Well, that took care of the first attack on the citadel. Boiling oil might be appropriate for the next. Daniel sat back against the chimney again and pondered the logistics.
When he saw Janice run from the factory, weeping, some time later, he sighed and put his notebook aside. He hoped what he was doing was worth it in the long run, because it was certainly causing a lot of misery for the present.
* * *
Pale-faced and shaken, Georgina arrived in the maze of alleys leading to the Harrison household some time before noon. She hadn't slept much at all, but she had come to no other conclusions than the one she had set earlier.
She would help Audrey get her job back or find her a better one. For herself, she had no such clear goal. There was time yet to decide what to do about Peter and marriage. That was as far as her sleepless night had taken her.
She had held the threat of not marrying Peter over her father's head only for effect. She had never really considered breaking the engagement. She had always known she would be marrying Peter, and she had just hoped for a little time to make him see her as she was. A little romance would have been nice, too, but she had never expected miracles. So her father's threats weren't entirely effective except in their utterance.
Her father had never threatened her before. The world had a whole different aspect to it this morning that she didn't like in the least.
So she disregarded her father and Peter and everything else over which she had no control and went in search of Audrey. The girl had practically been hysterical the day Egan had come for the rent. She would undoubtedly be in a similar state again, and Georgina meant to put her mind to rest. One way or another, Audrey would have a job.
She had dressed more sedately today. She wore one of her oldest walking skirts, a heavy, tan gabardine that dragged the dust but was blessedly full enough to walk full stride. She had left behind the tight, matching jacket, but the chocolate brown polonaise she wore looped over the skirt was sufficient to make her swelter. No parasol came with this outfit, and the inefficient scrap of lace and cloth that passed for a hat did nothing to keep the sun off her face. Scowling, Georgina wished she had just worn her expensive silk that required no underpinnings. It might have shocked the passersby, but it would have been cool.
But her goal had been to be discreet. She was quite certain she hadn't succeeded as she felt the stares of women garbed in full skirts and short-sleeved blouses staring at her over washing lines, but her intentions were in the right place. She couldn't help it if she didn't own a cotton skirt or an apron.
She remembered the house with the geranium on the step quite clearly and heaved a sigh of relief. She was in the right place. It wasn't much farther.
A bit of breeze found its way through the narrow street, stirring a scrap of lace at an open window and sending pieces of paper fluttering down the dusty road. Finding the right house, Georgia removed her sweaty palms from her gloves and knocked on the door. She wanted to look humble, not haughty.
When the door opened to reveal a tiny scrap of a woman with thinning gray hair and black eyes that danced with devilment, Georgina felt more startled than humble. The woman looked her up and down with amusement, as if she had seen plenty of strange things in her life and was prepared to be entertained by this one. Nervously, Georgina began to tug on her gloves again.
"I'm sorry. Perhaps I have the wrong house. I'm looking for Audrey Harrison?"
"Inside, miss. She's moping. Company will do her good."
Georgina couldn't place the accent with which these words were uttered, but it reminded her of what Daniel had told her about the people inhabiting these houses. They were almost all immigrants. This woman didn't look foreign. Neither did her daughters or granddaughters or whatever the relationship was. But the women who had stared at her in the street had been foreign-looking, now that she knew to look.
The young girl Georgina remembered from her previous visit was sitting at a rickety kitchen table, sewing at a man's vest. Georgina recognized it as one of the styles her father sold to Mulloney's. Janice must have been able to get her piece work then. She felt somehow deflated by the knowledge that she wasn't the one to help.
"I didn't mean to interrupt. I just came to tell you how sorry I am that I've caused you so much trouble."
The girl at the table looked up without interest. Her eyes were red from weeping, or perhaps just from lack of sleep. Her gaze took in Georgina's expensive clothes and turned back to her work. "You think too high of yourself if you think you're the cause."
This really was one straw too many. She had been ignored, insulted, yelled at, and threatened for trying to help people like this ungrateful wretch, and Georgina was tired of taking the blame for everyone else's troubles. The only signal of her rising temper was a slight tightening of her lips.
"And you think too highly of yourself if you think you're the only one who suffers."
The girl looked up. Her brownish-blond hair could use a good washing, but its lack of luster had as much to do with improper nourishment as lack of soap. Her face was unblemished and clean, but the color was sallow and her eyes dull. "I don't think of myself at all. What's the point?"
That struck Georgina more forcefully than anything else she could have said. It made her see the utter hopelessness of her surroundings. They would never have anything. Every day would be a struggle for survival. One blow to their precarious existence would turn them all out in the streets and leave them to starve. Where was the fun and excitement a child should be allowed to expect upon occasion? It was more than obvious the girl before her was little more than a child, but already she carried the burdens of a much older adult.
The grandmotherly woman produced a steaming cup of tea and set it on the table. "Sit. Drink. Don't listen to her. It is fine here. Much better than the old country. We will find her a good man, and she will be all smiles."
Audrey made no comment, and Georgina thought she had some understanding of how the other girl felt. Maybe she ought to offer her Peter as a choice of husbands. No doubt Audrey would be a good deal more excited than Georgina at the prospect.
"Good men are rather rare," she offered tentatively.
That brought a response from Audrey, a gleam of agreement, a flicker of something that hadn't been there earlier. She stabbed the vest more forcefully.
"In the meantime, I'm doing my best to persuade Mr. Mulloney that the newspaper article had nothing to do with you. Men tend to be unreasonable when they are angry, but he'll calm down in a day or two. I'll try again then. I'm sure he'll understand that you had nothing to do with any of it."
Georgina rather thought it was anger flushing the girl's cheeks, but she still didn't speak. Georgina supposed she would have difficulty expressing gratitude or anything at all pleasant under the circumstances, too. She sipped her tea and wondered if there was anything else she could say, but the girl's depression was contagious. She had never felt this dismal in her life.
The front door suddenly burst open, and the sound of a sob brought all of them to their feet. Before Georgina could do anything, Janice stood in the kitchen doorway, her face a tear-stained mask of grief and fury as she recognized the intruder.
"Get out!" she commanded, pointing at the door behind her. "I don't have to put up with the likes of you ever again."
"Now, Janice, the nice lady came to help." The old woman offered a placating hand to both women.
"The nice lady's father just fired me and told me I'd never find work in this town again. The nice lady can get her fancy gear out of here." Janice wiped at her face with the back of her hand, then crossed her arms determinedly across her chest.
"That isn't possible," Georgina stuttered, edging toward the door. "He hasn't been himself lately. I'll talk to him. It must be a misunderstanding."
"Do you think I'm too dumb to know when I've been fired? Get out, Miss Hanover, and don't ever come back. It's you and your kind that causes trouble. We don't need your empty promises."
She was too dazed to know where she was walking. She had a vague idea of finding her father and asking what had happened, maybe pleading with him to reconsider. The knowledge that her pleas had fallen on deaf ears before did nothing to calm her.
Maybe she was good for nothing but arranging dinner tables and having babies after all. Maybe she should marry Peter and be grateful that she had a roof over her head. Maybe men were right and women had no place outside the home. She certainly hadn't seen anything to tell her differently since she began this crusade.
Tears were creeping down her cheeks and her handkerchief was in tatters before Georgina realized she didn't know where she was or where she was going. At the same time, it dawned on her that she was being followed. The scuffling noises and murmured taunts grew louder behind her. Afraid to turn around, she walked faster, desperately trying to figure out how to escape this maze of narrow alleys.
"What's the matter, lady? Think you're too good for us?"
As if the fact that they had been discovered made them braver, the men behind her moved in closer. At least Georgina thought they were men. She was too terrified to look, but the voice had sounded definitely low and male.
"Lost, lady? Want a map? Give you one for a kiss."
A hand grabbed her elbow. She shook it off and wished for her parasol. She needed a weapon. Lifting her skirts, she hurried faster.
"Not so quick, lady. You got to pay the toll if you walk this street." A grubby figure dashed in front of her, his cap parked at a jaunty angle over his forehead as he looked her up and down.
He wasn't much taller than she, but Georgina had learned to recognize a man's muscular strength, and this man could have been a blacksmith from the breadth of his chest. The bulky plaid shirt he wore did little to disguise the power of the arms crossing in front of him as he stared at her boldly. She didn't dare try to get by him.
Swinging around, she confronted a taller, lankier assailant. She couldn't tell if his skin was darkened by nature, sun, or dirt, but his teeth flashed white against his face as he blocked her path. "Toll, lady. Pay the toll." He held his arms out wide and stepped forward.
She ducked under his arm and tried to run past him, back the way she had come, but he stuck out a foot and tripped her. She stumbled, and he caught her up in a grip that was just as strong as Peter's. She screamed in fright and tried to shake free.
"I'd leave the lady alone if I were you," a voice rang from out of nowhere.
Georgina and her attackers swung around, searching the empty street, seeing nothing in the blank windows but the occasional flutter of a curtain. The people who inhabited these houses had learned to stay away from trouble.
"Come out and make us," the cocky, short man shouted, reaching to grab Georgina's waist.
"You don't want me to do that." A movement in a nearby alley gave an indication as to the source of the voice.
Georgina gasped as she recognized the insolent stance of the shadow leaning against a wall. Daniel! She had never been so glad to see anybody in her life. The ruffian grasping her waist smelled of garlic and worse, and the taller man's grip was hurting her arm. She blanked her mind against the thoughts of what would have happened had Daniel not arrived. She could barely tolerate her immediate position.
"Why not, cowboy? Whatya gonna do 'bout it?" The taller man grabbed a hank of Georgina's hair and twisted her head backward until she was looking up into his hair-stubbled face. She screamed and tried to pull away as she read his intent to kiss her, but held by two sets of arms, there wasn't far she could go.
An oddly sharp bark split the thick summer air, and the painful hold on Georgina's arm slackened. The tall man yipped and staggered backward, trying to pull his foot up.
"You want your turn?" Daniel asked the remaining man as he strolled from the alley, swinging something in his hand that glittered silver in the sunlight.
Feeling the hold at her waist loosening, Georgina grabbed her skirt and jerked free, running in Daniel's direction, keeping to the side of the street and not between him and the men backing away.
"Cripes! He's got a gun. The man's crazy!" The shorter man backed toward the nearest alley. "We didn't mean nothing. We were just having some fun. Honest."
"Invite me next time you want to have some fun. I'll show you how we teach people to dance back where I come from." Daniel deliberately aimed the revolver at the shorter man's feet, sending a spurt of bullets into the dust.
The man picked up his feet and ran, his wounded partner limping hurriedly after him.
Gasping, Georgina leaned against the nearest building, holding a hand to her pounding chest and staring from Daniel to the now empty street. She had a hard time believing she had seen that. People didn't do that in Cutlerville, Ohio. She glanced back to Daniel and watched as he slid the wicked revolver beneath his coat and out of sight. She would remember to beware of this man when he was wearing a coat.
But once the gun was out of sight, Daniel returned to being the bare-faced, mild-mannered journalist with the engaging grin as he sauntered toward her. A hank of pale brown hair fell across his forehead, making him look as boyish as the rowdies who sold his papers for him. The twinkle in his gray eyes as he took in her pose had nothing to do with the man who had just unloaded a half dozen bullets into the street.
"I don't know if I ought to be more frightened of you than of them." Pushing away from the wall, Georgina fiddled with her gloves. Daniel was close enough now for her to smell his spicy shaving lotion as he towered over her. She had a sudden urge to fall into his arms and feel them close around her, but Georgina Meredith Hanover didn't do things like that. She was known for her snappy comebacks and bouncy personality and her ability to keep men at a proper distance. She was just momentarily discommoded, that was all.
"Since I'm closest and I'm madder than hell, feel free to be afraid of me. Do I have to chase you through half the town to get you home again, or will you go willingly this time?"
Georgina sighed and finally met his eyes. They weren't laughing any longer. Damn men, anyway, why couldn't they let things be simple?
"I'll go, but you'll have to come back and talk to Janice. She just lost her job. We have to do something."
Daniel caught her arm and steered her down the street. "I have to do something. There is no we to it. Now let's get out of here before those two come back with a few friends."
He didn't have to tell her twice. Georgina moved.
Chapter 10
"I gave the photography equipment to Peter for safekeeping. He can decide whether or not to give it to you after you're married."
George Hanover was still wrestling with his tie, looking into the ornate mirror of the front parlor as he addressed his daughter.
Georgina stood woodenly on the Aubusson carpet and nodded her head. If he couldn't see her in the mirror, he would have to turn around to face her. She wondered if he dared.
He glanced over his shoulder, saw her stiff expression, and went back to his tie. "I hope you've learned your lesson. I'm glad to see you being sensible about this. Your mother and I only have your best interests at heart."
Since her mother hadn't come down yet, that was a matter of opinion. Georgina glanced wistfully toward the stairs. It would be nice if her mother would stand up for her once in a while, but that would be like asking Abraham Lincoln to come back and save the country. She fiddled with the silk ruching on the small panniers draped over her hips, and gazed absently at the toe of her slippers. Her father hadn't mentioned the shorter skirt of her new dinner gown. Perhaps the high collar would fool him, and he wouldn't notice the daring peek-a-boo netting over her bosom, either. She wondered if Peter would.
And a strange little imp inside wondered how much Daniel Martin would notice. Sh
e moved restlessly, disregarding that thought.
Peter arrived then, and her mother slowly descended from the upper floor, carrying her slight frame with an erect carriage that would grace a queen. Peter bowed low over her hand, and Dolly Hanover almost smiled, before turning to her husband. The smile disappeared again.
The party entering the carriage was an unusually silent one. Georgina normally would have filled the interior with chatter and laughter enough for all four, but she had lost that part of herself recently. She stared out the dark windows even when Peter reached over and took her hand and squeezed it. Even a week ago, that squeeze would have thrilled her, promising more. Now she saw it only as a means to keep her pacified.
It wasn't that she was without anticipation. She was looking forward to finding out the owners of that slum where Mr. Egan ruled supreme. Just making the plans to get even with Mr. Egan was enough to keep her mind busy. And the thought of Daniel showing up in front of her father and his business associates added a decided edge to the evening. She couldn't wait to see their reaction. She told herself that was the reason she was looking forward to seeing Daniel again, but she wasn't very good at lying, even to herself. She definitely had a lot of hopes for this dinner party.
The problem was that she had drifted so far from her family and friends that she had no one to share her hopes and anticipation with. Had it been her usual mischief, she would have been bouncing in the seat and describing what she hoped would happen and making everyone laugh with her foolishness. But this time, it wasn't foolishness. It was people's lives.
The real world was definitely a little scary. All she had to do to remember was to recall that encounter with those two hooligans in the alley. Maybe they wouldn't have done anything but insult her with their nasty kisses. Maybe it would have been worse. Lucky for her, she would never have to find out. She closed her eyes and saw Daniel staring back at her, his boyish grin switching to murderous anger. Mr. Martin was as scary as the rest of the world out there.
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