The Gold Miner's Wife: A Young Woman's Story of Romance, Passion and Murder

by Creek, Amethyst

  “This just came for you,” she said.

  Susannah’s day dreaming’s and peaceful musings were utterly transmogrified into a fearful and alarming sense of panic when she read the contents:

  ‘Lady Alice extremely ill…hallucinations…seizures…unknown cause…began last evening…condition grave…come home at once’ Dr. George Hargreave

  Susannah unceremoniously jumped up from her seat; she dropped her toast, her napkin fell to the floor. “Oh, God, no!” she exclaimed, weeping now. Catori and Mrs. Sheppard and the two housemaids soon knew why. What ensued thereafter could only be described as pandemonium. Everyone in the household rallied in a united effort to help Susannah organize for a hasty departure. There was not a minute to spare. She was determined to leave that very day, to make the five o’clock train, and was filled with foreboding that she might not arrive at her grandmother’s bedside in time.

  By noon, a reply to Dr. Hargreave had been drafted and delivered to the telegraph office. It was decided that Susannah should not make such an arduous journey alone and so Catori offered to accompany her. Two trunks were brought down from the attic and the housemaids set to work packing articles of clothing and other essentials. Susannah hastily scribbled notes to be delivered to Eleanor Gibson, briefly explaining her abrupt departure, and to Jack and Mr. Hoyt outlining her wishes as to the management of her share in the mine. With a very tearful goodbye to Mrs. Sheppard who accompanied them to the station, Susannah and Catori departed Denver on the Kansas Pacific Railway at precisely five o’clock. The train would take them as far as Kansas City, Missouri. From there they would take the Chicago, Burlington & Quincy line to Chicago with the final leg from Chicago to New York City on the Pennsylvania Railroad.

  After her first trans-Atlantic voyage in the spring of 1873, Susannah had repeated the journey a number of times so as to become a more wizened traveler. For one thing, she used only Saratoga style trunks. Their rounded lids prevented other heavy trunks from being stacked on top in the cargo hold of the ship, thus assuring that her belongings arrived undamaged. Also, from the Port of New York, steamship travel to England usually took eleven days. However, Susannah had learned that passage on steamships also carrying masts and sails as a precaution, was preferable. When they reached New York, Susannah was lucky enough to book first class passage on one such steamship. Her name was the Scotia and she was operated by the Cunard line. The Scotia was the second largest ship in the world after the Eastern Star. She was an ocean-going paddle steamer, 400 feet long and consumed 164 tons of coal per day.

  On the first day out, Catori was feeling rather unsettled and Susannah, remembering her most unpleasant initiation to ocean travel, offered her friend slices of green apples to munch on. During the second evening the ship passed through a dense fog bank requiring the steam whistle to be blown every five minutes all night long. On the fifth day, it was bitterly cold and the smokestack was completely surrounded by passengers who were trying to get warm by leaning against it. On the tenth day, the Scotia had reached Ireland, but a terrible storm made it impossible for the pilot boats to come near enough to take some of the passengers off. Those unlucky passengers were forced to sail on to England.

  Cut off as she was from all news from home, each day seemed like an eternity to Susannah. She was anxious and restless, hungry for news but dreading it all the same. The steamship docked on the eleventh day, but what awaited Susannah in England would be far more uncertain and dangerous than anything she had faced until now.

  *****

  It was late in the afternoon on November 15th when Susannah’s message to Jack was delivered and by then, she was already on her way to Kansas City. The news of her abrupt departure left him utterly astonished, like a punch to his gut. She was gone, with no hint of when she might return and he was helpless to do anything about it. An air of deserted melancholy soon settled around him. He accepted that the awful news of her grandmother’s illness had upset her. While it seemed perfectly reasonable that she must go immediately he was nevertheless apprehensive and concerned for her safety and soon paid a visit to 56 Grant Street to pry loose the minutiae from Catori and Mrs. Sheppard.

  Feather duster in hand, the housemaid answered the door, clearly not expecting callers with her mistress not at home.

  “Mr. Simmons!” she said with surprise in her voice. “I am afraid Mrs. Sprague is not here.”

  “I know,” he said. “I would like to speak with Catori or perhaps Mrs. Sheppard if I may.”

  “Of course,” she said, motioning him inside. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, he stepped inside the foyer. He vividly recalled how beautiful Susannah looked the night before, her full lips, feverishly joined with his, his hands on the swell of full breasts that begged for his caress, the delicate scent of rosewater, the sound of her gasps as he pleasured her.

  “Please follow me,” the maid directed. She accompanied him to the kitchen where Mrs. Sheppard had set out an array of empty canning jars in all sizes on the work table. “Mr. Simmons!” she exclaimed as she looked up.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Sheppard. Susannah’s message arrived at my home only a short while ago,” he said, as if to explain his presence. “It was a surprise, to say the least.”

  “Yes, it was all very sudden,” she replied. “The poor dear. After all she has been through and now this. Catori has gone with her. They managed to make the five o’clock train to Kansas City.”

  “I see,” he said, relieved to know Susannah was not traveling alone. “Can you tell me any more about the nature of her grandmother’s illness?”

  “Well, just a moment,” said Mrs. Sheppard thoughtfully. She left the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with a brown envelope. “Here is the telegram. It was delivered this morning. That is all we know,” she said, handing it to him. He took a moment to scan the contents, then she continued, “Susannah assured me she would send a telegram once she reached New York and again when she finally arrived in England. I know she will. But until then, I doubt that I will have any further news.”

  “I would greatly appreciate it if you would send a note around when you hear from Susannah. I am concerned,” he said honestly.

  “Of course, Mr. Simmons,” said Mrs. Sheppard most agreeably. “I give you my word.”

  *****

  Back in England, Edward Mansfield was feeling eminently pleased with himself. He and Charlotte had visited Lady Alice on the afternoon of November 14th. They had all enjoyed an afternoon of tea and several lively games of cards. Lady Alice had grown accustomed to having Charlotte pass around the scones and cakes and to having Edward pour the tea, and therefore dismissed the maid. When it was time for the last cup, Edward made his way to the tea trolley. He poured the tea in first. He knew exactly how much milk Lady Alice preferred and added it to the steaming brew, then secretly slipped in a few drops of something extra and handed the cup to Lady Alice. Shortly thereafter, he and Charlotte bid her a pleasant afternoon.

  The intelligence he desperately needed to hear reached him the very next day. Lady Alice was seriously ill with an unknown ailment and Dr. Hargreaves had been called to her bedside. Edward waited two more days and then paid another call at Larkspur. With the deadly vial in his pocket, he carried a large bouquet of colorful flowers, cuttings from his very own greenhouse.

  Edward was admitted to Lady Alice’s room. The frail old woman looked very puny indeed in the huge four-poster bed that was hung with heavy velvet and damask drapes. The shades were drawn, the room illuminated only by a single oil lamp near the bed. She opened her eyes a fraction when she heard him speak her name, and gave Edward a weak smile. She held out her hand to him, it was fragile and limp, but he took it, ready to play the hero.

  “Edward, you have come,” she said almost inaudibly. “Susannah is on her way.”

  “I am very relieved to hear it, Lady Alice,” said Edward. “You must concentrate on getting well. We do not want to worry our sweet Susannah now, do we?” he aske
d.

  “Take care of her, Edward,” she whispered, and then closed her weary eyes again. It was like an endorsement, a validation, a legitimization of his place of importance in Susannah’s life. He noticed the glass of water on the table near the bed. It would be so easy, he thought. But there was no need to give the old hag another dose. Things were going according to plan. It fact, they were going better than expected, for Lady Alice was becoming his unwitting ally and in another couple of weeks, Susannah would be back at Larkspur.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It was midmorning when Susannah and Catori stood at the rail of the Scotia; the captain carefully maneuvering the steamship to come alongside the wooden wharf. They watched as it slowly drew nearer to the dock. The river was busy with noisy activity – the traffic of passing barges and other vessels sounding their horns, gulls calling overhead, and the shouts from the Scotia’s crew members to the dock workers as they engaged in the important business of securing the vessel. Catori noticed how different the climate was. The air was heavy and damp, it chilled the bones.

  For Catori, the entire odyssey, although of a solemn nature, captivated her imagination and fostered her awareness; it was the journey of a lifetime. Each eventful new day allowed her to make discoveries in a world that was now strangely unfamiliar, and sometimes even formidable. In less than a space of three weeks, she had met almost more people than she had previously in her entire lifetime. Train travel halfway across the North American continent, brief visits to established, populated cities including Chicago, Philadelphia and New York, and an ocean voyage on a paddle-wheel steamship were all impressive, remarkable new experiences. Denver seemed farther away than ever.

  On this day, Catori dressed with greater care. Although she was Susannah’s employee, she was also her friend and today would be meeting the most important person in Susannah’s life: her elder. This she considered to be a very great honor. Her plaited hair was tied with a strip of leather. Catori wore a two-hide dress, made from cowhide that had been worked to a comfortable softness. It was elaborately decorated at the yoke with seed beads, faceted Russian glass beads in yellow, red, blue and black as well as many elk eye-teeth. A gift from her grandfather, these last were a vastly prized ornamentation. As elk have at most two eye-teeth, the fact that she owned so many revealed her kinsmen to be highly skilled hunters. About her neck she was further adorned with the spiritual totem of her clan, the figure of a bear. This fetish of her guardian animal was carved from turquoise, blue turquoise to represent the west.

  Susannah and Catori made their farewells to the captain and crew. The instant the gangplank touched the wharf, the passengers disembarked in an orderly queue. Catori stepped from the ship, she was in an entirely new land now. Nineteen days of travel and her adventure was only beginning. She felt privileged to be making this journey and for the opportunity to help her friend.

  The ladies turned their attention to the luggage. Soon everything was piled onto a cart pushed along by a porter. Susannah led the way from the wharf and into the cobbled streets as they searched for a suitable hansom cab to transport them to the train station. Catori’s appearance drew curious stares, but she was equally guilty of giving curious stares of her own. They hurried along purposefully, aware that they drew the notice of swarthy dock workers who assessed them with undisguised interest. Susannah negotiated with the driver of a promising looking hansom cab. She paid the porter who assisted with loading the trunks and soon they were making their way through crowded London streets to the train station.

  As the horse clopped along at a steady pace, Catori took in all the unfamiliar sights and sounds with profound wonderment. This was her first view of England. The scent of sea brine was replaced with aromas of baking bread and other foods, fresh fish, smoke, horses and leather. She had never seen so many grand and majestic buildings all in one place. For her, the history of this prosperous society was distilled into the exemplary architectural marvels before her. Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey, the British Parliament Building, Big Ben, the Tower of London and so many others, were inspirational testaments to what they had achieved. There were many stately residences, well-dressed pedestrians out for a stroll in the park, private carriages with laquered ebony doors decorated with colorful heraldic emblems. She glimpsed the elegant terraced-houses in the fashionable West End. They were built all in a row, adjoined to others, and their streets effectively gated with a watchman on duty to keep out beggars and peddlers.

  They passed through street after street of fine shops all with a dazzling array of commodities displayed in their windows. It was late morning and the shoppers out and about were mostly servants. They passed the Toy Warehouse and also T.J. Paxton’s, as well as ladies dress shops, millinery shops and perfumers. A furnishing ironmonger’s shop with his polished grates and candlesticks could also be seen. In the business district, a young lad carrying newspapers, shouted to passersby. Street vendors walked about selling items from baskets. Another young lad, perhaps only ten years old, diligently shined a gentleman’s shoes on the sidewalk. A lady stood beside her small cart which advertised Couch Peppermint Lozenges; they evidently cured many ailments. It did not escape Catori’s notice that on these busy streets the men here did not openly carry firearms as they commonly did in Denver and other frontier cities. It was a different world indeed.

  At the train station, Susannah acquired the necessary tickets while Catori looked after the luggage. Their destination was a town to the north, Stoke-on-Trent. Susannah then sent a telegram notifying everyone at Larkspur of her scheduled arrival later that day. This would ensure that a carriage would be waiting to meet them at the train station. A second telegram was sent to Mrs. Sheppard who had been without any news of their progress since the Scotia left New York.

  Voices echoed throughout the cavernous waiting room and the ladies sat in companionable silence on sturdy wooden benches until their train was called. A huge clock was mounted above the entry, the minute’s hand seemed to move with agonizing slowness. Catori glimpsed Susannah. She looked tired, her apprehensions were wearing her down. They were now merely hours away from seeing Lady Alice and nevertheless had no idea of what they might find. Catori tried her best to distract Susannah from her worries. But it was not until they arrived at Stoke-on-Trent and Lady Alice’s coachman, Mr. Benson, greeted them, that Susannah’s spirits were noticeably lifted.

  The journey by train took them away from the teeming city of London, then past an industrial area of commerce and busy factories, and finally led them into a delightful countryside of fields, pastures and meadows, separated only by hedgerows. The small villages seemed charming, the thatched-roof cottages with smoke curling from their chimneys, and church spires rising notably above the rooftops. As the train slowed and drew nearer to the station, Catori observed Susannah as she scanned the faces of those assembled on the platform. A look of relief washed over Susannah when her eyes landed on an older gentleman who was waiting expectantly in the crowd. He stood there, with his hat in his hand, was of stocky build, had white hair and sideburns and very rosy cheeks. Susannah fairly jumped from the train as it came to a stop, and she rushed to greet the man.

  “Mr. Benson! Thank goodness!” she exclaimed.

  “We got your telegram, miss,” he said kindly. “It is good to have you home.”

  “I came at once, as soon as I received Dr. Hargreave’s message. But it has been nineteen days all the same. How is Grandmamma?” she asked apprehensively.

  “Your grandmother is much improved. Dr. Hargreave comes by regularly but not as frequently as he did in the beginning,” he said.

  “Is she out of bed? Can she walk? I know so little of what happened,” said Susannah, pressing him for more details.

  “Your grandmother is out of bed for longer periods each day and her appetite is coming back. She is weak however and a little unstable. Her personal maid is her constant companion,” he added helpfully. “As to what happened, no one seems to know.”
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  “She is out of danger then. I am so relieved. Thank God!” said Susannah. She looked significantly calmed.

  “You are here,” said Mr. Benson, “and that is the most important thing. You will make sure it is all set to rights. Please know how very sorry we all are that you lost your fine husband. Everyone at Larkspur held Mr. Sprague in high esteem and thought he was a true gentleman. We were all shocked when we learned of it. We are of one mind in wanting to be of help to you in any way we can,” he added.

  “Thank you, Mr. Benson,” she replied. “Oh, I am so sorry,” she then added, noting her lapse in manners as Catori stood nearby awaiting introduction. “Mr. Benson, I would like you to meet Catori. She is my housekeeper in Denver, and also my friend. She was kind enough to accompany me on this journey.”

  “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance miss,” he said politely as he eyed her unfamiliar garments and trimmings.

  “Thank you,” said Catori. “It is a pleasure for me as well.”

  “And quite a journey it has been,” Benson observed, “for the both of you. Our coach is on the other side of the station,” he added. “Let me see to your trunks without further delay.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Benson,” said Susannah appreciatively.

  When all was ready, they ambled down the country lane a distance of about five miles, then turned onto a gravel path that was bordered on both sides with sturdy old sycamore trees, now barren of their leaves. Presently, the path curved and soon the stately mansion of Larkspur came into view. The home was built on a low foundation wall of local limestone. It was brick, three stories tall, with an attic lighted by dormer windows. The gravel path separated the mansion from a vast lawn. The windows on the ground floor were tall, the chimneys, octagonal, and the main entrance featured columns and stair steps of green Connemara marble.

  Susannah introduced Catori to the housekeeper, Mrs. Ross, and others who were waiting to welcome them. Catori then discreetly peeled herself away and followed the footmen and a maid to see to their trunks. Susannah’s reunion with her grandmother was personal. It was emotional and private. So much had happened, so much needed to be said, feelings to be freely expressed and shared. It was an intimate time, not one in need of a public audience.