A Golden Cage

by Shelley Freydont

  But Edgerton? Would they save him in order to preen him as the Judge’s replacement? Or would they just look the other way, pretend they didn’t know him. Let him swing for murder.

  Will managed to find two police officers in the crowd and sent them off to fetch a police wagon. And also to send for the medical examiner.

  Joe thought about asking Will if it would be all right to take Deanna and Elspeth home, but he didn’t have the heart to leave Will alone with the mob.

  Dee, Belle, and Elspeth stood off to one side like three avenging angels, three very tired avenging angels.

  Joe went to stand by Dee. “It shouldn’t be too much longer now.”

  Deanna gave him a half smile.

  “How did you know how to run the wheel?” he asked.

  “You explained it the day you were working at Bonheur.”

  “I did?”

  “Yes, you did,” she said patiently.

  “And you understood it?”

  Deanna looked to the ceiling and back to Joe. “Pull a lever, ride a bicycle? I should think so.”

  They stood waiting until Will came over to them. “Good work, girls. But I really wish you had consulted with me first.”

  “We tried to,” Deanna said. “I had gone to tell Belle that I was turning her in and give her a chance to do it herself. But she was gone, so Elspeth and I went looking for Joe to tell you, but you two were off dining somewhere and we couldn’t wait.”

  “Well, don’t make a habit of it,” Will said sternly.

  Joe could tell he wasn’t really angry and so could Dee and Elspeth.

  “I’m sorry,” Belle said, and batted her eyelashes at Will. Really, the girl was a piece of work. “I was afraid the killer was after me.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And she was right,” Deanna told him.

  “Hmm.” Will turned to Elspeth. “Are you the one who set off the clarion call?”

  Elspeth lifted her chin at him. He towered over her so it didn’t have much effect. “If you mean,” she said, “was I the one that set off the fireworks, the answer is yes.”

  “How did you manage it?”

  “We always set off Roman candles on the holidays, the ones here are just bigger. Besides, I had these.” Elspeth pulled a bag from her pocket and opened the drawstring. She fumbled inside and finally held up a small rectangular box.

  “Matches?” Will asked. “You carry matches?”

  Elspeth grinned at Deanna. “A good lady’s maid always comes prepared.”

  Chapter

  23

  “Well, the Rensselaers will just have to wait for our presence tonight,” Gwen said, taking a glass of sherry from the tray Carlisle was holding out to her.

  Joe had just come downstairs bathed, shaved, and dressed in evening wear. “I suspect Will Hennessey will be around to question us.” He took a whiskey from Carlisle. Dee hadn’t come back downstairs.

  “Do you really think Dee will be up for a ball? She must be exhausted.”

  “I completely agree,” Lionel said. “Perhaps we should all stay home this evening. Catching killers is daunting work.”

  “And not to be encouraged,” Joe said.

  “Oh, Joseph. You can hardly stop her doing what she will,” Laurette added. “If her mother couldn’t do it, I don’t imagine you will have better success.”

  Joe swirled the liquid around in his glass. “I don’t want to do anything like that. But really, she can’t go around overcoming villains, and hiding in theaters, and breaking into people’s houses.”

  “Oh, can’t she just.” Gwen leaned back and laughed delightedly.

  “It is not something to be taken lightly.”

  “No, it isn’t,” his father said, giving his mother-in-law a quelling look, which she ignored. “It’s a great responsibility accepting the way another person lives.” He glanced at his wife. “It takes great fortitude.”

  “And good cigars and whiskey,” Laurette said, getting up from the chaise and coming to give Lionel a kiss on the forehead before sitting on the arm of his chair.

  “I’ve been a great burden to your father.”

  “A great challenge,” he corrected her. “And a delight.” And the smile he gave her made Joe look away.

  “What will happen to Edgerton?” his mother asked.

  “I suppose we’ll have to wait for Will. I’m sure he’s still with the family, who, by the way, didn’t even come out of the house during all the ruckus. Not even after the butler was summoned and sent back to the house with a message for Mrs. Grantham.”

  “Maude’s no dummy,” Gwen said. “A cold fish, but not without a brain. I’m sure she won’t make an appearance without a cadre of lawyers. And as for Drusilla.” Gwen shuddered.

  “They’ll weather the scandal, of course,” she continued. “People like that always do. But it’s ironic, is it not, that Walter did everything in his power including murder to prevent the Judge’s actions from becoming a scandal, and he became the scandal instead.” Her expression changed and she looked past the others to the doorway where Deanna had just entered.

  “She doesn’t look tired at all,” Gwen said in an underbreath. “She rather looks . . .”

  Amazing, thought Joe. She looks amazing. She was dressed in a light blue gown that seemed to shimmer as she moved through the light. With a décolleté lower than her mother—and Joe, for that matter—would allow her to wear in public. Because somehow there was a figure beneath that dress he hadn’t quite been aware of before, and white translucent skin lifting gently with every breath. He took a gulp of whiskey.

  She didn’t look tired at all, she looked ready to take Newport by storm. Confident, calm, and a little flushed. Her dark hair was pulled back from high cheekbones and was dressed with silver ribbons. And she took his breath away.

  Joe looked up to see his father watching him.

  Lionel shook his head slightly, obviously amused, and looked away.

  “Come in, my dear,” Grandmère said.

  Dee swept into the room. Was this the same girl who was pedaling like a madwoman, dripping sweat to bring down a killer just hours before?

  Joe stood. “Would you—” He cleared his throat. “Would you care for a sherry?”

  She turned a brilliant smile on him. “Yes, thank you.”

  He had left her an hour ago with her face smudged with dirt, her hair flying every which way, and her dress a wrinkled mess. Maybe he’d fallen asleep over his whiskey and this was a dream.

  But she took the glass he offered, her glove touching his bare hand.

  “Are you up to a ball tonight, my dear?” Gwen asked.

  “Oh yes, I feel quite invigorated.”

  Joe’s mother smiled. His father looked resigned, and Gwen beamed on her protégée.

  Deanna sat down next to Gwen. “Do you think the police will let Belle leave with the other actors in the morning?”

  They all looked at Lionel.

  “I’m no barrister but I imagine they will. They have her address in the city, though I’m sure she won’t be staying there for long, once Maude Grantham finds out the Judge was paying for it. To know her husband was keeping a mistress would be humiliating enough, but that he was keeping a mistress merely as a conduit to Charlie . . . I hope Belle has the good sense to stay away from the woman.”

  Deanna nodded. “Is it wrong to feel a little sorry for the Judge? I mean, I know he was an awful man, but he loved Charlie. It seems to me he should be punished for all the other stuff, like sending people to prison for doing the same thing he was doing. But not for doing it.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about the Judge,” Gwen said. “He had his cake and ate it, too, while he was living.”

  “Mama,” Laurette said.

  “And the world will never know him for anything but as the
mouthpiece for all those closed-minded, self-styled moralists. Moral, my foot, passing judgment on people, making it illegal for women to practice birth control so they can feed the children they already have, for what a husband and wife do in their own houses, for—”

  “Mama!” exclaimed Laurette. “We all know how you feel.”

  “Yes, well. Don’t worry about the Judge, Deanna. It will all be hushed up. Even if Walter starts blabbing, they’ll just say he’s vindictive—or mad. And it will go worse for him in court.”

  “Will Elspeth and I have to testify in court?” Deanna asked, growing slightly pale.

  “Heavens no,” Gwen said. “They won’t even ask, because they know that your papa will never allow it. But it won’t come to that.”

  “It will probably never get to court,” Lionel said. “They’ll send Walter off to a sanitarium for a while, saying the stress of work unbalanced his mind.” Lionel snorted. “It’s the way of the world, my dear.”

  “He tried to convince Will that Belle killed the Judge and Charlie, too.”

  “He can try. But I think the Grantham lawyers would rather sacrifice one son-in-law than have the Judge’s reputation besmirched by what might come out in court.”

  “It isn’t fair,” Deanna said.

  “No, it isn’t,” Lionel said.

  “That’s why it’s important to put your energies into things that can be changed,” Laurette said.

  “Mother,” Joe said.

  “Ah, I hear the carriage,” Gwen said. “Shall we go?”

  * * *

  Word had already gotten out that the Judge had died by the hand of an unknown assailant. The story, Deanna knew, would change with each telling. Will had sworn her, Elspeth, and Belle to secrecy. And Deanna had no intention of letting it be known that she had anything to do with the matter.

  Strange as it seemed, she was still more frightened of her mother’s opinion than she was of a murderer holding a pistol.

  She danced almost every dance, twice with Herbert, who was full of plans for his trip to Germany and the fledgling automobile industry there. She even waltzed with Joe, who was particularly quiet. She thought he might still be angry with her for her “escapades,” as he thought of them. But he danced well, and it helped keep the images of the Judge and Edgerton at bay.

  They left the ball fairly early, and the sway of the carriage lulled Deanna into a blissful place close to sleep, but when the carriage stopped at Bonheur, all the events of earlier in the evening came racing back. It left her agitated and anxious.

  Lionel and Laurette went upstairs.

  Gwen waited for Deanna, but Deanna stopped at the bottom of the stair. “Do you think I might sit out on the terrace for a bit?”

  “Of course, my dear. Joseph, will you accompany Deanna for a stroll out in the garden? You can trust him, Deanna, to behave like a gentleman.”

  “Do you mind, Joe? I’d just like to be outside in the air for a while.”

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  Gran Gwen took a shawl from the sofa and put it around Deanna’s shoulders. “Don’t stay out too long. We have another busy day tomorrow.”

  Deanna walked out the back of the house, Joe silent beside her. There was a breeze off the ocean, and she pulled the shawl around her shoulders.

  “Too cold?” Joe asked.

  “No. It’s clearing out my cobwebs.”

  Joe smiled. “You used to always say that.”

  “That’s because it does. There’s so much about the world I don’t understand, Joe.”

  “I think no one ever understands everything. You’ll learn what you need to learn.”

  They walked on down toward the cliffs, stood by the steps down to the Bonheur beach. Watched the waves churn into foam at the bottom.

  Joe moved closer. “Deanna, there’s something I want to say.”

  She wanted to say Not now, but best to get it over with. She lifted her chin.

  He took a breath. “I love you, Dee, but I can’t be worried about you all the time. I can’t concentrate on my work when I don’t know what you’ll get into next. I have to stay focused on making the machinery more efficient. That’s the most important thing if we want to stay competitive, hell, if we want to stay in business at all. Do you understand?”

  Deanna nodded, but she wasn’t hearing much of what he had said. She’d gotten stuck on the “I love you, Dee” part.

  “My father says I’ll get used to it, but I don’t think I will. I worry about you.”

  Deanna broke out of her haze. “Well, don’t. I don’t want you to worry about me and I don’t want to take time away from your machines, they’re your passion. But I won’t give up my passion, either . . . as soon as I find out what my passion is.”

  “Ah, Dee. You could be a grand lady. You have all the makings and the energy and cleverness that your sister lacks.”

  “I don’t believe that’s the life for me, Joe.”

  “No, I’m afraid that it isn’t, either. But you should try.”

  “I have tried. I’ve spent months going to balls and buying new clothes and it’s been delightful, well, about half of it has been delightful. As to the rest . . . it was wasted time. My best friend is my maid.”

  “You just need to take the time to find girls with your own interests.”

  “Like your mother?”

  “No, not like my mother.”

  “Your mother goes to balls, she’s invited to soirees and all the rest, and yet she has her work to fulfill her.”

  “Yes, but that’s because . . .”

  “She’s married to a rich and important man?”

  Joe laughed. “Only partly so. The rest is because of her sheer captivating personality.”

  * * *

  Joe led her toward a bench that sat at the cliff’s edge. He and Bob and Dee and sometimes Will had sat here years before making up stories as the days wore on. Now Bob was dead. Will was downtown wrapping up a murder investigation. Just he and Dee sat here in the dark. The wind was brisk, and he put his arm protectively along the back of the bench. She settled comfortably against him.

  They sat looking at the night sky, as the clouds scudded across the stars. The waves hushed on the beach in the inlet below their feet. The moon lay low on the horizon. It was a quiet time, a peaceful time, something Joe thought they both needed.

  “You know, Dee. I don’t come out here much anymore. It’s nice sitting here like we used to. These days it just seems like all I do is work. But it’s important work. And it’s up to me. Did you ever stop to wonder what comes next?

  “I didn’t realize until tonight how much you—I don’t know—have grown to be a woman.

  “We make a pretty good team, don’t you think? We get along okay, most of the time. You actually listen to me natter on about my inventions, and I think you understand what I’m talking about. And you’ll find your own calling. I have no doubt about that.

  “I don’t know, there just seem to be so many ifs. I guess, all in all, we might be good together. It’s not the life you’ve been raised to enjoy, and you’ve probably figured out by now, I don’t want to go back to that life. But we could make this work. What I mean is . . . well, hell, Dee. What do you think?”

  Dee sighed.

  “Do you think we should try to make a go of it together?”

  Dee sighed again.

  “Is that a yes, or a no, or a maybe? Dee?”

  He looked down at her, her head resting on his shoulder. Her eyes were closed.

  He laughed quietly. He’d be sitting out there a long time if he waited for an answer. His intrepid, sometimes infuriating, detective had fallen asleep.

  Author’s Note

  The Gilded Age was a time of colossal riches, conspicuous consumption, and outrageous expenditures. Wealth was something to show to the
world. Money became the standard by which society was judged. The Knickerbockers, the old moneyed families of New York, were forced to accept the “new rich,” those who made their fortunes in shipping, oil, railroads, and manufacturing, into their ballrooms and social clubs.

  What these newcomers lacked in taste they made up for in extravagance. And ruthlessness.

  But it wasn’t just among the social elite that change was happening. And it was happening fast. Jobs opened up for middle and working class men and women. Education was mandatory so many young men, no longer content to become day laborers, farmers, or dock workers, migrated to the city to become clerks and office workers and partake of city life. Young women, once destined to be servants or laundresses, were accepted into colleges, found employment as typewriters (the term for those who did the typing), store clerks, and bookkeepers.

  Jobs once only open to men had new female competition. But as is often the case, the more things changed the more they remained the same. And still haven’t changed today. Women might work alongside men but they weren’t paid as much.

  One of the few places a woman could earn as much as and often more than her male counterpart, was in the theater. Talented actresses and singers were in great demand. Retired actresses became managers, opened their own theaters, took companies “on the road.” And though they were disrespected by the “genteel” classes, especially the women, many were hardworking, moral people.

  The rich were known to invite entire casts to perform for their guests in Newport, building theaters for the performance on the grounds of their “cottages,” while the Manhattan theater remained dark, and losing money, during their absence.

  Of course the double standard was very much alive and so while the divas might be entertained with a glass of champagne on the veranda after the performance, there was nothing unusual about some of the lesser actresses picking up a little extra work down on the yachts of the rich husbands of Newport.