Deception by Gaslight

by Kate Belli

  But he could still see Maggie’s haunted, wasted face in the weeks following the children’s disappearance. He could still see her bloodstained hands clawing at nothing after she’d been pulled off the Irish cousin. So for his sister, he stayed. He learned the fancy confusing manners, he figured out which fork was which, he learned to change the way he talked. He allowed himself to be dressed in hot, uncomfortable clothes, and to gaze longingly at the cool depths of the river but never to swim in it again.

  “Did you work for Jacob also?” Genevieve’s brow furrowed.

  Daniel shrugged uncomfortably. “It was Maggie who really worked for Jacob. As a maid. I …” Here Daniel paused. What exactly had he done for Jacob? Not much, actually. “I did the odd job or two, as required,” he settled on. “But mostly no, I didn’t work. Eventually I was sent to school, to Eton.”

  Genevieve looked even more confused at the name of the exclusive British institution. “That’s right, Mrs. Dolan said Jacob paid for your education. But you weren’t named his heir until later, correct?”

  “Good memory, Miss Stewart. Correct, I inherited later, after Jacob’s death.”

  “So why would Jacob send a servant boy to the most exclusive preparatory school in Britain? That’s quite an expense. And not even a servant boy, but the brother of a servant girl …” Genevieve paused, coloring a bit. Daniel watched her expression change as the obvious explanation dawned on her. “Oh,” she said uncomfortably. “Oh. Daniel, were they … together?” she asked delicately.

  Daniel sighed. “As much as a man in his seventies can be with a teenage girl,” he said wryly. “Jacob despised me. But he adored my sister from the second he laid eyes on her. At seventy-five, he was unwell, and somewhat frail, and wasn’t in any shape to force himself on her, as he might have done twenty-five years prior.”

  Daniel recalled the day he began to suspect the pair’s arrangement vividly: he had been halfheartedly shining a pair of Jacob’s shoes in the townhouse’s big, warm kitchen, under the watchful eye of Mr. Fallow, the butler, and thinking about how he would sneak out later to meet his friends, when a footman sent him into Jacob’s study. It was an imposing, masculine room, with a giant mahogany desk and bookshelves that ran the length of the fifteen-foot walls, crammed with thick leather-bound tomes. Daniel was normally strictly forbidden from entering, as were the bulk of the staff. Jacob was sitting behind his desk, fingers steepled and looking like he’d just swallowed a lemon. To Daniel’s surprise, his sister was standing nearby, primly dressed in her gray-and-white uniform, not a hair out of place.

  “You are a very lucky boy,” Jacob announced sourly. “I have decided I see potential in you,” he continued, mouth twisting as he sneered down at Daniel, “and, after some tutoring to get you up to scratch, will be sending you to one of the most exclusive boys’ schools in the world. I expect you to comport yourself with dignity.”

  Daniel stared wildly at his sister, who nodded to him. “It’s a great opportunity, Danny,” she said softly. “Mr. Van Joost is being very generous and kind.” She turned to the old man. “He’s really very grateful, sir, and I know will do you proud.”

  Jacob peered at Daniel doubtfully. “I will remain an anonymous benefactor for the time being, of course, until we see if he is as capable as you claim. Perhaps you will surprise me, boy.” He turned dismissively back to the papers on his desk. “That is all,” he muttered, not looking up.

  Maggie ushered Daniel out of the room. He didn’t see the inside of that study for another six years, returning only when Jacob had died to hear the shocking contents of his will read aloud. By then, of course, Maggie was gone.

  Daniel had wanted to protest vehemently at being forced to go to some prissy school, but Maggie quelled that instinct with a look. “It really is a wonderful opportunity.” Her jaw clenched as she added, “I’ll not lose you too. You’ll go to school, and you’ll do well. You know you’re smart enough.” He had made good marks at the Lower East Side school he had briefly attended until Mam became ill, when he’d stopped to help Maggie care for her and the little ones, and to earn a little money working with the Toughs.

  The next year was torturous. A tutor arrived, and it was immediately, painfully clear that Daniel was woefully behind in his studies. It was determined that he should work with the tutor ten hours a day, six days a week, learning Latin, math, literature, history, and French in preparation to attend Eton.

  It also became clear that Maggie had entered into an arrangement of sorts with Jacob. The house was so large that Maggie and Daniel each had their own bedroom in the servants’ area, a vast, unthinkable amount of space when their seven-person family had once lived in two and a half rooms. The empty bed unnerved Daniel, who had always slept with at least one other sibling. He and Maggie had kept up the practice once the little ones were gone, even though they had more room then, simply to stave off their lonely awareness of their once large, happy family reduced to two. Once they arrived uptown, Daniel would creep into Maggie’s room late at night, after he’d returned from his nocturnal wanderings with the Toughs, to sleep on the floor of her room. One night soon after he’d started working with the tutor, she wasn’t there. Daniel tried to wait up for her but instead awoke when she crept back into the room just before dawn and began to dress for the day’s work.

  “Where were you?” he demanded, though in his heart he knew the answer. Maggie refused to look at him as she buttoned up her uniform, her jaw set once again.

  “Never you mind. You just attend to your studies.” She struggled with the last button, high at her neck, then glanced briefly at Daniel, still curled under a blanket on the floor near her bed. Her jaw softened. “I’ll not lose you too,” she repeated softly, and slipped from the room.

  Life on the Lower East Side was lived largely out of doors, as nobody had much room. Lovers’ spats, quarrels, flirtations, and courtships were conducted mostly in public, for the world to see. Daniel knew what went on between grown men and women. The thought of the creepy, decrepit older man putting his hands on his young, once-vibrant but still-beautiful sister made his skin crawl. But Maggie would not be dissuaded. The two or three times he tried to protest, tried to broach the subject, she turned mulish and stubborn. “I’ll not lose you too,” was all she would say. And what could a twelve-year-old boy, especially one who had lost almost his entire family, say to that?

  The weeks turned into a year. Daniel learned Latin, complicated mathematics, and how to sleep alone. He learned to live in two worlds: that of the privileged, which he half inhabited, and that of the city’s slums and gang life, which he knew best. He wore the right clothes, after a year could say the right things, and finally figured out which spoon was meant for soup and which for pudding. Almost exactly one year to the day after they arrived at the Gramercy Park townhome, he reluctantly boarded a steamer for Britain and was thrust into the exclusive world of English public school.

  At Eton, it became abundantly clear in minutes that his newfound knowledge of upper-class ways was utterly useless. To the English boys, he might as well still have been speaking with a Five Points accent; in their eyes, a Yank was a Yank. He had to relearn which fork to use all over again, as the rules of etiquette were different overseas, and had to bloody a few noses when the insults got out of hand. He was almost expelled for those, but suspected a generous donation from New York kept his place—for a time. After a few weeks, the other boys steered clear of him, leaving Daniel lonelier than anything he had ever experienced, until one day a thin blond boy plunked himself down next to Daniel at tea and began peppering him with questions about New York while eating Daniel’s biscuits. Daniel didn’t mind, and soon he and Rupert Milton were allies. He even began spending the Christmas holidays at the crumbling Umberland estate rather than returning to New York as he did for the summer. Even run-down, the house was larger and grander than anything Daniel had ever seen, putting the Van Joost mansion to shame.

  Daniel felt as though he were living a hal
f life during those years at Eton, mostly immersed in his studies, enjoying camaraderie with Rupert and holidays with the Milton family, but once a year, during the summer months, he was thrust back into his old life in New York. He kept close to home during the long days, trying to see his sister when he could, and would slip out of the Van Joost mansion at night to roam with his childhood friends.

  It was his graduation from Eton and his return to the States to attend Harvard that changed things. Nobody from New York had attended the actual ceremony in Britain, though Rupert’s mother had given him a peck on the cheek and a small gift. Due to particular circumstances at Rupert’s home, it was decided that he would attend Harvard as well, and Daniel set sail for New York after making plans to meet his friend in Cambridge later that summer. Once he was back, Maggie took him to dinner to celebrate, proud and lovely in a green silk dress purchased for the occasion. Despite being the mistress of one of the wealthiest men in New York, she did not live like one. Daniel didn’t know if this was by choice or not, as they didn’t talk about her relationship with Jacob, but he guessed it was. Even though he lived on the periphery of the household, it was clear that Jacob was besotted with his sister. Now an octogenarian, he watched Maggie like a hawk, loudly insisting she be the one to dust the Frederick MacMonnies sculpture in the drawing room, or be the one to bring him afternoon tea. The few times Daniel had glimpsed these interactions over the years, such as Maggie placing a pillow behind Jacob’s back as he read the evening paper at his querulous request, the naked longing and devotion he witnessed on the old man’s face had made his own face burn in response, as if he had walked in on the pair in an intimate act.

  At the steakhouse Maggie had taken him to on the West side, Daniel felt awkward and tongue-tied, a stranger with his own flesh and blood. Maggie looked pale and drawn, though this only accentuated her beauty. Her deep green eyes and rich brown hair had drawn admiring glances all night, and Daniel had come to the uncomfortable realization that people assumed they were a couple.

  “Off to college at summer’s end,” she marveled quietly, sipping on a glass of beer. “Mam and Da would have been so proud, Danny.” Daniel shrugged silently, unsure of what to say. He was looking forward to going to Cambridge and leaving New York. It was growing increasingly difficult to reconcile his two selves, and he was ready to leave at least one of those halves in the past. Slipping out at night with the Toughs, involving himself in the turf wars and grievances of gang life, and avoiding the constant machinations of Tommy Meade had ceased to hold any appeal for him. He continued the practice only out of loyalty to his friends and his past. Harvard would be a different kind of challenge, but whether he liked to admit it or not, Jacob’s gift of education had changed him irrevocably. He doubted he would spend the summers at home, even though Boston was a far cry closer than Eton had been.

  He needed a break from his dual existence.

  It had been a fine early summer night, and Maggie had slipped her arm through his on the walk home.

  “I’ll miss you, Danny,” she said, breathing the night air deeply. She stopped a block short of the Van Joost mansion and fiercely met his eye. “You mustn’t forget where you come from, ever. And you mustn’t be ashamed of it, ever. Mam and Da were good people, decent people. You are too, Danny. Even though you still run with the Toughs.” She shook her head at his half-articulated protest. “I know you do, though I wish you wouldn’t. But I understand why.”

  They had reached the servants’ entrance of the mansion.

  Maggie laid a hand on his cheek and leaned in to kiss the other, soft as the early summer air. She held his gaze with those famous green eyes.

  “Be good, Danny.”

  He gave her a lopsided smile. “Maggie, I won’t be going away for at least a month.”

  Daniel remembered how sad she had looked, as she had for years. It was as if her sorrow had permeated her until there was nothing left. But she returned his smile. “Aye, but you’ll be busy getting ready for Boston, and I might not see that much of ya. I love you, Danny.”

  Daniel told his last remaining sister he loved her too. They went to their respective rooms, and Daniel fell into a deep sleep, only to be woken some hours later by a housemaid’s screams.

  CHAPTER 18

  Genevieve was silent, still taking in the story. How on earth had no one ever uncovered the connection between Daniel and one of Jacob’s housemaids? She guessed his money must have bought considerable silence on the part of the remaining servants.

  Remarkable, what money could buy.

  “How did she do it?” she finally asked, her voice soft.

  “She hung herself,” he replied.

  Her heart contracted. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “How did that make you Jacob’s heir?” she asked, trying to piece the puzzle together. “With Maggie … gone, he didn’t have to hold up his end of the bargain anymore, did he? How did you pay for Harvard?”

  Daniel quirked a bitter half smile at her. “Would you believe, the old man actually seemed to love her? After her death, Jacob apparently changed his will, making me the sole heir to the entire fortune.” He shook his head slowly. “He felt so guilt-ridden at her unhappiness, he completed in death the one thing she had asked for in life: to take care of me.” He tossed the remaining whiskey back in one hard swallow.

  “Despite what Maggie may have thought, I’m not ashamed,” Daniel continued, his eyes suddenly fierce. “Not by my past, my family, or even what my sister did to survive. But I can’t have her memory tarnished.”

  Surprised at his ferocity, she stammered, “Of course.”

  “This is not fodder for your career.”

  Genevieve leaned back, affronted. “Daniel. Have I written one word about anything you’ve ever told me? I wouldn’t do that to you; we’re partners.”

  His look softened. “I am trusting you with this information, as I am asking you to trust me about Robin Hood.”

  Genevieve huffed a small sigh. It was true: what Daniel had just divulged had been an extraordinary act of trust. She hadn’t asked for it, but for now she felt she had no choice.

  “Fine,” she said, trying not to sound begrudging. “I’ll trust you.”

  A look of relief washed over his face. “Thank you,” he said, sounding exhausted. “Thank you. Give me a few days, and I ought to be able to tell you everything I know.”

  She nodded slowly. “How do I know more people won’t get hurt in the meantime?”

  “That I can’t promise. I can only promise to work as fast as I can.”

  Pulling herself from the comfortable love seat, Genevieve crossed to the window and pulled open the heavy silk drapes covering the east-facing window. The sky was still dark, but a faint glow was just beginning to emanate from behind the buildings across the street. She turned back to Daniel and regarded him.

  He looked a mess, his eyes half lidded and red from whiskey and staying up all night, with several days’ growth of beard covering his cheeks and chin. At some point he had unfastened the top several buttons of his shirt, which billowed out from his tight breeches, almost completely untucked.

  She knew she didn’t look any better, with her rumpled costume and wild hair sticking out every which way. She had a brief memory of their meeting in the alley, of how she’d thought he was the most handsome man she had ever seen. Even though he exuded exhaustion, it held true.

  It was time to go. If anyone saw either of them together, they would come to only one conclusion.

  “That will have to be good enough, I suppose,” she said, as she fastened her cloak around her shoulders and prepared to slip back into the hall. “I’ll head to the archives first thing Monday and let you know what I find.”

  Daniel stood and moved toward the door. He stuck his head into the hallway. “All clear. Go quickly. And Genevieve—”

  “I know,” she interrupted. “I’ll be careful.”

  * * *


  Dawn was just starting to break as the cab pulled up in front of her house. Genevieve heaved a sigh of relief. The hallway outside Daniel’s hotel room had been empty, and while a few party guests had still been stumbling around the lobby as the doorman hailed her a cab, she didn’t think she’d seen anyone she knew. Also, the remaining attendees had been so inebriated that even if she had been seen, she doubted she would be remembered.

  As she walked through her front door, extreme tiredness began to overtake her. It was hard to stay upright, and she had no thought other than tumbling into her soft, warm bed when a voice startled her back into wakefulness.

  “Genevieve? Is that you?” Her mother, wrapped neck to toe in a violet dressing gown, came bustling out of the front drawing room. Genevieve winced; she had been hoping to sneak in while her parents were still abed. But the sight behind Anna’s shoulder caused a gasp to escape her mouth.

  “What’s happened?” she asked wildly, all tiredness forgotten.

  A police officer had trailed her mother into the hallway. And not any police officer, she realized with a start, but the same Officer Jackson who had stared at her so lewdly on the steps of Reginald Cotswold’s house the day she went to speak to Mrs. Dolan. Genevieve wrapped her cloak tighter around her body, aware of her wrinkled gown, her disheveled hair.

  “Come into the drawing room, dear.” Her normally unflappable mother seemed shaken, and dread filled her.

  “Please, tell me what it is,” she implored, following her mother and the officer into her front drawing room

  The sight that greeted her stopped her in her tracks.

  Callie, wrapped in one of Genevieve’s dressing gowns with a blanket over her shoulders for good measure, was huddled on the sofa, shaking hands clutching a cup of coffee. Genevieve rushed to her friend’s side as Dr. Needler, their family physician, stood up from where he’d been kneeling beside Callie.