All in Good Time (The Gilded Legacy)

by Maureen Lang

  Henry sat back in his chair as Tobias entered.

  “I wonder if we could talk for a few minutes?”

  “If it’s about the Fieldhurst inheritance case, we can’t release the funds to that overeager nephew until all the paperwork has been—”

  “No, no,” said Tobias as he took one of the chairs opposite Henry. He was frowning even though recently the man had been as giddy as a child. Henry guessed his uncle felt quite proud of himself lately—ever since Henry’s feelings for Miss Caldwell had become too obvious to miss. If going to church hadn’t given him away, defending Miss Caldwell to the donors had sealed it. “It’s personal. About my sister. Your mother.”

  He skipped a breath. “Is she well?” He’d made it clear long ago that he did not want to talk about his mother, so something must be wrong for his uncle to break that rule.

  “She’s fine, fine.”

  “And the store? She’s still having that family—what was their name? Owen?—run things for her?”

  “It’s all fine, Henry.” A hint of impatience clouded those few words.

  “Then what is it?” Henry matched Tobias’s curtness. He knew he was the worst sort of son—an absent one—something he didn’t appreciate being reminded of.

  “I’ve invited her to your investors’ dinner.” Pulling a piece of paper from his pocket, he held it up. It had been folded, like a letter. “And she’s accepted.”

  Henry’s heart thumped against his chest wall, not fast, just hard. Surprisingly, the notion of seeing his mother again produced less dread than anticipation. His absence from her wasn’t for lack of love; he wanted to see her.

  And yet, what would he say when he did? Would he tell her why he’d stayed away all these years? Didn’t she have a right to know?

  But knowing . . . that might be worse than simply having a neglectful son.

  With thoughts too heavy to sort, he looked down again at his desk as if he would return to work. Though he spared a glance, he could not make his gaze meet his uncle’s. “Thank you, Tobias.”

  Tobias’s bushy brows shot up his forehead. “What’s that you say?”

  If Henry’s spirits weren’t so torn he might have laughed at Tobias’s obvious shock. “I said, ‘Thank you.’”

  28

  THE SOUND of crying woke Dessa from a fitful doze. Opening her eyes, it took her a moment to spot the source of those tears. They came from a small figure in the corner of the porch, who sniffed with shaking shoulders as if to hold back yet a deeper torrent of tears.

  “Nadette?” Dessa looked around the dimly lit porch. Only half a moon reflected any light tonight, but it took no more than that to see Nadette was alone. “What’s happened?”

  “Got caught.” She wiped at her nose with the back of her hand, but more tears followed.

  Dessa stood, holding out a hand for the child. Thankfully, Nadette didn’t resist. Dessa led her into the kitchen, where she turned up the gas lighting.

  “Nadette!” One look at the girl and Dessa turned her to face her fully. One side of her face was bruised, and there was blood on the hand Dessa held. “What happened to you?”

  “Aw, nothin’. Not to me. But to Liling . . . If they guess what we were really tryin’ to do, she’s done for.”

  Dessa eyed her closely, turning her face toward the light attached to the wall. “Don’t tell me nothing happened to you. Your face is bleeding.”

  “So’s my knee. I fell on some stones back of the China Palace.”

  “Let me see.”

  Nadette sat in one of the kitchen chairs and pulled up her ragged skirt. It wasn’t just her knee; the girl had shredded her skin from knee to ankle. Speckles of dirt dimmed the shine of the blood spattered from top to bottom of her shin.

  Without a word, Dessa returned to the porch for the large metal tub she and the other residents of Pierson House used for bathing. Filling the tub in the curtained corner of the kitchen was easier than hauling up water to any one of the bedrooms since the water closet upstairs didn’t have hot water.

  “I don’t need no bath—”

  “Yes, Nadette, you do. And I’m going to throw away that dress you’re wearing while you’re soaking. I’ll find something upstairs, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

  Before long Dessa had enough warm water to fill the tub and pulled the curtain to provide the girl with some privacy. “Don’t soak too long, though,” she instructed from the other side of the curtain. “And I want you to come back tomorrow so we can give that leg a salt bath, once the skin has a chance to heal a bit. It’ll help, but would hurt too much tonight. Now give me that dress.”

  Nadette handed over the remains of the dress, and Dessa threw it on the porch before hastening upstairs to the charity box. The dress closest to Nadette’s size was a drab shade of brown, but it was a vast improvement over what she’d been wearing.

  “Oh, that’s a fine dress, Miss Caldwell!” Nadette called from the bath, once Dessa had draped it over the rope holding up the curtain. A few moments later Dessa heard the girl emerge from the water and dry herself. Nadette soon stepped out from behind the curtain. The gown was too large, the sleeves too long and a bit baggy, but she was modestly covered, cleaner and neater than the way she’d looked before.

  “Sit down, and I’ll braid your hair,” Dessa said.

  “I been thinkin’,” Nadette said as she plopped onto a chair. “If I can find out where they took her, we can try again tomorrow.”

  Dessa wasn’t so sure. “I admire that you want to help, Nadette. But if it’s dangerous, I don’t think you should do anything. Perhaps Liling is the best person to help, on her own.”

  Nadette turned her head so quickly Dessa dropped the girl’s braid. “Ya ain’t changed yer mind, have ya? ’Cause I haven’t! And what’s more, I think I’m gonna need yer help to get her away.”

  Dessa resumed the braiding, ignoring very real and increasing misgivings. She wanted to help; it was no less than her duty. But to get involved in sneaking the girl away . . . That was something she hadn’t intended doing.

  “It woulda worked tonight if I’d a had somebody to keep the guy busy who’s watchin’ her. They let Liling in to see her, but soon as they tried to get out, the guy nabbed her. Only good thing is they might not know Liling was going to take her away, really away, and not just back to her room like she said.”

  “They didn’t see you, then?”

  “Oh yeah, they did. The one who’s guarding Mei Mei’s door scared me right good with all kinds of yelling when I come by. I don’t know what he said, but it weren’t nothin’ I’d like to know, I guess. He looked ’bout to bite me before he hit me. That’s why I ran, and that’s why I fell.”

  “Why do you think they’ll move her, if they haven’t guessed what Liling is up to?”

  “’Cause they already moved her once, when somebody tried sneakin’ into her room to get at her ahead a time, not two hours after they brought her back from the train. She’s awful pretty. Enough to make them Chinamen crazy.”

  Dessa sighed. “If they’re going to illegally import women, why don’t they do it for wives instead of . . . well, instead of this? That’s the trouble—there just aren’t enough respectable Chinese women here. If there were, none of this would be happening.”

  Nadette laughed. “Ya think so? Then why are there so many gals at places like Miss Leola’s? The railroad brought plenty a white families out here from back East, but there’s still men who just want a wife for a night. Them Chinamen ain’t no different.”

  So, this child had something to teach Dessa, after all.

  “If they ain’t moved her, or if they done that and I find out where, will ya still help? Do more’n just takin’ her in? I can’t get too close, or they’ll think right away somethin’s up. We hafta send in somebody they don’t know. Like you.”

  Some small voice inside told Dessa to go to the authorities, to seek help and handle this wisely. But how could a city that turned its back on the o
bvious ills of prostitution and opium dens, even the wide practice of gambling, possibly be of any help? She already knew there was a shameful lack of concern when it came to whatever went on in the Chinese neighborhood called Hop Alley.

  But it was one thing to harbor the girl, quite another to steal her from those who must consider her their property. And yet that very thought quelled some of Dessa’s fears. What was the right thing to do? Let the girl be offered up for the sake of someone’s profit?

  “Yes, Nadette. I’ll help.”

  29

  THE OPIUM smelled strangely sweet in Hop Alley, almost enticing in its fragrance. Dessa had never passed through this end of Market Street before. The scent stirred her heightened senses. It came from behind small, plain doorways that led, Nadette had told her, to the bowels of certain buildings known to be opium dens. City maps referred to them only as “Chinese dwellings.”

  It was through one such door that Nadette had instructed Dessa to go, at precisely two o’clock Saturday afternoon. The door was more a gate than an entryway—a shaft of sunlight revealed the sky up above between two close buildings. The scent was stronger here compared to out on the street, as if it were trapped despite the narrow slice of sky. Perhaps, to some, it was an enticement that even the dankness of rotted railings and old puddles along the passageway couldn’t quell.

  They had only a few short hours before Mei Mei’s auction was to take place. For the first time in days Dessa wasn’t preoccupied about Mr. Hawkins’s dinner party, just a day away. She merely hoped to get through the next hour so she could attend the party at all.

  Nadette surprised Dessa with a thoroughness of planning that seemed well beyond her years. Since she would be recognized by anyone standing watch over Mei Mei, she’d devised a plan that required Dessa to go inside and help with a diversion so Liling could spirit her sister away. Once outside, since Nadette wouldn’t be able to meet them at the correct door in time, Dessa would have to take the lead.

  Nadette made sure Dessa was prepared. She took her to the place she was to bring Liling and Mei Mei afterward, a borrowed crib only a few twists and turns outside Hop Alley. Nadette told Dessa she’d need to know the spot even if she was chased all the way there.

  That thought had seemed almost funny at the time, but now, stepping into the recesses of Chinatown’s most notorious quarters, Dessa couldn’t summon a single lighthearted thought. In fact, the very surroundings weighed her steps.

  She took the smallest of breaths, fearing if she inhaled too much of the deadly bouquet it would deaden her brain the way she’d heard opium did. Nonetheless, she followed the dark gangway. The steep downward slant felt like a descent from all society, even from its very dregs.

  Was this where they’d hidden Mei Mei . . . or worse, had they brought her here to prepare the innocent girl for what was ahead?

  Dessa became aware of curious eyes that stared out at her from the shadows and windows above. She refused to meet the glances. In fact, she hoped not to be identified at all. In that hope, she’d tied a scarf around her head, fastened beneath her chin, and over that she’d placed a brimmed hat. Over one of the oldest dresses from the charity box she’d added a shawl that was hardly necessary for the warmth of the day. Even so, what she wore seemed extravagant in comparison to a beggar she passed on his way up the ramp. He was dressed in what appeared to be tattered layers; what one stringy jacket did not cover, another beneath strove to hide.

  But he did not speak or try to stop her—though the look of surprise, then warning, then pity crossing his ancient features nearly sent Dessa running back home.

  Instead, she withdrew a handkerchief from her handbag and covered her nose and mouth. Perhaps it would help protect her against the scent. That, and the steady prayer she sent up with each and every step.

  Scriptures came to mind, bidden by her quivering heart. Fear thou not; for I am with thee . . . I will strengthen thee . . . I will help thee . . .

  How she depended on those promises now!

  At last Dessa came to another door, this one taller than the first. Opening it slowly, stopping at the first creak, she slipped through the wedge without pushing it any farther.

  The air was somehow different here, still sweet, but lighter, cleaner. A set of lanterns—gas, not electric, and behind cloudy glass plates—hung close to the tall ceiling, revealing an obscure cloud floating above in an expansive room. Dessa thought the vaulted ceiling likely accounted for the somewhat fresher air around her. The height of the room reminded her of the style and durability of an angled—though dark—cathedral. Brick surrounded her, as if she’d been swallowed by it—it was beneath her feet, above her head, and beside her on each of the four wide walls.

  And yet they weren’t walls at all. They were shelves . . . no . . . they were beds, if she could judge by the mats spread out on those she could see. Some were heavily curtained, closed against prying eyes, leaving just enough of a transom at the top of the cubicle to release a steady puff of smoke that found its way to join other puffs in the vapors above.

  In the very center of the room was a tall, cast-iron stove. She could see through its slats that it was lit, but the stovepipe did not extend so far up that it reached the ceiling and beyond, outside. Rather, the pipe rose just above the upper bunks at the sides, dividing in two and coiling downward like two snakes to disappear into holes embedded in opposite walls. She guessed they must be connected to the pipes at each bed.

  Her pulse sped up because she knew she ought not be here, in this secret and most deadly spot of the city. She could go back—she should run before anyone knew she was here. Anyone except Nadette.

  Her feet and fingers tingled, as if prepared for flight.

  But how could Dessa go? How could she fail not just Nadette, but more importantly, Mei Mei? If God was with Dessa, she had nothing to fear, even if her heart said otherwise.

  “You want smoke?”

  Startled by the nearness of the voice, Dessa turned—only to see little more than a shadow among all the shadows of the room. The man was small, dressed in a high-collared dark silk tunic and Chinese cap, from which ran a long, dark braid hanging over one shoulder.

  “No . . . that is, I’m looking for Gum Sing. Can you tell me where I can find her?”

  Now the man peered up at her, and she saw through the thin veil of smoky air that he wasn’t as old as she’d first thought. Although the lines along his mouth and eyes were set, they disappeared when he offered the hint of a smile.

  “You want work for Gum Sing?”

  She shook her head.

  “That good. She no hire wide-eye like you, anyway. Come back when Gum Sing not so busy.”

  Nadette had warned Dessa she might not gain easy access, but not to give up. Gum Sing was not busy with a customer today, because she was preparing Mei Mei for the auction. If Nadette’s sense of timing was correct, Liling was already looking for Dessa—if they’d allowed Mei Mei’s sister to stay with her at all. Even now, Nadette herself waited nearby to set in place more confusion than this den of altered reality had likely ever seen.

  “I have something for Gum Sing. A gift.”

  He looked down at her bag, then held out his hand. “You give to me. I give to her.”

  Dessa shook her head. “I must place it in her hands myself.”

  The man stared at her again, this time suspiciously. “Why you here?”

  “I told you, to give Gum Sing a gift.”

  “From who?”

  Dessa’s heart continued its downward spiral. She’d been hoping whoever took her to Gum Sing wouldn’t ask so many questions. “Yin Tung.”

  He repeated the name, slowly and with a touch of awe—just as Nadette had predicted he might. There were few names in Denver everyone listened to, on either side of the law. Until today, Dessa had heard only rumors of such names. People who dealt in payments to government officials to avoid arrest and had the power to straddle the line between legal and illegal. Yin Tung represented the
Chinese in just such a position, or so it seemed from what Nadette told Dessa that morning. And it was only Yin Tung who dealt with those of Dessa’s race.

  God forgive her for the lie that Yin Tung had sent her.

  “You come.”

  The little man turned and led her from the chamber.

  The black wooden door opened first to a dimly lit hall—as if purposely designed to prepare the eyes for the coming difference in lighting. Soon they passed into another room, this one brightly lit and more traditionally decorated. A round rosewood table sat in the center, and off to the side were a pair of chairs boasting bentwood backs that resembled a type of hat Dessa had seen worn in Chinatown. Beyond, on the far side of the room, stood a tall cabinet lacquered in black and accented with the image of a bamboo grove. Beneath them, their steps were softened by a woven silk rug, decorated with peacocks and a symmetrical design along the edge.

  This lovely, inviting room was a sharp contrast to what went on in the cavity attached to it. And to any dealings concerning an innocent young girl named Mei Mei.

  Just past the room was a two-story staircase, polished and fine, brightly lit by a pair of windows, one atop the other. At the top was an open hallway showing a number of doors, each one closed.

  The man led the way, going to a door not far from the top of the stairs. He tapped just once and the door opened. Dessa looked to see a young Chinese girl emerge, dressed in a long apricot robe that was meticulously embroidered with flowers and cuffed with a row of butterflies.

  The man spoke sharply, but the girl—surely not Mei Mei since she seemed free to leave the room behind her, but perhaps Liling?—didn’t heed what he said. She looked past him without concern, focused on Dessa. As the man left them to speak to someone still inside the room, Dessa saw the girl—standing so still on Dessa’s side of the doorway—raise one small hand to beckon Dessa closer. Surely she was Liling.

  In three small, silent steps, Dessa neared her. “You follow me,” the girl whispered, so that only Dessa could hear.