A hoarse voice came from the other side. “It’s Mr. Moore. Let me in!”
Upon opening the door, she was amazed to see her father-in-law. His face was a flash of red as if he had run all the way up the stairs. Jessica was forced to stand back as he entered. He could not be stopped as he wildly searched the rooms. This was not the Englishman she had welcomed to her wedding. This was a madman.
“Where is my son?”
Frightened, she tried to get to the cause of his anger. “Frederick is at the train station by now. What has happened? Mr. Moore, please calm down.”
“Train station?” His agitation grew.
She put her fingers to her lips, clear she had given away her husband’s secret. It also occurred to her that Frederick was leaving town without saying goodbye to his own parents. Something was terribly wrong.
“What do you know? Were you in on this from the beginning?”
“I … I don’t know what you mean.”
“The money. Were you in on this?”
Jessica tapped her courage. “Mr. Moore, I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“He drained his inheritance without my knowledge or approval. That’s what has happened. That’s what I’m talking about, young lady,” he blared in her face.
“Oh, dear. All I know is that he’s on his way to California to set up a home for us.”
With a grunt, he left in the same manner he had arrived, without so much as a hello or goodbye. Rushing to the window, she saw his expensive hackney leave in a cloud of dust as her own rented carriage waited to take her to her parents’ home. With a racing heart, she grabbed her waistcoat and handbag and ran downstairs. “To the Valley Depot, please.”
~
The morning sun exposed the haze around the large, whitewashed building, the movement of people and horses stirring up the dry dirt around it. Jessica spied her father-in-law enter the train station. A few minutes passed. He stepped out, frantically looking up and down the platform. He stared off into the distance at the empty train tracks. She contemplated whether or not to approach him, but it was too late. He was in his carriage and it departed immediately.
“Madame?” Her driver was at the door.
Holding onto his hand, she gingerly stepped down. “Please wait, I won’t be long.”
The bustling station held dozens of people. The smell of old leather, worn wood and the sweet aroma of a man’s pipe made her think of distant places. The convergence of travelers from all over gave this simple space an atmosphere of worldliness. Making her way to the ticket counter, Jessica passed rows of wooden benches, some were empty, some filled with families, others dotted with one or two people.
From behind the small window a man asked, “What may I do for you?”
“My husband was on the morning train. When did …?”
“Name.”
“Oh, Mr. Frederick Moore.”
“Mr. Moore seems quite popular this morning. I’ll tell you the same thing I told the gentleman who was here but a minute before you. He’s not on my lists.”
“Could you check again, please? He should have been here just a little while ago. Maybe he got on the last train.”
“The last train left three hours ago, ma’am.”
“But he couldn’t possibly be on that one. Is the next train coming soon?”
“Cargo or express?”
“Why, express, of course.”
“Here, this is our schedule.” He handed her a small, cardboard paper with dates and times on it.
Frantically, she searched for his name on the schedule. “The next train doesn’t leave for another two hours. Could you please check the list of passengers once again?”
“Madame, you can check it for yourself. Here’s the manifest.”
She went over the lists of names, but Frederick’s wasn’t on any of them. Confounded, she handed the paper back to him.
“Maybe he went down to the station in New Haven,” the clerk said. “It’s a good ten hours by coach, and he’d have to overnight along the way. Middletown.”
“Why would he do that?”
The station worker shrugged his shoulders and returned to his paperwork, clearly bored. Getting into her carriage, she tried to recount the information Frederick gave her, but she could find no clues. The driver helped her in the carriage. “Ten Washington Street please.”
~
The scene was as Jessica was expecting—her father paced in front of her, and her mother sat, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief.
“This is intolerable!” her father boomed. “Charles must have a reasonable explanation for all of this. If not, we will certainly consider annulment.” Jessica’s heart felt the loud bass of her father’s voice, and she sorely wished Will was there to bring some levity to the room. “I don’t think you’ll get much information from Mr. Moore, Father.” She looked down at the floor. “He came to our suite this morning, quite upset. I gathered he didn’t know Frederick had left.”
“What? I don’t believe this!”
With the tone in the room intensifying, they hadn’t heard the front doorbell chime or noticed Winnie entering the parlor with a telegram in her hand. “This just came.” She handed the yellow piece of paper to Thomas.
“What is this?” He snatched the paper from her. Winnie ignored his impatience and returned to the kitchen with slow dignity. Jessica’s father began to read the message to himself while Bethany and Jessica stared at him, waiting for what news it held.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Thomas held the telegram out for his wife to take from him, then he sat down. Jessica thought if that chair hadn’t been right next to him he might have sat directly on the floor.
“What does it say?” Looking back and forth between her parents, Jessica hoped it was reassurance from her husband that all was well and as it should be.
“The Moores are on their way to New York, then back to England.” Her mother folded the telegram. “Mr. Moore states they are returning on some urgent business and will be in contact with your father as soon as they are able.”
Shocked by their lack of respect for her family, Jessica heard her mother’s sorrowful question. “What will we tell people?”
Her parents’ concern would not deter her. Deciding to take matters into her own hands, she stood up and smoothed her skirt. “I’m leaving in a week’s time to be with Frederick.”
“I should say not. Sit down,” Thomas commanded, rising from his stupor.
“With all due respect, I’m a married woman now. I will follow my husband. I need you to see me off at the train station, Father. Otherwise it will be as if I’m running away. Please do not bring that shame onto us. Father?”
Thomas looked at his daughter. “Yes, we wouldn’t want that.”
Was that resignation or sarcasm? She couldn’t tell. “Don’t forget that Uncle Burt and Aunt June will be moving there shortly.”
“Yes, the fools.”
It was time to leave, and Jessica hugged her mother, then her father, and walked to the foyer. Her hands shook, and her heart lost its rhythm. Swallowing her emotions, she opened the door to her childhood home. It felt heavy, and she thought for a brief moment it might not let her go. She stood on the veranda and looked out onto the manicured lawn. Hearing a child at play across the road, she was brought back to the many times she played among the flower gardens so lovingly attended by her mother and their gardener. It gave her comfort knowing she had painted many renditions of them to take with her. Winnie came into sight and Jessica called to her.
“I heard everything, child.”
Jessica ran down the steps to the housekeeper. “Oh, Winnie, I will miss you!” she cried as they embraced.
Winnie took her by the shoulders. Jessica looked into the dark eyes of her friend. “Be brave, Mrs. Moore. I have faith in you. Keep your temperament strong, but think before you speak, now.”
“Yes, Winnie.” Taking up a corner of her apron, the housekeeper gently wipe
d the tears from Jessica’s cheeks. Her heart swelled with remembrance of Winnie doing the same thing when she was a child and skinned her knee or someone wasn’t playing fair with her.
“Work calls me now. Be on your way.”
The carriage waited and so did her life. A sweet breeze swept across her face, the intoxicating smell of spring, of new beginnings, the promise of summer’s warmth. She took it as an invitation from the world to go forward into the unknown.
The envelope Frederick had left for her revealed tickets for three passages and also a sum of cash, but she was sorely disappointed to discover that he had booked them on a cargo train and not the luxury passenger train. How would she explain that to her parents?
No matter. She held onto the tickets, the lightness of the papers disguising the importance they represented. I will soon be out West, Jacob.
~
From the coach station, Frederick hired a carriage to take him to his destination. It stopped in front of one of the brick buildings lining the tidy South Main Street in Middletown. He stepped out and stared at the hotel’s many windows. The cool air drifting off the Connecticut River did not relieve the heat of nerves rising in his body. He’d tried to calm himself during the journey with the liquor that filled his silver-tooled flask, but it hadn’t stopped the terrible flutters in his stomach. His plans had recently taken on a much deeper meaning. The flutters now felt like hot pokers stinging his gut. A vendor offered him a warm biscuit, jolting him out of his thoughts. Frederick waved him away, steadied his nerves and reminded himself of his pride and position.
He entered the modest lobby where a few chairs and a desk sat on a worn, red-flowered rug. He turned to his right and saw his purpose for being there. The sunlight streamed in through the lace-draped windows, lighting Molly’s red hair as it fell across her back. She slowly turned, her face as familiar to him as his own. He took a moment to take in the sight of her. The soft, gray, two-piece flannel attire flattered her tall, curvaceous figure, and the skirt flowed pleasingly off her hips. The fitted front lifted her bosom high on her chest, giving her an even grander appearance. He took note of her forgiving green eyes. Molly offered her hand. Frederick rushed to her and lifted it to his lips. The smell of her perfume made his head swirl. “My dearest, I can hardly believe you are here. Thank God.”
“I’m here, my love.”
He embraced her and whispered hoarsely as his lips caressed her cheek, “I will never again let you go.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
The luxurious compartment on the express locomotive in New Haven, Connecticut would take Frederick up to New York City and then on to San Francisco. Finally, he was on his way, and not alone. He was thrilled that Molly found the small suite to her liking. Its lush, velvet, green window curtains matched the velvet on the ceiling where a small, glass chandelier was mounted. The carpet beneath their feet felt plush even with shoes on. A polished, walnut table for two held a spray of white blooms in a light-blue vase—lily of the valley, her favorite flower. After bending to inhale the delicate scent, she spun around and her arms were wrapped around him.
“Will this do for your journey to the West, my love?”
“Oh, yes!”
A wall-mounted bed had been turned down for the night, and Molly ran a hand over the satin cover. Frederick took a square box with a yellow ribbon tied in a French bow out of his bag and presented it to her. “What is this?”
“Open it.”
Carefully untying the ribbon, she placed it on the table. With a deep inhale, she smelled the delights it held. “Candied citrus! Where on earth did you find it?”
“I have my sources. I had a few dipped in your favorite chocolate.”
Tapping her hand as she went for a piece, Frederick gave her a soft reprimand. “Ah no, my love, these are for me to feed to you, later tonight.”
She closed her eyes with a sigh of contentment, and his lust for her was aroused. Feasting on her lips and neck, a faint whisper came from her. “Shall we close the curtains and pretend it’s nighttime?”
The days blended into one another. Frederick read all he could about San Francisco while Molly read her books and embroidered.
“The scenery is quite unremarkable,” she stated. “I hope San Francisco is more lively.”
Putting down the newspaper, Frederick needed Molly’s assurance on a most delicate matter. “Are you quite resolved to be my mistress and not my wife? I can’t afford any mischief from you.”
“Of course, my love. You’ve asked me twice before and the answer remains the same. Why else would I travel all this way?”
Frederick was skeptical. He knew she liked getting her way. “I understand, my love, that being my mistress was not what you had expected. However, I will make it worth your while.” Having given in to his mad jealousy when she wrote about a handsome, young duke courting her, he now had no intention of letting her go. Yet, if she caused him trouble, he would have no choice but to send her back to England. He knew he was playing with fire. Convincing her parents she was visiting friends in New York for the summer made him proud of her conniving ways and also cautious.
In the late afternoon on their sixth day of travel, they peered out of the small windows to catch a glimpse of the Oakland Train Station. By the look on her face, Molly was not impressed. “Don’t worry, my lovely Miss Ambers, the heart of San Francisco will surely change the look on your face.”
“Oh Frederick, I am excited, but why are we getting off here? I thought this train went all the way to the city.”
“We’ll take the ferry by coach then another coach will meet us on the other side. Come away from the window and finish packing your bags.”
As Molly was about to place her feathered hat on top of her loose chignon, Frederick drew her hands down and held each one in his. “Truly, my love, I’m happy you’re here with me. I need you more than I thought. My wife … well, she couldn’t possibly know of my likes and needs as you do.”
Molly smiled broadly, and he felt the reassuring squeeze of her hands. “I’m happy too, Frederick. I’ll always be there for you.”
The late April breeze coming off the bay was cooler than Frederick had expected. It reminded him of the weather back in Liverpool. He was keen to remove himself from the stale odor of travelers and their luggage. He stepped off the train and inhaled the salty air. It was indeed a familiar scent, yet it mingled with the fragrance of flowers and trees he had never smelled before. Molly winced from the glare coming from the white stucco of the Spanish-style depot. “Find your shaded spectacles, my dear,” Frederick said. “The sun shines a hell of a lot more here.”
The ferry ride had turned Molly’s stomach, and she leaned her head on the side of the seat in the carriage. She moaned most of the way.
To Frederick, the city was a marvel of architecture and people. He was like a child looking in every direction to catch all views at once. For all his studies of the place, he was truly taken with its modernity and diversity. Though it was not nearly as impressive as the city of Liverpool, he thought it would suit his needs very well.
“The Grand Hotel is in sight, my dear.”
The impressive hotel seemed to lighten her mood. The quaint, gingerbread façade and the elegant interior décor was quite charming, and Frederick was satisfied with his choice. It met her expectations as a proper English aristocrat.
Frederick’s much-anticipated arrival to this wondrous place–once only a dream–gave him an overwhelming sense of accomplishment.
The great city of San Francisco, where I will begin life, on my own terms!
Before he could explore the city, Frederick had work to do. His near perfect plan had one glitch—Jessica’s own travels with the Rollands would get her here sooner than he would have liked, even with the slower cargo line.
Leaving Molly to settle into her room at the hotel, he went to his own room to begin his task of finding a home for him and Jessica. He wanted to impress her, and he searched through the city
’s directory to find a manager of properties. As for Molly, he felt that the hotel would have to do for a time, though he was keen to find a secluded place for her–one he could visit regularly without being noticed.
Tomorrow he would go to the First National Bank of San Francisco to verify his funds had transferred from the Bank of Connecticut and to secure his employment. Mr. Harding was his immediate contact at the bank. He had assured Frederick of a position in the investments department. Frederick’s thoughts turned to his father. He could almost hear his outrage at the missing funds. He’d known his perfect forgery of his father’s signature would be to his benefit one day. Calculating again, he came to the same conclusion. It would have to be enough for there was no turning back now.
Chapter Twenty-eight
On the day of her departure, Jessica’s stomach ached and her anxiety was high.
Waiting at the Valley Depot alongside her parents were her aunt and uncle. A few of her friends from town were also there. The Rollands waited at the corner of the building apart from them. With a dry mouth and tight chest, Jessica straightened her back and walked over to her family with the confidence of a woman who knew exactly what she was doing.
“Thank you for coming, Father.”
Her father ran his hand through his combed-back hair. “I’m sorry that we didn’t have a proper goodbye the other day.”
Jessica smiled as the sound of the passenger train caught her attention.
“Is it here already?” Her mother wiped her eyes.
It was time for Jessica to tell them. “My train is on the other tracks.”
“No, Jessica. That other train is for cargo,” her mother corrected her, then added in a whisper, “and for the less fortunate.”
“Yes, of course. Goodbye Mother, Father.” She embraced her parents, then her aunt and uncle. June handed her a small sack of biscuits as she wiped at her eyes. “I have telegrammed my brother, Austin. If you need family, my dear, you have his address.”
“Thank you, Auntie.” Nervously, she placed the sack into her satchel. “It will be awhile before we can board. It’s perfectly fine with me if you don’t want to wait. I would prefer it. Prolonged goodbyes are too heartbreaking.” To her relief, they all agreed. Minutes later, she faced her future alone. Closing her eyes, she lifted her shoulders then released them with an exhale. Before she could dwell on her fear, the newly arrived passengers crowded the wooden sidewalk. Noise and movement filled the area. The flurry of activity swept her up, exciting and new. She looked frantically around for the Rollands. Then she saw them approach, and her loneliness lifted just a little.
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