Tough Prospect

by Laura Strickland

  “Damn, Boss. I did warn—”

  “You did, and that’s in the past.”

  “I’ll put our best men on it. I think we’ve got a contact—a ladies’ maid—in her father’s house.”

  “Good. I trust you, Tiny.”

  “You can trust me with your life, Boss. You’re the one got me out of Carter’s. I’d do anything for you.”

  “I know.”

  “Hey, Boss, you ever think about going back there?”

  “To Carter’s? Hell, no.” Only in nightmares.

  “I mean to, maybe, destroy the place. Burn it down.”

  “An interesting idea.”

  “I think about it a lot.”

  “What about all the little kiddies inside, eh, if you torched it?”

  “They’d thank us.”

  “Not if they fried.”

  Tiny said with certainty, “Death would be better.”

  “Maybe. But they’ll get out in due time and make men of themselves, right, Tiny? The way we did.”

  “God help ’em. Boss, do you remember—”

  “I don’t want to think about that place, Tiny.”

  “But do you—”

  “I said I don’t want to think about it.”

  “Right, Boss. I’ll go start making these inquiries.”

  “Good man.”

  “Meanwhile, do you want someone to follow your wife? If she goes out, I mean.”

  “Might not be a bad idea. But be discreet, right?”

  ****

  “I wanted to say,” Mitch drawled the next morning at breakfast, “I think you should quit staying so close to the house. I wouldn’t want you to feel like a prisoner here.”

  Tessa looked up and encountered his gaze—very hazel in the clear light coming through the dining room windows, and dangerously watchful.

  She’d barely been able to look at him since their encounter in her room yesterday—had barely been able to stop thinking about him, either. The way he’d kissed her, with such thoroughness and heat. The sensation of his body covering hers. The way he looked at her.

  The way he watched her now.

  What did it mean?

  And his words—they must be a trap of some sort. Had to be.

  “Uh…” She hesitated. “Where would I go?”

  “Shopping, maybe. I can arrange accounts at any shops you like. Socializing. Visit your family or friends.”

  A trap, most definitely. He thought she’d lead him to Richard.

  As if she’d be that foolish.

  “Well, perhaps.” She looked at her plate. The food on it suddenly sickened her.

  The little dog, Valerie, sat on her lap. She ran a hand over its smooth back. “I’ll give it some thought.”

  “Tessa…” Mitch spoke her name to regain her attention. “I feel we’ve begun badly. But I want our marriage to succeed. We need to strike a balance where we both get what we need.”

  Tessa’s eyes narrowed. What did that mean? She had her suspicions, and they made her heart start to beat double time. After what had happened yesterday in her room, she couldn’t doubt what he wanted. Would he bargain for it?

  Of course. Men like him always bargained or threatened. Coarse men, toughs, hard—

  She halted her thoughts there, when she remembered the way his body had felt against hers. Hard. She flushed involuntarily.

  Breathless, she said, “Depends on what I say I need, doesn’t it?”

  He eyed her steadily. “I’ll give you anything within reason, if we can have a regular husband-wife relationship.”

  By God! He still wanted her, even though she’d blurted out the truth about Richard.

  But would he be willing to let her see Richard—have a relationship with him on the side—if she shared his bed?

  For an instant her mind blanked on the thought. Alone in the bed with Mitch Carter, at his mercy, naked and utterly vulnerable.

  She whispered, “You saying our marriage should be a bargain?”

  “All marriages are bargains, at least the way I see it.”

  She tipped her chin up. “Ideally, there should be love.”

  Something flickered in his eyes. “Ideally. But you’ve confessed you’re in love with another man.”

  “A person can’t help her feelings.”

  “That’s true.”

  “So—what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I want you to be…content. I want both of us to be.”

  “And…and what will make you content?”

  “You. In my bed.”

  There it was, out in the open. Heat stained Tessa’s face. The mechanical maid came in carrying a fresh pot of tea. Tessa looked down at the dog in her lap while the maid bustled around.

  Not till she left did Tessa say, “I’m afraid I can’t…”

  “Not yet, maybe.”

  Silence fell, alive and vibrating.

  Tessa broke it with sudden haste. “Perhaps I will go out today, visit my parents.”

  “Good I’m sure they’d like to see you. I have business all day anyway. Why don’t you take the steamcar? I’ll get a cab.”

  “I don’t like the steamcar.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s too big, too ostentatious.” Did he even know what that word meant?

  “Then I’ll use the car. You have the doorman call a cab.” He flashed her a sudden, sharp-edged smile. “There now, we’re already discussing things like a proper man and wife.”

  Chapter Five

  “Tessa!” As soon as she came through the door of the house on Bidwell Parkway, Tessa’s mother flew through the parlor door and enveloped her in a sea of lavender scent.

  Mother always smelled of lavender, a fragrance as indivisible from her as her smile and her tendency to chatter.

  Tessa relaxed for the first time in many days; tears started in her eyes. “Mother.”

  “My darling girl, I’ve been so worried about you.” Elise Verdun backed off far enough to stare into her daughter’s face. “Are you all right?”

  “I—” Abruptly Tessa discovered she couldn’t answer that question.

  Elise’s eyes, as green as Tessa’s, flooded with dismay. “Has that brute hurt you? He hasn’t…”

  “No, Mother.” Not yet.

  “Thank God.”

  Tessa glanced around the hallway. Since the city’s automatons revolted two months ago, most of the servants had fled. Father couldn’t afford to pay them—only the ancient doorman had stayed out of loyalty, foregoing any demand for a wage.

  Even though no one could hear, Tessa disliked discussing her personal situation where any servants could hear.

  “Let’s go into the parlor,” Elise said, “where we can talk. Earl will bring us tea.”

  “Earl will?” The doorman.

  “Yes. He’s jack-of-all-trades now. But I’m worried about him. He creaks so when he moves, and sometimes a joint will seize up. What we shall do if he breaks down, I cannot say.”

  Make your own tea. The thought appeared in Tessa’s mind, though she didn’t voice it. Instead she asked, “Where’s Father?”

  “Up in our room.” Elise’s beautiful face clouded. “I’m so worried about him.” She towed Tessa into the parlor and to the brocade sofa, where they sat next to one another.

  Tessa sighed. Hugo Verdun’s desperation over his financial plight and Elise’s worry over his state of mind had, in large part, forced her into her present predicament. Hugo had brought his family to Buffalo from Montreal well before Tessa was born and started a very successful business as a clothier, outfitting the wealthiest men in the up-and-coming city. He and Elise had raised their family—of which Tess was the youngest—and acquired wealth enough to afford them this grand house.

  Now the family lay scattered, Hugo’s business virtually ruined, and the ownership of the house hung by a thread.

  So, Tessa thought bitterly as her mother clasped her hands, her parents were still miserable, her mother still worried. Di
d her sacrifice to Mitch Carter mean nothing?

  “I thought,” she said carefully, “Mitch Carter bailed Father out. Wasn’t that the point of all this?”

  “Yes. Yes.” Elise squeezed Tessa’s fingers. “Though it seems there were a few more debts your father didn’t tell us about, that have surfaced since. Just a few…creditors still come to the door.”

  That, Tessa remembered all too well—she, Mother, and Father hiding out at the rear of the house while creditors pounded on the front door.

  “That’s not what worries me,” Elise confessed. “It’s your father’s state of mind. He’s distraught. Distraught, I tell you.”

  “Why?”

  “Why, over your marriage, of course. Over what he felt compelled to ask of you. Seeing you, his little princess, in the hands of that tough, that rough brute—I do not think he will be able to forgive himself.”

  Tessa wasn’t sure she could forgive him either. She began, “Maybe he should have thought—”

  “Oh, yes, he should, Tessa. But all that’s water under the bridge now, isn’t it? Anyway, he couldn’t help getting us into this trouble. I’m convinced gambling is a sickness. And it’s cost him everything.”

  Me as well.

  “He’s been so worried about you,” Elise rushed on. “Will you speak to him while you’re here? He doesn’t want to see anyone, not even me, I swear. I despair for him. But I believe he’ll see you.”

  “Mother, I don’t know.” Tessa had come here seeking refuge from her own despair and pain, not to play nursemaid to her father’s wounded feelings. But so it had always been: no matter what Hugo did, Elise put him first in her attentions and in her heart.

  Elise hurried on, “If he lays eyes on you, sees that you’re all right, I’m sure it will go far toward providing him some comfort.”

  The parlor door opened; Earl came in with the tea. It reminded Tessa forcibly of the scene on Prospect Avenue that morning when the mechanical maid had performed the same task.

  Except Earl truly did creak alarmingly. And his arms appeared to freeze when he lowered the tray half way to the table, regaining motion only with a jerk.

  Poor old unit.

  Elise said, in a perfectly audible aside, “I’m not sure how much longer we can keep him supplied with coal.”

  “Surely he doesn’t take very much.” And surely Mother needn’t express such reservations in the unit’s hearing.

  “Never mind.” Elise waited till the automaton had rumbled away before she said, “Now tell me everything. And then you can go up and see your father.”

  And what, Tessa wondered, should she tell? How alone she felt in the big house over on Prospect? How frightened, how conflicted and resentful toward her parents?

  How she dreaded encountering her husband on a daily basis, how uncomfortable he made her feel?

  How it had felt lying beneath him?

  She could say none of that because Elise had started to cry. She did so beautifully and with great distress.

  “Tess, I can’t tell you how it feels knowing you’ve sacrificed yourself for us. And to a man like that. One who came up from the gutter, quite literally. Oh, please tell me he’s not cruel to you.”

  “He’s not cruel. But Mother, I can’t quite trust him.”

  “Quite wise. You daren’t trust a man like that. Ever since your marriage people have been coming to us, relating the terrible things he’s done. Did you know he owns properties all over the city? And he’s ruthless about collecting rents.”

  “Yes.”

  “Those men of his—a squad of toughs, that’s all they are. Nothing more. They’ve beaten people up, people who owe Carter money. Why, I hate to think what he’d have done to your father if you hadn’t…”

  “Yes,” Tessa said hastily.

  “But when he asked for your hand in exchange for expunging your father’s debts, he promised he would treat you well. Said you’d lack for nothing. Tell me at least he’s kept his word.”

  “Yes. He gives me gifts.”

  Elise brightened. “Well, that’s good.”

  “Presents I don’t want.” Except for Valerie. Tessa found she did like the little dog. “But Mother, I feel like I’ve been sentenced to a lifetime of punishment. It’s only been two weeks. When I look ahead…” Tessa couldn’t let herself look ahead. “And then there’s Richard.”

  “Yes, I know. Most unfortunate. Such a suitable young man, and of good family. I’m sure you would have made a fine match with him.”

  “It’s not just that, Mother. I’m afraid I’ve endangered him—Richard, I mean. In the heat of the moment, I told Mitch Carter my affections are otherwise engaged…now I’m afraid he’ll retaliate.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “Promise if Mitch comes here asking questions, you won’t breathe a word about Richard’s identity.”

  “Of course not. Now come upstairs and speak with your father. Perhaps you can alleviate some of the guilt that’s dogging him.”

  ****

  The large bedroom lay thick with shadows, draperies drawn against the daylight. Elise, having scratched at the door, thrust Tessa inside and said, “Hugo, darling, only look who’s come.”

  The man sitting hunched in the chair by the window turned his head.

  A tall man, and usually most elegant in both clothing and demeanor, Hugo Verdun showed in full his Gallic heritage. Over the past months, Tessa had watched him sink into careless disregard for his appearance; his narrow shoulders slumped. Even his once-proud moustache sagged.

  Now, though, she could barely see him for the gloom.

  “Tessa?”

  “Father, why are you sitting here in the dark?”

  He ignored the question. “I am surprised you have come. I’m surprised you can stand to so much as look at me.”

  Indeed, the last time Tessa had seen her father had been at her wedding—a rushed and hasty affair that contained little sense of celebration. Then, he’d looked like a man beaten down, but she’d assumed he would recover.

  He always did.

  “I can’t say I’m happy to see you,” she admitted. “I can’t say I’m happy at all.”

  He began to cry. Just like that, he crumbled into a heap from which big, ugly sobs issued.

  Tessa heard the door close softly behind her. To her horror, she realized her mother had left her alone with the wreck in the chair.

  She jerked forward, moving very like Earl. “Here, Father, let’s get some light in the room.”

  “No, Tess. I don’t want to see myself.”

  “But I want to see you.” Was that true? Or did she want to flee, run from this house and never return again?

  She crossed the room and lit the lamp. Then she sat on a chair opposite her father and looked at him.

  A mess. His once well-trimmed hair lay plastered to his head, his eyes looked sunken. His clothes, creased and crumpled, hung from him.

  “Father, when’s the last time you washed yourself or changed your clothing? When have you slept?”

  “I don’t remember. I can’t sleep. Tess, remorse is a merciless mistress. How I suffer beneath her weight!”

  Not How are you, Daughter? Not How is he treating you? Not What can I do for you in return for the tremendous sacrifice you have made? It was all about him, him, him.

  “Father, I suggest you pull yourself together and get on with life, to make sure you never come so close to losing this house, and Mother’s security, again.”

  “Get on with life? How am I to get on with life?”

  “We all must,” said Tessa, thinking of the house on Prospect Avenue and the man with the dangerous hazel eyes. “I suggest you begin by opening the drapes, getting out of this room, going back to work, and making an income. And giving me a promise you’ll never again get the family in such trouble.”

  He stared at her, his droopy moustache making him look like a sad, skinny walrus. “I have destroyed your life. Will you say you forgive me, Daughter?”

&
nbsp; Tessa rose to her feet. She knew what he wanted to hear—she usually did. Anything that would comfort him. But she didn’t know if she could forgive him this time. She had to return to the man on Prospect and life in a cage, and so couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

  “Pull yourself together, Father,” she repeated instead, and swiftly departed the room, leaving him there, wallowing.

  Chapter Six

  “Boss, we’ve got a problem with the old couple over on Spring Street. They still haven’t paid their rent.”

  Mitch placed the report he’d been reading on his desk and leveled a look at Tiny. He couldn’t help but notice his man appeared troubled and unhappy. He sighed.

  “How late are they?” he asked.

  “Two weeks.”

  “And how many times have you been over there asking for the rent?”

  Tiny shuffled the flat cap he held in his hands. “Three.”

  “Then toss ’em out.”

  “Right, Boss. But—”

  “No buts, Tiny. We’ve been over this. It don’t do to be soft. You can’t make any money that way.”

  “But, Boss, the old man says his wife’s been sick. It’s just the two of them, see. Usually he goes out and does a few odd jobs to pick up some coins. He’s had to stay in, though, and look after her.”

  “Not our problem. Toss ’em out.”

  “But, Boss, where will they go?”

  “Family.”

  “Haven’t got any.” Tiny looked even more uncomfortable. “I asked.”

  Mitch hardened his expression. Though few would warrant it of the little monkey, he knew Tiny possessed a kind heart. Too bad for him.

  He pushed the report away. “Tiny, I’ve told you and told you. You give people leeway, they take advantage. You wind up paying, in the end. There’s always a price. Isn’t that what they taught us at Carter’s?”

  Tiny straightened. “They taught us lots of things.”

  “That pity makes you weak.”

  Tiny wrinkled up his face. “Not sure I agree with that, Boss.”

  “More fool you. Now take care of it, or do I need to assign somebody else?”

  “If I toss ’em out, the old lady might die.”

  “What do you want me to do about it?”