by Joan Smith
“She is not a fool, whatever about being a brute. I fear he will be hard on Ralph.”
“I meant your Culligan,” Mrs. Pudge told me. “If he wasn’t a fool, he would have got a decree framed up, like Lord Menrod.”
“It is odd he did not think of it,” Mama said, frowning. “It is Gwen I hate to see go. It was so very like having Hettie back in the house—not that you are not excellent company, Wendy. You handle everything for me, but Hettie and I... She was my first-born, you know, a piece carved out of my heart. You did not come along for five whole years, so she was good company for me while you were still in swaddling clothes.”
It was no secret that Hettie was my mother’s favorite. It was tolerable to me, as I was equally favored by my father. Really we all four got on together. There was no rancor in our family. Hettie had more of her daughter’s charm, in my view, and less of her self-interest, unless that fond deceiver, Time, leads me astray. Hettie had set her cap straight at Lord Peter, but I believe it was love that accounted for it, not a desire to wear a title.
I explained in detail about Menrod’s decree. We discussed what was to be done, but as we were both as innocent as newborn babes in legal matters, our only decision was to return to Culligan on the morrow, which we did.
* * *
Chapter 8
Mr. Culligan was not at all dismayed to learn Menrod had got interim custody of the children. “There’s many a slip twixt the cup and the lip,” he assured us. “If he’s the sort of man my investigations tell me he is, six weeks will turn the little ones sour on him. The girl, at least, is old enough to speak her mind.”
“It is the boy who is fonder of me,” I told him.
“I suppose he has the use of his tongue as well, at four years,” he pointed out. “Not that much attention will be paid to such a bunting. I have been looking up precedents, in these tomes you see here on my desk, ladies. I am giving your case my entire attention. The situation is not desperate.”
His hands reached out and touched the dusty volumes. His frayed cuffs had not yet been replaced. I hoped he meant to do so before he was required to appear in Chancery. As he had now one paying customer, I thought he would refurbish his toilette.
“It is not far from it. What do the books say?” Mama asked.
“The solution is really very simple.” He smiled cunningly. “All you have to do, ladies, is find yourselves a husband—either one of you, but preferably the young lady. It should not be impossible.”
“Mr. Everett!” Mama said at once, with a delighted smile. “Why, my daughter has just had a most excellent offer.”
“What has a husband to do with it?” I asked.
“It gives you your good, solid family unit. In these precedents I spoke of, I have found half a dozen cases where the kiddies went to the family that had two parents. A normal family unit, they call it. Stands to reason a child wants a mother and father. Yessir, if we cannot get anyone to testify in court that Lord Menrod is a villain, though there are any number will say so behind his back, then we’ll hit him with a normal family unit. Did you take Everett up on his offer?”
“No, I did not.”
“Better snap him up fast, within the six weeks of the decree. Is he a man of means and good character?”
“Yes, but I do not mean to marry him.”
“He is a millionaire—lives in a mansion,” Mama felt it necessary to add.
“Indeed! Is it that Everett you speak of, the nabob from the city?” Culligan verified, greatly impressed. “The one that built himself the mansion on the Reading road?”
“Yes, but I am not getting married, even to win the children,” I insisted.
“If you don’t plan to take my advice, what is the point in paying me?” Culligan asked boldly.
“I begin to wonder that myself, sir,” I answered sharply.
“What I mean to say is,” he said quickly, seeing his sole client drifting from him, “that would absolutely secure custody, but if you don’t care for the fellow... May I enquire what is amiss with him, that you are turning down a fortune?”
“No, you may not, Mr. Culligan.”
“He has red and green marble fireplaces, you see,” Mama told him, as I had made a few jokes at home about these monstrosities.
“I see,” Culligan said, weighing this information carefully. “Red and green, eh? Sounds a queer nabs, but I cannot think red and green fireplaces would disqualify him as a good father. Happen he is color blind—no stain on a man’s character.”
“You can forget Mr. Everett and marriage,” I said firmly.
“There goes our normal family unit, then,” he answered, throwing up his hands. “Unless you have a parti in your eye?” he asked my mother.
“Really, Mr. Culligan! I am a widow,” she said, incensed.
“If Menrod’s man twigs to these precedents, you may be sure his lordship will get himself shackled up quick as winking, and your chances are nil.”
“If he wants them that badly, he may have them,” I said, arising.
“Let us not be hasty,” Culligan said in a placating manner, tilting his ginger head to one side and pointing me back to my chair, with one not overly clean finger. “There’s ways and ways of handling the situation. I’m all for dealing aboveboard when I can, but there’s no denying not every engagement ends at the altar. If you were seen by the court to be on the verge of a marriage, it might serve as well as the sacrament itself.”
“Mr. Culligan—you cannot be serious! I would not do such a scaly thing to Mr. Everett. That is an impossibly low stunt, to let on you are going to marry a man, then back out after he has served his purpose. Really, it is enough to make me question your ethics.”
“I did not mean to imply you keep the gentleman in the dark as to your true intentions, Miss Harris. If he’s close enough he’s offered marriage, then it stands to reason he might be fond enough of you to go along with the trick. There would be some as would look askance at the advice I am giving you, but it is not my job to give you moral lessons, only practical advice as to how you might legally accomplish what you set out to, do you see?”
“Yes, I see very well, and I don’t like it.”
“Liking it is not the point. Between you and me and the hatter’s block, I don’t like what you are about, but that is neither here nor there. You are my client, and every client deserves to have his case heard in a court of law, even the worst sort of criminals.”
“I hope I am not a criminal!”
“Where would them kiddies be better off, in a castle where they would be treated like lords and ladies, or in a tumbledown cottage, with no prospects before them? You tell me, Miss Harris,” he demanded severely.
“In a tumbledown cottage,” I answered instantly.
“Well, then, think it over, what I suggested. Don’t say no till you have talked it over with your gentleman friend. He might look on it as a very good joke on Menrod. He would feel it helpful in winning your hand too. You could lead him on...”
“Please—say no more about it. This is out of the question.”
“I think he would do it, Wendy. He is very obliging,” Mama reminded me.
“What is out of the question today is often acceptable the next day. Meanwhile, I’ll continue with my work here, and inform you if I can get a witness to testify against Menrod’s character.”
“I have asked you not to broadcast any tasteless questions about Lord Menrod.”
“I have assured you of my subtlety, ma’am. I know what I am about. I’ll not run afoul of the law again—er... and by the way,” he ran on, blushing at his slip, “there was a trip to London necessary in the course of my investigations. I have itemized it here...” He shoved a long sheet at me.
“Chancery is in London,” he mentioned.
This sounded reasonable, more reasonable than putting up at the Clarendon Hotel, one of the most expensive in the city. I took him to task about it, and sliced his bill in half.
“I am not a fla
t, Mr. Culligan. I know what a night in London costs. Don’t think to line your pockets at my expense. I would suggest you repair your cuffs, however. It will do me no good to be represented in court by a man in tatters. Good day."
“I believe we ought to change lawyers, Mama. What do you think? I don’t like the cut of him above half,” I said as soon as we had left.
“It would be so very dear, having to send another man off to London, when Culligan has already been there. He does have a sly way about him,” she added, but in no condemnatory way.
“He is a crook, suggesting I use Mr. Everett so poorly.”
“You would have to marry him if you told them in court you meant to. It would certainly solve all our problems,” she added, with a weary sigh.
“It wouldn’t solve them; it would only change them.”
Our visit to Culligan was followed by a couple of fairly dull days. Mr. Everett came to call once. I did not mention Culligan’s idea of rigging up a spurious engagement to him, and by a judicious lowering of my brows every time she tried to broach the matter, I also restrained my mother from doing so.
We did not go up to the Manor to see the children, nor were they sent down to visit us. Menrod had other things on his mind. He was busy getting his local mistress packed off. We learned from Mr. Everett that Mrs. Livingstone had left the neighborhood very suddenly.
“I cannot imagine what accounts for it,” he said, inserting a gold toothpick he carries in his pocket into his mouth, but only to gnaw on it. He is not so vulgar as to put it to its rightful use in a polite sitting room. “You would think when he has had all the expense of keeping her here year round, he would not send her away when he finally comes to make a visit, and would have some use from her.”
“It is clear why he did it. He is trying to whitewash his character, to hide from Chancery that he is a rake,” I explained.
“Mr. Culligan thinks...” Mama said, with a determined set to her features.
“Would you care for a cup of tea, Mr. Everett?” I intervened swiftly.
“That would be dandy.”
Shortly after we had taken tea, he left, and shortly after he left, Menrod arrived, alone.
“Good afternoon. Why did you not bring the children with you?” I asked.
“What I have to say is not for young ears. Yours will be burning before I am done,” he cautioned. Mama gave a few longing looks at the door, but kept to her chair.
“Please do not feel it necessary to speak to us about having turned off your mistress,” I answered loftily. “It was well done of you to remove your Magdalene from the parish. Futile to your purpose, but well done. Her three-year residence will be sufficient to establish your character, without actually having her on hand.”
“These efforts you have undertaken to establish my base character had better stop, or you will be extremely sorry.”
“You heard that threat, Mama, in case any corroboration should be necessary in court?” I mentioned to my mother.
“I must speak to Pudge,” was the support I received from her. She got out of her chair so fast she nearly tripped on her skirts. It was not necessary for Menrod to arise, as he had not yet taken a seat. He found it more intimidating to stand glowering above me, throwing his arms about wildly.
“It is not an empty threat,” he announced, his dark eyes afire with anger. “If that weasel of a Culligan comes snooping around my home again, asking impertinent questions of my servants, he will receive the thrashing he deserves. You are his employer. I hold you responsible for this outrage.”
“Do have a seat, Menrod. You can rant as well sitting down.” He cast an angry glance on me, then sat down. “Now perhaps you will tell me what you are talking about.”
“I am talking about your employee questioning my servant girls regarding my behavior to them—whether I have ever forced them to have relations with me, whether I beat them, pay them their salaries, and other such questions as are an insult to a man of honor. If he were worth killing, I would call him out. I would not lower myself to take him so seriously.”
“I see.” My suspicions were confirmed; despite my strict orders not to pursue this unsavory course, Culligan had done it. “Is it outraged innocence or is it guilt that has you in this almighty pelter? It is a strong reaction, surely, to speak of a challenge.”
“I will not have my integrity impugned in this unspeakable manner. You will call off your mutt or be liable for the consequences. It is entirely up to you, but I tell you in all earnestness, Miss Harris, if another incident of this sort occurs, you will be sued for slander.”
“From what you tell me, you were not accused of anything. Can it possibly be illegal to ask a question?”
“Such questions as were posed to my people were an assault on my good name. The very fact of their being raised gives rise to doubts. They are simple, innocent folks, and when the questions are also the subject of gossip in town, where Culligan has been prying, it lends a hint of substance to them.”
“I daresay Mrs. Livingstone too could be called more than a hint of substance,” I pointed out dutifully.
“What arrangements I make for my private, personal life are no concern of yours or anyone else’s.”
“Why did you find it necessary to turn her off, then?”
“Mrs. Livingstone has gone to visit friends at Brighton. She will be returning shortly.”
“Not before six weeks, I wager.”
“Two can play at this game,” was his next statement. “How would you like it if I began asking around town whether it is true you and Everett slip away to London for a weekend every month? Would you find that amusing, as your smirks tell me you enjoy my dilemma? Of course there is no truth in it, so far as I know, but once the question is abroad, you know, folks begin remembering there is no smoke without fire. They will recall having seen his carriage pass through town, headed toward the city, with more than one person in it. Someone else will remember the bonnet looked very like Miss Harris’s, and before twenty-four hours are up, you have become a scarlet woman.”
“It is impossible to prove an innocent person guilty. My weekends are all accounted for. I am always in town on Saturdays, and in church on Sundays.”
“Are you telling me you don’t mean to call him off?”
“I didn’t sic Culligan on you. I told him not to follow that tack, when he suggested it. I’ll speak to him.”
“You might have known when you hired a man of that kidney what would result.”
“It happens Sir Nathan did not offer me his valuable services gratis. I do not approve of these questions Culligan has been asking, but for the rest, your personal conduct is a valid point to be raised in the case. You think so too, or you would not have gotten rid of Mrs. Livingstone.”
“A precaution merely. I will leave no stone unturned to secure guardianship of my niece and nephew. Every trip I make to this cottage confirms me in my belief they would be poorly off here. Your lack of judgment, quite as much as your oft-lamented lack of funds, would be to their detriment. I wish you will reconsider your decision.”
“Every trip you make here confirms in my mind that I too was correct. You are bribing them to like you, with wooden horses and bags of sugarplums. You consider yourself above the law. Because you have taken into your head they would be a congenial amusement for a few weeks, you think by some divine right of peers you ought to have them, automatically. That I, with perfectly equal claims so far as kinship goes, even question your whim has got you outraged.
"I have reconsidered my decision, Menrod. I am more convinced than ever that you would make a perfectly wretched guardian. I used to think it a pity your interest would be so short-lived; I come to see the only hope for their living a normal life is your losing all interest as soon as possible, and turning them over to servants. But then, without the comfort of a Mrs. Livingstone nearby, no doubt you will soon be darting back to London. Good day.”
“You will be happy to hear I am to spend the entir
e spring at the Manor. Good day to you, Miss Harris.”
He arose and strutted from the room at a gait similar to Mr. Everett’s with his knees very stiff. His eyes glanced with satisfaction to the left, where the stairs were returned to their former gloominess.
I dashed a terse note off to Culligan, informing him that if he continued with the course I had forbidden, he could consider himself dismissed.
* * *
Chapter 9
The next morning, we received a call from the Dowager Lady Menrod. She brought the children with her, which was no more than a pretext. Her real motive was to hint there was a match brewing between her cousin and her stepson.
“Menrod has taken the decision to spend a few months at home,” she announced happily. “Lady Althea was to return to London, but has sent off instead for some lighter clothing and her mount. She will be riding with Menrod. They are both fond of riding. I am to have a little ball next month, at the Manor. Menrod tells us the Dower House is too small.”
The children were not greatly interested in these bits of gossip. Ralph had squeezed himself in beside me on a chair built for one, while Gwen sat waiting for some attention.
“Lady Althea is making me a new gown for my doll," she announced, glancing around the room for some reaction to this stunning intelligence.
“Such a beautiful doll her uncle bought her in London, with real hair,” Lady Menrod said, smiling on the child.
“But I take Goldie to bed with me,” Gwen confided. “She is softer, and it doesn’t matter if her gown gets mussed.”
I only half listened to her. It occurred to me that the reason for Mrs. Livingstone’s holiday was not as I first thought. It was the quest for Lady Althea’s hand that accounted for it. It was not long dawning on me that the new match had another reason than the birth of love between the two principals. Lady Althea had been coming to the neighborhood forever with no luck. If Menrod was proving amenable to her charms now, it was because he had discovered those precedents spoken of by Culligan, and was getting himself a wife to establish the necessary family unit.