  “I didn’t mean to suggest we would be less than honest with Catherine,” Carter said, feeling a little guilty. “I just . . . well . . .

  I don’t want her to go. For myself, as well as the situation Lee stated.”

  Winifred nodded. “I know. Just as I wish for you both not to go.” She smiled. “I suppose I shall just busy myself with plans for our wedding.”

  “That would be a very worthy project,” Lee said with a wink.

  “That way we can marry as soon as I return.”

  “Then that is what I shall do,” she said, not sounding at all like the shy young woman she’d been just a couple of months ago.

  Catherine finished mending a shirt and put it aside. Her neck ached from hours bent over the pieces. The men in the boardinghouse had been happy to have her help in repairing their clothes, even if they had to part with a little of their drinking money. Two of the men staying at the house were fishermen, whose clothes were more ragged than any Catherine had seen in a long time. She worked her skills to see the shirts put into better order, but it hadn’t been easy. One of the other gentlemen had actually asked her to make him a new shirt, and she had immediately gone to work on that project. Now the creation was nearly done.

  Getting up, she stretched and suppressed a yawn. It was New Year’s Eve, and once again it served only to mark yet another year without her father. Now they didn’t even know where he’d gone, and Catherine had no idea where to get answers.

  Downstairs there was a bit of a party going on. Mrs. Samuelson encouraged the revelry, telling everyone that 1856 was destined to be an exceptional year. Why she felt that way, Catherine didn’t know, but she hoped it might be true.

  “Catherine?” Selma’s voice called from beyond the door.

  “Come in,” Catherine called back. She turned to greet Selma.

  “It sounds like the party is going quite well.”

  Selma nodded. The sounds of music filtered up from downstairs. “Dugan is playing his fiddle and the men seem to enjoy the entertainment.”