“I…I don’t understand. Have you the correct Emily Darling?”
“You are Wilfred Darling’s sister? Daughter of Simon St. John Darling?”
“Yes, but…why are you here? What have I done?” She took a step back, as if from a precipice.
“You haven’t done anything, Miss Darling. It’s what has been done to you that has brought me.” He waited politely before continuing. “It really would be to your advantage to let me have my say.”
Emily stepped aside and admitted Mr. Winston. She hurriedly wiped her hands on her apron once more before offering to take his hat and coat, and placed them in the hall closet before leading him to the library. Wilfred’s book lay by his favorite chair, his newspaper neatly folded underneath. She motioned to a chair nearby where the gentleman seated himself, and she sat and faced him. The lawyer laid the portmanteau on his lap and removed some papers.
“Daniel Saunders asked me to look into this matter for you—”
The gasp was sudden. Emily’s hand flew to her mouth as she sat back in her chair. Then he could find me! He could have written!
The attorney stared at her. “Are you quite all right, Miss Darling? Should I ring for water for you?”
“Ring?” She almost laughed. “There’s no one to ring for, Mr. Winston. I am the servant here.”
The lawyer’s eyes widened. “Well, of course, that seems to be what Daniel feared, and why he wanted this matter investigated.” He studied the papers in his hand before adding, “You should pardon me calling him ‘Daniel.’ We’re old friends. You see, he and I, and your brother, were all in the same year in school, at Collegiate. Daniel was a brilliant student, brilliant, and had very excellent prospects to which, I’m afraid, your brother put an end. Of course, as far as Daniel is concerned, it has worked out for the best. He seems to be very happy out in Wyoming and has made quite a life for himself there. We correspond regularly.”
Incredulous, she rushed out with, “Did you know about Ethel Darton then? Did you not advise him?”
Winston’s mouth hung open. He faltered as he got out the word, “Who?”
“I take it then you were not aware he was corresponding with that woman.”
“No. Most certainly not. Had I known, I most assuredly would have…would have advised him as to her character.”
“I see.”
“Yes. Yes, most assuredly. I trust it has not—how shall I say?—brought him into any unfortunate circumstance? He said nothing of this in his last letter to me, the one where he requested I visit you after I had replied to his earlier missive telling him the results of researching your father’s Last Will and Testament.”
Emily was stupefied. So that was the letter Daniel had written that night, the night they had lain together. A request to Graham Winston to investigate her father’s will. He cared enough for her to do this, yet still had not written…
“My father’s will,” she repeated. “But that was a few years ago.”
“Yes, it was filed for probate on June 12th, 1887. Which puts it in the public domain.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, Miss Darling, I have had no trouble, no trouble whatsoever in establishing, contrary to what you had apparently been told by your brother, that you did, indeed, inherit a lump sum meant for a dowry. Although, I hasten to add, there is no such binding stipulation as to the use of the sum, only a recommendation.”
His eyes searched Emily’s face as she sat there, disbelief making her body waver, her blood run cold.
“As I understand it from Daniel,” he went on, “your brother Wilfred informed you he had inherited the entire estate, thereby putting you in the position of dependent. I am also informed that you never saw the will nor knew anything more of this matter?”
“No. I mean, yes, I never saw the will. There was no reading of the will after the funeral because Wilfred had consulted with the lawyer in his office. Wilfred was—what is it? Executor?—and he returned home and told me the outcome. You’re telling me he lied?”
“I’m afraid so, Miss Darling. He lied most odiously.”
Emily slumped, her hands limp in her lap.
“Take heart, Miss Darling, we’ll soon have this sorted. Quite honestly, I’d do anything for Daniel Saunders. You know, I always felt an amount of guilt Daniel had been expelled. I knew, of course, it was not my fault, and I tried to tell the headmaster all I could, but somehow I always felt I was partially responsible. Had I been able to convince the headmaster, Daniel might have been found innocent of the charges levied against him. Unfortunately, your brother had much more influence than I. I believe your father had made promises of a substantial sum for new building works, a sum the school could hardly overlook.”
Emily sat, the sound of carriages and people reaching her through the windows. Why had he not written? Was he still in love with that woman? It would be autumn soon, an autumn that would color Wyoming gloriously. If only she could get back. See the snow on the mountains, watch the rivers ice over, bundle up with Daniel and feel his strength once more. If only he loved her…
“And now what?” Emily asked, her voice small and distant.
“Now? Now, I am finally able to redeem myself and compensate Daniel for the injustice done him so many years ago. As a favor to my friend, I shall be working for you pro bono and will notify Wilfred Stanhope Darling I intend to commence proceedings in order to obtain the amount promised for you. Without charge, as I said.”
His voice sounded so official to her ear, she felt an assurance that freedom from Wilfred would soon come to pass.
“When? When will this happen?”
“Well, it depends how cooperative your brother is when he discovers I plan to sue. He may find it to his benefit to hand over the money owed as his best course of action. Rather than pay legal fees, of course.”
Emily stared, incredulous.
“Wilfred will know he hasn’t got a leg to stand on, to put it bluntly,” the lawyer confirmed.
“May I ask…may I ask, what is the sum?”
Graham Winston leaned forward, papers in hand, and pointed to the amount. Emily inhaled a sharp breath.
“I shall keep you informed, of course, of progress.” He shuffled the papers back into his portmanteau. “I take it I may call on you again?”
As he rose to face her, Emily stood, uncertain, a million little things floating through her mind. “Yes. Actually, no. I would prefer it if I might go to your office. My brother, you see… Most likely he will ask me to leave, although I must say I am not sure. Who will cook and clean for him then?” A smile slowly found its way across her face and she noted the lawyer’s astonishment. “I don’t imagine, Mr. Winston, you would want to meet with Wilfred here.”
“Ah! Of course. Wilfred. Well. I will send word when there is news, and you must come along to see me.” He dove into his waistcoat pocket, stole a quick glance at his watch, and presented her with a business card. “Have you a telephone?”
“I’m afraid not. Wilfred never saw the necessity. Thinks it a newfangled accessory of which we have no need. He believes it will soon lose favor.”
“Hmm. Well. Come along to my office when you can. After I send word. I promise I will keep you informed as best as possible.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much. So very much.” Hands nervously entwined in front of her, she could barely stop herself from clasping the man in gratitude.
Graham Winston made his way down the hall to the front door with Emily at his heels.
As she rummaged inside the closet and helped him on with his coat, he said, “Think nothing of it. I’m doing an old friend a favor, and you are the beneficiary. He wanted this for you. He wanted it very badly.” He headed for the door. “If you should desire a sum to lodge elsewhere, after your brother hears from me—”
“That’s very kind, Mr. Winston. You will, of course, be paid back with interest from whatever amount we are able to claim if I find such a loan necessary.”
“Oh, have no fear, Miss Darling. We shall obtain the full amount. I have no doubt. And most probably with interest!”
She said her farewell and watched the lawyer walk away. Sudden joy rushed through her. Soon she would be free, she could even return to Wyoming and buy a place for herself, set herself up in some business perhaps; a boarding house might do. The possibilities seemed endless—but always, always at the back of her mind Daniel lurked, her love for him tainting everything, brushing a sadness over this forthcoming success.
Yes, Daniel wanted this for me. But, he did not want me as much as he wanted Ethel Darton.
So, now there was but one thing to do—the last thing she could think of to put the pieces of the puzzle in place and answer the questions that still haunted her.
Chapter Fourteen
Walking through Central Park to the west side of the city was not something Emily habitually did. There was a different sort of people living there, a sort with which the Darling family did not mix, and Emily had no idea what she would find.
As she emerged from the cover of trees and delight of winding paths, she was surprised to see smart and well-kept buildings, clean streets, an air of prosperity. But as she walked farther from the park, the busier streets became more commercial, and the larger apartment buildings gave way to brownstone townhouses, family homes. Not as ornate as her own home, nor as well kept, the one she sought still looked reasonably appealing. Still, she was apprehensive, especially when the woman who answered the door was not, in Emily’s opinion, appealing at all.
Embarrassed, feeling she had made a great mistake in coming, Emily adjusted her hat slightly and avoided the other’s gaze. “I…I would like to speak with Miss Ethel Darton, please.”
She found her courage and faced the woman. There was no surprise as to what she found: lamp-blacked eyes, rouge and powder obvious as the woman leaned into the doorframe and blew smoke from a cigarette in a long ivory holder. She studied Emily carefully, heel to hat.
The woman’s bosom, which was barely covered by a silk dressing gown, heaved with a laugh. “I’m not taking on any more girls if that’s why you’re here.” The words puffed smoke in Emily’s face.
“No. No, I’m not here for a…a job. I’m here on a personal matter.” The question so stunned Emily, she almost stumbled down the steps.
The other woman fixed her robe tighter about her, flicking the ash off her cigarette in an expert maneuver. “Personal? The Post hasn’t sent you to interview me, has it? You don’t look like any reporter I’ve ever seen.”
“No, most certainly not. Are you Miss Darton, then?”
There was a sly sideways look as a reply.
“It concerns Daniel Saunders,” Emily went on staunchly.
“Daniel…?” The laughter that burst out of Ethel Darton could only be termed raucous. She cackled some more before gaining control, tugged the cigarette from its holder and stomped it out underfoot as she narrowed her eyes for a last survey of Emily. “Daniel Saunders. Daniel Saunders. Well, I’ll be. Are you his wife?”
“No. Oh, no, of course not. Otherwise, why would he have been seeking—”
Ethel laughed once more. “Listen, dearie, in this world, you never know who’s telling the truth.” She studied Emily once more and her own features softened. “You best come in for a minute. No use talking here on the stoop all day like a couple of old fishwives.”
Emily followed her inside, the dark of the hallway requiring a moment’s adjustment in her vision. Her hostess turned up the gaslight, and she was treated to a riot of reds and golds that made her think of paintings she had seen of a Chinese Bazaar. The room to which she was shown was only slightly less dramatic—fringed lampshades and swags and tails of velvet curtains, overstuffed furniture with anti-Makassars and, in the corner, an upright piano with piles of sheet music on its top. Ethel waved to one of the armchairs then yanked open a drawer on one of the tables, plucked out another cigarette and, stuffing it in her holder, grabbed a match from the drawer and struck it.
The flame heightened before Ethel shook it out. A long column of smoke from her rouged lips filled the air. “Daniel Saunders, eh? Well, well, well. You his sister or some relation? What?” She plonked herself into a chair opposite Emily.
“No, no, not at all. I…I believe he wrote to you that the tickets meant for you were delivered to someone else, someone who—”
Ethel threw her head back with more boisterous laughter. “You some relation to the woman then?”
“Relation? No. I am the woman. I’m Emily Darling. I’m the one who stole the tickets. You see—”
“Wait, wait just a second.” Ethel leaned forward now, a perplexed look crossing her brow. “You can’t be. That woman has to be in Wyoming. He wrote me. He said…Wait just a second, I’ll find the letter.”
“I came home, you see.” Emily spoke to the woman’s retreating rear.
The madam halted and turned, brows scrunched in puzzlement. “You mean you couldn’t stand Wyoming? You left him?”
“I left him because he loved you…or thought he did. That is, he loved the person he thought you were.”
Her contender—this Lillie Langtry pretender—stared at her, puffing on the end of her cigarette holder thoughtfully. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait. He never loved me…or not, at least, after you arrived. He wrote and told me so.”
“No, you see…” Emily’s words dwindled into uncertainty as the other padded down the hall.
She sat solemnly trying to think this through, but nothing made sense anymore. Here to complete the puzzle, it appeared the puzzle had more pieces than she foresaw.
When Ethel returned, a letter held out in front of her, Emily stared at her blankly. “What?”
“Read it. Go on, read it for heaven’s sake.” The letter flapped in her extended hand.
“Read?” As if she were dreaming, she watched her hand stretch to take the letter, extract it from the envelope, the same type she had seen Daniel use. The handwriting was his even script, bold, manly. And the date was the morning after they had lain together, a date well embedded in Emily’s mind.
Dearest Ethel,
This letter is so very difficult to write, and it grieves me so to do, but I fear there is no other way. I have fallen in love, deeply in love, with the woman who took your place, and I now must ask to be released from my promise of marriage. I know we have corresponded these many months with the intention of you becoming my bride, and I know I have made that offer of marriage to you in good faith, but my heart is now so completely in the power of another woman, I dare not go on with any further plans. Emily is everything I ever wanted in a wife, and more, and I cannot possibly envisage life without her.
I know this will come hard to you but, as I look back over your letters, I truly believe this is for the best. I know sometime soon you will meet the man you really want, a man who can give you everything you deserve, a life you can easily abide. Truly, dearest Ethel, this is for the best for both of us.
Yours most sincerely,
Daniel Saunders
Stupefied, Emily sat back, the letter dangling from her hand. “He loves me,” she whispered.
“Good gracious, lady.” Ethel collapsed back into her chair and made a huge arc in the air with the cigarette and holder. “Why did you come back to New York?”
“He never said,” she responded in a small voice, her eyes beginning to sting with tears. “He never told me. He never told me he’d written or…or…that he…”
The more worldly woman harrumphed and flicked some ash. “They never do, the bastards. They never do. Until some crisis occurs and then, well, maybe they might say it. So, are you going to go back?”
Emily met the other’s glance, mouth open, mind blank. After a moment, she gathered herself and sat up in the chair. “Tell me one thing, Miss Darton, if you would. I’m afraid I’m most curious on this point. Why…why did you start the correspondence with him in the first place? Why send the photograph of Lillie Lang
try and write all those letters?”
The notorious madam tilted her head considering the question and took a long drag on her cigarette. As she blew out the stream of smoke and rested her head back, she appeared, to Emily, to be going someplace else in her mind. Then she sat up again.
“Well, you know, kid, this friend of mine gave him my address at a time I was in a shitload of trouble here in New York.”
Emily flinched at the rude word as she caught the other’s gaze.
“It seemed like a trip to Wyoming might be a smart thing to do. After that, after the matter cleared, well, me and the girls just had a load of fun inventing things to say. I have a client who thought it a great joke, too—writing to some lonesome cowboy off in the middle of nowhere—and he helped with the writing—made sure it sounded right and all. You know how it is. A little joke. A jest. Fun! That actress’ photograph, and inventing a real lady’s day in New York. A little bit of fun. That’s all it was meant to be in the end. Fun.”
Chapter Fifteen
Daniel angled his face up to the rain and blinked the drops from his eyes. After a moment, he tugged the cinch loose on his roan and dragged the saddle and blanket off, then dropped them on the top rail of the corral fence before opening the gate. He released the bridle from the horse’s mouth, smacked the horse lightly to send him into the enclosure, reached to collect the saddle, and stopped. The rain eased off, throwing a rainbow in a giant arc from the top of the distant hills to the pasture. So often he had hurried through his chores, looked to his own needs and hastened to sleep before the day dawned again that he had forgotten how to appreciate the beauty in the landscape he loved. Emily had renewed his feeling for the land. Emily had shown him how to live again.
He stood a moment, resting the saddle back on the top bar of fencing, looking out as the rainbow shimmered and a green glow appeared behind the mountains. As if a match had been struck, a light flared up before dying out, spreading out a fire on the horizon as the sun set.
Dearest Darling Page 7