“I could write you one out, I suppose, and put my name to it. Would that suit your purpose?”
“Very well, thank you,” Alistair said. “And I would be most honored to make a donation to your church.” He brought out his wallet and reached inside.
“No need for that,” the man answered gruffly, waving aside the proffered bills. “That young lady was so happy with her beau. They were very much in love. Don’t know if I’ve ever seen two people more so. She doesn’t deserve to be disbelieved.” He sat down at the desk and began to copy out the certificate. “How are they doing? The Redmonds?”
Alistair quietly set the bills on top of the cabinet behind the man’s back. He would find them after we were gone and there was nothing he could do to return the money. The ruse was familiar.
“Matthias was killed in the War,” I replied. “Nettie is marrying again on Saturday—if we can dismiss this threat against her. They have a daughter, Ella. You’ve just given her a proper last name.”
“I’m sorry to hear about Matthias. He seemed like a fine young man.”
“War is never kind,” Alistair said gravely. “It winnowed more young men than we could stand to lose. An entire generation, devastated.”
“And it is the children, like this little girl you just told me about, who will rebuild the world those young men were taken from.” He handed the copy of the certificate to Alistair. “You take this to whoever you need to make that happen.”
“We will, thank you.”
I held out my hand.
“Thank you, sir.”
He looked at my hand for a moment, as if it were some foreign thing, and then reached to shake it.
“Ladies must be a little more gentlemanly these days, I suppose…to make up for all the men we lost.”
“I try to be a lady whenever possible, sir. Sometimes, it just doesn’t suit.”
The old man fought to hide a smile.
“She’s a handful, this one, isn’t she?” he asked Alistair.
“Yes. Yes, she is.”
I sniffed. “Better than being a doormat under a man’s boot.”
They both laughed at that—and, after a moment, I joined them.
When her prisoner came to his senses, Amy was sitting before him, a pistol trained steadily on his mid-section.
Patrick Barnstable snarled at her from his position on the settee. Amy had had the devil of a time getting him into that position, but it had allowed her to augment her sash with a length of stout rope looped through the back of the heavy piece of furniture.
“I should have known you would be the first person Constance would turn to—you meddling witch!”
“I must say, sir, you are not the person I expected to find rummaging through my jewelry box.”
-- Garrett Goldthwaite
Analytical Amy and the Case of the Covetous Cad
Chapter 19
I went straight from the train station to the convent when we arrived back in New York the next morning, even though two nights on the train had me rather wishing for a nice hot bath. However, my own comfort wasn’t nearly as important at the moment as ending Nettie’s and Bridget’s problems. I needed to see Bridget at once and show her the proof that Nettie’s marriage and Ella’s birth were sanctioned by both God and the law. Then, I would have my bath.
When I got to the orphanage, I found the place in turmoil. I hurried to Bridget’s office.
“What is it?” I asked her the moment I stepped through the door.
“Sissinghurst has given up his attempt to get the deed to the convent. I believe the archbishop soon set him straight on that score. Instead, he has demanded a large sum of money from Nettie to silence his tongue. I don’t know how he found out about her being Ella’s mother, but I do hope you bring us good news.”
“I have a signed and sealed copy of the certificate of marriage between Henrietta Doyle and Matthias Redmond, dated September of eighteen-sixty-four. You told me Ella was born the next year. This proves there’s nothing to substantiate his accusations.”
“Perhaps, but will her affianced feel that way? To find he’s not her first love? To know there is a child?”
“Surely, she’ll have told him about Matthias and Ella!”
“Perhaps…but what if she hasn’t?”
“Then she must. It’s only right.”
“Whether she does or doesn’t is her decision, Josephine.” Bridget’s voice was stiff and disapproving.
I stepped back from the situation. She was right. It was none of my affair what Nettie did or did not tell her fiancé. But I was becoming quite fond of Ella, and I wanted to make sure that she was not the loser in this whole affair.
“Well, we can’t let him get away with this blackmail, whatever his demands. I think it’s about time Mr. Clarence Smythe finds out his employee is besmirching his name!”
I was too angry to listen to Bridget’s protests. This blackmailer was threatening people I cared about and extorting money in the name of an upright citizen who didn’t deserve to have his reputation dragged through the mud any more than Nettie and Ella did.
I hailed a hansom and gave the driver the address of Hornsby, Smythe, and Roberson. At the very least, Sissinghurst deserved to lose his position, and I personally felt he should lose a lot more.
I wasn’t dressed as appropriately as the last time I had been in the building, and I was a bit disheveled from my time on the train, but I didn’t care. I was so furious that I marched across the marble of the lobby floor without a second glance toward the signboard or elevator. I knew where Smythe’s office was, and I went straight to it.
An immaculately dressed gentleman about my age sat at a desk in the reception area of Smythe’s suite. As I pushed through toward the inner office, he held up a finger to stop me.
“Excuse me, miss. You can’t go in there.”
I whirled on him, eyes narrowed and breast heaving.
“I’m here to see Clarence Smythe, and that’s what I’m going to do.”
“I’m sorry, miss, but Mr. Smythe has a very busy calendar today, and he really can’t—”
“Is he in that room?” I pointed toward the heavy mahogany door to the inner sanctum.
“Well, yes, but he has an appointment in less than ten minutes.”
“I’ll talk fast,” I growled.
The door opened inward before I could go any further.
“Mr. Jones, what on earth is going on out here?”
Clarence Smythe was a lean man with a shock of gray-streaked dark hair. His suit was hand-tailored without a doubt, in a subtle silk. A wedding band encircled the ring finger on his left hand, and a substantial watch-chain arced across his flat stomach. He exuded wealth and power.
“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Smythe. She simply barged in here. She has no appointment and will not state her business.”
Smythe looked me up and down. Whatever he saw must have tipped the scales, because he gestured back into his office.
“Come in, my dear. Mr. Jones, hold my appointments.”
“But—”
“If they are serious about talking to me, they’ll wait patiently. If they aren’t…” The words trailed off to an eloquent shrug.
With a sniff, I spun on my heel and flounced into the office.
Of course, once I was inside, I had no idea what to do next. My anger had been diffused by Smythe’s cordiality, and without its support, I felt in over my head.
The gentleman in question stepped around me to seat himself behind a large but simple desk, indicating that I should have a seat before it. Settling my skirts, I did so.
In comparison to Sissinghurst’s shabby quarters upstairs, Smythe’s were opulent. The floor was covered with good quality Persian rugs, and the bookcases behind that simple desk showcased matched leather covers. The smells of beeswax and lemon oil furniture polishes were offset by a vase of red roses on an occasional table before the glittering windows. A gentleman’s study, designed to put potential clients at ea
se.
“Now, what is it that brings you here today, Miss—?”
“Mann. Josephine Mann. I’ve come on a matter of most urgency.”
“Oh, dear, that does sound serious.” He leaned back in his desk chair, hands clasped across his middle. “Why don’t you tell me all about it?”
“I wouldn’t have come to bother you, but I felt you should know that your name is being dragged through the mud,” I began.
He frowned, and sat forward, leaning across the desk.
“In what way? My name and reputation are very important to me. If what you say is true, I must remedy the matter as soon as I am able.”
I found myself warming to Mr. Smythe. I believed that he had no idea of the infamy his junior was trying to perpetrate.
“It involves Mr. Nordham Sissinghurst.”
“That little toad? I would fire him in a heartbeat if he didn’t have family ties to my partner, Mr. Roberson. I can’t stand him.”
“Be that as it may, he has spent the last few weeks trying to blackmail Mother Mary Frances of Our Lady the Star of the Sea orphanage into turning over the deed to the convent or else having her honor called into question.”
“Oh my! And what is he threatening the mother superior with?”
“Her niece is a resident of the orphanage for the time being, and they have a striking family resemblance. He’s claiming that the girl is her illegitimate child, but it isn’t true. Not only is she not Brid—Mother Mary Frances’s child, she was not born out of wedlock. I have proof of her parents’ legal marriage more than a year before she was born.”
“Isn’t that fortuitous? May I see this document?” He held out a hand for it, and, suddenly, I wasn’t so sure I should share it. There was something about his eyes…
I laughed shakily.
“I didn’t bring it with me—that would’ve been foolish, with the villain in the same building. Surely you can see that?”
“Of course.” He sat back in his chair, regarding me coolly. “I promise you that I will have a word with Mr. Sissinghurst about the matter before the day is out.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, rising to my feet and backing toward the door, my reticule held behind my skirts. For some reason, I was now reluctant to turn my back on this man. I opened the office door and fled through it, out into the afternoon streets. Had I done the right thing in revealing Sissinghurst’s treachery…or had I just made things worse?
~*~
How she managed it, I didn’t know, but when I returned to the boarding house, Ma informed me that, while I was off talking to Smythe, Ella had convinced Alistair to take her with him as he ran some errands—collecting supplies for his latest invention, dropping off a paper at the university, and, I suspected, a stop for ice cream before returning. I was fine with the relief, as I had been itching to return to my own tinkering since the others returned. With Fred and Herbert out at the warehouse working on their own machinery, now was the perfect time to settle my thoughts by working with my hands.
Phaeton was assisting me in the laboratory. We wouldn’t have long before Alistair packed everything up to take to the warehouse, so I was determined to take advantage of every moment I had.
As I had suspected, the automaton had some very good suggestions as to how I could proceed, and I was well along on my invention when the front door opened and Ma stepped inside.
I was startled—I’d never seen Ma in Alistair’s quarters, although, as our landlady, she had every right to be here. When I came to my senses, I threw an apron over the steam iron and went to meet her.
Her face was ashen.
“Jo, dear—”
My heart skittered in my chest.
“What is it?” I asked, afraid of her answer.
“There’s been an accident.”
My knees buckled beneath me. Even without further details. If Phaeton had not caught me, I would have thumped to the floor in a most unladylike fashion.
Ma reached out and took my hands in her own cold ones.
“Apparently a drayman lost control of his team and cracked his whip trying to regain it. His horses reared and frightened Roderick’s team, which bolted. The carriage overturned and was dragged a block or more.”
My mind went where my heart dreaded.
“Alistair…?”
“The perfessor should be fine. He busted an arm and is bunged up somewhat. Roderick was thrown clear afore it was dragged, and he has sore ribs and a bruised ego. But Ella…” Her voice trailed off.
“Is she…?” I whispered, unable to even voice the thought.
“No—no! ’Tain’t that dire,” she hastened to reassure me. “Just broke her head a bit. She h’ain’t come ’round yet, but the doctors say she’s young. Should be fine. I just thought you might want t’ tell the mother superior she’s over t’ St. Luke’s. They’re keepin’ the three o’ them overnight.”
“Yes, yes…of course. I must go at once. Phaeton, you must come with me. I can’t bear to wait for a hansom. Could you…?” Tears were beginning to choke me. I could no longer form words.
They were unnecessary for my champion. He scooped me up into his arms and began walking toward the door.
“Ma,” I managed, “could you…?”
“Go on with you,” she answered, waving us off. “I’ll lock up.”
By the time we reached the head of the basement steps, Phaeton was running. I had seen his speed before but never personally experienced it in such a manner. The cityscape blurred as we flashed past it. I didn’t realize it until afterwards, but I didn’t even have to tell him where to go. Somehow, he knew—Alistair claims he included a map of New York in Phaeton’s memory, but I think it was something more.
Suffice it to say, we made it to the convent much more swiftly than either carriage or cab might have done. I didn’t bother with the polite niceties but barged straight past the porter and pelted down the hall to Bridget’s office—having persuaded Phaeton to let me down just outside the convent. I could hear his ponderous steps echoing mine.
I threw open her door to find her hunched over paperwork. She glanced up at my entrance, and then set down her pen.
“Jo, what has happened?”
Phaeton loomed in the doorway behind me. I took comfort from his presence, but Bridget’s eyes widened.
“What is that?” She crossed herself swiftly.
“Never mind him—he’s with me. There’s been an accident, Bridget. Ella was severely injured. She’s at St. Luke’s. I’m going there now—Alistair was injured as well. I know you were trying to spare Nettie any distractions before her wedding, but she has a right to know her daughter is in danger.”
“Of course. I’ll wire her straightaway.”
“I must get to the hospital.”
“I’ll be there myself as soon as I can manage.”
I nodded and fled. My thoughts returned again and again to the accident like a broken carousel, spinning and spinning in circles, as Phaeton carried me through the streets.
What self-respecting drayman was so poorly in control of his horses? For that matter, what driver would use a whip on a frightened team? Roderick had taught me a great deal about his profession during our acquaintance, and I knew he felt the whip was the last resort, and certainly not to be used when an animal was already upset or frightened. It was only likely to spook them…as it had done in this case.
My blood turned to ice. Could the accident have been intentional? Despairing of other methods, had Sissinghurst chosen to simply remove Ella from the picture more permanently? He had, after all, tried to kidnap her.
Perhaps the blackmail was only a ruse—an attempt to destroy Nettie’s alliance with her fiancé. Losing her child, or even the risk of it, might be the final straw…
My soul froze. It was a terrible thought to contemplate, even for a man as morally reprehensible as our foe. Surely, even Sissinghurst was not so vile.
Phaeton set me on my feet again in front of St. Luke’s, and I have no
conscious memory of the journey at all. Straightening my skirts, I hurried to the front desk. Phaeton paced along behind me.
“What in Heaven’s name is that?” squeaked the nursing sister behind the desk. She crossed herself at the sight of Phaeton. At least Bridget had had a good reason for her rudeness in doing the same.
I ignored her question as irrelevant for the moment.
“I need to see Alistair Conn,” I began. “He was in a carriage accident.” I had my priorities; if Ella was unconscious, she wouldn’t know I was there anyway.
“Are you family?” she asked, regaining a bit of her composure when Phaeton didn’t immediately attack or destroy anything.
“He’s my employer.”
“Family only at this time. You can return tomorrow and see if the circumstances have changed.” She turned back to her paperwork.
“Please—I…I must see him.”
“Josephine! There you are, darling!” called a familiar voice. “Come at once, your brother is asking after you.” Leonora swept up to the desk and took my arm.
“She said she wasn’t family,” the nurse said, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Well, technically, no…” Leonora confided, leaning over the desk. “She’s my stepdaughter. Sometimes I despair that she will ever feel a true part of the family. It’s quite sad, really. Still, what can you do?” She shrugged. “My son thinks of her as his baby sister, no matter what she thinks, and he’s been crying for her.”
The thought of Alistair “crying” for me almost threw me into a fit of giggles, but I bit the inside of my cheek and managed to couch my expression into something more appropriate.
“As you say, Mother,” I murmured, lowering my eyes.
“That metal contraption has to stay here,” the nurse said firmly. “I don’t need major disruptions in my wards.”
I glanced at Phaeton. I was sure he felt concern for Alistair as well.
“I will stay here, Mistress Jo, and tell the mother superior which way you went.”
That made a kind of sense.
“Thank you, Phaeton,” I responded and meekly followed Leonora down the hallway.
The Nearly Notorious Nun Page 14